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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss. ��

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

telepatía | reader x binsung

a/n: hi cuties! hope ya’ll are are staying seggsy and cozy! ;) this piece is 100% self indulgent (hehe) as well as my first time writing a poly r/ship! since i’m new at it, any and all feedback is super super appreciated!! <3

telepatía | changbin x reader x jisung

~aka, my love note to binsung~

Pairing: self insert, seo changbin x female reader x han jisung

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: poly relationship, long distance r/ship au, established r/ship au, inspired by a song au, comfort fic, lil bit emotional but that’s bc they are in looove, idiots in love, softdom!binnie, hardswitch!reader, softsub!jisung, mentions of food, explicit language, masturbation (f), dirrrrty talking, hehe soft love makin’, lowkey size and corruption kink, unprotected sex, oral (m&f), face sitting, penetration (piv and anal), double penetration (f), nipple play (m&f), fingering (f), squirting, marking, multiple orgasms, creampie, ahhh soft n’ intimate body touching, cockwarming, shower aftercare, i am so sorry i got sooooo carried away teehee

Word count: 7.9k

Recommended listening: telepatía by kali uchis

Two months. Two months that had felt like eternity.

Your pen tapped at the table to your desk as you watched the minutes pass by. To your right, your desk calendar with your little countdown smiled at you with the little doodles had drawn along with the stickers that you had decorated there.

Five more days!

The golden hour of the day passed by outside your window upon the city that you had been calling home for the past two months. It was gorgeous. Unreal even. Studying abroad had been harder than you had expected--although it was often exciting at other times too. There was not a day that passed when you had regretting doing it, but there were other days when you had wished you could just transport yourself right back home; even if it meant it would be for only a couple hours of so.

During nights like these, your cramped little studio felt even more empty than usual. The colors of gold and pink would smear in the skyline along with pale pink clouds that looked softer and lusher than anything else in the world. In the springtime, the budding and green trees lined the outside of the apartment complex and birds twittering past would flutter their wings outside of your window cracked open slightly. As the days went by, the air warmed and became more humid, and smelled of luxurious primrose and hyacinths.

Your room was dimly lit by your desk lamp, and you hadn’t bothered to turn on any other light. Pages wrinkled, and your sense of loneliness came creeping in like the cold winter that the new season had now just chased away. You didn’t want the feeling to linger, but you couldn’t help but let it.

The sheets of your bed were cozy, much like the rest of the way that you had decorated your studio. The cream colored covers felt like silk on your legs, but where nothing compared to the touch that you craved.

Your phone clicked on with it’s blue-white light, showing your screensaver: a beautiful sunset image of that last walk that you had taken of the two of them before you had left.

If it were possible, you imagined that missing one person was enough to shatter a heart, but two people?

You hugged your phone to your chest, feigning some semblance of a hug to the two of them. Your nose sniffled as it grew more stuffed, and you let your suppressed sobs fill up the space of the room.

You were convinced that you must've been the the luckiest or the unluckiest person in the whole world: two loves of your life, two people to share it all with had been like a dream come true. It was finally something that felt like it made sense. But, to be so closely tied to two people, meant that being away from them hurt two times as much.

You imagined them with you in your room: they loved to sandwich you in the middle of them. This was their favorite place to have you. Nothing had been warmer and safer than that. Arms and legs would be all tied together in a way that made little sense, and both of their quiet breathing would tickle at the skin of the back of your neck and your forehead. If there was anything that you had guessed you missed most, it would be falling asleep with them. “I love you’s” would be whispered, and all space between you dissapear once the down comforter would be pulled to your noses.

No matter how hard you pretended that they were there, it was never the same.

[it takes three to make a thing go right] binnie, sungie, me

binnie: have you had dinner yet? please don’t forget!

jisung: [see image] this is what we’re having for breakfast! we wish you were here with us!

With shaking fingers you opened the picture to view Jisung’s attempts at cooking. He had been getting into it these days. You had almost wished sometimes that you had been there to try whatever he had concocted--even if it didn’t taste the best. Today it looked like he had tried to make fluffy pancakes with strawberries and cream...but they didn’t end up as fluffy as they should’ve been. Changbin was in the background of the picture making a couple finger hearts. Undoubtedly Jisung had asked him to do it for the picture: Changbin was more of the no-nonsense and stoic type with somewhat of a goofy edge. You and Jisung always knew how to make him melt. “You two are my weaknesses you know?”

sungie: don’t stay up too late either! finish strong before you come back, okay?

binnie: we really can’t wait to see you, five days can’t come soon enough.

You sniffled, sitting up. Had they been there then, they wouldn’t have liked to see you cry. Although your heart stung with a sharp pain seeing them so happy together, you brought yourself back together. You knew exactly how it would’ve been: Jisung would dry your tears gently, then cuddle right up under your arm to nuzzle into your shoulder. Behind the both of you, Changbin would spread his arms wide so both of you could be wrapped up in him.

me: i really miss you both. i miss you so, so much. i can’t wait to see you on Friday. don’t have too much fun without me until then :)

binnie: you kidding? we’re miserable without you!! i think that we’re both going crazy.

sungie: he’s right!! it feels so weird, it always has been these past months.

we’re not complete without you, y/n. we miss you too sooooo much.

and you know that bin gets crabby sometimes. when it’s just me around...

bin: hey! the hell you mean crabby?! i’m a frickin angel!!!

The way that you could read each of their messages in their voices brought you comfort, and you giggled a little reading the words.

sungie: relax! i’m just trying to make her laugh. did i succeed?

me: you did sungie. :)

bin: you forget that i’m sitting right next to you sung, you’re playing a risky game.

sungie: ooooh he talks such big talk, are you seeing this y/n? do you see what i mean? plz come back and save me!!!

bin: HEY

me: binnnnn go easy on sungie.

bin: i do!!!

i only go rough when he asks me too ;)

sungie: w o w

While it did make you laugh, it still hurt a little thinking about how even with you missing, their lives still went on, they ate meals together, went to concerts, movies, out to eat, and, at the end of the day, they still had eachother to cuddle up with to sleep. It hurt even more thinking about how they still had eachother to satisfy other comforts. Of course, you were still involved over the phone and video calls too, but with thousands of miles of distance, your hands alone could never feel as mind-blowing as theirs.

binnie: there will be plenty of that when you get back too y/n ;) sung has maybe had it too easy.

me: hmm too easy?

Jisung send a series of emoji stickers that all conveyed about the same message: oh my god i’m in trouble.

binnie: anyway, jokes aside, we are really looking forward to friday. sungie and i have been talking about it and we think we just want to spend the night in if that’s okay with you? you’ll be tired too.

As always, your boyfriends were the most considerate people in likely the whole world. You didn’t really want to be anywhere else, but just with the two of them; as close as you possibly could be.

me: that sounds perfect. <3

sungie: get some rest tonight!! in the morning get yourself something nice for breakfast, i can send you some money hehe

binnie: boyfriend of the year award over here ! !

sungie: hey, we’re both boyfriend of the year! duh, she loves us the same???

me: that’s very true.

binnie: pffff

sungie: don’t make me tackle you seo changbin, i am sitting right next to you

binnie: is that a promise?

me: boys, boys stop fighting, you’re both boyfriend of the year.

binnie: see? y/n, we’re a mess without you.

sungie: changbin, you’re my boyfriend of the year too. does that make you feel better?

binnie: maybe.

sungie: we’re keeping y/n from getting dinner. we should shut up now.

anyhoo!

we love and miss you a lot a lot. take care until friday! we’re almost there!!!!

binnie: BUT I LOVE HER MORE

sungie: bin, i love you, but please, shut up.

binnie: i’m joking!! sungie i’m joking. this is an equal relationship obviously.

By now, their usual antics had left your tearstained face dry, and the corners of your mouth sore from how hard you had smiled.

binnie: see you soon! goodnight y/n!

sungie: night y/n <3

You clicked your phone closed, then let your weight drop down to your pillow that held the smell of the evening air.

“It’ll be sooner than you think.” You sighed.

It was much too nice of a night to be doing homework, so you decided to push it off for just a couple more hours, flicking on your dinky TV set to a local station where they spoke in the language that you had been teaching to yourself for the past couple months. Here and there you could recognize a few words, but you mostly liked it for the noise.

You pulled your thin sheet over your bare legs, merely enjoying the simplicity of the feeling over your whole body.

there will be plenty of that when you get back home too.

we love and miss you a lot a lot.

Two months for imagining...and you had learned to hone your skill especially, even if it didn’t feel the same. Even though missing them hurt, you could still feel the love from them from thousands of miles away. They had said themselves that they didn’t feel complete without you.

The silky feeling sheets tickled at the hairs on your arms as your hand teased down your stomach, then toyed with the elastic of your panties under cotton shorts. You blamed it on the night being especially pleasant, or maybe it was just what you and needed at that moment.

You wondered how much they had missed you, if they thought of you when their hands would run over each other, or perhaps even if they would imagine that you were there with them when they hold each other close, tiny gaps and moans stick on their lips while they would pleasure each other too. You in fact had thought of them: Jisung’s pretty moans and the way that Changbin liked to suck little bites into his neck.

That spring air hushed into your window with the softness of a song, and curious fingers dipped into your folds and twitching bud which was wet to the touch. Your body jolted at the feeling of your fingers on your suddenly needy clit. Your mind ran wild thinking of the way that both of them had looked beside you, one of their hands dipping under the fabric of your panties and the other lightly twisting at your nipples too. Absentmindedly, your own hand reached to mimic the action on your breast while you remembered. Careful kisses would be pressed into your cheek and neck while they whispered adoring little praises in your ears.

“You’re so beautiful baby, like nothing else.”

“We love you so much. My princess, such a good girl for me, hm? You like how our hands look on you?”

Your body shivered at the memory, and you rubbed circles into your clit, gathering your own sticky slick to rub over the sensitive bud.

“Yes,” You whispered to the empty room.

The golden setting sun reflected fractals of tiny rainbows into your room--just as your prism had done hanging in the window back at home. It would reflect on the stucco walls, and the colors would streak on the ceiling. You would catch sight of them laying tangled up in scattered sheets with both of their bodies prowling over you in bare skin. You could trace the curves of their shoulder blades like the edge of perfectly crested waves. A faraway warmth swelled over your body, and you rubbed harshly at your bud craving more and and more. Your legs squirmed under the sheets: much like they would when they would bow their heads to tease at your clit with interweaving tongues, sandwiched between your thighs which they would pull back with starving fingertips. You could almost hear it: the way that your slick would drip over your pussy, and how they would taste it too on each others lips in between.

Your back arched recalling their praise. They would pull you between them once again, and fill your mouth with adoring kisses covered with multitudes of their love. Jisung would mewl little whines into your mouth, shaking from your hand wrapped around his cock, and Changbin kissed you like you were his reason for breathing: slow, languid, purposeful. He’d sigh out watching the way that you marked up Jisung’s body while pumping himself all the while.

“Binnie. Sungie.” Their names became your anchor while your rubbed wider, then slower, then faster. Your soaked fingers plunged into your pussy while your head danced with the memories of them filling you up, rolling their hips in as deeply as thye could, kissing into your chest or the crook of your neck. You curved your fingers to tease at your g-spot, but your clit was even more impatient.

“Do you want to cum for us princess?”

“I’ll cum for you...” Your breath hitched in that room all by yourself.

Your fingers wiggled back up to your clit, now hypersensitive from its lack of attention. Instantly, your orgasm built violently behind the twitching bud, and you threw your free arm back to grip into your pillow to steady yourself. Sweat had gathered on the underside of your thighs and on your back: it was a feeling so dirty that it only made your head feel lighter. It was as if they were in the room with you and you could see them clearly: enamored eyes dipped in lust that ate up your form until there was nothing left.

“C-close.” You shuddered, now with pruned fingers encircling until you drew yourself right to the brink.

You came with a forceful heat that swept over your whole body and sent your hips jerking up into the air and toes digging into the bed. Your incisors bit harshly at your lip, and you stifled your unsteady and high pitched moans the best you possibly could. In your apartment complex, the walls were thin enough for there to be little left to the imagination.

Your chest shook as you came down and you teased your bud, edging on overstimulation for as long as you could take it. Jisung had liked the way that you would convulse like this and Changbin would relentlessly give little slaps to your aching bud. Once you could take no more, you drew your hand back from the elastic, then you let the euphoria sweep over your body for a few moments of silence and tranquility.

Yes, you had done it to yourself, but without their help, there was no way that you could’ve shown your body the same kind of fervent love.

It was as if they could make love to you telepathically, even on this night when the sun was setting, and your bed was empty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hadn’t expected yourself to feel nervous meeting them at the airport. Still, your heart pounded in your chest with a ridiculous rhythm. It wasn’t like you had a completely different face or had changed anything about yourself remotely that would’ve shocked them. Still, a sense of anxiety swelled in you that was unexpected and unwarranted. Perhaps it was because it was so surreal.

There was something odd about the airport, it was likely how industrial it all felt with chairs that were lined with thin upholstery and carpets that held all kinds of mysterious stains. But, while it was a bit of a undesirable area, it was teeming with excitement. There were patrons at the magazine stands busying themselves flipping through books and laughing at the outrageous titles, people sitting joyously at the little restaurants and several hyper children tugging the hands of exasperated parents with neck pillows clinging to their strained necks. Further down the way, there was the sign illuminated pointing to the pick up area past baggage claim.

The air smelled overly filtered, but it was still as exhilarating. You took two escalators down and one moving walkway, then the light of the outdoors flooded the area with conveyor belts and the screens above them.

“Y/n? Y/n!!!!” Jisung’s voice called over the busy sounds of baggage claim filled to the brim with his excitement.

Before you got a chance to figure out where his voice had come from, your adorable boyfriend came charging at you with arms outstretched and an inhumanly large smile on his face. He scooped you up holding you so tightly that you had to teeter on your tip toes. While Jisung had a bit of a tiny frame, you never would’ve guessed from the scale of his hugs.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” He giggled out the words with a sense of disbelief, and he swung your body back and forth. “Oh my god I missed you sososo much.”

Another set of arms peacefully wrapped around you and Jisung and squeezed you in even tighter. In one of his hands, the cellophane from a bouquet of pink roses crinkled. “It’s so nice to have you back.” Changbin cooed, then reached to pat your head with his free hand.

You blinked back your happy tears the best that you could. The three of you broke, and you looked at both of your boyfriends right in front of you for the first time in what felt like forever. Changbin squeezed Jisung’s shoulder while the boy wiped a couple tears for the corner of his eyes.

You were biased, but they really were the most beautiful people in the world.

“I-I missed you both too, more than you can imagine.”

The two boys beamed, then presented you with your flowers.

“‘Hope you like pink ‘cause that’s the last color that they had left.” Changbin chuckled, and you nodded profusely.

“They’re gorgeous.”

You decided, after two months of not seeing the damn loves of your life, you deserved to kiss them--fuck the glares that you would get.

First you grabbed Changbin by the cheeks to press a smiling kiss right into his surprised mouth, and kiss him like you were a high schooler starved for attention that was forbidden to them. Still, your boyfriend grabbed your face back, rubbing tenderly into your own cheeks.

You winked to an equally shocked Jisung, “You next.”

You kissed the stutters away on his lips, and then ran giddy lips over his which cracked with a smile so wide it made it a little hard to kiss him. He wrapped both of his arms around you to pull you in close and you ruffled up his caramel blond hair the best you possibly could. Beside you, Changbin chuckled out proudly.

You had closed your eyes to kiss both of your boyfriends like they deserved. If someone had stared, well...you didn’t see it.

Jisung was out of breath after your parted, then pushed up his glasses in his surprise.

“That was....”

“--Lets get home!!” You shined with a smile, then took off in front of them. “Are you coming or not??”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jisung decided not to subject you to his home cooking, regardless of the fact that you had said that you wanted to try it. You had ordered take-out, and ate it picnic style on the floor to your living room in front of the TV playing a movie that none of you payed attention to. Regardless of the fact that your jet lag had hit you like a truck, your pure adrenaline upon seeing them kept your eyes from becoming weary.

The normal questions had been asked: how are you classes, how is the food there, what are the people like, what is your apartment like, have you made friends etc. You asked Changbin about how his classes were going, and how Jisung’s part-time job at the café was and about the silly little things that you used to do as three, but they now had to as two. The consensus was that doing anything as two was strange and even a little awkward at times because they had gotten so used to having you around.

Changbin cleared the dishes, making space for you to make up your little pillow fort that you would do at times. “It felt like there was a piece missing from us. It was...really hard sometimes too.”

“It was for me too. Out there all alone...I had never realized that a bed meant for one person would be like, the saddest thing that there is on this earth.”

“Small bed no more!” Jisung piped, then proceeded to wrap both his arms and legs around you the best he could. “Also small shower no more.” He nuzzled into your chest.

One of the selling points of the apartment that you shared was actually the comically large shower that it came with. During the first few weeks after you had moved in, it was as if the three of you were physically incapable of taking a shower without the others being there. Changbin joked that it was as if they had made it just for the three of you in some kind of destined way.

“Hmmm well, I think that we should make use of that as soon as possible.”

Jisung let out a happy little hum in agreement then angled himself up to plant a couple quick kisses on your mouth and nose. Changbin threw down your array of pillows and other blankets, draping them over chairs to make a little tent like the three of you were toddlers hidden away in your secret place.

“Sungie sandwich!!!” Jisung suddenly gasped out, “Binnie come on!!”

Changbin scoffed, “I guess it has been a while...can’t say no to that.”

Jisung squealed and the two of you made space for your boyfriend to come slide himself on the other side and make a proper “Sungie sandwich.” He kissed careful lips into the crook of Jisung’s neck which made the other boy giggle out in a tizzy: not only was he sensitive there, but it would tickle him too. You reached your arms over to tangle your fingers up in Changbin’s dark locks which were just as soft as you remembered.

“This feels so amazing.” You sighed into Jisung who had crept his hands up your shirt.

“It does.” Changbin agreed. “We’re complete again.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Small bed no more was right.

Jisung patted the middle spot, wearing only a white tee and his boxers.

“Your spot awaits you princess.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Changbin sauntered over while he brushed his teeth, abandoning the idea of a shirt all together.

Your eyes widened, “...Bin--”

“--What?” He smugly smirked. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before?”

“N-no.”

Your other boyfriend scoffed, “He certainly knows that he’s hot, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does.” Changbin dished out a prideful wink.

With sarcasm laced in your voice, you turned to Jisung to say, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that while I was gone.”

Changbin’s voice echoed from the bathroom “HE LIKED IT!”

Jisung waved him off, settling to beckon you under the thick and cozy comforter that you had daydreamed of more than once.

“Are you comfy?” He hushed.

“Mmhm! Comfiest I’ve been in months.”

Just as he always would, Jisung would wrap you up so tight that it might’ve been a little suffocating--but it wasn’t like you minded in the slightest. The top of his poofy hair smelled like grapefruits somehow, and you hadn’t realized how much you had missed it. The feeling of your bare legs intertwined, and there was nothing that came close to such a perfect feeling.

Your other boyfriend clicked off the light, then engulfed the both of you with his rather strong and intimidating arms. You knew for a fact that they were nothing but cuddly and harmless. Being like this with them was what you had missed most, and it was finally yours for the taking.

“Are you guys asleep yet?” Jisung whispered after approximately five minutes of silence.

“No,” Changbin murmured. “What is it?”

“I-I dunno, I can’t fall asleep, I just keep thinking...”

You flopped over to face him, “What is it Sungie? Everything okay?”

Your adorable boyfriend stammered, then shied under the comforter in the dark of the room. “I-I don’t know if now is the right time, but...” It was noticeable how his tone had changed; you and Changbin knew it well. Jisung’s pitch would raise and his voice would crack when he wanted something.

Changbin leaned over to click the light back on. “Sung, you don’t have to be so coy about it. I think that Y/n and I know you better than you know yourself.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in his embarrassment, “You what??”

Your headstrong boyfriend sighed, “Use your words Sungie.”

His cheeks turned rosy, then he peeped, “It’s just that it’s been a really long time and I can’t stop thinking about it, and...Bin and I didn’t really do anything for like a week cause--”

Your head whipped in Changbin’s direction, “What?”

Changbin nodded solemnly saying, “Let him finish.”

“--C-cause I wanted us to wait for when you came back so it could be like, extra special? Or...something like that.” He threw the blanket over his head. “It sounds so dumb when I say it out loud.”

You really didn’t deserve someone like Jisung. Not in this lifetime or the next. You felt your limbs practically turn to jelly to hug your shy boyfriend.

“It’s not dumb!! Not at all!! I think that it’s so sweet! You wanted to wait for me? Oh, baby...”

With the blanket pulled back, you held his glistening eyes with yours. He really was irresistible when he would get like this.

“I’m assuming that you wanna stop waiting, hm?”

Changbin joined you in leaning over the shiest of you three, then shrugged down the cotton of your loose t-shirt to paint kisses into your shoulder. In the chill of the room, the warmth contrasted beautifully.

“Yes or no Sungie? Because I defin--”

“--Yes! Uh--I mean, yes, but--only if you aren’t too tired or if you want to.”

“Sungie, how can I say no to you?” You bowed your neck to press loving little kisses into his lips which still tasted faintly of mint. He immediately give into you, grabbing out to hold your neck firmly as you did so. His hips squirmed slightly, as did his legs--he always was such an impatient baby.

Changbin scooched in closer to caress down your back as you filled your boyfriend with every single kiss that you had been waiting months to give him.

His voice was as soft as velvet, and full of his immense love for the two of you. Seeing both of you like this made him swell with such as sense of admiration, it was as if it was a high for him. “We’ll take care of you Sungie, we’d love to.”

Even from Changbin’s praises, Jisung’s whole body would shiver, and you could feel it on your tongue too when you had politely asked for him to allow you entrance.

Jisung set to work pulling your shirt up over your arms once you turned to Changbin to kiss over him roughly. He had liked it more that way: a collision of lips and teeth grazing over the softer parts of your mouth, gasps getting caught in between and the heat of tongues twisting as if you were as sweet as honey. As soon as you were rid of your shirt two sets of hands greedily crept up your body to twist and pull at your nipples which had hardened in seconds. Your head fell to Changbin’s shoulder while they teased and flicked at your sensitive buds until they hurt.

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Changbin growled, then cradled your head to lay you down.

“The prettiest.” Jisung agreed, then hooked his fingers under the lacy part of your underwear that you might’ve worn with the purpose of them not staying on you for long. In return, you tugged at both of their waistbands for them to do the same. Cloth hit the bedside floor, and all that was left was Jisung’s shirt which you pulled off yourself. You only had a couple moments to look in the dim lighting of the room, but both of them had already dripped lightly with pearly drips of pre-cum and their hardening dicks throbbed against the mattress. Not only was it a heavenly sight to behold, but you knew that both of them were entirely for you.

Changbin leaned down to flick his tongue around your hardened bud, then used his hand to kneed at your other breast with his powerful grasp. Jisung pulled your face towards him with hungry little whimpers that tickled your bottom lip, so you returned the favor by pulling his with your teeth. He recoiled beautifully from the feeling, and you saw your prefect window to slither down his body and wrap your hand around his pink cock. At first, you grazed your thumb over his slit roughly.

“Did you miss my hand on your cock Sungie? Look at you...so hard for me, so worked up...do you want it that bad, baby?”

“Y-yes, p-please...”

Changbin kissed his way up your neck from your breasts sparkling from his saliva, then sucked love bites onto your collarbones and the soft parts of your neck. “Angel, I want to see you with Sungie’s dick in your mouth, can you do that?”

You nodded, reveling in Changbin’s instructions. There was something about being told exactly what to do that made you feel so pliable. Changbin knew it well. You then worked kisses down your boyfriend’s body, pausing for a moment to flick your tongue over his nipples in the way that made his whole chest flush with pink. He laughed out in his pleasure with an airy breath too. You kissed gently at first, teasing your lips over, then sucking harshly with a trailing of teeth. His back arched, and he let out a delightful “ah-fuck!”

