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pattypanini · 1 month

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Lay All Your Love On Me

Chapter 6- Out With The Old, In With The New

Jake Kiszka x Reader and Josh Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 5,241

TAGLIST

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the sixth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! We appreciate you all so much and the support we have gotten is so much more than we ever imagined. Every like, comment, and reblog means so much and we notice all of you. We hope you enjoy the sixth chapter, Out With The Old, In With The New.

Warnings: 18+, Unprotected sex, Squirting, Make out, Disloyalty (if you want to consider it that),Angst, Alcohol, Hookups, Degradation kink, Praise kink, Daddy kink, DIRTY TALK,

Y/n’s POV

You’re a bit startled when you wake up in the morning. You feel a warm nude body pressed up against you, suddenly recalling the events of last night. You stretch out under the covers, rubbing your eyes. As you roll over, careful not to wake Josh, you check the time on your phone. 11:16am. You slip out from under the covers and make your way over to your dresser drawers, to select your outfit for the day. You pull out a pair of gray sweatpants and slide them over your shaky legs, that he was no doubt the cause of. You prance over to your closet and file through your tops, landing on your pink lululemon tank. You slip it over your bare torso.

Josh starts to stir and you watch his eyes flick open. “Good morning,” he smiles at you, his voice still groggy from his sleep.

You grab your hairbrush on your desk, lightly dragging it through your knotted hair. “Good morning to you too,” you reciprocate his shining smile.

He rolls out of bed, still completely naked. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I forgot.” He quickly reaches for his khaki shorts that were discarded on the floor.

It wasn’t like you to have guys over to your house, you would usually go to theirs, but Josh was different. You two were becoming close friends so you didn’t feel like he was invading your space. You were beginning to get a little antsy and wanted him to leave soon so you could relax the rest of the day though.

You make your way out to the kitchen where you found Charlotte making coffee in a t-shirt you had never seen before, makeup still on her face from last night.

“Did you have fun last night?” You ask, laughing a little under your breath.

She turns to you slowly, having obvious regrets about her decisions. “So much y/n.” She says in a very dry, sarcastic tone. You grab a celsius from the fridge and take a seat at the table and hear footsteps coming from your room. Charlotte's eyes widened, shocked that you brought someone back here.

“Who?” She mouths to you. You give her a look to calm down. When Josh comes around the corner Charlotte's eyes light up, shocked that HE was the one you brought home.

“Hi Josh, did you have a fun night?” She says jokingly, taking a sip of her hot coffee, making her way to the seat next to you.

“You could say that.” Josh says, making his way behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders. The silence was awkward, you could cut it with a knife.

“So what are you and y/n, Josh?” You practically spit out your drink. Why would she ask that? Your eyes shoot daggers into her. A laugh bubbling up inside of you.

“Ummm I- I don’t know, I guess we're something.” Josh stammers. The laugh you had attempted to hold in releases, practically in his face.

“Oh please, we’re just friends Char, nothing crazy, it’s all for the roles anyway right Josh?”

He takes his hands off your shoulders. You could feel his scoff hit the back of your neck. “Yeah… totally. I’m gonna go now y/n, see you around.” He makes his way towards the door, power behind every step, and finally hearing the door slam shut.

“Damn, what's his deal?” Charlotte questions.

“I don’t know, I guess he’s just got a stick up his ass.” But you knew. He didn’t like that “friend” label you just gave him. But you didn’t see him as much more. He was a friend you liked fooling around with. Friends with benefits, if you will. But you didn’t consider you both, “something.”

You hoped what you said wouldn’t ruin anything between you two, you were beginning to really value your guy’s friendship and the time you spent together.

—

As the week went by things had taken a turn for the worst. It felt like the beginning of the semester again. You were giving the same energy you have been, but Josh hasn’t been reciprocating. He seems disgusted by you, always backing away or making a face when you reach out for him. Kissing you with pursed lips. It's just awkward.

By the end of Thursday’s practice Coleman was visibly angry. She has been so happy with how everything has been going, but this is what happens in the show world. You knew that from the beginning your relationship with Josh couldn’t be more than a fuck buddy, because if it became more and you guys broke up it could ruin the whole show.

Coleman called you up after practice to discuss the sudden change in dynamic.

“I don’t get it. What’s going on with you guys? Last week was perfect, so what's changed?” Coleman shoots you a disapproving face, filled with disappointment.

“I-I don’t know. We hung out last weekend and I referred to him as my ‘friend’ and I don't think he liked that very much.” You decide to be honest with her and if you were being honest with yourself, you don’t think this is your fault. If only Josh had been more transparent about his feelings, you guys wouldn’t be in this situation, yet again.