You finished by peppering other little marks on his chest which faded from pink to violet in a matter of seconds.

“Babyboy, you wanna taste my cock too?” Changbin greedily rose to kneel, then pumped his fist with tiny trailing breaths.

Jisung’s eyes turned into full moons at the sight, then nodded excitedly while angling himself correctly. You and your boyfriend exchanged prideful little glances over the other’s eagerness. The pads of your fingers traced down Jisung’s thin frame, ghosting over his flaring abs and drawing little scribbles into his ribs. Your perfect position was set between this quivering thighs which welcomed you easily, and you took his deliciously pink cock in your hand to tease at him with thick stripes. You gathered saliva on your tongue so he could feel it, then used another hand to pump at him too.

Jisung flattened out his tongue to swirl it around his boyfriends angrily red tip and maintained eye contact as Changbin preferred. As the smallest boy dipped his head in closer, Changbin entangled his fingers with those gorgeous caramel trellises. He sighed out at the feeling of his cock hitting the back of Jisung’s throat, and groaned out lowly once he heard the other choke on it lightly.

“Fuck baby. Just like that..”

You then took in Jisung’s length as deeply as you could: and it was no easy feat. Where Changbin dominated in girth, Jisung made up for in length. The action sent Jisung whining helplessly on Changbin’s dick, which only drove the other boy further into his passion.

“You take me so well Sungie.” He cooed, and pulled out for Jisung to catch a few desperate gasps.

Your saliva gathered in the corner of your mouth, and you licked it up and down the sides of Jisung’s cock-- but only for a few moments. You swallowed him down, pushing down the back of your throat just as you had long learned how to do. Merely feeling the weight of him in your mouth sent your pussy throbbing and your legs twisting for some kind of sensation. Of course, Changbin had noticed.

“Open your legs sweetheart.”

You did as you were told, and his thick fingers came journeying through your soaked folds, and he toyed with your clit and slicked his fingers with your arousal. His index and middle finger circled around you: it was a sensation that you had dreamed of endlessly.

“Mm, Bin...” You moaned onto Jisung’s cock.

“Pretty pussy of yours must’ve missed this, hm? My fingers fucking your wet little cunt? I missed it too...”

You tried your best to maintain your strength once you had returned to sucking off Jisung’s dick, but you only seemed to unravel further. He rutted his hips into your mouth needily--an action which teased at your gag reflex, but you were stronger than that.

Jisung’s own slobber fell down the side of his neck which Changbin held, just so he could feel the way that he filled up his boyfriends throat. With his other hand, he dipped it further inside your pussy, fucking you slowly at first. You knew that he loved the way that your slick sounded on his fingers. In response, your helpless moans vibrated on your boyfriend’s dick.

“Y/n, I want your mouth too.” Changbin asked gravely with hooded and darkened eyes. You knew what you had to do next. His fingers slipped out from you, and you loathed feeling so empty, but you weren’t one to disobey him either.

Changbin made space for you to lay on your stomach next to Jisung and then tapped his wetted dick on your lips as well, leaving Jisung gasping next to you.

“Fucking show me how much you missed me.”

You took him in, and you had nearly forgotten how sizeable he really was. It was startling, and as soon as you took in his full length, you had to fight back tears over how thick he really was. Regardless, the way that he could stretch you out like this was purely addictive.

“Oh...fuck--baby...” Your boyfriends voice dropped several decibels. “My babies suck my dick s-so good don’t they?”

Jisung nodded in his wonder at you, and Changbin dipped his thumb into his mouth afterword. Jisung always did love the taste.

Changbin caressed your full cheek, “Don’t forget to share.”

You took a deep breath, then let Jisung take his turn again. As he did so, you resumed your work at jerking off his dripping tip, and he reached to slide between your folds with long fingers.

With both of your adoring glances, you and Jisung kissed and lapped up the sides of your boyfriend’s dick and his eyes rolled back at the ethereal sight.

“H-holy sh-shit--”

Your hips buckled once Jisung let his fingers plunge inside of you and high pitched mewls sent you clawing at Changbin’s hips for balance.

“W-wait...” Changbin pulled himself away, and you knew that he must’ve been practicing the best restraint he could. “Sungie, you wanna taste her pussy too? Taste how sweet she is?”

Jisung smiled widely, despite being a bit of slobbery and tear-stained himself.

“I’ve been waiting for months to!”

You looked to Changbin for approval.

“Sit on his face then sweetheart? Wouldn’t you like to ride his face for me?”

You nodded in your thrill, and the bedsheets crinkled under the sound of the three of you shifting your bodies back into the proper position.

As it often would, the windows to your room fogged with steam--even though it was a beautiful spring evening. Pillows were strewn everywhere, and some of them nearly fell off the bed. Nevertheless, you had never been cozier wrapped in the clean threads and with your sweating skin pressed against heated bodies.

Jisung firstly kissed at your wet lips, teasing and humming happily into them. He grabbed onto both of your thighs to open you further then pulled your folds apart to kiss directly on your bud--an action which sent you nearly screaming over how intense it all felt.

“You can be loud for us baby. There’s nothing to be scared of here.”

It was as if a switch had flipped within you, and each and every lap of Jisung’s tongue felt like the most euphoric sensation you had ever experienced. He looked utterly adorable under you with his pink and juicy tongue running stripes over your clit. Merely watching him like this was enough to bring you to your first orgasm.

“D-don’t stop S-sung...” You rolled your hips over his lips.

Changbin had snaked himself farther down Jisung’s body which glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He clicked the bottle of lube, then smoothed it over his length, finally aligning it over the smaller boy. Your hands grabbed out for something to hold onto: one of them within Jisung’s hair, and the other squeezing painfully into the headboard.

“Rough or slow Sungie?” Changbin laughed out wickedly.

“R-rough...” Jisung moaned onto your pussy, “H-hard...”

Changbin entered your boyfriend carefully, and both of them shuddered at the feeling. The room was full of all of your eroticism, and Jisung groaned out loudly at the connection. From the sounds your orgasm drew itself out too, and it was heightened even more when Jisung moved to pump his fingers deeply into you as well. He curved his fingertips in the way that grazed your cervix, and then sent you quivering pathetically over his face. Lower, Changbin dug his fingers into his boyfriends hips slamming into him without pause, and panting haphazardly.

“C-can yo-you cum for me??” Jisung whimpered in a way that was much too cute for his own good.

“Yes.” You answered, then fucked your hips over his plush lips and you clenched your teeth hard against your lip “Mm-fingers, Sung--please...”

Jisung did as he was told, and maintained his pace stimulating your g-spot then, and begging an orgasm out of your body. He himself whimpered like a puppy while he was fucked out. Had you not been focusing on your orgasm, you wished you could see it all happen.

“Ji--fuck--” Your hips violently shook, and you came with a searing heat that locked your walls tight around his fingers and dripped even further down your shaking thighs and splattered into his delicate features. It didn’t startle him at all, but he merely licked his lips free of your slick.

“B-Bin--” He gasped out, then you fell down in your aftershocks to watch the way that Changbin spread out your gorgeous boyfriend with sweat dripping down his chest and from his brow.

“Ride him, baby.” Changbin immediately ordered. “I want you to cum all over his dick, got it?”

With grabby hands, Jisung pulled you right into his chest once you had straddled him. He played with your nipples for a few fleeting moments as you got situated pushing his cock into your pussy still trembling from your last orgasm.

It was beautiful how he could fill you up like this. It was intimacy incomparable a closeness that only you had shared with him. In fact, he had actually been somewhat of a virgin when the three of you had met, and both you and Changbin were his first time. Knowing that he had only shared this part of himself with you and your boyfriend felt intoxicating in a way.

You flicked your hips over his length, and focused your strength on fucking him slowly compared to how relentless Changbin kept his pace at.

“I love you baby. Jisung, I love you so much.” You held his gaze.

Two tears fell from his cheeks--not out of sadness, but of his pure love for you.

He begged with a quivering lip, “Please kiss me.”

And you did. You kissed Jisung like he was as fragile as flower petals that could break with the smallest tear. You kissed his lips as sweet as candy and you kissed the last bits of your arousal away on the corners of his mouth.

Still, “Harder...” He begged, and your hips dipped lower and quicker over him.

“Want me to fuck you harder babyboy?”

Changbin threw his hands on your shoulders, then ran them down your spine to feel the way that you moved over Jisung’s dick.

“Want us to fuck you until you can’t say any more?” You tutted.

“Fuck, Sung, you feel so--”

“G-gonna make me cum-ngh!”

Changbin angled the boys hip up a bit further, and the sound of skin on skin filled the room.

You sang out the phrase, “~I didn’t hear you say it Sungie~”

Jisung’s face screwed up, and he gasped out loud enough for the neighbors to likely hear, but that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Fuck me please.”

The thickness of the air in the bedroom clouded, and you fucked your beautiful boyfriend with your tightening walls as hard and as fast as you could, right until you brought yourself to the brink of another trembling orgasm, right over his dick. Changbin gifted a stinging slap to your ass then bit kisses into your shoulder right as you came undone for the second time, and Jisung’s eyes rolled to the back of his head once he came inside you at the very same moment. Your velvet walls tightened around his ribbons of cum inside and you collapsed against his gasping chest to warm him after his release.

Changbin set himself loose, groaning out loudly as he came too, and shook with delighted laughter that was mixed up in his happy little “oh’s.” and the hitch of his breath. His restless hands caressed every inch of your body that he could as he brought himself down, finally bowing down to kiss right into your shoulder blades and back. Jisung called out his boyfriend’s name too while he shook around him.

You coaxed yourself free of Jisung’s dick and Changbin wondered in the way that Jisung and made a creamy mess of your pussy. He then did the same watching how his seed spilled out of Jisung as well.

“Wow.”

The three of your sweating bodies clambered flat onto the mattress and the room fell quiet, leaving space for your breaths and the way that the spring evening sounded outside of your window: distant car horns, the hush of the breeze, the ebb and flow of the early arrival of cicadas.

“Are you okay?” Changbin asked the both of you with worried hands running over both of your sweating forms.

“Y-yeah. I am.” You smiled.

Jisung shied his flushed face with one of the bedsheets. “Me too.”

“I think...if you’d like, maybe the three of us could kind of, sorta, I dunno, stay connected for a little bit?” Changbin smoothed down the little hairs on your arm with the gentlest touch.

“If Y/n wants to?”

You exhaled peacefully into both of your boyfriends arms, and gave them a little hum to say yes. Changbin carefully wetted his dick with your slick, then guided himself into you pussy with his half hard dick, and it felt like a dream. Jisung too took a bit of lube in his hand as well, then pumped his dick with a shiver to then slide himself into your ass. The two of them swept over your body with light and fleeting kisses to your neck, shoulders, cheeks, nose and lips. You stayed the same: wonderfully full, and so close to them that it must’ve been unreal. While it hurt a little how they had stretched you out, you wiggled your hips still to feel even more of it. Your boyfriends sighed out at the feeling.

“Sweetheart, you do that any more and you’re gonna make us want to fuck you again.” Changbin scoffed.

“What if I want you to?” You traced the way that his deep brown hair curved over his ear. “What if I want you to fuck me like this...close...slowly...?”

“Sung?”

“If she wants to, I want to as well.”

Changbin held your hips firmly under the blanket, then started his slow thrusts into you with his dick that indulgently grew hard once more.

He whispered the promise over your lips, “We can do that for you baby.”

You don’t know how long the three of you had remained as such. Time became nothing of your concern as the night slipped on and both of them took every ounce of their time with you, slowly fucking up into your pussy and ass, the sounds of your slick renewed filled up the room. They brought out a couple more shaking orgasms from your core, each of them followed by careful kisses to soothe your shaking body.

“Such a good girl for us.” Jisung nibbled into your ear. His hand got tangled with the sheets too where he reached around to twist your nipples between his fingers.

“How do you want it baby? Do you want it inside?”

Changbin’s skin filled up your palm, then you slung a leg over his hip so he could hit your g-spot perfectly.

“P-please?”

“Of course. Sung?”

“--Mm-m’ close too.”

A few more moments of your symphonic moans, and you unfolded between them: one last orgasm that was so encompassing that you had slipped right into a space so safe, that you felt as if nothing in the world could touch you. Changbin finished off with unexpectedly adorable sounding grunt, and he throbbed within you to the tune of Jisung doing the same.

“Shit.” Jisung giggled, then nuzzled his head right into the nape of your neck.

“How was that angel?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

The three of you found solace in the skin on skin of it all: three people, three bodies that could be closer than two bodies ever could.

“Ready to clean off in our big-ass shower?” Jisung wiggled you in his giant hug.

“Small shower no more.”

“The problem is, who’s gonna get up first to get the water running?”

Condensation dripped down the windows, and the curtains blew softly with the spring air invading the room and carrying the smell of flowers and the mist lingering in grass.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Water dripped like rain over the pink of muscles and intermingled with the iridescent drops of soap bubbles which held little rainbows in and of themselves. Hair slicked to the sides of faces, and transparent streams coursed down the simple breaths on rising chests. Steam filled up your lungs, a reminder that it was all real.

You were here with them. It wasn’t some kind of dream that you had painted while in that room alone with yourself and the buzzing of a TV speaking in tongues that you didn’t know.

Even though they said nothing, but rather touched your body down, you could hear their thoughts like a melody.

They loved every bit of you, and it was written on their faces times two.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

Kinktober #11: A Little Restraint: Eijirou Kirishima

Kirishima buys you a new toy. Then he asks you to use it on him.

Characters: Eijirou Kirishima x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), bondage, aged up characters, oral sex (m and f-receiving), vaginal sex, dom!reader and soft sub!Kirishima, aftercare

Notes: I’m running out of title ideas. Did I say that yesterday? Doubly so today. But I haven’t posted anything with Kirishima since day one!! This dude is one of my favourite comfort characters, honestly. We stan a hero who drinks his respect-women-juice 💖

Today’s prompt was “restraints,” and I honestly thought about Kirishima tying you up, but... this way sounded so much more fun.

Kinktober Masterlist

Sex with Kirishima never gets boring.

When you first started dating, you couldn’t keep your hands off one another. You were fucking at least twice a day; desperate to make up for all the time you hadn’t known one another. Now, six months later, you’re starting to think that desire might never fade.

Granted, real life has gotten in the way of your twice-daily boning sessions, but the want is still there. Proven every time you stumble in the door in a tangle of limbs. Every time you creep through the quiet morning, picking up the trail of clothes you left behind the night before.

Tonight, he’s handsier than usual. It’s giving you ideas.

“Got somethin’ for ya, babe,” he’d said to you one night, appearing in the living room with a shipping box in his hands. You’d made it pretty clear in the past that you didn’t need him to earn your favour with gifts, but he’d looked so excited to show this one to you- you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You’d flipped open the cardboard flaps, only to be faced with a pair of thick leather handcuffs in the bottom of the box.

“You planning on arresting me anytime soon?” You’d teased, though you remember the way your cheeks instantly heated, too. You weren’t stupid. Those were no standard-issue cuffs.

“Naw, I thought…” His cheeks were red, too, as he waved you off. But he’s brave and he trusts you, so he kept going. “I thought we could use ‘em in the bedroom.”

“On me? Sure, I-I’ve never really done that before, but…”

“No.” When you looked up at him again you caught a swell of intent in his gaze. “On me.”

Oh. Oh.

Kiri’s usually the one to take control when the two of you get into bed. He likes setting the pace of things, worshipping you from head to toe. Taking his time. But, as it turned out, he’d been thinking about this for a while. He loves it when you get on top. And he has to exercise such control in his day-to-day life… he wants to give it up every once in a while, to somebody he trusts.

When he’d first put it like that, there was no way you could refuse. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have some switch tendencies, anyway.

That’s why tonight, as he’s laying you down on the bed, you grab his wrists. Hard. He stops, looking down at you in a moment of flustered confusion.

“Why don’t we keep your hands off tonight?” You growl. You see the realization take over his expression, and he swoops down and catches your lips with a fleeting but very loving kiss.

“I love you,” he growls, tucking his face into your neck and kissing you there.

“Love you, too,” you mumble back, curling your fingers in the front of his shirt. You give his chest a little push, forcing him back. “Now undress.”

The blush is creeping decadently down the back of his neck as he steps away from the edge of the bed, tugging off his shirt and letting it flutter to the ground. Before it even touches the floorboards, he’s fumbling with his belt, tugging it open and shoving his pants to the ground. When he comes back to you in just a pair of crimson boxer-briefs, it’s with the promising swell of his growing erection tucked against one thigh.

He climbs onto the bed, falling onto his back. He looks up at you with the light of adoration in his gaze. Christ, you’re so lucky to have him.

You climb off the bed, stripping down as you cross to the dresser. The cuffs are tucked into the bottom drawer, and by the time you turn back with them stretched between your fingers, you’re clad only in your bra and thong.

From across the room you can hear the growl ripping from his chest. He props himself up on one elbow, watching you take your time as you come back to him.

“Damn,” he chuckles, reaching for you. You slap his hands away and take a step back.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” You hold the cuffs out in front of you. He swallows hard and lays back against the pillows.

“Wait… no,” you sigh. “Roll over. On your belly.”

You can tell he’s losing sight of where you’re taking this, but he rolls over anyway. He trusts you so fully it’s almost heartbreaking. You promise yourself not to misuse that.

As you kneel beside him, he turns to rest his cheek on the pillow. He continues to stare- you can feel his eyes flicking over your body, even as you reach over and carefully buckle one of his wrists into the cuff.

“Tight enough?” You ask, and he gives a low hum. A quick nod.

“Too tight?” He shakes his head, eyes falling shut. You smile. You love it when he gets soft like this. If only you’d known that he was trying to bring out that side of himself again.

You slowly draw his hand into the small of his back and swing a leg over his thighs, straddling them. He lets out a little grunt, his hips pushing into the mattress. You let him stay that way, figuring he’s only going to get himself more excited. You wrap your fingers around his other wrist and tug it to meet the other one.

“This okay?” You press.

“God, yes,” he grunts. The sound comes right from the barrel of his chest- you can feel it vibrate along his spine. This is going to be good.

You buckle his other wrist into the cuffs, running a finger between the padded leather and his skin. You prompt him with the same gentle questions as before, keeping him talking. Making sure he’s still with you.

“Okay,” you whisper, and you climb off of him. “Get up to your knees, now.”

He struggles a little to get his knees underneath his torso, but he’s all hard muscle and raw power and gets upright with little effort. The powerful muscles of his core work visibly as he sits up and you’re practically drooling by the time he comes to rest in front of you- legs spread, erection jutting down one leg of his undershorts, chest heaving ever so slightly.

“Fuck,” you catch yourself gasping as you watch his shoulders work to acknowledge the restraints. Biting your lip, you indulge, reaching in and palming the swell of his erection. He lets out a little grunt and shoots you a crooked grin.

“Somethin’ tells me I’m gonna regret this,” he purrs. You crawl between his thighs and kiss his lips, long and slow and sweet.

“Baby,” you growl, “you’re not gonna regret a thing.”

You make him eat you out first, spreading out on the pillows while he wiggles himself back onto his belly between your thighs. Normally his hands would be roaming all over your body while he tongues your pussy- he’d slide his fingers across your thighs, pinch your nipples, palm your breasts. You can see the disappointment lining his gaze as his arms strain, but he licks you diligently, and it’s not long before your thighs are clamping down around his face as you cum.

You wipe his mouth for him, making him sit up again. In the meantime, you rid him of his shorts, and as he settles onto the sheets his erection bobs between his legs, drooling a thin stream of fluid and framed by a trimmed patch of dark hair.

You lick your lips. You can’t help it. He’s delectable like this. A blank canvas, ready for you to play.

You stroke him first, painstakingly slow. Your fingers are curled loose around him, but every time he tries to thrust his hips into your grip, you squeeze tightly and stop dead. He’s whimpering your name by now, chewing hard on his lower lip as he peers up at you.

“Please,” he mumbles. “More.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” you coo. You slide onto your stomach between his thighs and don’t waste any time. You swallow him down.

He howls, throwing his head back as his thighs draw tight. His hips are trembling, and you can tell he’s trying his best not to thrust right to the back of your throat. Good, you think. He’s already learning.

You plant your hands on his thighs and start to suck. You keep the same painstakingly slow pace as before, planning to draw his pleasure out as slowly as possible, before letting him expel it all at once.

You can feel the tightness catch in his body when he finds a wave of pleasure. You let him ride it for a few more strokes but pull away sloppy and harsh before he can get too far. And he looks up at you with such betrayal in his eyes you seriously think about stopping.

“You with me?” You breathe, sliding your hands up and down his thighs. He’s flushed and broken for you, but he nods with a tightness squaring his jaw.

“Keep going,” he insists.

He’s been holding on long enough.

“Time for your reward,” you mumble. You lean in and pepper kisses down his collarbone. He rises his shoulder into your touch, but he doesn’t perk up just yet.

“C’mere,” you hum, sliding a hand to his shoulder blades. “On your knees again. Nice and tall. Just like that.”

You crawl around in front of him, dropping onto all fours. As soon as you spread your legs he’s gasping and pushing forward, wanting the wet, maddening heat you’re offering to him. You slide a hand between your legs and wrap it around his thick shaft, lining him up with your entrance.

“Slowly,” you urge, and he’s trembling but he complies, easing himself forward into you. You’re soaking and sloppy from before, still sensitive and tight as ha fist around his cock. He bottoms out diligently, slowly, and holds himself there.

“Please,” he gasps, voice breaking. You make him stay there for another few heartbeats. Then you smirk.

“Fuck me.”

He complies with renewed vigor, rearing back and slamming his hips into yours. His thrusts are erratic and sharp, but you meet him beat-for-beat, sliding your hips back as he pushes forward. Your ass slaps tantalizingly against his hips and you know he wants to touch it. Fuck, you should have done this sooner. You can picture him already, straining against those cuffs and aching to palm you.

The sharp cry of your name rouses you. His thrusts are getting shaky, and you realize he’s already getting ready to cum.

“Not… gonna last,” he whimpers. “Please, lemme…”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Cum for me, Kiri. I wanna feel all of you.”

His peak hits as if on command, and he lets out a feral shout as it rips through him. He fucks himself madly into your body, humping you through his desperate desire. He keeps pumping into you through the spurts of his orgasm, covering his cock and pulling drips of fluid from your body.

When it’s over you slump forward, panting and breathless, but he’s still drawn tight behind you.

“Kiri?” You hum, pushing yourself upright and sliding off his softening cock. He’s still got the desperate flush of desire covering his cheeks, and for a second, you’re worried.

“Let me…” he pleads, “let me touch you.”

“Jesus- here.” You race forward, reaching behind him and freeing him from the cuffs as fast as you can. You don’t even get the chance to drop them off the side of the bed before he flattens you to the bed. His hands glide all over your body, sliding down to your hips and over your breasts. He cards his fingers through your hair and pulls softly, making up for all the contact he couldn’t have before.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, but he’s already slipping a hand between your legs. He pushes one finger into your messy slit, drawing handfuls of cum out as he adds a second and curls his fingers.

He pulls a third orgasm from you before he’s finally satisfied, collapsing beside you and letting you wrap him up in your arms. You stay there for a long while, rubbing his back, letting him continue to slide his hands over all your bare skin.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you mumble after a long moment of silence. He frowns, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“For what?”

“That was too much. I should’ve…” You don’t get to finish your sentence, because he’s silencing you with a kiss.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” he chuckles against your lips. “Hands down. If you don’t do that to me again soon, I’m gonna be the one punishing you.”

He pulls a smile from you, and you pull him in a little tighter.

“I wouldn’t mind that so much.”

#kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima/reader #my hero academia #mha fanfic #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #eijirou kirishima #red riot #gnomewrites

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter six: no one but you

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 5.6K

A/N: i sincerely hope you guys like the way this ends, it’s always so nerve-wracking to end a story! the epilogue to this story is posted as well and linked. thank you to every single person who sent sweet messages of support it means the world to me. SMUT WARNINGS APPLY IN THIS CHAPTER: oral (m/f), unprotected sex (only in fiction y’all) and hoseok thirst.

of course, i cannot post this story without shouting out some of the most supportive, killer people on this site. you guys truly mean the world to me @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland @hobi-gif

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*********************

There are perks to being the boss.

For Namjoon, it means calling the shots on the streets from his office in the sky. Rarely does he leave the climate-controlled comfort of his pristine headquarters to get his hands dirty in the day-to-day business of the organization he runs.

Tonight, he’s making an exception.

Yoongi drives. Like a bat out of hell, as always.

It’s a thirty-minute ride from downtown Seoul to Incheon Port without traffic but Yoongi is on pace to finish it in just twenty. Hoseok watches the lights on the expressway speed by from the backseat. He tries hard to focus on the information Namjoon shares, the details he’ll need in order to ensure he doesn’t put himself or anyone else in danger tonight.

But fuck, it’s so hard to concentrate with the taste of you still on his lips.

He scrubs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath. He forces himself to push the memory of your body in his hands and your skin in his mouth and your voice in his ear to the corner of his mind.

Then he goes over the information again.

Namjoon wants to be in place at least ten minutes before the scheduled meet so he can figure out what’s going on before the Ssijog knows he’s there with his men.

He wants guns to stay holstered unless he gives the signal.

He wants --

“You must have really scared the shit out of that guy, Jung,” Namjoon murmurs from the front seat. Hoseok snaps back into focus to search for his boss’s reflection in the side mirror and finds Namjoon already looking at him. “He’s been blowing up his contact since last night, begging for personal protection.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t do worse,” Hoseok shrugs. “I certainly could have.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Namjoon agrees. “Someday you’ll have to tell me the story of how you managed to be outside of his apartment when his handler picked him up. Here I was, under the impression you had the night off.”

Hoseok swallows thickly.

“Just doing my job.”

There’s a twist to Namjoon’s mouth that Hoseok can’t read and it puts him on edge.

“Well, I must thank you for your dedication to your job,” Namjoon continues. “You’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty for this assignment.”

Hoseok looks away from the mirror. “Yeah, sure,” he says quietly.

The car falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“So anyway --” he announces loudly, “-- Jimin and Tae were able to track Kang’s texts through some internet bullshit they mess around with. Apparently dude flipped out after you left his place and wouldn’t let up until his handlers agreed to meet him tonight.”

“At Incheon Port?” Hoseok asks, glad for the redirect. “That’s a hell of a drive for a chat.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Namjoon says under his breath.

The car falls silent once again.

**********************

Mun Kiwoo has a reputation for being messy.

The man at the top sets the tone for the organization, and Mun is no exception. His men are known for their brutality, his deals often go south, and by most accounts his syndicate is hanging on by a thread.

But it’s still hanging on.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi watch quietly from their vantage point behind a shipping container as Mun waits in the dark, cigarette in hand. He looks like an unmade bed -- shirt rumpled and half-tucked into his wrinkled dress pants. He lights one cigarette off of another as he answers a series of calls on his cell.

His agitation seems to rise each time it rings again.

Hoseok takes stock of the two guards Mun has at his side tonight. They’re bulky men with huge arms and round bodies -- the kind of guys who look dangerous due to sheer size, but would be slow to respond in a physical fight. Namjoon holds up two fingers to confirm they’re the only men with Mun and Hoseok nods.

Headlights bounce off the pavement after a few more minutes of waiting.

A black car pulls up close to the water’s edge and Mun Kiwoo ends his call just as he lights another cigarette.

Kang Donghyuk is the first out of the car, followed closely by his Ssijog handler. Kang is dragging his ass and even from a distance, Hoseok can make out the bandage over the side of his face.

Hope it hurts, motherfucker.

“Mr. Kang,” Mun Kiwoo’s voice is clear now, loud enough for all three men to hear. “You have been rather insistent about this meeting. I’m a busy guy. What do you want?”

All three men strain to listen to Donghyuk’s response, but it’s too muffled to catch. Yoongi brings his hands to his throat to make a choking gesture. Can’t hear shit, he mouths. You choked him too hard.

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“That sounds like your problem,” Mun laughs in response to whatever Kang has said. “Not mine.”

Donghyuk gestures wildly as he tries to make his case, likely pleading for the protection of the Ssijog. Mun Kiwoo looks unmoved.

“I’m not interested in causing any more trouble with the Gajog, Mr. Kang. This entire situation has been a means to an end. Stirring more shit with Kim Namjoon is not in my best interest.”

Namjoon signals to Yoongi and Hoseok that it’s time to move. All three men step out from their cover behind the shipping container, hands in front of their bodies to demonstrate none are holding their weapons.

“Fucking hell,” Mun Kiwoo groans when he spots them. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

His guards bow up at his side, both men reaching for their guns. Mun has the good sense to raise a hand and stop them from pulling their firearms -- which keeps Yoongi and Hoseok from doing the same. All of the men face off in silence for a moment, each side waiting to see if the other will do something to break the fragile peace.

Kang Donghyuk whines under his breath and Hoseok shoots a warning glare at him. He drops his gaze to the ground and shuts his mouth.

“You say you don’t want trouble with me, Mun and yet --” Namjoon snarls, “-- you have this piece of shit working my sister. Explain.”

“You know how these rich boys are, Kim,” Mun chuckles. “They develop a bad habit -- or in this idiot’s case, two -- and daddy’s money isn’t enough anymore. They’re easy to buy.”

Donghyuk looks from Namjoon to Mun, panic in his wide eyes.

“They’re trying to kill me,” he rasps.

“So what?” Mun laughs. He smiles wide to reveal a mouth like an abandoned graveyard, teeth broken and scattered. “This guy thinks we’re friends,” he jeers, jerking a thumb in Donghyuk’s direction. “He’s too stupid to figure out that he served a purpose and now he doesn’t anymore. Simple as that.”

Namjoon sucks in a breath with obvious irritation.

“I’m still waiting to hear what any of this shit has to do with my sister.”

“Ah, yes,” Mun says, stubbing out his cigarette and getting back to the task at hand. “Listen, I don’t have anything against your sister personally, okay? Lim Joowon is my son and I want him back. He can’t spend the next 15 years behind bars. You understand that, right? Doing whatever it takes for your family?”

Namjoon utters a curse under his breath.

“I’ll give your sister some credit, though -- she’s tenacious. I thought she’d give up after we took her digital files,” Mun admits. “Instead she’s cost me a hell of a lot more money. I’ve had to start cutting a lot more checks to ensure this shit goes away.”

“She’s not the type to roll over and play dead, Mun,” Namjoon growls through gritted teeth. ��

“The pigheaded gene runs in the family, huh?” Mun grins. “Look, let me level with you Kim, man to man. I don’t even need your sister at this point. I’ve paid enough people to fuck this case from the inside out. But I won’t lie, she is my insurance. If any of the higher-ups start asking questions about why this case fell apart -- who better to point the finger at than the sweet young prosecutor with the dirty family connections, hmm?”

Namjoon tenses, hand reaching for the gun at his side. Yoongi stops him with a muttered warning.

“None of us give a fuck about what happens to your son, Mun,” Namjoon says. “What I have a problem with is you sending that piece of shit --” he points at the trembling Kang Donghyuk, “ -- into her fucking home. Invading her space. You crossed a line.”

“You’re right,” Mun agrees lightly. “It was rude. Uncalled for. I’m gonna apologize for it right now.”

He pulls his pistol from his side and the sound of clinking metal bounces off the shipping containers as everyone pulls their guns. Hoseok trains his pistol directly at the shaking Kang Donghyuk and silently prays for the chance to pull the trigger. Mun Kiwoo’s gun is pointed at Namjoon and Namjoon’s is pointed right back.

Then Mun’s face lights up with a bizarre smile. He swings the point of his pistol in the direction of Donghyuk and pulls the trigger twice.

Donghyuk sputters as he falls to the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi exchange looks.

Namjoon stares at Mun incredulously.

“What?” Mun’s nonchalance is comical. “You wanted to do that too, right? Besides, that guy owes everyone in the city money. I promise you, his own mother won’t even miss him.”

“Jesus,” Yoongi mutters under his breath. “This guy is fucking nuts.”

Mun puts his pistol away and his men follow suit. Namjoon signals for Yoongi and Hoseok to do the same.

“Consider that a goodwill gesture,” Mun says breezily. “An official apology from me, to you. And please pass along my consideration to your sister. Please assure her that none of this is personal. But I will make sure my son stays out of prison. And like it or not, she’s going to play some kind of role in that.”

Namjoon stares off into the water.

“I can’t control my sister, Mun. She makes her own choices,” he says after a moment. “But let me be clear, this is the first and last polite discourse we’re going to have about this situation. I don’t want you, your goons or any --” he glances at the bleeding pile of Kang Donghyuk on the floor, “-- paid help going near her. Not in her office, not in her home. Nowhere. Are we clear?”

Mun Kiwoo lights another cigarette and smiles wide, the space in his teeth prominent against the gleaming ember hanging from his mouth.

“Crystal.”

On the way back to the car, Hoseok hears the heavy splash of Kang Donghyuk’s body hitting the water down below.

He shuts his eyes against the rush of pleasure he feels as he climbs into the backseat.

************************

YOU

Something isn’t right.

You stare at the empty seat across the conference table -- the one where Hyejin normally sits -- and something twists in your gut. She’s out sick today. You can’t even remember the last time she took a sick day.

All morning, you’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s no big deal. That you’re working yourself up for nothing.

But Donghyuk is out today, too.

Vaguely, you register the sound of your boss’s voice at the front of the room. Any minute now, you’ll be asked to brief the team on the status of your case, but you can’t think straight. You can’t focus on anything but the feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong.

Your thoughts race back to last night, back to your brother taking his men away for business in the middle of the night.

Back to Hoseok.

You try not to think about what it felt like to have his warm body pressed against yours. The way he smelled like fresh laundry and spice. The way you unraveled the moment he touched you.

Your phone pulses with an incoming text.

namjoon: i’ve asked jungkook to bring you to the office tonight after work [ 1:25 PM ]

namjoon: a lot to discuss [ 1:26 PM ]

Your brain grinds to a halt as you stare at the messages.

It’s like everything is wrong and everything is right, all at the same time.

“Miss. Kim?”

You look up to see your boss staring at you, one expectant eyebrow raised. You take a deep breath, line up your papers and stand to take your place at the front of the room.

****************************

The sense of déjà vu that hits you as you make the long walk across your brother’s office is nearly overwhelming. This is exactly how this entire mess began weeks ago -- with you summoned to see Namjoon after hours, with Yoongi and Hoseok flanking him on either side.

But there is one thing different about tonight.

When you briefly lock gazes with Hoseok as you make your way to Namjoon’s plush chair, there is a warmth behind his dark eyes you can see from a distance. It’s a complete contrast to the first time you ever saw him, when you thought you could freeze to death from the ice in his glare.

You look away before anyone can catch the flush working its way up your neck.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you brother begins evenly. “I finally have some answers for you about what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m ready to hear them,” you exhale, taking a seat. Your eyes drift over the papers strewn scattered across his desk.

“We’ve learned that the reason the Ssijog want your case against Lim Joowon to fold is because Lim is Mun Kiwoo’s son.”

You raise a brow.

“That’s news to me. I didn’t even know Mun Kiwoo had a son.”

“Neither did we,” Namjoon admits. “Apparently this is his only son and the man he intends to pass control of the Ssijog down to. So it makes sense that he’s so hell-bent on seeing this case fall apart.”

He picks one of the papers off his desk.

“This is the more problematic piece of the puzzle,” Namjoon says quietly. Your chest tightens in response to the expression on his face. “Jimin and Taehyung tracked a Ssijog account making payouts. Payouts to people in your office.”

He holds the piece of paper out to you.

“There are six names on that list.”

You take a deep breath before taking the sheet from his hands.

Your eyes scan down the document, taking in the blows, one by one. Two receptionists. One paralegal.

Lee Hyejin.

Kang Donghyuk.

Park Soo.

You say nothing as you stare at the list, taking in the names again.

Someone you called a friend. Someone you’d allowed into your bed. The boss you’d bent over backwards trying to impress. You stare at the black-and-white evidence of betrayal in your hands, reading the words over and over -- expecting to feel sadness or rage or humiliation or something.

Nothing comes.

“Give us a moment, would you please?”

Yoongi and Hoseok file out of the room quietly at Namjoon’s command. The second the heavy door to the office clicks shut, he clears his throat. “There is something else we need to discuss, Amsaja,” your brother continues quietly. “Kang Donghyuk is dead.”

“Good.”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide at the quick, calm delivery of your response.

You stand to walk to his sideboard to pour a drink. You have no idea what’s inside the decanter, only that whatever it is promises a burn you want to feel right now. You pour a glass and take a sip, leaning against the heavy wooden piece.

“Did you kill him?”

“No. The Ssijog beat us to it,” Namjoon admits. “But Hoseok paid Donghyuk a personal visit at home to convey our -- displeasure -- at his involvement in this mess. He damned near choked that man to death hours before Mun Kiwoo put two bullets in him.”

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay.”

The words Hoseok spoke in your kitchen surface in your mind.

They’d sent a bolt of pleasure through you at the time -- triggering a kind of primitive response you’d be embarrassed to admit out loud.

And somehow that response pales in comparison to what you’re feeling right now.

A normal woman wouldn’t find satisfaction in the idea of Donghyuk cowering in fear inside his apartment. A normal woman wouldn’t feel warmth spread through her entire body at the mental image of Hoseok wrapping his hands around Donghyuk’s throat. You slip a finger under the collar of your blouse and search for your scar -- closing your eyes at the familiar feel of the raised skin.

You remind yourself that you are not a normal woman.

“Hoseok uncovered Kang’s involvement with the Ssijog even before we found the payouts.” Your brother pauses, a wry twist to his mouth as he continues. “He can be a very determined man when something is important to him.”

Namjoon holds your gaze for just a beat too long after delivering that statement. You look away and walk to his office window.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now, Amsaja,” you brother says. You can hear the sound of him pouring his own drink behind you. “Your silence has me concerned.”

You’re thinking about every time Hyejin feigned concern for you and tried to get you to open up. The days Donghyuk insisted he take you to lunch or to dinner when you insisted you were too swamped. The bullshit little speech Park Soo gave you the night of the charity dinner about keeping Seoul from falling into the hands of criminals.

You’re thinking about what a joke they all are -- dressing up and looking down their noses at the criminal element they claim to despise. Wearing their fake piety like a badge of honor and paying for their fine things with dirty money.

You’re thinking that you’d rather choose a hundred street thugs over any one of their kind. At least your brother has the balls to wear his sins on his sleeve.

Namjoon joins you at the window, glass in hand.

“What I’m thinking, Jaegyueo,” you say calmly, “Is that a lot of things are starting to make sense for me. I haven’t felt this clear in a very long time. So, thank you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your brother’s mouth and you return it.

You clink your glasses together in a toast.

***********************

You are two whiskeys deep when you leave Namjoon’s office.

Hoseok is waiting in a chair in the hallway. He stands to his feet when you appear from behind the heavy wooden door.

You suck in a breath as you take him in -- the sharp beauty of his face and the soft curve of his mouth and the way his suit hugs the lines of his lean body. You realize, with more than a little embarrassment, that you are staring.

“I’ve got the car warming downstairs,” Hoseok says carefully. “If you’re ready to go, that is.”

“Yes. Hoseok, I --” you swallow thickly, “-- I never apologized for what I said to you. I didn’t mean those things. I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok steps close and reaches one hand out to tuck your hair behind your ear. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch and inhaling his scent.

“You’ve had a hell of a night,” he murmurs. “We can talk about that some other time. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

You open your eyes to look up at him just as Yoongi rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks.

“Glad this isn’t awkward,” he mutters, before turning to walk back the same way he came.

**********************

The air in Hoseok’s car is thick with tension on the ride home.

You’ve stopped pretending to not stare, eyes fixed on Hoseok while his eyes stay glued to the road. He guides the car through a sharp turn and you catch the way he winces as his hand grips the steering wheel.

A throb of guilt hits you square in the chest.

“You’re hurt.”

“Nah,” Hoseok deflects quickly. “Just a little sore.”

He won’t look at you. Why won’t he look at you?

“Namjoon told me you nearly choked Donghyuk to death,” you say quietly, studying his face for any reaction. He slows the car to a stop at a red light and rubs his fingers across his mouth, stares out of his window.

“I wanted to kill him,” he admits. He takes his aching hand off the steering wheel and flexes his fingers as if reliving the memory of that night. “I almost did.”

That embarrassing reaction flares inside of you again. This time it slides down your back and pools low between your legs and you have to squeeze your thighs together in response. You shiver as you remember the promises he made while pressing his body to yours.

“Tell me what you want. I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

You’ve never wanted anything as badly as you do Jung Hoseok right now.

*************************

You force yourself to wait for the elevator doors to shut.

The second they do, you crush your body and your mouth to Hoseok’s. If you catch him off-guard, there’s no way to tell -- not with the way he immediately backs you into the elevator wall, slotting one knee between your thighs.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore,” he groans the words into the shell of your ear, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Just like no one gets to touch you anymore. No one but me.”

The strangled sigh that escapes you is the closest thing Hoseok is going to get to a thank you right now. You whimper in agreement, gasping when his fingers grip your ass to pull you flush against him. The swollen outline of his cock brushes against your stomach and you shudder.

The elevator ride is too long and too short, all at the same time. Hoseok backs you through the doors as soon as they open, fumbling in his pocket for the keys while you suck bruises into his throat. By some miracle, he gets the door open and both of you through it in one piece.

“Fuck,” Hoseok swears as you wrap your arms around his neck, grinding against his insistent cock. He has to drag you both into the bedroom as you press against him like a dead weight, teeth nipping at his bottom lip as you both stumble into the bedroom. You drop out of his grasp when the bed hits the back of your knees.

Hoseok stands back, chest heaving with exertion.

“I need you to hear you say it,” he pants. “Please.”

You sit up straight on the edge of the bed and unbutton your blouse, slipping it off without hesitation. “No one gets to touch me,” you breathe, reaching to unclasp your bra. You toss it away.

“No one but you.”

Hoseok’s eyes darken to near black.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and slowly pulls off his holster and gun, placing both carefully on top of your dresser. Then he turns back, body looming over yours. He cups your cheek with one large hand, looking down at you with such heat that your breath hitches in your chest.

You lean into his touch, fingertips grazing the contour of his cock beneath his suit pants.

“You promised to give me anything I want,” you whisper, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. He nods slowly, the rasp in his voice betraying the calm on his face.

“Anything. Name it.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say, pulling the hem of his shirt out of his pants. Your fingers work the buttons open, one by one. “Let me.”

Hoseok exhales a heavy breath as you open his shirt and stroke your hands down his chest. You give yourself a moment to admire the lean strength of his body, fingers stroking over the metal tags that hang just above one dark, flat nipple.

His stomach tightens and his cock twitches in his pants when you tilt forward to press a soft kiss to the golden skin just above his belt. You work it open with unsteady hands and his pants follow just a moment later.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, nuzzling the outline of his length with your cheek. You push his boxers down his slim hips just enough to expose the head of his cock. “I don’t want you to think about anything but this.”

Hoseok groans when you flick your tongue against him.

His cock throbs under your fingertips through the fabric of his underwear when you dip down to tease the head with your mouth. You lap at the salty moisture gathered at the swollen tip and his head drops back.

“Sweetheart, please --” he grits out, hands reaching for your hair. He winds his fingers through the strands and jerks when you rake your teeth across the wet ridge under the head of his cock. “-- don’t tease me.”

Some other time you might play the delayed gratification game with him. You might take hours to torture him and keep him dangling at the precipice of pleasure. Tonight, though -- the only thing you want to do is make him come so hard he can’t see straight.

“I won’t,” you promise sweetly, pulling the rest of his thick length free from his boxers to wrap your warm fingers around him. You flick your gaze up to appreciate the way his head is tipped back in pleasure, lips parted.

“Look at me,” you murmur, pumping him with languid strokes.

His eyes are glassy with arousal when he opens them to gaze down at you. You make sure he’s watching as you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you draw your mouth across his length. He gathers your hair in his hands so he can appreciate the unobstructed view of your private show.

“No one gets to touch you anymore,” you whisper. You take him down as far as you can again, tongue dragging against the thick vein that runs the length of his cock. You are panting when you pull off him, tongue running the seam of your lower lip as you catch your breath.

“No one but me.”

Hoseok’s dick jerks in your hand in response, hand tightening in your hair as you lick a long stripe up his shaft. He chokes out a moan as you lick at the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, eyes fixed on his.

“No more,” he croaks.

You pull your mouth away reluctantly, tongue swiping at the taste of him on your lips and the sight seems to set him off. He grabs your face with both hands, groaning into your mouth as he claims it.

He pulls away, panting.

“Lie back,” he demands between breaths. You comply without question.

Hoseok leans over you, arms braced on either side of your body as he drops his head down to take one nipple between his teeth. Your hips jerk at the stimulation and you squirm underneath him, thighs slippery with your own excitement. He laves at both nipples slowly, thoroughly, until they are aching and wet. Then he trails a soft line of kisses back up to your ear.

“I want to taste what’s mine,” he whispers, and a pang of arousal hits you so hard you forget to breathe. You lift your hips to help him pull your skirt away along with your soaked panties and he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of you. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation.

Hoseok nudges your legs apart with his hands, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. His dark eyes are half-hooded with pleasure by the time he drapes your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he groans when you are fully spread open for him. He drops a kiss on your mound and your body jolts at the sensation, every nerve ending standing at attention. He moves lower, long fingers tracing the outline of your swollen cunt and you suck in a breath.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, dipping one finger into your damp heat. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you choke out, hands gripping the sheets as his finger flexes inside of you.

“Only for you.”

Hoseok makes a sound of satisfaction deep in his chest before sealing his lips over your aching clit. You shudder against his mouth when he pulls back to soothe you with the flat of his tongue. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined how you would taste,” Hoseok groans, licking deeply into your wetness. “It doesn’t even come close. Nothing comes close to this.”

“Hoseok --” your hands come off of the sheets to grip into his hair, “-- Hoseok, please don’t stop.”

Your senses are so heightened that just the pressure of the heel of his hand against your cunt is making you crazy. His finger crooks deep inside you, stroking against your swollen walls while his lips and teeth toy with your clit. You whine at the stimulation, at the wet drag of his tongue that has you writhing beneath him.

“You’re close sweetheart, I can hear it,” Hoseok’s voice is ragged with arousal. “Let me hear you. Come for me.”

You clutch his hair between your fingers, moaning brokenly as the heat between your legs simmers to a boil.

“Hoseok --”

“That’s it,” he praises you with dirty words spoken in the sweetest way. “Let me taste you. Let me hear you.”

Hoseok is prepared the moment you come apart.

He grasps your hips firmly in those large, warm hands of his -- tongue and lips persistent as the live wire inside you tightens and snaps. The force of your orgasm shakes your entire body and leaves you begging and breathless. Hoseok savors every drop of your release until your hips sink back into the mattress and you protest weakly against the threat of overstimulation.

The mattress dips under you as Hoseok joins you on the bed, lips swollen with use and mouth marked with your taste. His head dips into the hollow of your neck, nipping gently at the skin, while his fingers skate over the soft skin of your stomach and thighs.

You shiver in his hold, closing your eyes for a moment to savor the feeling of his body on yours.

“I want to watch you come like that every day,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. “Only for me.”

“Only for you,” you agree in a whisper, finding your voice after what seems like ages.

You slip one hand between you, fingers wrapping firmly around the rigid cock pressed against your stomach. Hoseok groans when you tighten your hand around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, feeling a pulse between your legs that seems to beat in time with the throb of his cock in your palm, “Fuck me please, I’m losing my mind.”