“Can you guys please put your feelings aside, at least until the end of the show. We can’t put this production in jeopardy, over you and Josh’s selfishness.” Coleman pleads with you, desperation in her icy eyes.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Will do, I'll have it figured out before tomorrow's practice.” You reassure her, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Coleman offers you a weak smile, signaling the conversation was over and you were free to go. You turn on your heels and head straight for the door.

When you make it back to your dorm, you find Charlotte sitting on the couch painting her nails. Her eyes are focused intently on her light blue nails, her focus averts from her nails to look at you. “Hey girl!” She shoots you a soft smile.

“Hey Char! Your nails look cute,” you grab her hand to examine her freshly painted nails.

“Stoppppp, they’re fresh. I don't wanna ruin them.” She pulls her hand away to check them. “So what are you doing tonight?”

“I don’t know, probably nothing. I don’t even have anything to study for so it’ll be a boring night. Maybe I’ll find a new show to watch or something,” you tell her a little upset Josh hasn’t reached out by now.

“You’re not going to Josh’s apartment?” Her jaw drops, clearly surprised.

“No, we haven’t really been on good terms since he’s been over. I think he’s pissed that I friendzoned him.”

“But I thought you guys were like a thing?”

“I mean in the show, yes. But we haven’t really done anything that seems, like, relationship-y. We mess around, and it's fun, great even. But like I don’t count that as something more than just fuck buddies. If I considered a hookup the beginning of a relationship I’d be dating a lot of guys.” You chuckle a little at the thought.

“Well I don’t know if you're blind to it, but he’s obviously really into you. The way he was attracted to you as soon as he came into the room, he was all over you. I think you really hurt his feelings.”

You hadn’t really realized how much you might have hurt him. You weren’t used to guys actually liking you and wanting to be around you. Usually, they only wanted you for your body and once they had it, they were gone.

“I think you are right, Char. I just… I don’t know what to do, I feel like it’s too late to recover from all this. Even Coleman has noticed things are different now,” You speak to her, in search of advice, that she’s always so good at giving. You collapse onto the couch exhausted from the day.

“Well… I mean, you could apologize to him. Try to work things out?” She suggests.

You sit there for a moment, really thinking about it. You didn’t think you did anything wrong, but you need to put your own feelings aside and be the bigger person for the sake of the show.

“I guess you're right. Maybe I’ll stop by tonight. You think I should ask if I can come over?” You ask knowing Char would know what to do in the situation.

“No don't, because if you ask he’ll probably just say no. So just do a friendly drop by.”

“You’re right, a friendly drop by, that's all this is. I guess I’ll freshen up real quick and head over. Should I bring anything?”

“Your hot bod and a condom.” She winks at you with a mischievous smile plastered on her pale face.

“You're disgusting, I think that's the last thing he wants to do with me. Should I go now?” Suddenly, you're anxious realizing you’re going to have to face him.

“I would, you don’t wanna go too late because maybe he’ll be cranky or something, you know how guys can be sometimes.”

“Ok.. I’ll go now… I guess,” You quickly make your way into your bedroom to freshen up before heading over. You spray some more perfume, deodorant, dry shampoo and touch up your makeup since you didn’t get a shower. You glance at your drawer in your vanity that holds your tampons and other products. Should I actually grab a condom? Stop y/n get your head out of the gutter.

You check out your outfit in the mirror making sure everything looks okay. Your oversized white sweatshirt and light pink boxer shorts looked good against your tan skin. You made sure you had a bra on this time to make sure he didn’t get the wrong impression.

Grabbing your belt bag quickly before you head out you say bye to Char and make your way out the door.

“Did you grab a condom?”

“What do you think?” You roll your eyes at her.

—

When you finally get to the apartment, you start to regret your decisions. Maybe you shouldn’t have come unannounced, or maybe at all? You raise your hand up to wrap your knuckles against the wood. You hear blues music drifting out into the hallway through the closed door. You knock. Footsteps start to approach and the door whips open, revealing a shirtless Jake.

“Hey y/n. What are you doing here?” Jake questions you.

You hear him speaking, but you’re too focused on his naked upper body. He has toned arms and shoulders, and a nice set of abs, a similar build to his brother. You didn’t know that was all hiding under there, but you guess you never tried or cared to find out.

“My eyes are up here actually.” You hear him say, pointing at his face with a slight chuckle, as you snap out of your trance.

“Oh yeah sorry, um, is Josh here?” He rolls his eyes.

“No… but I am, I wouldn’t mind you coming in for a little. I can make you a drink.”

“Oh… no that’s okay you seem busy and I don’t want to intrude. I-I’ll go.” You turn away from the door.

“No, I insist.” He says holding the door all the way open. You oblige and walk through the doorway. “Take a seat on the couch awhile. I just need to finish up these dishes really quickly.”

“I can help if you want.” You suggest as you follow him into the kitchen.