His hoarse chuckle sends a shiver up your spine as he moves to cover you completely with his body. He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance and you tilt your hips up into his.

“Please,” you plead again, lifting your head to brush your lips against his. “Now.”

He sinks his cock into you slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the tight fit of your cunt around him. The stretch inside of you is nearly too much -- you whimper when he bottoms out and he drops his forehead to yours.

“You okay? Am I hurting you?”

His entire body feels like a rubber band ready to snap -- coiled energy waiting to be released. But he holds back the instinct to move until you nod your agreement.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, nudging his hips to move with your own. You stroke your hands down the slick skin of his back. “I’m so full right now.”

Hoseok swears under his breath as he tentatively rocks his hips against yours, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You wrap your legs around him as the discomfort subsides and the only sensation that’s left is the pleasant pressure of his cock against your walls.

Hoseok’s hips move harder as your whimpers melt into moans.

“Dammit,” he swears, head dropping low between his shoulder blades. “So tight and wet for me. So perfect for me.”

You look up to take in the sight of his perfect face slack with pleasure, mouth parted and face flushed with exertion. His dog tags hang from his neck, swaying as his hips begin to piston in earnest. You pull on them to force his mouth close to yours.

“Only for you,” you whisper, “No one else.”

Hoseok’s steady rhythm stutters when you whisper those words into his mouth and press your lips to his. His hips jerk wildly as his release races up his shaft. He laces his fingers into yours, fucking you deep into the mattress in those final seconds as he loses all control to chasing his end.

He comes with your name on his lips.

************************

Hoseok breathes deeply into your hair as you stroke your fingers across the lean lines of his chest, fingers tracing the metal outline of his dog tags. You lie together like that for a while, skin to skin.

Your thoughts are loud in the quiet.

You’re used to the bitter sting of betrayal by now.

Long before Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk or Park Soo ever sold you out for a check, your own father betrayed you for the bottle. You of all people know too well that most people aren’t to be trusted.

But then Hoseok’s fingers drag lightly across your back and they bring you back to the here and now -- back to the promise he made to you tonight.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore.”

And you decide to trust just one more time.

************************

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @jjeonjoon @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @ppersonna @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena @strawbewymiwk @stephleee @jalexa83 @livanthi @fantasybangtan @trviahope @mono-kookie@hauntedlilies @sugasaidbultaoreune @yeojaa @secret-alphabets @hodginss@parkjimin-persona

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts mafia au #hoseok mafia au #bts tsundere #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub

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clonecaptains · 4 years

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SHOW ME THE STARS - a poe dameron x f!reader fic

rating: m - for some smut, but this is like 95% fluff

word count: 16k

summary: you’re a mechanic that just got a new assignment - working on your crush poe dameron’s ship.

a/n: this is completely canon divergent. it’s very loosely following the story line of the films so just toss out what you know of canon reading this!! i want to give a huge shout out to @pascalispedro for listening to me blab about this fic and the support, and to @damndamer0n for all your poe advice!!! this is one of the longest fics i’ve written and i worked so hard!! this is my first poe fic ever so feedback would be much appreciated!! thank you!!

Show Me the Stars

You’re scared to fly. You prefer your feet to be on the ground. That’s the natural order of things. There’s never been a time where you’ve been on a ship where you weren’t apprehensive or scared. You thought maybe it would help if you understood more about how things worked with flying, but when that didn’t click for you, the next step was learning about the machines themselves. So that’s what you do. You know just about everything there is to know about how ships work, but you have no desire to fly one on your own, and you still don’t like being out in space.

As a kid, this wasn’t much of an issue. You stayed grounded. But when the First Order came in and took your family from you, you joined the Resistance. Offering your services as a mechanic and maintenance worker.

Your job has its challenges, but there are days when it’s rather easy. Luckily a good portion of the pilots know as much if not more than you, and they take good care of their equipment. Some days your job is as simple as giving the ships a once over and maybe cleaning up some of the carbon scoring that’s gunked up.

You work with a team, and you’ve just been given a new assignment. The war is ending. At first it seems strange to get a new assignment so close to the end, but it’s an assignment you’ve been wanting for a long time.

Your group has been assigned to the X-Wing squadron. When you were given these orders, you felt your stomach drop and your heart leap at the same time.

That’s where he is.

Poe Dameron.

The absolute love of your life that you’ve spoken to maybe twice in your time with the Resistance.

He has a reputation of being a playboy, but that’s not something you’ve ever paid much attention to. All you see in him is the warmth of his smile. The passion in his eyes. You’ve heard him when he gets riled up about something, he cares so much about the Resistance. He won’t back down.

You’ve also noticed his wonderful curls, and the dark stubble covered jaw. The way his smile catches in the sunlight. His thick thighs and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his ass.

You know most people are in love with him. You’re one in a crowd. And despite his reputation, you’ve never actually seen what people are talking about? Maybe you’re just not around him enough to see the lovers he takes, but maybe you’ll get that chance to see, or to be one.

You know you don’t want to just be a notch in his belt, another lover that passes by to someone new. But you’re not ready to see him flirt with other members of your team.

You’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve only just been given this assignment.

You are to report to the X-Wing hanger of the base first thing in the morning. This is guaranteed a chance to see Poe on a more regular basis, that’s one thing that’s certain. Whether or not you’ll talk to him is another story.

“What are you thinking about over there Ms. Deep in Thought?” your roommate, Corelle’s voice interrupts your thinking. You’ve been lying on your bed looking up at the ceiling for too long.

“Oh, nothing,” you laugh sheepishly, sitting up. You sit up too fast and the blood goes to your head, you feel a slight twinge of a headache. That’s not what you need right now.

“I know that look,” Corelle laughs. “When are you gonna tell me who he is?”

You bite your lower lip. Corelle has the biggest mouth on this base. She’s a wonderful friend, but you cannot tell her about your crush on Poe. Or she’ll tell him for you.

Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea, but if he doesn’t like you back then it would be embarrassing.

“I won’t tell!” you laugh brushing her off. You know she means no harm, but you’ve gotten good at avoiding her questions. You’d played all the games; she’s named everyone on this base. But since you were laughing the whole time anyways, you were able to play off when she asked if it was Poe. That was ages ago now. You’re in it deeper than you were then. If she asked again you might not be able to hide it.

You haven’t felt like this since you were a young girl with a crush back on your home world, before all this began.

“Seriously, though what’s wrong?” she asks. “You look stressed.”

“Well you know we got that new assignment?” you’re choosing your words carefully.

“Is he gonna be there?” she sits up on her bed asking excitedly.

“I didn’t say that!” you laugh, feeling flustered. This is too close to comfort. “It’s just jitters I think before a new job. There’s talk the war is almost over and I don’t want to mess this up so close to the end.”

“He’s there. And I’m gonna find out who he is,” she points and smiles. You roll your eyes and flop back down on your bed to hide under your covers.

“I’ll never tell,” you laugh.

“Hey,” she says, her voice serious. “I understand the jitters. It’ll be fine. Hopefully this will all be over soon, and you can settle down with this mystery man.”

You’re not lying, it is jitters for working in a new part of the base. Every piece of the puzzle in the Resistance is important for the cause. You don’t want to be a reason for any losses. Not now, so close to the end.

Those jitters keep you up most of the night. You lay awake staring at the ceiling. Your roommate sound asleep, not a care in the world. You admire her strength, she’d say the same about you, but you don’t feel strong right now.

Your previous assignment was a part of the Y-Wing squadron. Each mechanic was assigned to a group of Y-Wings. You know how this works. You pray to be assigned to Poe’s ship; you just have to be assigned to him! You got to be close with the pilots in the Y-Wing squadron. There’s not as many of them now. That’s why you’re being transferred to the X-Wings. Which is another thing on your mind. No one prepared you for the grief that would come with losing pilots, your friends. You’re not a solider. You joined the cause to fight back for what you lost, who you lost. You didn’t think about losing anyone else. And that thought haunts you. Poe is the best pilot out there, he’s brave. Maybe too brave. He gets himself in dangerous situations, and you worry about him. He’s not yours to worry about, but you worry about them all every time they go up.

You hate flying.

But it certainly won’t stop you from doing your job and making sure those who fly are safe. You’re known among your team to take the longest to do routine checks. Everything needs to run right so the pilot can be as safe as possible.

Luckily for you, your attention to detail and care for ships gets you what you want.

That morning in the main hangar, your team leader is handing out assignments. He calls your last name, and simply says, “You get Dameron,” and he points over in the direction of Poe’s black X-Wing.

You try not to react in front of your team, you just nod and say, “Yes, sir.” But inside your blood is pounding and your ears are ringing. You’re exhausted from your lack of sleep, and now you feel dizzy with excitement over this assignment. You smile inwardly at hearing some buzz through the team when Poe’s ship is assigned to you. But with it comes a weight, you know you have a job to do and it’s not one you take lightly. Poe is the best, and he deserves the best from you, and that’s what you’re gonna give.

And just hope he notices you in the process. Is that so wrong?

When the team disperses, you head straight for Poe’s X-Wing. It feels like an extension of him, and there’s almost a thrill when you approach. You place a hand on the cool metal with reverence. You don’t know how someone could willingly get inside this thing. Never mind being shot at. And you see blaster marks covering this ship. Scarring on an old worn machine. Some are old, some are new.

You begin to familiarize yourself with the ship and the equipment. Structurally it’s different than the Y-Wings, but it’s similar enough you can figure it out. You would like to talk to Poe about his ship though and get any specifics you need to know.

From the looks of things, he keeps things tidy. Other than the blaster burns and some carbon scoring from a recent flight, it’s clean. All that’s left for you to do is tighten some bolts and scrub out some of carbon scoring.

Your work for the day is pretty much done, but you haven’t seen Poe yet. Looking around you’ve seen most of the other pilots’ trickle in and checking things over. When there’s not a battle going on, it’s always encouraged to act as though one could happen any moment. Maintenance and routine checks are common. Keeps people busy during the in between moments.

Since Poe is nowhere to be found, you’re making yourself at home on his X-Wing. You’re on top of it now, cleaning the window. From your perch, you can see when he walks in. Your stomach drops and your heart starts to pound in your ears. What do you do? Do you just keep scrubbing and act cool? Or should you get down to greet him??

Instead you do none of those things and freeze, staring at him as he walks in the main hanger door. BB-8 is rolling along at his heels. Poe has an easy smile on his face, and he waves a greeting at some fellow pilots he passes. As he gets closer, he sees you, and you make quick to get back to work. You don’t want to look like you were staring.

“Hey!” you hear a voice call down to you. He’s talking to you, you’re panicking.

You lean over a little to see him standing on the ground below. His brows are knitted together, but he’s not angry.

“You didn’t have to do that!” he points up to you cleaning the window. BB-8 beeps beside him. Poe looks down and says something, but you don’t catch it. You’re focusing on climbing down and not falling on your face.

You manage to hop down the ladder with relative ease, even though he was watching. You inwardly groan because this jumpsuit of yours is not exactly flattering.

When you finally are face to face with him, it’s like a gut punch. His eyes are so big and gentle. His curls are a wonderful mess. You have to speak before he suspects something.

“It’s my job,” you tell him, “to clean the windows. And do maintenance.” You slap the rag over your shoulder, and in the process, water drops fling from it and land on his face, and the rag hits your shoulder with a loud wet slop. This is not going well. “I’m so sorry!” you gasp watching him blink rapidly from the shock of water in his eye. You can feel your face get hot, but he only smiles, a little chuckle escapes his lips.

“It’s just water,” he shrugs and wipes his face dry with his sleeve. “Thank you,” he says then, “for cleaning the window.” Then he says your name, which you weren’t sure if he even remembered. “That is your name, right?” he winces afraid to be wrong.

“Yeah,” you smile, “it is.”

“I’m Poe,” he sticks out his hand and you shake it even though your hands are wet and greasy.

“I know,” you smile back. “I’m your new mechanic. I’ve been assigned to help you work maintenance on your ship.”

He nods a quick nod; he’s listening while he reaches for the ladder to climb in the cockpit. He doesn’t seem to notice that his hand is now covered in some black grease.

“I’m glad to have the help!” he calls down to you. “I know my ship, but I’m not a great mechanic. There’s always more to learn.” You watch him nervously as he inspects his ship. “Wow, these windows look fantastic!” he calls down to you. “What else did you do??” he leans over the edge of the cockpit, looking down at you. You smile when you see his smile in your direction. He runs a hand through his curls, grinning.

You tell him, and then ask him some more detailed questions about the ship. For being this hotshot pilot, everyone talks about - he’s very gracious about your helping him. He even apologizes for arriving late and not helping you with some of the work himself.

That night you go back to your room with a smile on your face that you couldn’t hide if you tried.

“So,” Corelle grins, seeing you walk in. “I should’ve known it was Poe.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“It’s not- I didn’t-” you start but she stops you by holding her hand up.

“Don’t deny it, I saw you today at his X-Wing. You were positively glowing.”

“That bad?” you whine and flop down on your bed. You realize now how exhausted you are from the day. You got very little sleep last night, and today with all the Poe excitement, you’re beat.

“Ohh yeah,” she laughs. “But I wouldn’t call it bad? It was sweet. He was responding to you. I saw his smile too.”

“Yeah?” you ask lifting your head up from your bed to look her way. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? He smiles at everyone.”

“Not like he did at you today,” she says in a singsong voice. “I saw the way he raked his hand through those beautiful curls! And how lucky are you that you got assigned to his ship huh?? Destiny wants you together.”

“Promise me that you won’t say anything, please?”

“Don’t worry!”

From anyone else, that would do little to ease worry, but from her, you know you’re safe. She’s not who you have to worry about now, it’s yourself. You’re not even sure what to do now.

There’s no time for love in this fight.

“What did you say?”

“There isn’t time for love in this fight,” you sigh. “What chance do I have here?”

“Stop right there. You’re wrong. This is exactly the time for love. That’s what we’re fighting for isn’t it? We all need something good, a reason to fight for. If you’re worried about him being too reckless up there, give him a reason to want to come back home.”

“Well then what do I do?”

“You have to tell him.”

You don’t tell him. You like things the way they are. You like greeting him in the mornings and helping him with the ship. You like hearing him tell stories and making you laugh. You like the way his dimples pop when he laughs at BB-8. He’s nice to you, warm. You don’t want to lose it.

You like this attention.

“Yes, but it could be better,” you can hear Corelle say. “You like the attention but you’re not happy.”

And you hate to admit that she’s right. You’re full of an ache. He’s not yours. Yes, you have formed quite a friendship. You even have a couple inside jokes, and he smiles at you from across the room. But you’re not his.

When he touches your arm or your shoulder, your insides quiver. When he gives you a little wink, you feel a rush of warmth to you face.

But when you’ve seen him flirt with others, you feel a pang of jealousy. You go back to your room and your roommate has to console your aching heart.

“Promise me you’ll say something the next time you see him. You��ve been like this for weeks now. When will you see him again?”

“Tomorrow.”

He’s going on a recon mission. He’d been chosen because of his stealth flying skills. In and out is what he said.

You ran diagnostics most of the day, making sure the tank was full of fuel and every little nut and bolt is screwed down tight. Everything is clean and ready. You’re there early before he is, giving everything a once over just to be sure.

“There she is!” you hear Poe’s voice loud and clear through the hanger. Of course, he’s a morning person. “Everything ready to go?”

You turn to see him in his orange flight suit, black helmet in his hand. BB-8 is close behind.

“All ready! Are you ready?” you ask him. He puts on his helmet and gives you a confident nod, he scrunches his nose up with the smile he gives. He starts to climb the ladder into the cockpit, but you stop him. “Poe?”

His head whips around at the sound of concern in your voice.

“Be careful?”

He gives a little wink in response and calls down, “I will!”

And before you know it, he’s off. All you can do now is stand back and watch the ship roar to life and take off. Your eyes follow it up into the sky as best you can, and soon he’s nothing more than a twinkle disappearing into the far reaches of space.

Thanks to lightspeed, if everything goes well, he’ll be back in a couple hours. So, you busy yourself with other work in the meantime. For now, that’s making sure everything is ready for his return.

You’re working up a sweat moving around making sure everything is perfect. Your nerves have your stomach in knots, you don’t even realize how hungry you are.

“Take a break,” your supervisor calls in your direction, “I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s the best pilot there is.”

For a beat you think, does your supervisor know about your crush?

“I know you’ve lost pilots before, none of it was your fault. You’re the best at what you do. That’s why we put you with Dameron. Go get something to eat.”

You nod, wiping your greasy hands on your jumpsuit. Food would be good, something to settle your stomach.

It’s not regular eating hours, but the cantina still has people getting meals. Not everyone gets to keep normal hours under these circumstances.

Feeling hungry now, you don’t care what it is you eat. You just go for the first meal option and take your seat.

It’s not til you take a bite do you remember this was a meal you’d shared with Poe before. It was a couple weeks back, and you’d been working hard on the ship. There was a part of the wing that wasn’t working the way it should. It was a tedious task and the two of you spent most of the day working on it. Really it was just Poe handing you tools and holding things steady for you and asking questions of what it was exactly you were doing so he could learn.

At one point he’d taken a break to get you both food, and he brought it back to you. You’d shared the meal together while sitting on top of the X-Wing.

“I’m sorry this tastes terrible,” he had laughed, “I just grabbed the first thing I saw.”

“I didn’t want to say anything but no this isn’t good,” you had laughed back.

You’ll never forget his smile after you laughed. But somehow you forgot this food didn’t taste good and you got it again, but the memory was sweet enough to compensate.

You finish the meal quickly, not wanting to miss him coming back. You can tell pilots from the mission are returning, because you see a group of people heading in the direction of the main hangar. Taking that as your cue, you toss your trash and exit the cantina.

You spot Poe’s X-Wing in the hangar right away, and relief washes over you. He’s safe. From a distance, you can see him climbing out of the ship. You can see him looking around, he’s looking for someone. Other pilots pass him by and give him a pat on the back, he smiles politely, but then that look of concern is back on his brow while he’s scanning the crowd.

He’s looking for you.

You only know because when he makes eye contact with you, his face lights up, and he starts to jog in your direction. He calls your name and pulls you into his arms for a massive hug. It’s so sudden it jostles you. His vest is pressing hard into your chest and he smears sweat from his face onto your cheek. His arms squeeze you so tight it almost hurts, but this is the best moment of your life, what is pain??

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you breathe deeply. His flight suit is bunching up in your fists as you squeeze him back.

“You really are my good luck charm,” he says pulling away, smile still on his face. “I don’t know what it is that you’ve done but she flies better than she has in a long time.”

“It’s just a machine,” you shrug, “I think it has everything to do with the pilot.” You lightly bump his chest with your fist. “I’m glad you’re back safe.”

You don’t know at the time, but what you said hit Poe in the gut like a speeder crashing into a wall.

“I think it has everything to do with you,” his voice is quiet, uncharacteristically so. He holds your gaze for a moment.

“I’m happy to help!” you reply, not sure what he’s talking about. He blinks rapidly when you speak, as if you just pulled him out of a deep thought.

“I have to go to a debriefing, but later there’s something we need to fix,” he nods his head towards the ship. You nod in agreement. You’ve gotten more comfortable around him, but your insides still jump at the thought of getting to be with him again. And your head is still reeling from that hug.

Right now, there is nothing for you to do until he gets done. It will have to be later, because the ship is too hot to work on. You can already see some places that need to be patched up. No matter how good a pilot he is, small debris can cause big damage.

“Just come find me when you’re done!” you tell him.

Heading back to your room, a friend passes by with a smile. It’s a knowing smile that stops you in your tracks. She tugs on your sleeve of your work jumpsuit.

“What did you say to him?” she asks with a whisper.

“What?” you’re confused, “Nothing out of the ordinary? Why?”

“He gave you the look as you were walking away.”

“What look?” you feel your face heating up, and your voice shakes a little.

“He wanted you to turn around and look at him,” she pats you on the back and walks on by. Your knees feel weak and you feel lightheaded. Pilots and mechanics and all sorts of people are bustling past you, celebrating the success over the mission and getting ready for the next one. Your feet are frozen to the ground, as your friend walks on by.

You turn around, but Poe is already gone. Headed towards the command center to give his debriefing of the information during his recon flight.

The walk back to your quarters has your mind replaying the hug over and over. His sweat has dried now on your cheek, but it’s a memory you’ll cling to forever. He wanted to see you; he was looking for you. You haven’t been hugged like that in a long time. Now you know what it feels like to be in his arms, if not for just a brief moment in time.

Reaching your room, you punch in the keycode on the door and it opens with a hiss. Much to your disappointment, Corelle isn’t in. You have so much to tell her, but you guess it can wait.

You feel an anxious energy, you wish you had something to occupy your mind. On base, there is always something to be done. Therefore, people’s quarters are relatively bare. Some clothes and essentials and a bed. That’s all you need. If something happens, you have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

With a sigh you sit on your bed, propping your leg up on your knee, you start to untie your boot when you hear a gentle knock on the door.

“Corelle,” you laugh, “the code number never changes!” you get up and push the door open expecting your roommate. Only to be greeted with your favorite pair of brown eyes in the galaxy.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” you answer back, a little surprised to see his face.

“You ready to go? I can come back?” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“No, no! I’m ready just give me one second!” Walking back over to your bed you sit down to retie your boot while trying to remain calm that Poe Dameron is standing in your room. “Did the briefing go ok?” you ask trying to make conversation.

“General wants me to go back tomorrow. First thing.”

“Go back?” you ask standing up. No, no. “You just got back!”

“Today was recon. Tomorrow is a course of action. It’s simple enough.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It’s always dangerous,” he shrugs with one shoulder. There’s a glint in his eye, he seems to like the thrill. “You ready?”

“Ready,” you nod and follow him out of your room. As you’re leaving, Corelle walks by and gives you a look. You shake your head ‘no’ signaling her not to do anything.

“Who’s that?” Poe asks after you’re out of earshot.

“My roommate,” you huff out a laugh. “Seriously Poe, should I be worried about you?”

“About me and your roommate?” he’s teasing, “nah. She’s not my type.”

“Poe, I mean it.”

“So do I,” he shrugs again.

“Poe!” you grab his arm and stop him in the hall. “I’m serious. How dangerous is this? I can’t- “

“Can’t what?” his hand reaches for your hand on his sleeve. The touch of his skin is warm.

“I can’t lose another one, I just can’t. Not you.” A small tear falls down your cheek, and with a gentle finger he sweeps it away.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

By now you’ve reached the hangar, and the ship has cooled enough to work on it. Immediately can see a hole on one of the wings. It’s an easy fix but you’ll have to rewire some things.

“That’s why I need you,” he points to the hole. “I don’t know how to rewire that. I’m here to help however you need.”

“I’ll need BB-8 to help me on this one. And some caf. Lots of caf.”

Poe nods and whistles. You hear BB-8 beep and roll in your direction.

“You help her, ok? Do whatever she says. I’ll be right back.”

BB-8 looks from Poe to you, then rolls up towards you. BB-8 makes a little beep, and you assume that means it’s alright. You grab your tools and BB-8 shines a light on the hole so you both can see the damage.

Poe comes back from the cantina with two metal cups of caf in his hands.

“It’s not very hot I’m afraid,” he says handing you a cup. Your fingers touch his and the warmth from his skin will always send shivers down your spine.

“It’s alright, I just need the caffeine.”

Poe takes a sip of his, and he frowns in distaste. He likes it hot. He smacks his lips and without a word, he holds the caf cup over to BB-8. To which then BB-8 sticks out an arm with a little flame on the it under Poe’s cup. You smile to see them so in sync. At the same time the flame extinguishes, and Poe brings the mug back to his lips. That’s not the first time they have done that.

“I could never do what you do,” Poe remarks leaning against the wing. He sips his caf watching you and BB-8 reconnect and meld wires together. “I know a little, just enough to get by. But not like that.” He motions towards the hole.

“It just takes practice. I could never do what you do,” you mimic him and nod your head in the direction of the ship’s cabin.

“Takes practice for that too. I grew up flying with my mom. I think I was 6 years old when I started learning?”

“So, you weren’t ever scared?” you put down the tool and lift your safety goggles to look at him.

“If I was, I don’t remember. But I’ll tell you a secret, I’m always a little scared before I go up.”

“Every time?”

“Every time,” he nods.

“That’s why I don’t want to fly. I’m too scared,” you admit. “I prefer to be on the ground.”

“Don’t you want to see the stars?” he asks, leaning forward a little. There’s no scoff in his tone, he isn’t bothered you don’t like to fly. “I’d like to show you the stars sometime.”

“I don’t mind looking from here,” you blush, his flirting is becoming a little more direct. Is this really happening?

“You know, you’d be in good hands. I’ll take care of you,” he sips his caf again. Is he talking about actual flight or something else?

“Are you making fun of me?” you laugh.

“I’m not I swear!” he laughs back. “If you want me to take you up there sometime, I’d be happy to that’s all. I could ease some of that fear you carry.”

“Ok,” you let out a shuddery breath, “when you come back from this next mission, I’ll let you take me up.”

His grin starts small and grows wide. “Alright!”

You shake your head with a laugh and put your goggles back on. You’re attaching the last wire when it shocks your fingertip. You hiss and pull your hand back and examine it. There’s a big red welp on the tip of your pointer finger. It stings. Wincing, you shake your hand, but then pull it back to your body to put pressure on it.

“Here,” Poe puts down his cup. “Let me see.”

You wince again sticking your hand out to his. He gingerly takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb over the welp.

“Ow!” you jerk back, but he only tightens his grip. His skin is so smooth, and you want to be mad at him, but you can’t because he’s holding your hand.

“Sorry,” he whispers back. He’s looking intently at your fingertip; his lashes look so beautiful, and you see a long crease run up the length of his forehead. Then in an unexpected move, he brings your hand to his mouth and he closes his lips around your finger. He soothes the burn with his tongue and the way he’s looking at you sends a jolt to your belly.

He pulls your finger from his lips with a slight pop, and you’re completely stunned. His grin is slight, but devilish.

“I want you down here tomorrow before we leave. I need to see my good luck charm before I go,” there’s that smile again. One hand is still holding your injured one, his spit is beginning to dry in the cool night air on your finger. His other hand reaches up and tucks a fallen lock of hair back behind your ear. If you didn’t know any better, he was about to kiss you. You teeter backwards when you feel his thumb press on your pulse point on your wrist, and you bump your caf cup onto the floor. It falls with a loud clang, and the caf gets everywhere.

You pull from his grasp, the caf cup offering you an out. Not that you want to be out of his touch, but the way he’s looking at you is making your head spin. Surely your face must be on fire and he can see that he sparked the flame. His gaze is only further stoking the fire.

The caffeine and the adrenaline in your system has your head spinning and you barely remember the walk back to your room.

He’d casually winked and gave you a goodnight, acting as though he didn’t just suck on your finger and give you ideas of where else you’d like to feel his mouth.

“He’s just nervous before the mission tomorrow,” you tell Corelle. You’re still in shock, that has to be it right? He’s just nervous because he said he got nervous to fly and maybe he just flirts when he’s nervous? Right?

“Whoa,” Corelle laughs, “calm down!”

“I can’t calm down,” you sigh, pacing the floor of your small shared room.

“He obviously likes you. I mean come on, it’s right there plain as day! You have to tell him how you feel tomorrow.”

“Is this really happening?”

“He might be nervous before the mission, but did you ever think he’s trying to tell you how he feels before he leaves?”

“He sure has a funny way of doing it,” you flush, your finger still burns – not from the actual burn, but the burn from his lips.

“You’re not doing any better! Just go up to him and give him a big wet kiss before he leaves.”

“Oh, I am not doing that!”

“Why not? It’ll send the message loud and clear!”

“That’s not exactly how I want my first kiss to go…” you admit.

“It’s the perfect time- wait you mean your first one ever?” she asks. You shrug, you’re embarrassed. “Well then that’s absolutely the perfect time!!”

You bury your face in your hands with a sigh. This is not happening.

It’s another night of little sleep. Most of it’s due to caffeine, it’s been an exciting and overwhelming day to say the least.

When your eyes open in the morning, anxiety is pulling at your mind. Your stomach turns and your hands feel clammy. All throughout the night when you should’ve been asleep, you thought about what you’d like to say to him. You’re not sure you’ll have the guts to. You went over and over the argument in your mind, that he’s risking his life for the cause, and you can barely get out a few simple words.

The hallways to the hangar are already bustling this early. They all have a job to do. Your pulse is pounding in your ears, the energy is high on days like today, multiple emotions fill everyone’s minds. You have an added stress and you don’t know what to do about it. Well, you know what to do, but you’re afraid to do it.

You’re early, earlier than Poe. You assume he’s getting his orders; you don’t see any other pilots around yet in the hangar either.

You feel like you’re going to be sick, a cold sweat makes your skin feel clammy. You jump sky high when Corelle comes up behind you.

“Well??” she asks.

“Well what?” you shake your head and try to calm yourself down. You run your diagnostics while she follows you around. You already double checked everything last night, so this morning is just to run through one more time.

“Did you tell him???”

“No, he’s not even here yet. And what am I supposed to say? ‘Hi Poe, I’m in love with you! Be safe on your mission!’”

No sooner had the words left your lips did you hear the familiar rolling sound of BB-8. You glance down in horror to see the droid, he turns his little head, he obviously heard you.

“BB-8, please don’t- “you panic.

“’BB-8 please don’t’ what?” you hear Poe’s voice clear through all the chaos.

“Don’t- let anything happen to you!” you manage to get out. BB-8 beeps up at Poe, you don’t understand what the droid says. Poe’s eyebrows crease, he only nods at his droid companion.

“I’ll be fine,” he touches your arm. “Everything looking good?”

“You’re all ready to go!” you give him the confirmation. With that he starts to climb up the ladder to the cockpit. Your heart is beating so loud in your ears, you gotta tell him now. You could tell him when he comes back, but what if he doesn’t come back? “Poe, I-“ you have to yell now because the engines are powering up, and it’s loud. “Be careful!” you shout, and he gives you a little salute before the hatch slides closed.

It was all so loud, then comes the quiet after the ships all make the jump to lightspeed. There’s ringing in your ears from regret in the deafening silence. Tears begin to fall, and you cover your face with your hand.

“What’s wrong?” you hear a kind voice behind you. You sniffle and turn to see General Organa standing behind you, she places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You swallow, trying to collect yourself. You’ve only spoken with her a few times, it’s always an honor.

“I’m in love with him,” your voice breaks. “And I didn’t even get to tell him. I had every opportunity.”

“He knows,” she pats your back with a smile, she speaks from experience. “I saw the way he looked at you. I know him well, and I know that look.”

You sniffle again, hoping she’s right.

“He’s also told me a lot about you. Says you’re the best mechanic he’s ever seen.”

“He told you about me?” your cheeks warm and she chuckles softly.

“You’ll have your hands full with that one, but he’s a good man. One of the best.” She knows more than she says, but you can tell from her tone that he cares for you too.

“How do you love someone who risks his life? Did you not worry?”

“I always worried. You must know why he’s in this fight. What he’s fighting for.”

Feeling comforted by her words, you thank her and take your leave. Going to the cantina, you meet up with other mechanics and others who must wait now for the pilots and ground fighters to return. There’s light chit-chat throughout the cantina, some people find it easier to talk and laugh to push past their obvious nerves. It’s a strange feeling, knowing you’re in the fight but you’re here, not out there doing it. You have no control over what happens, but you’ve done the best you can, and your role is still important.

You think back to when you first met Poe officially. It felt like ages ago when you were a new recruit. Your emotions still raw from losing your family to the First Order. You were among an early group in the Resistance. Poe and General Organa were there to greet everyone. You remember shaking Poe’s hand, and from then on, your crush had blossomed.

It seems like a lifetime ago, when you were just meeting him. Now you’re almost on the verge of tears again at the thought of losing him.

The rest of the day and the next are agony. Waiting for him and everyone to come back, just hoping everyone is safe – and knowing not everyone will return home.

Since your job is mechanics and maintenance, you’re not involved with a lot of the intel being shared. You only hear through others what’s going on. Normally you don’t particularly care, you have your job and that’s that. But right now, you’d do anything to know what’s going on and if Poe is safe. If this mission is as dangerous as you’ve heard, you want your anxieties eased.

The command center is in contact with the pilots, but you don’t have the clearance to go in. And your reasons are personal, not professional.

It’s been a few days now, and you find yourself in the cantina often. It’s the best place to glean information. Poe’s name has come up a few times, which you’ll take – it’s an indication he’s alive.

From what you’ve gathered, they will be returning to base this afternoon.

The last few days have gone by so slowly, especially with nothing to do. Then that afternoon comes, and things seem more accelerated. X-Wing and Y-Wing squadrons come in, then the ground troop transports. It’s an obvious victory because everyone is celebrating.

But in the chaos, you still haven’t seen Poe. You don’t see his X-Wing anywhere in the hangar. There’s a considerable number of them gone, killed in action. You feel tears prick up in your eyes, where is he?? There’s cheering and laughing all around you, but you won’t join in until you find him.

Through the hangar you can see outside the base, and several ships have landed there. Through the crowd of people and ships, you can see the familiar orange painted X-Wing you know like the back of your hand.

Running outside, you can see Poe climbing out of the ship down the ladder. Tears fall down your cheeks freely now, he’s back. You haven’t missed your chance.

He’s still a bit of a distance away, but through the crowd he sees you. His smile splits his face and he takes off in a run towards you. The tears keep falling and your vision is blurry, but it’s enough to see him run to you.

When he reaches you, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you deeply. One hand holds your face, then he wraps his other arm around cupping the back of your head. His chest his heaving as his lips move with yours. You’re still crying hugging him to you. Your fingers weave into his sweaty curls and he pulls back for air.

“Hi,” he whispers, chest still heaving.

“Hi,” you sniffle, still running your fingers through his hair. “Poe, listen I need to tell you-“

“I know,” he smiles, then laughs, “I know.” He presses a few more kisses to your lips then to your cheek. “BB-8 told me.”

You shake your head and look down at the little droid who is ‘hiding’ behind Poe’s leg.

“And I heard you,” his thumb rubs across your cheek.

Your cheeks warm and you avert your gaze.

“Hey,” he ducks his head, so you’ll look at him. “I feel the same about you, ya know.”

“You love me?” the words are caught in your throat.

“I do,” he laughs as if he can’t believe he’s finally getting to say it out loud, “I love you. I have for awhile now,” he smiles and averts his gaze for a beat, raking his hand through his curls. Is that shyness in his smile you see?

You don’t waste the opportunity to kiss him again. Your hands find his cheeks and you could die from finally getting to feel his stubble under your fingertips.

“I’m so glad you’re back safe,” you sigh, hugging him to you after the kiss. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in each other’s embrace, but you don’t care.

“It’s all because of you,” he murmurs in your ear, there’s a smile in his voice.

“I didn’t do anything different with the ship?”

“It has nothing to do with the ship,” he says pulling back to look at you, “it has everything to do with you. I needed to get back here to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he kisses your cheek. “I need to go to the briefing, but I’ll be right back ok? Wait, how about you just come with me?”

“I thought I didn’t have the clearance for that?”

“Who said that?” his eyebrows crease, “you’re coming with.” He sticks out his hand and you take it. His fingers interlock with yours, and he pulls his hand up to kiss the back of your hand. “I need my good luck charm with me.”

He leads you by the hand to the command center. You’ve only been in here once or twice, you can’t remember. The leaders of the Resistance are standing around the circle in the middle of the room. General Organa is nearby, and when she sees your hand in Poe’s, she gives you a little wink.

It overwhelms you in the best way that Poe has just decided he wants to be seen with you. He doesn’t make a show of it, but he doesn’t hide when he presses a kiss to your cheek before leaving you to join the others in the middle of the room. You sit down not far behind him and listen.

You don’t understand most of what he says as far as technical battle things are concerned, but it doesn’t matter to you now. Your lips are tingling from the many kisses he’s already given you. And you have never liked the color orange as much as you do right now. His shoulders look so broad, and even though not many people look good in those orange flight suits, it cannot hide that he has a wonderful ass.

After the meeting is over and the crowd begins to mingle, Poe turns to find you. You’re quick to grab his hand again and lean onto his shoulder.

“Wanna get something to eat?” he asks, his voice low through the buzz of the crowd.

“Yes please, just don’t blindly pick something this time?” you tease elbowing him.

“Absolutely not!” he laughs, walking with you down to the cantina. Most people are heading there now, and you like being seen holding hands with him. As his mechanic, you’d been seen with him plenty, but not like this.

You get your food and sit down together in the crowded cantina. His right hand is busy with a fork, guiding food to his mouth, his left hand is gently resting on your thigh. He’s not teasing or squeezing. It’s just gently resting, he rubs his hand up and down a little, these small affectionate touches are going to kill you, you think.

It makes so much sense he’s like this. He goes all in, headfirst into everything. It makes sense now that you’re his – he’s showing it to you.

He is teasing you a little, if accidentally. But you suspect he knows. Because when his hand nears your upper thigh, it sends a shiver in between your legs and down to your toes. He sees the shiver out of the corner of his eye, and he smirks to himself.

“I knew it!” you hear a voice nearby, it’s a friend of Poe’s. A couple others stand nearby and exchange credits.

“Knew what?” you ask.

“How long it’d be before-“ he motions between the two of you. “We were waiting for Dameron to get his head out of the sky and do something,” he claps Poe on his shoulder. You flush, and Poe shakes his head with a shy smile.

You finish eating before him, he’s been busy chatting with you and friends who came to sit down with you. So, after you’re done and he’s finishing, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Tired?” he murmurs, so only you can hear.

“A little. Not as tired as you are, I imagine!”

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, sweetheart. I’ve got a surprise for you.” The pet name and the promise of surprise send a jolt right to your heart.

Just then, across the room, you see Corelle. Her eyes widen seeing your head on his shoulder, she gives you a look like “am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

You smile, and she gives you a big thumbs up. You can’t help but laugh.

“What is it?” Poe smiles hearing you laugh.

“My roommate, she’s been pushing me towards you since she knew about my crush.”

“You have a crush on me?” he teases and takes a bite of food, “that’s news to me.”

“Poe,” you laugh and sit up, playfully shoving his shoulder. He only chuckles fondly. He holds your gaze for a moment, his eyes soft. There’s that ever-present glint of the thrill, but his gaze is gentle. This is how he’s always looked at you. How are you just now seeing that this was a look of love? Were you so blind by your love for him that you didn’t realize he felt the same way back?

“You ready for your surprise now?” he pulls you from your thoughts, and you see his plate is clean.

“I don’t know, am I?” you raise an eyebrow in question.

“I guess we’ll see,” he grins and stands. He says goodbye to the people still eating and chatting. He takes your tray and stacks it on top of his to throw it out.

“You know,” he says taking your hand again. “I really do owe you.”

“For what?”

“Hearing that you love me, that was what was in my mind during the course of the mission. I had to get back to you. It was so strong. I’m only sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt before I left.”

“I suppose I knew too,” you lean into him, “Leia might have mentioned a few things.”

“She did?” he shakes his head.

“And well, your uh ‘remedy’ for my burnt finger was pretty telling.” His laugh is so loud it echoes down the hall. You’ve never seen him this happy before, and it’s all because of you. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see!”

The path is familiar and it’s clear soon enough that he’s taking you out to the X-Wing.

“How is this a surprise? I’m too tired to check anything.”

“I am offended you would think that’s why I brought you out here,” he feigns being shocked. “I want to give you a flying lesson. You said when I got back,” he grins and grabs both of your hands pulling you towards the ship. His shoulders sway and he flows like he’s dancing.

“Poe, I don’t know.”

“We’re not going to actually fly right now. You have my word,” he touches his hand over his heart. “I’m only going to show you the controls inside. I’m not even going to power it up.”

“Ok,” you sigh, nodding.

“It’s ok to be scared,” he offers. “It’s a dangerous machine, you know that. It’s not a toy. I only want to ease your mind a little, if you’ll let me?”

“I trust you.”

“Good.” He turns and starts to climb into the cockpit. “You coming?” He calls once he’s down inside.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” you ask him climbing up the ladder and looking down at him in the cockpit. It’s such a small space.

“My lap,” he says so casually as if that’s the most obvious answer, he pats his thighs and you can’t deny yourself. His thighs have been something you’ve thought of often.

It takes some maneuvering, but you get settled on his lap. He’s sitting forward a little with you balancing on his legs. His arms reach around you to show you the controls. He picks up one of your hands and places it on top of his, “like this,” he tells you, his voice right behind your ear. His breath moves your hair by your ear, it tickles.

“Every ship is different, but they each run in a similar way. You just have to figure out what way works best.”

“Just like people,” you think.

“That’s right,” he smiles, “that’s right.”

“Do you really want me to learn how to fly?” you ask him. You know he said he wants to ease your mind, but you wonder if this is important to him somehow.

“I would never make you, not ever. Besides, with me around you’ll never have to fly,” he pinches your side making you giggle. “and you know what? The stars are just as beautiful right here,” he points up to the night sky.

He leans back a little, and your body goes with his. Your back resting against his chest. The air feels thicker now inside, there’s an electricity and it hits you hard. The way his hands feel have a heated feeling; it reminds you of how he touched your finger when it was burnt.

“You know,” he purrs in your ear, his hands moving up to clasp the zipper of your jumpsuit. “There are other ways I can show you the stars.”

Your breath and pulse begin to quicken as he lowers the zipper. Once it’s lowered enough, he slips his hand in and cups your breast through your undershirt inside the suit. You let out a choked groan and shudder against him, laying your head back on his shoulder. His hand burns through your shirt and you can feel him hardening against your ass.

“Poe,” you gasp out. His hand is kneading your flesh, and his other hand is blazing a trail to where you can only guess is between your legs. But you stop him. “Wait,” you sit upright.

“Too fast?” his voice is quiet in your ear.

All you can do is nod your head yes. It’s all happened so fast today. You hadn’t registered until this moment that being official with him now means the physical bonds would be forming soon. You’re not even sure how to tell him he’s going to be your first.

Thunder rumbles overhead, causing you both to look up to see clouds rolling in, covering the stars.

“Alright let’s go,” he starts to guide you up and out. “We don’t need to be in this thing and get struck by lightning.”

He pushes a button and the cockpit cover slides over to seal off the cabin from the rain once you’re both on the ground

It starts to rain heavily, and you can’t help but smile at the feeling.

“You’re beautiful,” Poe looks at you smiling in the rain.

“I could say the same to you.” His curls are starting to tighten from the water. They look perfect.

“Let’s get inside yeah? This thing is starting to itch,” he tugs at the collar of his flight suit. You wonder if that has anything to do with you.

Once inside the main hangar, you start your walk down to your rooms.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you start.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“I liked it,” you flush, “it’s just, I’ve never done this.” Your voice gets small. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I was embarrassed to tell you,” you say sheepishly. “Today when you kissed me-“

“That was your first kiss?” he groans and buries his face in his hands. “I’m an idiot,” he laughs.

You’re laughing now, feeling relieved. Seeing him flustered looks good on him, you think.

“You’re not,” you rub his shoulder, “that was the best first kiss I think I could have ever gotten.”

“Ok tell you what, go get some clothes to sleep in and come to my quarters tonight. To sleep.” He tacks on the last sentence when he sees a slight change in your expression.

“Oh,” you laugh just now seeing that you’re in front of the doorway to your room. You push the code and see Corelle sitting on her bed. When she sees Poe in the door, and you rifling through your drawer to get some sleep clothes, she has the biggest grin on her face.

“Sleepover huh?”

You turn to look at her, biting your lip.

“I want to hear everything!!” she whispers.

“You know I can hear you right?” Poe laughs, leaning now on the doorframe.

She only shrugs and gives you a wave when you head out.

“So, will we bother your roommate?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies punching his digit code when you reach his room. It makes sense you think, he’s a high-ranking member of the Resistance. He would have seniority with things of this nature. “BB-8 is my roommate,” he chuckles pointing to the droid in the corner. He’s powered down and charging.

“Make yourself at home, I’m going to get cleaned up, I’ll be quick.”

You sit down in a chair in front of a small desk. He opens a drawer and pulls out his own sleep clothes.

“Be right back,” he gives you a nod. His curls still wet, bounce as his head moves.

The refresher door in his room hisses behind him, and soon you hear running water. While he’s getting cleaned up, you get undressed quickly and put on your sleep clothes. It’s a standard issue pair of pants and comfortable shirt. It’s precautionary. The material while comfortable is durable in case of a quick evac.

Once you’ve changed, you sit down on the chair again and look around his room. His favorite leather jacket is draped over the back of the chair, and there’s a holopad on the desk. There’s a couple metal caf cups on the desk, one has caf still in it. There’s a shirt on the floor, and his helmet is near BB-8.

There’s something about being in his room that feels surreal but calming all at once.

Knowing he’s just on the other side of that door (naked) and wants you here with him.

You try not to think too much about him being naked in there because the reality of intimacy has your stomach flipping.

Then you hear something, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s his voice. At first you wonder if he’s talking to you, but then you realize he’s singing. He’s singing loudly, and voice is clear and beautiful. There’s almost a melancholy tone to it, but you can tell he’s happy. You are not familiar with the song, but it’s your new favorite one. You think you could listen to him sing forever.

The water shuts off, and he still hums. You can hear him moving around, what you guess is drying off and putting on his clothes.

The refresher door hisses loudly, and you jump a little, being in his room has you feeling all sorts of good jitters.

“Cold?” he asks, he’d seen you jump, mistaking it for a chill.

You try not to stare; you really do try. But he’s damp and shirtless and this is the most skin you’ve seen from him other than his shirts exposing his neck to you. He’s wearing the same sleep pants you are, but they look so much better on him. His skin is tan, his build is strong. There’s a small chain around his neck with a ring on it, and he has a towel draped over his shoulder to dry his hair. The curls are dripping water onto his back and shoulders. You’re staring.

“No,” you blush, “I was thinking about something and the door startled me.”

“You’re a bit skittish, aren’t you?” He smiles and grabs your head gently, planting a loud kiss on the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I know I come on strong.”

You wave your hand, “don’t worry about it.” You like it.

He flops down casually on his bed. He looks like an absolute dream laying there. He’s propped up on his elbow looking at you.

“What’s the necklace?” you nod towards him. Immediately his fingers reach for it and he flips the ring over and over.

“My mother’s ring. She died when I was very young, I don’t remember much. One of the memories I do remember is when she gave me this. She told me to give it to someone who deserved it, deserved my love.”

“It’s beautiful,” you notice the shine of it, it looks new.

“It is,” he looks down at it, then drops it from his fingers, the chain catching it and it bounces against his chest. “c’mere,” he whispers and nods his head. He reaches his hand out for you and gets you situated in the bed next to him. You lay on your back while he’s propped up next to you.

“I’m nervous,” you whisper up at him.

“I can tell,” he smiles, but there’s concern on his face, “and I don’t want you to be. I want to make you feel good sweetheart. We’ll take one step at a time, just like the flying lesson. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you grin up at him and pull him down for a kiss. At first, it’s sweet kisses, but then you feel Poe’s tongue teasing your lips. Guessing what he wants, you part your lips for him and sigh at the new feeling. His tongue touches yours and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles up.

“You’re adorable,” Poe muses, your lips parting.

Feeling flustered, again, you cover your face with your hands, and you groan, “you’re making me blush.”

“Mm, sweetheart,” he laughs, “it’s not hard to do that. I’ve been making you blush since day one. Don’t think I haven’t seen. Even when you tried to hide it from me,” he whispers in your ear, kissing it then. “Still adorable.”