“Why would I make you do that, go sit your pretty ass down on the fucking couch.” He smirks at you, but you can hear the genuineness in his raspy voice.

Jeez. A little aggressive, he's very similar to his brother in more ways than one. As you take a seat on the couch you feel weird. You haven’t been here when Josh wasn’t. It didn’t feel right. It felt off to sit where you usually do so you opted for the middle seat on the couch.

“What would you like to drink?” You hear Jake scream from the kitchen.

“Umm, maybe just a glass of wine or whatever is fine. Thank you!” You respond back.

A few moments later Jake arrives with two glasses of wine in hand and t-shirt covering his body. Damn it. He takes a seat beside you, right where Josh would normally sit. It feels like deja vu.

“So, why are you even here? Did you have to talk to him about something or just come to fuck?” Jake sasses you.

“With who?” You question, making sure you understood him fully.

“Well, I was talking about my brother but I wouldn't mind a little action myself.” His remark makes you gag on your drink a little, not expecting his forwardness.

“I wanted to apologize to him for what happened the other day. He slept over after the frat party and I might have friendzoned him. And while we have been fucking around and acting like we’re together for the show, I never really saw it as more than a fuck buddy situation. I’m not the kind to be tied down to one person. But it’s important to him so I wanted to apologize and work things out again, for our friendship and the show.”

“Damn, I didn’t realize he thought about you like that. He came home earlier for a little while and left to go to the library. I guess that makes sense as to why he seemed so sad.” Jake pondered, taking a large swig emptying nearly half the wine glass.

“Wow, thanks for making me feel like even more of an ass than I already do. I guess I’ll try to text him tonight or something.” You stare at the floor taking a big sip of your wine. “Oh and I’m sorry I pulled you into the middle of Josh and I’s situation at the frat party. I guess I kinda used you to get back at him.”

“I didn’t mind, any excuse to be touching you is a win in my book. If that's what it took, I’d let you use me in any way you’d like.” He says, raising his eyebrows, taking a small sip of his wine.”

“W-what?”

“All I’m saying is that you're not tied down so you shouldn’t feel bad for being with me on Friday.”

“I don’t, I liked it, I just feel bad for you since I used you to get back at him.”

“Don’t feel bad. If it was up to me you would have been leaving with me and we would have done so much more, baby. Better than whatever you did with my fucking brother.” Your mouth ajar, absolutely shocked by his statement.

“If you don't close that pretty mouth of yours, I'm going to have to find other uses for it.” His pointer and thumb lift your jaw up and he begins to close the gap between you. “I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you? My thick cock down that tiny, little, throat of yours.” Emphasizing every single word looking deep into your soul.

Could you do this? Get with his brother. After trying to apologize for not wanting to be more than friends. You were going to explain that if he wanted you to, you'd take your guy's relationship seriously. That it could become more than just a show relationship. Be with each other. But Josh isn’t here. Jake is.

Fuck it.

Your lips crash into Jake’s, not wasting any time bringing your hands to his hair and straddling his lap. You pull his hair back and release your mouth, and reattach it to his now exposed neck. Sloppy kisses and licks were placed all down his neck and jawline. Making him breathe heavily, close to your ear.

He brings his hands down to your ass, picking you up to lay you with your back on the couch. His body towering above you makes you go out of your mind. You need him so bad. As he leaves wet kisses down your face and throat, he reaches a covered zone.

His hands meet the hem of the sweatshirt, and eyes look down to you. “Please baby, let me see that perfect body you're hiding under here. You have no idea how bad I want this.” You nod and he continues to pull your sweatshirt above your head, discarding it onto the floor.

He pulls his body away to get a full look, you watch as his eyes trail down your body, painfully slow.

“You see something you like Jake?”

“I’m seeing a lot that I like, and I think there is even more I’ll like that’s still covered.” He says pulling at the waistband of your boxer shorts. You lift your hips to allow access for him to pull the shorts down.

You try to wear cute undergarments whenever you can because it makes you feel more put together and confident. Today you were very happy you remembered to do so. Underneath all of your clothing was a baby pink matching bra and panties set.

“God, I can’t believe I waited so long for you.” He begins to trace the outline of your lace bra. “Tell me what you want y/n.”

“I want you inside of me please. I need you, Jake.”

“Do you want me to use a condom?”

“No, Jake. I need to feel you. I wanna feel you fill me up with your cum. Please daddy.” You whisper in his ear, giving him your best fuck-me eyes.

His jaw drops and he lets out a deep, content sigh pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek. If you were gonna do this, you were doing it fully. You tug at his shirt pulling it up, letting him know you wanted to see more. “I think it's a little unfair that I’m practically naked beneath you and you’re still fully clothed.” Letting your hands graze up his toned chest under his shirt, you begin to drag your nails lightly down his torso. He approves of your actions with a deep groan beginning to pull up his shirt. You can’t help but sit up to lick a stripe up his soft stomach.