He’s positioned himself on top of you now, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him and bury your fingers into his drying curls. He’s quiet, just breathing slowly. His breath fans against your skin.

“Is this real?” you whisper. “I’m afraid it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

“Oh, I’m very real,” he murmurs into your neck. He shimmies down a little so that his head is resting on your chest, his ear over your heart. He can hear your pulse quicken, and he smiles to himself.

“Don’t say it,” you roll your eyes laughing, fully aware that your body is betraying you.

“Say what? That I just felt your heart rate spike?” He lifts his head and rests his chin on your sternum looking up at you. Your hands haven’t left his curls, you bring a hand down to cradle his face. He leans into your touch, and you rub your thumb along his stubbly cheek. You feel his dimple under your palm when he smiles up at you. “I think something…has you excited…” he trails off licking his lips. “or maybe a someone.”

“I wonder who it is?” you tease back. Now your thumb is rubbing along his bottom lip. Playfully growling, he play bites your thumb making you laugh.

He lets go of your thumb and closes his eyes; he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He’s practically purring as your fingers scratch his scalp.

“It’s just,” you start to say, but you can’t find the words. His eyes open at the sound of your voice.

“What? We’ll wait as long as you need sweetheart.” He finishes the sentence with kissing your thumb.

“It’s not that. What if I’m not any good? You know? In bed?”

“Nonsense,” he lays his head back down on your chest, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing.

“What if you’ve had better?”

“Well I’m not with them right, now am I? Don’t compare yourself. Don’t. Whatever we have is between you and me. No one else.”

“I’m still nervous for you to see me.”

“And I cannot wait to see you, but sweetheart, I’m happy to hold you right now. I’ve found a nice pillow.”

You snort out a laugh.

“Give me your hand,” you tell him.

He shifts sitting upright, “ok which one?”

“Right,” you tell him. And he extends his wrist towards you. His hand limp and his palm facing upwards. His eyebrow is raised in question wondering what you’re doing.

You turn his palm over and bring his hand down to your left breast. He cups the flesh in his hand, but he doesn’t move. He wants to so bad, but he’s waiting for you.

“Ok now give me your other hand.”

He repeats the same action and gives you his left. You put his hand on your right breast.

“Baby what are you doing? I said we don’t-“

“They may not be perfect, but I like how your hands feel.”

He gives an experimental squeeze, gauging your reaction. You gasp when he squeezes and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He starts to knead your breasts, digging his fingers in and massaging them. He can feel your nipples poke through your shirt into his palms.

“See, I think they are perfect.” He continues his ministrations. “Know why?” he questions, making sure you see his face.

“Why?” you whimper, it feels so good.

“Because when I do this-“ he pauses and pinches your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. When he does, you arch your back and cry out. His chuckle is dark but playful, “you’ll do that.”

You’re feeling breathless, but you need more. You want the shirt off, you need to know what his hands feel like on bare skin.

“Poe,” your voice quivers, he’s still teasing your nipples through your shirt.

“Too much?” He pulls back, he doesn’t want to overdo it.

“Not enough,” you writhe a little under him. “If I take off my shirt, will you turn off the light?” you blush hard under his gaze. His smile is so fond, he lets out a soft laugh and lays his forehead down on your chest to hide his laugh. “Don’t laugh!” you laugh yourself knowing he means no harm.

“I can’t help it,” he lifts his head, his smile is huge, “you’re just so damn sweet. It’s killing me.” He gives you a quick kiss with a little hum before getting up to turn off the overhead light.

“You sure it’s not silly?” you look up at him walking back towards the bed in the dark. Your eyes are already starting to adjust.

“I can’t get enough,” he grins sitting upright beside you on the bed. “Who wouldn’t love this?”

“You’re so calm though, and I’m not.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises a brow and takes your hand in his. He puts your hand over his heart, and it’s beating as fast as yours. “I told you I always get the jitters before I fly.” He winks, the euphemism not lost on you.

You’re still laying on your back, his hands reach for the hem of your shirt. When his fingertips brush against the skin of your stomach, you start to giggle.

“Uh-oh, are you ticklish?” his voice is playful in the dark.

“Poe, no!” you squeal as he starts to shove his hands under your shirt and tickle your sides and tummy. He has you laughing so hard you forget you’re nervous and he pulls your shirt off quickly.

“Oh, you think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

“Hey that was pretty slick if I do say so myself sweetheart.”

Even in the dark you can see his eyes drink you in. Your heart pounds and your head pushes back into the pillow when he cups your breasts again, this time skin to skin.

“That feels so much better doesn’t it?” he asks kneading your flesh.

“So much,” you gasp. His hands do feel amazing. You’ve always loved his hands. They’re big and warm, smooth yet a little rough. But his touch is never aggressive. Now though that he’s squeezing you, his touch is firm.

“Can I try something?” he looks at you for an answer.

You nod, still whimpering under his touch. Your whimpers turn into a soft cry when he lowers his head to your breast and closes his lips around your nipple. He sucks gently and teases you with his tongue. You feel slick between your thighs, you have for a while now, but you’re soaked through.

“Poe,” you whine and start to rub yourself along his thigh nestled between your legs, “touch me please. Oh. OH. Please!” you’re gasp trying to find relief of the building pressure.

Without removing his mouth, he lowers a hand down the waistband of your pants and underwear. His middle finger touches your clit and you cry out, finally feeling a wave of relief. He circles your clit with his finger in time with how his tongue tweaks your nipple, his other finger teasing your other nipple. Your cries let him know you’re close and he quickens the pace of his fingers. You let out a ragged gasp when you come, and you become silent as your chest heaves. You’re probably pulling on his hair too harshly, but he hasn’t complained.

“Good girl,” he praises, pulling away from your breast. His mouth goes to your neck to kiss. “You did so good.”

“Poe, I-“

“Breathe baby,” he smiles, “breathe.”

“You feel so good,” you sigh, your body limp.

“Hmm, thank you,” he teases, kissing your cheek. “Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”

You wriggle around under him, the sticky between your legs is starting to feel uncomfortable. Sensing this, Poe sits up.

“Go get cleaned up,” he smooths your hair out of your face. “Normally I’d do that for you.” But he’s going to let you have your privacy in this moment. “There’s clean rags in the closest.”

Blushing hard, you disappear into the refresher to clean yourself up with the rag. You don’t take long because you feel like you should make him feel good too, even though you have no idea what to do.

The refresher light seems so bright and seeing yourself topless in his mirror has you flushing again. Your lips are swollen from his kisses, your hair is a mess.

Once you’re clean, you’re feeling all giddy from your high. You’re about to jump back into bed when you hear a soft snoring. At first you think he’s faking; he’s got such a funny sense of humor it seems like him.

“Poe?” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he mumbles out, his eyes twitching. He’s laying on his stomach.

“I’m getting back in bed,” you tell him.

“Ok,” he smacks his lips and nods his head.

You do your best and slide under the covers. You’re on your back, and you grab his arm, placing it across your middle. His arm wraps around you, his forearm just under your breasts. In his sleepy state, he nuzzles his face into your neck. You rub your hands along his skin, feeling the hair on his arm.

The poor thing, you think. He’s had a long couple of days. You’re not even sure when he last slept after that long mission. It warms your heart he stayed up with you as late as he did tonight.

You finally have a restful sleep. You’re not worried for his safety, because he’s in your arms right now, you can feel his body move with each breath. There’s no more worrying about admitting how you feel because if there was, you wouldn’t be in this bed. It is a restful sleep, finally. Finally.

Until the next morning when you both wake to an alarm blaring. Poe bolts upright and you jump – you’d forgotten where you were. He leaps out of bed and wakes BB-8.

“Get dressed,” he tells you and throws you your clothes. You barely register that you’re half naked and exposed to him in the light, but you’re panicking from this alarm.

“What’s going on?” you’re scared.

“That’s the evacuation alarm,” he says while he pulls on his pants. He grabs that shirt off the floor and tugs it on. Then he goes for his flight suit, pulling it on over his clothes. “here,” he takes his leather jacket off the back of the chair and hands it to you. “Hold onto this for me will ya?”

Once you’re dressed, you put his jacket on over your work jumpsuit. It makes you feel safer somehow, it smells like him.

He opens his door, and there’s already people running to their stations to evacuate. Poe motions for BB-8, they’ll head to the X-Wing.

“Where do I go?” you know the protocol, but in the moment your mind is muddled, and panic has set in.

“Hey,” he cups your face in his hands, “breathe baby. Go find Leia. Get on a transport out of here. I gotta go do my thing, but I will find you. I will find you.” He kisses your lips and then your forehead.

At least you can be with him until you get to the hangar. But then you have to split up. You fight back tears, you just got him and now you have to leave him again. You just want this all to be over.

You get on the transport and anxiety floods your veins. You don’t want to be off the ground. You know you have to do this, but there’s still that fear that always comes with being in a ship out in space. You don’t feel safe. You want nothing more than for Poe to be here with you, to help you through this. You think back to what he said that he’s always nervous before he goes up, you just never found out what it is that calms him.

Wait.

Of course, you know what it is that makes him calm. It’s you.

You’re the good luck charm, and he’s yours. Your fingers touch the worn leather of the jacket you’re wearing, you know now why he gave it to you to wear. To remind you he’s still with you. Tightening the jacket around yourself when the ship takes off into the atmosphere keeps you calm.

There’s a battle of enemy ships outside the window. Soon you’re far enough away they are too small to make out what’s happening, but you know he’s in the thick of it. There’s nothing for you to do now except watch out the window. No assignments have been given, and most people who have jobs to do are doing it. There’s nothing you can do but watch and hope that he stays safe.

When the short-lived battle ends, you watch for that familiar X-Wing to fly into the hangar of the transport. You make your way towards that hangar to greet him. You see Corelle nearby and a few other mechanics in the area waiting for their respective pilots to return.

As soon as Poe lands, he jumps out of the ship, BB-8 right behind him. He runs to greet you at the doorway, but a First Order ship fires into the hangar, setting off an explosion. The force of the blast sends Poe and BB-8 forward, Poe’s body knocks you backwards. Everyone that was inside the hangar was lost, including Corelle.

Poe groans getting off you, apologizing profusely and checking your face to see if you’re alright.

“Corelle was in there,” you cry, looking through the doorway and seeing the wreckage. You start to try to get up, Poe stops you. Smoke billows and flames are everywhere. Even Poe’s X-Wing has been completely destroyed. “Your ship!” shock taking over.

“Hey, look at me,” he cups your face, “I don’t care about the ship, are you alright?”

You feel a pain in your side, then you feel dizzy. Poe calls your name, but he sounds far away and looks blurry. The last thing you see before you blackout is Poe’s face, panic written all over his expression.

For the next few days, you slip in and out of consciousness. There are moments you can remember in little flashes.

You remember Poe coming to check on you. His voice a gentle whisper asking if you’re alright. Another time, his voice cracks asking for an update.

You remember feeling Poe’s hand holding yours, feeling the press of his lips to your forehead.

You remember hearing someone say, “the war is almost over, it’ll be over soon.”

And they would be right. The war is almost over. While you’ve been out the past couple days, the Resistance has found allies across the galaxy to gather for one last battle. Poe hated to leave you, but he knew you were in safe hands and he has a duty to fulfill. He had to fight for you out there, while you fought for your life here at the new base.

When you finally came to after a few days under, Poe is sitting next to you in med bay. He’s asleep. His leather jacket draping over his torso as a makeshift blanket. He’s resting his cheek on his fist; his other hand is holding yours.

“Poe,” you whisper. You have no idea what time it is, and you feel disoriented. But one thing’s for sure is he looks so cute when he’s asleep. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were cuddled up with him in his bed, when really it was only just last week. “Poe?”

“I’m awake!” he jerks up with a sniff and a grunt. When his tired eyes land on you, he blinks softly as a soft grin turns into a full-blown smile, “hi sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you answer back. As you get your bearings, you feel a soreness in your side. You wince when you sit up, and Poe is quick to help you adjust in the bed.

“Easy, you got hit pretty bad.”

“What happened?” you try to remember but all you remember is the explosion, Poe falling on top of you and Corelle.

Corelle.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. You think of the other friends you lost that day, that it could have been Poe if he hadn’t gotten out when he did.

“Hey, shhh,” he dries your tears and kisses your forehead, “you’re safe. You got hit with some debris. Knocked you out for a couple days.”

“General?” you hear a nurse approach you and Poe when she sees you’re awake. “Sorry to interrupt but I’d like to check her vitals now that she’s awake.”

“Of course,” Poe nods and stands, moving out of her way.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you, but you’re trying to process what you think you just heard. General? What did you miss?

“I’m a little tender still, I feel a little out of it.”

“Those are common side effects from the bacta spray. With some rest you’ll be good as new very soon,” she smiles and enters something in her holopad. “I’ll be back later to check on you alright?”

She nods at you and then Poe thanks her again.

“General?” is the first word out of your mouth as soon as she’s gone. “What?”

“I was…. promoted,” he nods his head, his eyes look sad. “We lost Leia. She named me general before she-“ his shoulders slump.

Rank has always been important to Poe. He wants to succeed. But in reaching the top, it meant sacrifice. And this was a loss he wasn’t ready to lose.

“Are you okay?” you ask sitting up, his hand hasn’t left yours and you squeeze.

“I’ll be alright,” he nods. You’re safe and that’s what matters now to him. “Especially now that it’s over.”

“It’s over? Like over, over?” your frown turns to a bright smile. Can it really be over?

“It’s over,” he grins.

“I can’t believe it!” you laugh sitting up slowly. When you pull your hand from his, you see a familiar ring on your finger. “Is this what I think it is?” you ask holding your hand up to look at the ring.

“It is,” he clears his throat, his fingers running through his hair.

“Don’t tell me I missed the wedding too?”

Poe throws his head back laughing, “no, no. I thought I’d wait for you to be awake for that one.”

Over the next few days while you heal, Poe wraps things up on the new base. Now that the fight is over, life will begin to trickle back to the new normal without the First Order. Poe oversees the transitions as general. He appointed Finn co-general so the weight can be distributed.

Now is the perfect time for it, because Poe has other things on his mind.

There’s a buzz all over the base now, people wondering when your wedding will be. There’s already been 4 in the last week. The relief of the war is getting to everyone in such a positive manner.

You spend a day or two extra recovering. Since the piece of metal that hit you had nicked a couple organs, you had major surgery. You had to have time to heal. You were given strict orders for ‘no strenuous activity’ for a couple weeks at least. Poe found this very amusing, but also disappointing.

You’re just as disappointed as him. You have his ring on your finger, all that’s left is to seal the deal officially.

While you heal and Poe gets affairs in order, you spend a lot of time in his quarters now on this new base. In his bed and in his arms is your favorite place to be.

It’s harder on you than him to wait a few days more before you can be intimate. The press of his body against yours at night has you aching in your heart and between your legs. But you can’t complain, his arms and his kisses sustain you plenty.

You spend hours in each other’s arms, kissing until you’re sleepy. He’s a skilled kisser. Skilled as in, he’s quick to figure out what you like and what you don’t.

How he’s this patient with you, you’ll never know. But he would never forgive himself if you were hurt because he couldn’t wait a couple days for sex. He already feels guilt from not protecting you from the hunk of metal hitting your body. His body was blocking yours but still managed to hit you and not him.

He’s currently kissing your neck, with you under him. They aren’t heated kisses, they’re soft and tender. Dragging his lips along the column of your neck, throwing in little nibbles.

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs been kisses. “Answer me honestly.”

“I feel good. Tomorrow is when they said it would be ok for ‘activity.’”

“Let’s get married tomorrow then,” he whispers kissing under your ear.

“Okay,” you giggle wrapping your arms around him tight.

So, you do. You get one last approval from med bay that you’re safe for ‘activities.’ Poe leaves you to that and he disappears, he tells you before he leaves to meet him in hangar 4.

Your time as a mechanic meant that you didn’t have pretty clothes. Everything you owned was either for working or sleeping. But now that there is more order, you managed to get your hands on a dress to wear. You can’t even remember the last time you wore a dress. Poe certainly hasn’t seen you one in your months of being together.

So, before you meet him, you put on your dress. It’s flowy and elegant and accentuates all your curves in the right places. You do the final touches of your hair looking in his mirror. You know he’ll be so surprised to see you like this.

You walk alone to the hangar, and it’s noticeably quiet. There’s a tremor in your hands, and your knees quake with each step as you walk closer. This is really happening. You only wish Corelle was here to see it.

When you reach the hangar and walk inside, you gasp. The entire base is here. Cheers erupt when you walk in, and you flush under the attention. Poe is standing at the opposite end; the crowd has to part so you can walk down to him.

He looks so handsome, the smile on his face is pouring out of him. His eyes are bright. His hair is somewhat tame, which makes you smile, meaning he had to put effort into taming it. He’s wearing a nice jacket you’ve never seen before, it’s black and clean. He looks wonderful.

He’s thinking the same about you, your smile is radiant, and it knocked the breath out of him to see you in that dress.

When you get closer to him, he reaches his hand out for you to take. There’s a slight shake to his hand too.

“You ready?” he whispers, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

Your smile is so big that tears begin to well up in your eyes, “yes,” you whisper back.

The ceremony is very short, and you leap into his arms to kiss him. His hand is strong on your back, and his fist shoots up in the air in a celebration. The audience cheers, and BB-8 nearby beeps happily.

“Happy beeps, that’s right buddy,” Poe laughs hearing his droid over the crowd. “Happy beeps,” he says to you, that smile still in his eyes.

Poe sets you down and the party begins. But the two of you make your exit for his – your quarters.

Taking your hand, you’re both giggling making your ‘escape’ to your quarters. The moment the door opens, he’s on you. His hands on your hips, and his lips on yours. His tamed hair has your hands in it now, messing it up and setting the curls loose. You push his jacket off as he pushes you up against a wall.

His hands are quick, he’s careful to pull on your dress to take it off without damaging it. You all but yank his shirt off his body. Your dress is pooled now at your feet, the only thing keeping you from total nudity is a pair of underwear.

You reach for Poe’s belt, but your hands start to shake a little. His hands clutch yours, and he glances up at you.

“Hey,” he leans in and steals a quick kiss, “it’s ok. It’s just me.” He unbuckles his belt and tugs his own pants off, leaving him in shorts that are tightening around his bulge. You look down at him, and back up to his face quickly, your eyes wide and face hot. His smirk is playful, he likes seeing you check out his body.

Grabbing your hips, he starts to back you up against the bed. His hand cradles the back of your neck as he lays you down. He looks down at you and grins, and his feet slip, and he almost falls on top of you, making you both laugh. He cups your face and kisses you all over, you haven’t stopped laughing.

“Hey, I remember these,” he muses when he reaches down to cup your breasts. You cry out and he only laughs, he’s proud of himself.

“Poe, I swear,” you groan when he thumbs over your nipples.

“You’ll what?” he challenges, raising his eyebrow. He tweaks your nipples and your cry is weak escaping your lips.

With some sense in your head, you reach down in between you and cup his length through his shorts. He lets out a choked groan, “ok well played,” he rasps out and pushes your hand away.

His hands wander down to your stomach, and he finds that scar above your hip. He traces over it with his thumb, looking up at you – you know what that look means. He’s glad you’re alive. That scar will always be a reminder.

He doesn’t linger on the thought, instead he fingers dance along your underwear.

“Can I?” he asks hooking his fingers in the band. He waits for you to nod before he pulls them down your legs exposing you to him. You wriggle a little unnerved at him seeing you, his hands steady your hips and he looks up at your face. “It’s ok,” he smiles again. “I’ve already been down here remember?” he winks.

You’re slick already from the excitement, so when he teases a finger at your entrance it slides in easily. His thumb teases your clit until you’re ready to take another finger. His thumb brushes back and forth, while his fingers pump in and out. Quick precise pilot hands are working you over and that thought alone brings you close to the edge.

“One more,” he coos and adds a third finger. It’s a tight squeeze but his thumb is getting you to relax. When he curls his fingers deep inside, you groan louder than you had before. “There it is,” he grins and leans down to kiss your cheek. “You’re doing so good sweetheart, so so good.”

When your orgasm hits you, your mouth falls open and no sound comes but ragged breaths.

“Come on,” he coos working you through the last few waves of it. You groan loudly when you come down, and he’s pleased, “that’s it baby. Let me hear you.”

While you catch your breath, he stands to slip off his shorts that are uncomfortable now. You glance down to see him, he’s hard. His hand lazily pumps himself a couple times, and you swallow down a gulp of nerves. He’s bigger than you anticipated.

Crawling back on the bed, he hovers over you. He wears the chain around his neck still even though there’s no ring on it, and this chain while dangling, touches along your chest. He situates himself between your legs, pulling your legs up and around his waist. You can feel his tip at your entrance, and he waits for you to breathe before he guides himself inside.

He moves slowly, it’s a pinch at first. It’s a snug fit but the feeling of being full feels wonderful. He breathes out himself, trying to stay still. One little thrust from his hips could hurt if you’re not ready. When he feels you relax, he starts to move.

His thrusts are quick and precise at first, his kisses are hot, and his mouth drags along your skin. Your fingers never leave his curls. His mouth focuses on a nipple for awhile as he thrusts, only adding to your pleasure. His body rubs along your clit perfectly, bringing on another orgasm.

That’s when his thrusts become sloppy. He grunts and sits up, bringing you with him. You’re sitting on his thighs and he buries his face in your breasts. His stubble scrapes along sensitive skin. The new position pushes him deeper inside, and another orgasm follows close behind the one you just had. You hold his head to your breast and throw your head back while his body moves. He stops suddenly and groans when his cock jumps inside you, spilling himself in you.

“Oh,” is all you can say, whimpering as you still pulse around him as he softens inside of you.

“Mhmm,” he hums, his eyes heavy from the intense pleasure.

“Just like flying right?” you laugh.

“Oh yeah,” he laughs back, “ push some buttons, toggle some controls, move the stick around…just like flying.”

“Stop,” you laugh at his terrible analogy.

“You saw some stars, though didn’t you?” he winks.

He’s not wrong there.

“Tomorrow,” you tell him.

“Tomorrow what?” he replies, slipping out of your heat.

“I’ll let you take me up flying, for real. Just not in the X-Wing.”

“Really?” he’s excited now. He jumps up and goes in the refresher to get a rag to clean you. You stare at his bare ass as he moves, and it’s even more perfect than you had imagined.

“Yes really,” you laugh when he comes back.

He turns around and looks behind him when he gets back on the bed, “is there something behind me?”

When your cheeks darken, he tuts.

“Checkin’ out my ass huh?”

“Poe, honestly,” you laugh shoving his chest while he starts to clean your thighs, “how can you be so sweet but such an-“

“Ass?”

“I really hate you,” you laugh, “and all your bad jokes.”

“That’s hurtful.”

You spent the rest of the night laughing at more bad jokes and tangled up in his arms. And he took you flying that next morning.

It’s a small spacecraft, room enough for the both of you to sit comfortably. It takes a lot of coaxing and kisses before you’re comfortable going in the ship, but he never leaves your side. His jacket is around your shoulders, and his hand is in yours.

He sits in the pilot seat and flicks on all the controls, makes some jokes, and soon you are up in the air and going into space.

He tells you what to do to make the jump to light speed, and you follow his instructions perfectly.

“I don’t want to look out the window,” you say suddenly. The bright blue streaks of stars fill the view from the window, and it makes you feel dizzy.

“C’mere,” he pats his lap. Facing him, you straddle his lap and curl into his arms. At first you thought, hoped, he wanted you to ride his thigh (which you will later) but for now you enjoy the comfort of your husband’s arms and chest.

-FIVE YEARS LATER-

The Resistance has faded into a normal better life in the galaxy. Poe still holds the title of General. You’re not actually 100% about that? But you plan on calling him that for the rest of your lives. He likes it when you use it bed.

You’ve made a home for yourselves back on Poe’s home world of Yavin IV. You still work as a mechanic, and Poe flies when he can.

But now that you have the new baby, your lives have been turned upside down.

“When do you think I’ll be able to take her up to fly with me?” Poe’s carrying her in his arms, walking towards you. You’re outside oiling the X-Wing.

“Poe, she’s three months old!” you shake your head and pull him in for a kiss. Your fingers pet his beard and he kisses you once more.

“My mom took me up when I was 6!” he argues and starts to press kisses on his baby’s face.

“I’m just not comfortable with you taking little Corelle up yet. But I am going to let you teach her to fly.”

“I’ll teach her on this old thing,” he pats on his X-Wing. “It’s were you were conceived!” he tells her.

“Poe!” you smack his thigh with your work rag.

“Well she was, if you recall.”

“Oh, I recall,” you feel your neck flush. “When you teach her to fly just don’t tell her that, please.”

You kiss your daughters little head and then Poe’s bristly cheek. Then you kneel to get back to work.

“You’ll teach her mechanics too,” Poe muses watching you, “she’ll be able to build her own ships and then fly ‘em!” He bounces her on his hip. He starts to hum a song; one you’ve not heard in years.

“That song!” you gasp. The memory comes flooding back. “I don’t think I’ve heard you sing that since…”

“Since?” Poe stops his humming to look up at you.

“I remember you singing it in the refresher that night, the first night I stayed with you.”

“I can’t believe you remember that!” his smile is fond.

“Of course, I do, I remember everything about that night! One of the best nights of my life.”

“Yeah, I was pretty great wasn’t I?” He laughs earning him another smack on his leg. You turn away from him then ‘ignoring him’ but it’s not working, because he won’t be ignored, and you’re not really mad. Poe clears his throat, he’s checking out your ass as you work, “do you think BB-8 can babysit?”

You turn around and lower your goggles, looking at him.

“What are you going to tell him exactly?”

“The truth? What? It’s not like he doesn’t know.”

“Well I don’t want him to know that’s what we’re doing out here!” you’re standing now, laughing. Poe’s right next to you kissing your neck. He nuzzles his beard against your skin.

“I’ll tell him…. we’re going on a flight. See some stars.”

“Ok fine, General Dameron. Show me the stars.”

tagging: @pajamasecrets, @huliabitch, @egertonunwin, @writefightandflightclub, @coredrive, @swimmingbyrd, @maciiiofficial, @mrpascals, @vintagemichelle91, @thescarletknight2014, @captinbisexuality, @tarrevizslas, @a-heavenly-way-to-die, @artemiseamoon, @poedameronflyboy, @mostly-megan, @takenbyfandoms, @islandcrow, @dreamgirl-67, @omg-so-many-fandoms, @pinkiemme, @ccordiform, @frvstratixn, @ginger-swag-rapunzel, @zombiedixon89, @loki-098, @flower-petal-blooming, @thy-enchanted-cookie, @theindiealto, @jigglemiwa, @smolpeachees, @breashlyn2000

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #dameron #star wars #my writing #my gifs #mine #I'M SO GLAD TO BE ABLE TO FINALLY POST THIS!!!!!!!!!!#I HOPE YALL LIKE IT

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love-bokumono-fics · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday - Trio of Towns

Trio of Towns has no shortage of wonderful works that are in progress. Some of them I know are years in the making and I always look forward to an update.

So here's hoping you find a new story to love!

If you're reading or writing a Trio of Towns WIP that didn't get featured today, please feel more than welcome to drop it in the Submission box and share with the rest of us! (When I only share 10 fics at a time, there's always something that's bound to be missed.)

Two in One - by PineconeTheKitten; WIP, 1/?, 1.3k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Ford/Wayne, Female Farmer/Ford, Female Farmer/Wayne; Characters: Female Farmer, Ford, Wayne, Dessie, Inari, Witchie

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Magic Revealed, Gods, Goddesses, Spirits

Summary: Ford and Wayne were once two people. Now they aren't. Holly doesn't know what to do. As it turns out, Ward is pretty into Holly, and she into him.

Two Individuals in Love can be Asexual, a Case Study - by chickadeequill; WIP, 1/?, <1k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Farmer/Ford; Characters: Ford, Female Farmer, Wayne

Additional Tags: Asexual Relationship, Romantic Fluff

Summary: After years of painstakingly avoiding romance, the town's eligible and single doctor Ford finds himself facing a simple question: is there room in his life for love? It seems the hardworking farmer just past the crossroads is still single as well, and Ford just can't figure out why she keeps declining advances from the other eligible singles in all three towns.

Watered-Down Ideals - by LemWrites; WIP, 3/?, 4k

Rating: Not Rated; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: M/M, Multi

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Farmer/Ludus; Characters: Original Male Character(s), Frank, Megan, Hector, Colin, Noel | Noelle

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Fluff, Self Confidence Issues, ADHD, I gave a farmer adhd and anxiety, this may have more projection then intended

Summary: Join Steve, the newly appointed farmer in the Trio of Towns world, on a journey full of; useless gay pinning, being a disaster, self hatred and more!

Earth and Rebirth - by TheBeckster; WIP, 17/?, 66k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: Multi, Gen

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Characters: Holly | Nanami, Frank, Marlena, Wayne, Ford, Lisette, Brad, Carrie, everyone

Additional Tags: Undecided Relationship(s), Additional Tags to Be Added, lots of headcanons, Minor Character Death, Eventual Friends to Lovers, I'm not going to tag every single character, but they will all have a part in the story, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, New friends and found family, world building, Angst with a Happy Ending, Holly is an extrovert, endgame ship tbd, Cover Art

Summary: Holly considered herself fortunate to be living about as close to the dream as any young twenty-something could. A great family, a loving husband, and well, she'd admit their apartment was awful, but they'd be moving onto bigger and better things soon enough. She truthfully couldn't wish for more. But when an accident rips it all away from her, Holly finds herself seeking a change of scenery. Her Uncle's farm out in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place for her to hide to mourn. A familiar story with a twist or two.

Fire and Dew - by Juliko; WIP, 9/26, 73k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Yuzuki/Original Character(s)

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Yuzuki, Sumomo, Lisette, Colin, Wayne, Brad, Carrie, Shizu, Yaichi, Tatsumi, Omiyo, Umekichi, Lynn, Marlena, Daryl | Darius, Ittetsu, Moriya

Additional Tags: farming, Slice of Life, Drama, Family Drama, Family Issues, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Female Character of Color, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Past Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, Comedy, Friends to Lovers, Adoption, Sick Character, Lulukoko characters won't appear in this fic, Falling In Love, Dorks, Ableism, Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff, Break Up, Past Relationship(s), Cows, Chickens, Sheep, Rabbits, Flowers, Stimming, Family Fluff, Bisexual Female Character, Pansexual Character, Lesbian Character, Children, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma

Summary: For as long as she could remember, Harper Leigh Maxwell's dream has always been to become a farmer, but her father's job makes it hard to do so, since it involves lots of moving. After graduating from college, she finally decides to take a chance and get her own farm. She's determined to make the most of this opportunity and do what she's wanted. In the process, she makes new friends, learns many new things, and faces many hardships. One of the friends she makes is Yuzuki Fujiwara, a mellow, sweet natured man from the town of Tsuyukusa who doesn't have the best constitution. The two of them form a strong connection that may even end up blossoming into love. But Harper's past might make things complicated, and when it threatens to catch up with her, she may find herself facing the demons from her pre-adoption early childhood. This is the story of two different people, with different interests, passions, and paths in life, walking the same dirt road every day...

Tiny Steps to Big Leaps - by Distracteddiddlin; WIP, 29/?, 28k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Other

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Ford/Holly | Nanami; Characters: Ford, Holly | Nanami, Brad, Wayne

Additional Tags: Fluff, Developing Relationship, surprise parenting, rating and tags will update, NB Farmer, Idiots in Love, Wet Dream, Love Confessions, oh it's fucking started now, Mildly Dubious Consent, for like the smallest split second

Summary: Me while writing this months ago: what if I did that that Ford/farmer fic again but with a twist? Basically it's what if Ford accidentally became a single dad after the farmer meets him

Stranded - by TheBeckster; WIP, 2/?, 4k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Gen

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Ludus & Siluka, Ludus & Iluka, Iluka & Siluka; Characters: Ludus, Iluka, Siluka, Tototara, Zahau, Caolila

Additional Tags: all aboard the childhood trauma boat!, Pre-Canon, Peril, Wilderness Survival, Mild Blood

Summary: Desperate for an adventure to break up the interminable boredom of a long summer, three kids set to the high seas and get way more adventure than they ever hoped for or wanted. AKA: Let's explore the Lulukoko Trio's shared childhood trauma!

Trio Of Towns - Figuring Out Love - by vampireprincess624; WIP, 6/?, 5k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: Multi

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Ford/Pixie; Characters: Ford, Pixie, Wayne, Brad, Lisette, Carrie, Noelle, Colin, Miranda, Frank, Megan, Hector, Other(s)

Summary: Pixie Fawn is left with a mess she has to sort out after leaving Ludus at their wedding because Ford, who had been away for seven months, appeared as a guest. But how is fixing things with the stubborn doctor more difficult than sorting things out with her ex husband-to-be? Are they destined to be friends or will their stronger feelings for each other lead to love? A lot of Ford/Pixie scenes where they figure out their love for each other. This is Part 3 to my series, Life In The Towns, and I strongly advise you read Part 1 (or at least the last few chapters) before this, but it should still make sense anyway. Hope you enjoy :)

The House That We Built - by CherryQDoodles; WIP, 2/?, 8k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Holly | Nanami/Ludus; Characters: Ludus, Original Characters, Lulukoko Villagers, Westown Villagers, Tsuyukusa Villagers

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, story building, Learning from the Past, Tons of fluffy moments, farmlife shenanigans, Festivals, Romance, Dark skinned MC, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Nicola knew as soon as she was able to talk that she was very different from the family she was raised in. From her dark skin to her snow white hair she stuck out as the black sheep, but she loved them like they were her blood, and vice versa. But Nicola always dreamed of wanting more: to become a farmer. Growing crops, raising animals and everything in between! She just had to convince her father that she could handle the hard work within two years time. Follow Nicola's journey to becoming the best farmer she dreams of, and her adventures in the Trio of Towns!

Ford's Roses - by thelighthouse33; WIP, 5/?, 3k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandom: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Farmer/Ford; Characters: Ford, Female Farmer, Wayne, Megan, Frank, Miranda, Carrie, Brad, Lisette, Noel | Noelle, Colin

Additional Tags: My First Work in This Fandom, better late than never, Ford x Holly, Story of Seasons Trio of Towns, Harvest Moon - Freeform, Gaming

Summary: This is a story of how the doctor of Westown, in charge of The White Capsule Clinic, falls in love with the new farm girl...

#wip wednesday #story of seasons #harvest moon #trio of towns #sos 3ot #story of seasons trio of towns #3ot #sos tot

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chisinpink · 3 years

Text

The Only One: A Mastermind!Nagito AU Story - PROLOGUE

Hello lovelies, I’ve posted a *lot* about my Mastermind!Nagito AU on tiktok (I’m @chisben there as well if you wanna check it out), and I rly wanna share it here so here’s the prologue! Special thanks to @servanthaji for helping out with the planning of this whole story in general!

(Content warning for mentions of bombs and bombings, swearing and crying.)

☘️

JUNKO: Yep, that’s the day that it happened. The day everything started getting… pretty scary, if you ask me! I’m just glad you were outta town for that, and baby was home sick. That’s, like, the only reason she’s here today, too!

HAJIME: Wait, wait, slow down! What are you even talking about…?

JUNKO: Uhh, I’m getting to that? Besides, don’t you know that guy too? Nagito Komaeda?

HAJIME: Not really… I mean, I knew of him, but I was in the reserve course. I didn’t really talk to him or anything until I went to school that Monday, and… there was nobody there except him.

JUNKO: Oh, yea? Did he tell you anything?

HAJIME: Not really. After I got shot at and ran in the school, I asked him what the hell was going on, but it was like I wasn’t there either. He just changed the subject to hope over and over again, like I asked a totally different question, and eventually I just walked away. I still don’t know what he was doing there.

JUNKO: Then maybe he doesn’t want you to know, y’know? You’re so lucky you have me, then~!

(She smirks playfully. Hajime stares at her blankly and her face drops. She stares at a map with a pen in hand.)

JUNKO: Come ooon, I’m coping! This is pretty stressful for everyone, y’know, I use humor to forget about all this stupid shit.

HAJIME: Whatever… just… tell me what’s going on.

JUNKO: Well, what happened that day… that was the start of The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History… in my opinion. And that’s saying a lot, because this world is filled with despair! And, like, his whole class helped him do what he did to the country! No idea why that is, but we can all fill you in on the rest, I guess. Preeeety sure we were all there in some way, ‘cept my baby.

(She gestures to the entirety of Class 78 of Hopes Peak Academy, standing and sitting in the basement of the school, as well as Mikan Tsumiki, who has a timid smile on her face as Junko looks back at her. Hajimes face drops.)

HAJIME: Wh… what?? That can’t be it, that can’t be what happened…! The whole class?? The whole country?!

JUNKO: Eeeyup! They evacuated the school by putting a bomb under their teachers desk, and apparently all around the school, and I have NO idea how that lady didn’t croak! Anyways, everyone had to leave, and… that’s basically all I know. They just repeated that ooover and ooover on the news, it made me sick!!

(She threw her pen at a tiny radio propped up on a few cardboard boxes.)

HAJIME: Wh… this doesn’t… but… but, I...

(Kyoko steps forward and faces Hajime.)

KYOKO: I have some more information on what happened that day. After we were trapped here in the basement, all we had was the radio to inform us of the true nature of what happened. This is what I wrote down from those broadcasts.

(She hands Hajime a folder that contains three sheets of paper, all three of them hand-written notes. He begins reading.)

KYOKO: The class of 77-B was, most likely, all apparently under some sort of drug-induced psychosis. Most witnesses reported that they were acting strangely or out of character before they planted the bombs, and their eyes were hazy and…

HAJIME: ”swirled”, “mixed”, “terrifying”, “comforting”, “light and dark” ...none of these make any sense.

KYOKO: My thoughts exactly. This entire event is bizarre and without any logical reasoning behind it… if you’d only heard about it on the news. But I think Makoto and I know more than any news outlets.

HAJIME: How?

(She looks over her shoulder to Makoto, signaling him to stand up.)

MAKOTO: Well, about a month ago me and Kyoko were going to one of the computer rooms to print something, but it was kind of out of the way, so we didn’t expect him to be there. N-Nagito, I mean. We saw him talking to Chihiro, and, uhm… I didn’t hear that part.

(He looks up to Chihiro. They stand meekly and fold their arms.)

CHIHIRO: H-he had been asking me to collaborate with him on a personal project, but… I didn’t have any spare time, and I didn’t even know him that well! So I finally just told him no, and he left me alone for a day or two… but t-then…

(Tears form at the corners of their eyes.)

CHIHIRO: H-he told me that… he was gonna… destroy the sc-sc-school if I didn’t-!

(They cover their face, and Makoto reaches out to rub their shoulder.)

MAKOTO: It’s not your fault, Chihiro. It’s nobody's fault but his. B-but anyway, after we heard about that, we decided that we had to keep an eye on him, but… basically the next day is when the bombs went off.

HAJIME: Why didn’t you just… tell a teacher what he told Chihiro?

MAKOTO: In hindsight… yeah, that would’ve been the safest thing we could’ve done. But Kyoko thought that we couldn’t keep an eye on him if he was expelled for that, a-and he could have been doing anything at home, so we fo-

KYOKO: Makoto, please, don’t. I was a coward, and I didn’t trust anybody else to investigate the matter. This whole situation could have been de-escalated dramatically if I had told school faculty.

(Kiyotaka stands from his spot next to Mondo.)

TAKA: You DIDN’T inform a teacher, or the Headmaster?! Miss Kirigiri, the school faculty always knows what is best for us!!

MONDO: Yeaaaah, is that why they all jumped ship and fucked off to who-knows-where so we could fight like dogs in the basement?

AOI: Hey, they did what they could, okay?? They had to protect themselves like everyone else! We’re not any better by hiding in the basement.

MONDO: Where the fuck ELSE were we supposed to go?? Candy land?!

YASUHIRO: Hey hey hey, Chihiro was right to lead us here the day the bombs went off! But I hear ya, maybe we coulda moved out of Japan together or somethin’ instead of hiding in Japan!

TOKO: I-I see why you’ve had to retake this year as m-much as you did now, you dumbass! He could b-be expanding anywhere now!!

BYAKUYA: As much as I hate to agree with her, I do. Nowhere is truly safe, and for all we may know, we’re being actively searched for. It’s only a matter of time before we have to relocate.

SAYAKA: I-I can’t stay here another second!!

CELESTIA: Oh, so do you two suggest that we run out into the streets and expose ourselves to the predators? Play Nagitos game of cat and mouse?

LEON: Hell NO, I’m not playing that freaks game! But if he’s got his little possie out there looking every which way for us, then we gotta at least try and delay it!

SAKURA: On the other hand, we don’t know what they might want from us, if anything, or how bad the situation has escalated since we decided to hide.

HIFUMI: We don’t even KNOW what’s out there w-waiting for us anymore?! There could be giant mutant spiders wanting to turn us into baby food by now! I’m staying right HERE.

YASUHIRO: ...okay, I’m officially lost. Are we moving or staying?

SAYAKA: Moving!!

BYAKUYA: If you all intend on surviving, then you’ll all relocate. If you intend on being brutally murdered, then by all means, feel free to stay for a bit longer.

LEON: What in the actual fuck is wrong with you??

MAKOTO: H-hey, everybody calm down!!

SAKURA: We cannot make a decision until we know more about the outside world. AOI: But isn’t it because of what we don’t know that we have to go out there by now?

SAYAKA: Maybe some of us could go and some of us could stay?

TOKO: W-what if that reveals the hiding spot f-f-for everybody else??

MIKAN: (wiping away tears and hiccupping) N-nooo!!

YASUHIRO: Then we all have to come to the same decision, then.

CELESTIA: Yes, good luck reaching a peaceful consensus during the middle of an apocalypse!

BYAKUYA: I never said that it had to be a peaceful decision. If needed, you will all follow me kicking and screaming so I don’t perish thanks to your idiocy.

MONDO: I’ll knock some idiocy into ya if you keep runnin’ your mouth like that!

TAKA: Remember to take deep stomach breaths, bro! I think we can all solve this by utilizing a popular vote!

HIFUMI: But wouldn’t whoever’s the most popular win anyway??

HAJIME: SHUT UP!!! EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!!!

(Everyone stops talking and stares at Hajime, who’s trembling and has his face in his hands.)

JUNKO: Daaaaaaamn, rookie’s kinda bold to be screaming at us like that, huh?

MAKOTO: Junko… you’re not helping. He’s obviously overwhelmed and you’re just teasing him.

JUNKO: C’mon, I’m nowhere near him! Hahah!

(Makoto sighs, sitting down next to Hajime on the floor. The rest of the students talk amongst themselves.)

MAKOTO: ...I’m sorry. I know you didn’t ask to be here, but… for what it’s worth, I’m glad that you’re still alive somehow.

HAJIME: …

MAKOTO: You know… when Mukuro found you unconscious in that class, we all thought you were one of Nagitos’ friends. You seemed too peaceful in your sleep to have been running from anybody, or hiding from anything.

HAJIME: ...then why did you help me?

KYOKO: We thought we could get some information about the outside world. But apparently, you're just as lost as the rest of us.

MAKOTO: A-and because we didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Even if you were one of his people, we didn’t want you to just be out there. I’m glad that you weren’t, though… it feels nice to meet someone new again.

(Hajime lifts his face from his hands, palms and face covered in tears. He looks at Makoto with a faint smile.)

HAJIME: Yeah… feels nice.

☘️ TO BE CONTINUED☘️

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luninosity · 3 years

Text

So I’ve started putting Magician (the sequel / spin-off to Sorceress - which was my first-ever pro published fantasy story, way back when! m/f, bisexual main characters, a single mom, a prince, a dragon!) up on AO3, mostly for motivation / wanting to get excited about it with people!

(And it’s technically fanfic, properly, now, isn’t it? For my own story? *laughs*)

Anyway, if you might like...a magician in need of redemption (he was the villain, or at least the problem, of the first story!), and an optimistic prince who likes books, and tropical fruit, and also (eventually) only one bed at the inn...chapters 1 & 2 are up now! More soon, I promise - I’ve got about 30k written already! And you don’t really need to’ve read the first short story first; I think it stands alone fairly well!

Read at AO3 here! Teaser below.

The world’s greatest living magician, lying on his back on a rocky ledge halfway up a cliff and bathed in sunshine, felt the boat’s arrival on the shore below like an uninvited knock at a private door. He did not enjoy it.

He didn’t move for a moment. He did not feel like it, and there’d be no rush. Nobody’d get past his wards.

He kept both eyes closed. Sun streaked red behind his eyelids; gold warmed his skin, his hair. His body soaked in the sensations of strong heated stone, sank into stone, became stone: learning how the rock felt when bathed in lush late-morning light. His edges blurred, softened: time slowed, thrummed, grew earthen and deep, salt-lapped and wind-etched. He might’ve been here for centuries, unhurried. Equilibrium and erosion, solidity and reshaping: a balance.

He had needed balance. Something he’d thought he’d known, once. Something he no longer understood.

He’d thought the island might help. Being rock for a while, or the wind, or the seaspray: being suspended amid them all. Being alone, because he was not sure he recalled how to be human, not well enough.

The island was warm—Lorre had always shamelessly adored being warm—and far enough from the mainland that he’d been mostly undisturbed, and close enough to trade routes that he could occasionally walk on water out to a boat and barter some repairs or some healing for some news of the Middle Lands and King Henry’s court at Averene and the Grand Sorceress Liliana. Lorre had promised not to magically check in on Lily or their daughter; he was attempting to keep that promise.

Equilibrium. Difficult. Sunlight was easier. Sunbeams were weightless. Stones did not have to think about human promises. Human perceptions.

The knock came again. It was not physical, or not entirely. It was a presence, an unexpected intruder standing below, shuffling feet in the sand and no doubt wondering where precisely a magician could be found, being faced with a towering blank cliff and no visible habitation.

Lorre sighed, pulled himself back from frayed edges and heavy sleepy light, and sat up, pulling a robe on in an unfussy tumble of blue and gold, mostly just because he liked the caress of silky fabric on bare skin. His senses shifted, dwindled: more human, though not entirely. He’d been a magician too long to not feel the threads of brilliance—cliff, vines, fish, grains of sand, sea-glass polished by waves—all around.

He peeked over the side of the ledge. Behind him the cave yawned lazily, reminding him of sanctuary: he could simply walk back inside, the way he had for several years now, and ignore the new arrival. That generally worked.

He was rather surprised someone’d found him at all. He wasn’t exactly hiding—oh yes you are, said a tart little voice in his head, one that sounded like Lily’s—but the island, after a bit of work on his part, nearly always concealed itself from maps and navigation charts. At the beginning a few enterprising adventurers had managed to track it down, young heroes on quests or proving their worth by daring an enchanter’s lair or begging for Lorre’s assistance in some revenge or inheritance or magical artifact retrieval scheme.

He’d ignored all but two of them. The illusion-wall kept everyone out, simple and baffling; the island had fresh water but little in the way of food. Mostly the adventurers’d given up and gone home, years ago; he couldn’t in fact recall the face of the last one. Two had become nuisances, loud and shouting; one of those had actually threatened to drink poison, melodramatically demanding Lorre’s assistance in collecting a promised bride from a glass mountain, claiming he’d die without her.

The young man currently standing on the beach was neither loud nor melodramatic. In fact, he was calmly considering the sheer cliff-face, which revealed nothing; he stepped back across the small curve of beach, shaded his eyes, seemed to be measuring. After a second he put a hand up, obviously checking the edge of the cliff: having noticed the very slight discrepancy where sea-birds dropped behind the illusion-wall a fraction sooner than they should vanish in reality.

Intelligent, this one. Lorre dangled himself over the ledge at an angle which would’ve been dangerous for anyone else, and watched.

The young man had dark reddish-brown hair, the color of autumn; he wore it tied back, though a few wisps were escaping. He’d dressed for travel, not in shiny armor the way some knights and princes had: sturdy boots and comfortable trousers, a shirt in nicely woven but also practical fabric, a well-worn pack which he’d swung down to the sand. He wasn’t particularly tall, but not short: average, with nicely shaped shoulders and an air of straightforward competence, not trying for impressive or intimidating.

Lorre, despite annoyance about the interruption, couldn’t help but approve. At least this one had some sense, and didn’t walk around clanking in metal under the shimmering sun.

The young man called up, “Hello?” His voice was quite nice as well, not demanding, lightly accented with the burr of the Mountain Marches but in the way of someone who’d been carefully sent to the best schools down South. “Grand Sorcerer?”

Lorre mentally snorted. He didn’t have a proper title, not any longer; if anyone did, it’d be Lily. His former lover, now wife of the brother of the King of Averene, was by default the last Grand Sorceress of the Middle Lands; she’d started up the old magician’s school again, welcoming and training apprentices. Lily always had been better with people. Lorre was not precisely welcome in Averene.

The young man said mildly, “I expect this is a test; I thought you would do that, you know,” as if he thought that Lorre might answer, as if they were having a conversation; and looked around. “I’m meant to find you, is that it?”

That was the opposite of it. Lorre on a good day barely recalled how to be human, and certainly wasn’t fit to interact with them. He’d lost his temper with the melodramatic poison-carrying prince, strolled invisibly onto the shore, asked the poison to turn itself into a sleeping draught, and then poured it into the idiot’s water flask. Then he’d found a passing ship and dumped the snoring body onto its deck. He hadn’t known the destination, and hadn’t bothered to find out.

His current young man was looking at driftwood. Lorre wondered why. He was getting a bit dizzy from leaning nearly upside down; he considered the sensation with some surprise. A swoop of gold swung into his eyes, distracting and momentarily baffling; he pushed the strands of his hair back with magic.

The young man found a stick, one that evidently met his standards for length and strength. He kept it in front of himself; he walked deliberately toward the cliff, and the illusion.

Oh. Clever. Avoiding traps. Testing a theory. Lorre found himself impressed, particularly when the young man watched the tip of the driftwood vanish and nodded to himself and then set rocks down to neatly mark the spot.

The island was not large, and the beach even smaller: a jut of cliff, a tangle of vines, a small lagoon and a trickle of water down to the shore. The illusion hid the cave-opening, but there wasn’t really anywhere else for someone to be; the young man figured that out within an hour or so of methodical exploration, and returned to the shore, and looked thoughtfully at the cliffs. He’d rolled up his sleeves and undone the ties of his shirt, given the heat; he had a vine-leaf in his hair, along with a hint of sweat.

Lorre, in some ways still very much human, couldn’t not stare. Something about those forearms under the rolled-up sleeves. That hint of well-muscled chest. The casual ripple of motion, broad shoulders, heroic thighs.

“I suppose,” the young man said, very wry, still looking at the cliff as if perfectly aware Lorre was watching, “I should introduce myself. I think I forgot to, earlier.”

I suppose you should, Lorre agreed silently. Since you’re here. Disrupting my life.

He ignored the fact that he’d had no real plans. Meditation. Quiet. A hope for calm.

A hint of dragon-fire slid through his veins, under his skin. A memory. Restless. Beckoning. Dangerous.

#sorceress #magician #my fic #original fic #gay romance #fantasy #redemption narratives!#only one bed! eventual sex!

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feralrosie · 3 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe

Happy holidays @bambinamio ♥

The Wayhaven Chronicles Mason/F!Detective (Ziofra Shepard) Words: 4,413 Rating: General Audiences Tags: Holidays, fluff, soft!Mason Read on AO3

The holiday season affects everyone: makes Felix hyped, Ziofra build and decorate a huge tree, Adam to smile... And even makes Mason soft(er).

The sound of incessant shooting echoed through the Warehouse, sprinkled with shouting and cursing. What sounded like a war zone, however, was no more than a friendly competition. In the living room, Felix had convinced the Detective to play with him only a couple rounds of some new video game he bought, but what should have taken only thirty minutes was lasting for over an hour.

"You're cheating!" Ziofra accused, almost throwing the controller away from her on the couch where she sat, "There's no way you're this good."

By her side, the vampire laughed out loud, using his elbow to push her body playfully, a warm grin on his face, "C'mon Detective, don't be such a bad loser. Just believe that it's my incredible eye-hand coordination and years of Agency training."

The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, frowning, “You don’t even use guns in the Agency, how would this be part of your training?” He had won almost every single match of the colourful battle royale game so far, with few exceptions when her victory was guaranteed by special items and a lot of luck. There was no doubt Ziofra was very skilled at it and, in normal circumstances, she would have easily won, but the vampire’s reflexes were too fast for her.

“Then maybe I’m just awesome.” Felix grinned, provoking her even further.

“Fuck you,” she rolled her eyes and chuckled, pretending to be much more offended than she actually was, “But it is still not fair. I will consider myself the winner just because I’m not cheating like you are.”

His laugh was cheery and loud, contrasting with the chilly afternoon outside of the Warehouse. It was a clear day, but the faint sunlight wasn’t enough to melt the thin sheet of ice forming on top of the grass, creating a beautiful glittering winter scene. The living room was much cosier, shining in warm light from the fireplace, cream coloured fur rugs and spare blankets on the couch. Whatever the reason Nate decided to rearrange the space, she was sure that Mason’s almost nonexistent resistance to cold had something to do with it.

Not only, for the last week Felix had been gathering materials and decorations for their home, after finally getting permission to host a small holiday party for the team. The living room was packed with colourful fairy lights hanging everywhere, garlands on every door, star ornaments and even tiny figures of reindeers, nutcrackers and one unicorn were scattered around—surely he watched a few classic holiday movies for inspiration. By the fireplace, there were five stockings, each one with their names embroidered by hand, and her own right in the middle between Nate’s and Mason’s. The entire Warehouse was looking like a fantasy Winterland paradise.

But it was the sight of a huge box of a plastic tree sitting by the window that got Felix an idea, “Say, Ziofra… Why don’t we set this once and for all with a bet?''

Frowning, the detective raised an eyebrow as her eyes studied him, looking for any signs of malice in his voice, but the piercing amber eyes and bright smile gave nothing out. He was truly just having a lot of fun.

“What do you have in mind?” She finally asked.

“Let’s play one more time. If you win, I will consider that all my points are invalid and you’ll be the winner of it all. This game will surpass all others.”

“And if I lose?” The detective explored his terms as if dealing with the mafia, which in that case wasn’t too far from the truth. She knew too well that Felix could be very persuasive.

“If you lose, you help me set up the holiday decorations.”

“What, as if you needed more?” Ziofra scoffed, opening her arms to draw his attention to all the scandalous scenarios around her.

“Of course! I still haven’t set up the holiday tree,” he pointed at the partially open box in the corner, “Nate didn’t let me get a real one because of, quote and quote, ‘fire hazard’, so I had to wait for this to arrive by mail.”

“A wise man.”

“I guess,” he shrugged, still smiling. It was obvious that nothing could ever bother the youngest member of the team, hyped to be spending his first holiday season in a home of his own with the people he most cared about. “So, do we have a bet?”

“Ok, fine! Whatever.”

“Nice!” Felix shouted, shifting on his spot on the couch to get more comfortable while setting up the next match. Ziofra mimicked him and crossed her legs on her seat, resting her arms on her thighs as she held the controller, ready for the next battle.

… It didn’t take too long for her to lose again.

Though she had an advantage of finding better weapons as soon as the game started and managed to hit a great deal of other online players, the moment she found Felix on the map she knew she had no chance. His aim was impeccable, and it was like he could detect each of her character’s movements, knowing exactly what she was going to do beforehand. He knew all along what he was doing, and of course he did it on purpose to win the bet.

“You’re insufferable!” angry, the detective shouted but couldn’t hide a smile. Despite the unfair balance between them, the game was still fun and Felix’s laughter was enough to light up any mood.

“And amazing, don’t forget it,” he teased, standing up from his seat to turn off the console, “I guess now we have a tree to build, right?”

Throwing her arms up in the air in annoyance, Ziofra agreed and followed him. The tree’s box was huge and a mess, Felix had clearly tried to set it up before, but when realised the amount of work it would require, he gave up and shoved all the pieces and parts back inside. If all of this gaming afternoon was just a plot to get her to help, she couldn’t know for sure, but the suspicion wouldn’t leave her for another entire year.

“Holy shit, Felix, how big is this thing?” she asked while taking all the fake green branches out of the box and spreading it over the floor.

“Hm, two Nates tall? One and a half, maybe.”

Her jaw dropped and her shoulders sagged at the information as she glared at him. The tree could tower her own size by a lot and it would take a fucking eternity to set it all up, especially having only the two shortest members of the team working on it. “Are you fucking kidding m—”

The inevitable outburst of rage was fortunately interrupted by another figure joining them at the living room. Nate knocked on the door frame, a comforting smile set on his lips. For a moment, she thought they could at least have some help from Mr. Long Legs, “Hey, Felix, and hello Ziofra,” he greeted, as lovable as always, but soon directed his attention to the youngest, “Felix, can you drive me to the city? Adam is at the facility and Mason said he would rather eat his own cigarettes. You’re the only one available.”

“Right now? Sure!” the bright smile on his lips denounced how glad he was to be leaving the previous task to the detective. Not only she wouldn’t have any help from Nate, Felix was now also abandoning the ship.

“It’s going to be quick, I just need to go buy some things. Are you too busy?”

“Not at all!” Felix jumped over the plastic tree branches on the floor and reached Nate by the door, grabbing his bright coloured coat and dressing up, “You can take the lead here, right Ziofra?”

She was holding a branch like a knife, pointing at him, “I am going to fucking murder you later, you tiny bastar—”

“Great! You’re the best! See you later!” And in a blur of movement, Felix disappeared, pulling Nate with him, though the joy in his laughter echoed for a few seconds in the hallway.

Even if she wasn’t happy with the situation, Ziofra still tried to build the holiday tree. If anything, she could still regain her honour by making it the best piece of decoration. How hard could it be, anyway?

All the plastic leaves were piercing into her skin and there were way too many of them. Despite its size, the tree was relatively easy to put together, and after an hour of work sorting out pieces and ignoring the instructions, the detective was halfway through it. The problem now, however, was to figure out how she would reach the highest parts of the structure.

Ziofra was an expert on climbing actual trees, and this one shouldn’t be too different. She pushed an armchair closer and hopped on top of its seat, but still it wasn’t enough. Cursing under her breath, she risked stepping on the armrest, balancing her tiny body and stretching her arms towards the tree. Gathering all of her focus on trying to hook a motherfucking piece in its place, she barely noticed when the armchair shook under her feet. Pushing her luck, she rested one foot over a branch of the tree, holding herself to its trunk to finally, finally, attach that one piece in its place.

“Oh, hell yes!”

The celebration didn’t last for long, for as soon as she pointed her finger guns at the structure, the chair underneath betrayed her and slipped back on the wooden floor. It happened too fast for her to have any defensive strategy, so all she could do was to cling herself to the tree trunk and close her eyes.

In a loud bang, she crashed on the floor, followed by the heavy tree that fell over her, parts of it getting loose and scattering all around. “Fuck!” she shouted, trying to free herself from the humiliating place. It was about to get worse, however, when she heard the rushed footsteps of someone coming for her aid, and there was only one other person in the Warehouse with her.

“Ziofra?!” Mason blurted as soon as he arrived at the living room, a worried frown set between his stormy grey eyes that scanned the room, looking for her. When his gaze finally met hers, an amused smirk formed on his lips. “What did you do?”

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised,” she pursed her lips and avoided his eyes. It was bad enough to embarrass herself like that, but to have him be the one to find her was a bit of too fucking much.

“I can see that,” he scoffed, resting his side against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest, watching as she tried to lift the tree on top of her. Not an easy task, given by the enormous size of the structure, and even Mason could see how hard it could be for a tiny human like her. In any case, it was too good to not enjoy the show for a couple minutes. “Need help there, sweetheart?”

She grunted loudly at the offering, letting her arms fall on the floor in defeat, “ Please. ”

The rumbling sound of the vampire’s chuckling followed as he approached the detective, careful to not step on her but having no regards for the plastic branches on the floor. Mason bent over and lifted the tree to its proper place with ease while offering to aid the woman. Ziofra didn’t think too much before holding his hand for support and stumbling to her feet, landing too close to him.

His thumb caressed her knuckles idly, and he felt a few cuts and bruises marking her skin in irregular shapes. For a moment his gaze shifted to her hands, taking note of the results of her work with the holiday decoration before focusing his attention back to her face. A small piece of plastic was stuck on her cheek, along with a few strands of hair that got loose from her ponytail. Mason reached for it, brushing off everything with the back of his long fingers, slowly enough to feel like the time had frozen between them.

“Are you alright?” his husky voice sounded like a whisper right before his hand dropped to his side while the other still held hers. The stormy eyes searched her features for more bruises, but the steady sound of her heartbeat soothed his worries.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she mumbled, absorbed by the handsome lines of his freckled features, so close to her, from the curves of his lips to the depth of his eyes. She wanted to lean in, feel his taste and touch, and just stay closer , but an instinct on the back of her mind pulled her away, letting go of his hand and clearing her throat. “It’s just this stupid tree that is too fucking tall.”

Her harsh movements away from him seemed to have the same effect on Mason, who stepped back biting his lips. Crossing his arms again, he poked a piece of the tree by his side with the tip of his boots, studying the environment surrounding him.

“What even is all of that shit?”

“Felix won a bet. Now I have to build a fucking holiday tree.”

Mason rolled his eyes, “Of course he is the one responsible for this monstrosity.” Inhaling deeply at the mess, the vampire turned his back, heading back to the door.

"What are you doing?" Ziofra prompted, making him stop in a halt and look over his shoulder at her outraged countenance.

"Hn, leaving?"

"Aren't you going to help me?"

"Why would I?" turning on his heels to face her again and raising an eyebrow, he inquired in genuine confusion.

"Because I'm asking pretty please."

"Your point?"

The detective grunted, leaning her head back to gather patience. Talking to Mason sometimes was like trying to maintain a conversation with a door. "Come on, I bet you're not even doing anything important right now."

"I can think of a lot of important stuff we could do instead of building this thing." Despite his complaints, the vampire walked towards her, leaning down to her ear as he passed by and whispering in a velvety tone, "Much better things."

The suggestion sent chills down her spine, but she could only hope they would have another opportunity to be alone in that huge Warehouse. Mason was already collecting the plastic branches all over the floor, studying each for a few seconds and hooking them in place. He seemed comfortable, beautifully so, wearing his usual long-sleeved shirt that matched the colour of his hair. There was something in the atmosphere between them that was different, so calm and familiar.

On his face, there was almost a smile. Maybe it was the silence, the warmth of the room, or maybe he just enjoyed using his hands to craft something, but the peace emanating from him was alluring. Ziofra didn’t even think of the possibility of her being the reason behind it. Of their company being why both felt so at ease, so at home.

“Are you enjoying the view, sweetheart?” his voice broke through her thoughts, soft, but their eyes didn’t meet. He was too busy attaching a tree branch, a little past the height of his head, and drawing her attention to the slim lines of his torso.

“Excuse me?”

“You going to help or not?” Mason turned his head to her, the light from the fireplace slipping down his nose like a feather and inviting her closer. Something really odd was in the air, but none of them would question it. Not right now.

“Shut up,” was all that she could mumble before joining him.

Felix’s holiday party was much more like a simple gathering than anything else. They all preferred it that way, only the five of them, a few drinks for the sake of it and… a pile of gifts that Nate insisted on buying. Turns out that the quick trip to the city required two entire days.

Adam was by the window, sipping on red wine and listening to Nate ramble about some recent book he bought, and even Mason was having a drink, perching on a table next to them, but clearly not paying any attention to the conversation.

The holiday tree was looking gorgeous in greens, reds, and golden glittering decoration. Ziofra had taken all the credit for it after Mason refused to acknowledge his participation, but a bit of pampering from Felix was always welcome.

��How did you manage to reach the top of this thing?” he asked, shifting his gaze from the top of her head to the height of the tree. “Don’t get me wrong, I only doubted you twice, but this is really surprising.”

Raising an eyebrow at the subtle mockery, the detective pushed Felix with the side of her body, “I used my hair as a rope and climbed there,” she scoffed, “As one does.”

The vampire laughed out loud, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “Of course you did, that explains a lot.”

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle, leaning her head towards him for just a second before Felix pulled away completely.

“Hey, I have something for you!” he jumped closer to the tree, searching for a colourful box wrapped in rainbow paper, “Nate help me choose it, so if you don’t like it you can blame it on him. If you love it, the credit is all mine.”

“What?!” she jabbered, holding the rather large package with both hands. In front of her, Felix was smiling brightly, eager to see her reaction. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Felix!”

“What, you thought I wouldn’t get you anything? You’re part of this team… and a great friend. You deserve it. Come on, open it!”

Ripping off the paper, Ziofra opened the box at once, diving her hands into it to grab a beautifully hand crafted leather jacket, coloured in a deep black with silver beads and zippers. It was obviously very expensive and well made, and the sight of it made her jaw drop a little.

“Are you kidding me?” she bursted, holding the piece by its shoulders and examining it all around.

“Did you like it?” Felix was vibrating by her side, giggling like a child, “Try it on!”

The fit was perfect for her, as if it was custom made for her size. The leather was cold and smooth, but the fabric inside the jacket was warm and comfortable, like being hugged by a dear friend. She looked at her reflection on the window’s panels and smiled, pleased with the surprise. The endless source of joy leaking through Felix was enough to have her hugging him tightly, thanking him again.

Caught in a hype, Felix soon stepped away from her to continue his task of giving gifts to the other members of the team. Adam and Nate were also exchanging presents, and Ziofra could see an amused smile forming on the Commanding Agent’s lips as he, too, hugged his best friend for a quick moment.

An interruption stepped up in front of her, cutting her view of the surprisingly tender scene between the two oldest vampires on the other side of the room.

“Looking great, sweetheart.” His gaze ran across all of her body, taking his time on her curves rather than clothing. “If you weren’t so small, I would even steal this jacket from you.”

“You can surely try it out. Show some skin, you know?” Not hiding the flirtatious tone in her voice, she rested her back against the door frame and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Held his gaze in a teasing challenge, inviting him to join her there.

“You know I have no problem doing that,” the rumbling sound in his chest vibrated towards her as he chuckled, completely at ease, “Especially for you.”

“I should have bought you those ugly holiday sweaters, the ones with reindeers fucking on it.” Ziofra rolled her eyes, but followed his movements as he stepped closer to rest his right forearm on the wall behind her, caging her. “It would suit you very well,” she provoked further, a sly smile on her lips.

Mason took note of her mouth, the way one corner lifted higher than the other, and how eager he was to kiss it. Tried to bury the feeling in his chest, pretend it was nothing but a physical thing, and yet… There she was, right in front of him, gorgeous and comfortable. Her heartbeat surpassed every other sound, from the cheerful laughter of his companions to the crackling of the fire.

There was no denying how beautiful she was, but also he couldn’t help but to acknowledge that it wasn’t everything he thought of her. Everyday he felt more drawn to her as if she had a magnetic field, as if he needed to stay closer. It was good to stay closer. The world around him seemed to hush, allowing him to feel things that otherwise would be hidden. No more being overwhelmed by sensations everywhere, only a single one that grew roots in his chest and bloomed to his throat.

“Mason?” She whispered, calling him from his thoughts, but not meaning to move away.

His frown twitched when her heartbeat raced in anticipation, realising his own matched the rhythm. Mason leaned down, the stormy eyes switching from the violet of her irises to the rosy of her lips, slowly, until the shrieking sound of Felix’s voice pulled him away from her.

“Hey, love doves,” he called from behind, walking towards the door with the rest of the team, “We’re going to the game room. You guys coming?”

Mason grunted, shooting a piercing stare at the youngest, who raised both of his hands in self defense. Ziofra blinked a few times, as if only catching up with the situation moments later.

“We will be there in a bit,” she exhaled, and a chuckle followed as the team passed by them to the corridor.

“Take your time,” Nate placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder, smiling warmly but, surprisingly enough, with hints of mischief. His brown eyes guided Mason’s up to the door frame above them, but he didn’t stay long enough to watch the other’s reaction.

When they were left alone, the vampire directed his attention back to the woman, biting his lips to conceal a smile.

“We’ve been here for a while,” he began, leaning his head back and looking up, “I believe that means I get more than just one kiss, no?”

“What do you mean?” the detective’s eyes followed his gaze. On the frame, glued with adhesive tape, a mistletoe—or was it a holly?—was hanging on top of them. “Oh.”

“So,” he prompted, encouraging her to answer his previous tease, “A kiss and what else?”

“I don’t think that’s a timed activity, smartass,” her chuckle filled his ears and surrounded his senses like a blanket, pulling out a smile on the corner of his lips. Ziofra placed her tiny hands on his chest, caressing him over his shirt and studying the lines of his neck, “But maybe later you’ll get more than a kiss.”

The tip of her fingers, colder than her palms, caressed his skin up to his jawline, only to trace back the path down and hold him by his collar. She pulled him closer, eyes fixed on his lips, and parting her own open just slightly. Her gaze full of desire met his, but there was something else to it. The faint blue of his eyes were darkened with the stormy grey, and he wasn’t leaning in to her. He seemed nervous, a bit annoyed. If she could listen to his heart as well as he could hear hers, she would have known how fast it was drumming, trying to rip off his chest.

“I have something for you,” he mumbled between clenched teeth, almost not moving his lips to speak. Reaching for the pocket of his jeans, Mason pulled a small box, clearly of jewelry, made of the darkest velvet. There were no wrappings around it, no laces or bows, just the box in its fancy simplicity.

Ziofra’s mind tried her best to quickly assess the situation, thousands of thoughts fussed all over with the rush of adrenaline in her bloodstream. Tried to conceal a shaky hand before accepting it in silence and holding the gift in both hands, feeling Mason’s gaze fixed on her. Inside the box, lined with the same dark velvet, stood a necklace made of such shiny silver that contrasted with its surroundings. The pendant was a simple linework of the silhouettes of two wolves, one slightly larger than the other, howling together.

“Mason…” she gasped, carefully pulling the necklace out of its display to examine it closer.

“Happy holidays,” he interrupted, almost growling, as if the words would sting him. Aside from minor things out of necessity for his team members, he couldn’t remember the last time he had bought something for anyone, especially a gift like that. A gift that got him as nervous as her, and as rewarding as watching the detective trying on the accessory with a shy smile on her face. Not a single snarky remark from her when the pendant touched her chest, cold on her skin.

When their eyes met again, and none of them waited for it, for there was nothing else to be said. Lips crashed into each other, yearning to be pressed together like gasping for air after a deep dive. Ziofra stretched her body on the tip of her toes, hugging the man by his shoulders and wrapping both arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his ebony locks, while he held her closer by her waist. His long fingers traced a careful path along her spine and landed on the back of her neck, feeling the heat and the shivers on her skin.

They could feel each other entirely, wrap themselves in their warmth and explore the bodies as if it was the first time, new and exciting, and when they deepened the kiss, there was nowhere else they would rather be, and nothing they would rather do.

There were only the two of them, and nothing else mattered.

#the Wayhaven Chronicles #twc #twc fanfic #Mason x F!Detective #Ziofra Shepard #bambinamio #my writing #hope you like it dear ♥

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