As soon as his shirt is fully off you go right to his pants, tugging down on them.

“Someone must want something, such a desperate brat. Are you just so fucking horny for me? Tell me what you want, you needy little thing.”

“I want you to fuck me over this god damn couch like the fucking slut I am. I’m a slut for you Jakey. You wanna have this happen again, show me a good night and I’ll be giving you so much more. I’ll give you anything you want.” Jake’s gaze darkens, his eyes nearly turning black.

Without saying another word Jake picks you up, and stands you in front of the arm of the couch. Leaning you over it with your ass in the air. “You look so fucking good from this angle, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so hard. That little limp my brother gave you will seem like nothing compared to what you're about to feel like.” He punctuates his sentence with a sharp smack to your ass.

His hand trails up your spine stopping when he reaches the clip of your bra. He unclips it and it falls off your body landing on the arm of the couch, in front of you.

You look back to him, with challenging eyes. “I’ll believe it when I feel it, Jakey.”

He reaches his hand around the front of your body and grips your throat in his large hand, pulling you up into his chest, your ear right next to his lips.

“Are you really going to fucking talk to me like that? Don't make things worse for yourself babygirl, or else you won’t be able to ‘practice’ with my pussy of a brother. That would make you just so sad wouldn’t it?” He pushes your head back down towards the arm of the couch.

“He’s got too many emotions in that head of his.” Jake says as you feel his hands move to his pants, releasing himself. “You need someone whos gonna fuck you like the whore you are and leave, right? I’ll give you that baby, whatever you could ever want, no strings attached. I’ll be your dirty little secret, y/n.”

He begins to line himself up, teasing your entrance.

“And I’ll be your little secret Jake, when you say the word I’ll be here. I’ll be here, fucking you whenever you want, however you want.” He groans behind you, his tip pressing in a little further.

“And Jake…your brother cannot find out about this, or else this will be over, and you won’t be able to fuck this sweet pussy anymore.” You say with a smooth cadence.

“God damn, baby. Our secret, our little secret..” Without any warning, he slams his throbbing cock so deep into your wet cunt. He allows you to adjust for a moment before you start to feel his dick drag against your soft walls.

“Oh fuck, y/n. I will keep this secret for as long as I get to fuck this gorgeous pussy. You feel like velvet baby.” His fingers grip deep into the sides of your hips, pulling you back against him. Sounds of skin clapping fill the room. A high pitched moan floats by your lips and Jake notices right away.

“Feel good, baby?” He continues to fuck into you reaching around your body to grab your tit in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Feels so good, Jake. Josh could never fill me up the way you do. OH FUCK!” Your hands grip around the arm of the couch. You reach over and grab the decorative pillow laying on one of the cushions and nuzzle your face into it, in an attempt to muffle your moans.

You feel his free hand wrap around your hair, pulling your face out of the pillow, as he picks up the pace. “Don’t muffle those beautiful moans baby, I wanna hear you, all of you. I need to know how good I’m making you feel.” His hand that was on your tit begins to travel down your stomach and nuzzle itself between your slick folds, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

Oh fuck. If he keeps this up you’ll be finishing in record time, but you wanted to last longer.

You push yourself up on the couch, standing up. You turn yourself around and push him to sit on the couch. “When’s Josh getting back?”

“I don't know, but that's what makes it all the more exciting, doesn’t it? He'll get a little taste of what it was like after I walked in on you guys.” You begin to pull his pants fully off. “He probably did it on fucking purpose, he knew how I felt about you. How badly I wanted that moment with you, but now I have it. So I hope he fucking comes in, seeing me with ‘his’ girl.”

“You’re a fucking slut Jake. I like that. I like my men a little slutty.” You straddle him, lining yourself up with his cock, sitting down on it. You hear a whimper escape his mouth.

“You like that baby, you like being told that you're a slut, because guess what…you are. Getting in the way of your brother's situationship for a little pussy. You barely got a taste of what I can do, and I already have you pussy whipped.” You taunt him, your hands traveling up to his neck, applying a little pressure.

“You’re so fucking hot y/n. You have such a fucking hold on me, you could tell me to do or say anything and I’d do it.” His head falling back against the couch, eyes rolling back into his skull. His fingers dig harshly into your hips, most definitely making marks.

As you begin to bounce up and down you brace yourself on the back of the couch, letting your body lose control and melt into him.

He reaches to you, holding your tits from bouncing up and down. “Look at these pretty titties, they're so perfect just like the rest of you, baby.” He leans his head down to attach his lips to your chest, sucking purple marks into your flushed skin. His mouth travels down a little further, sucking a nipple between his teeth, gently biting. You feel that familiar knot in your stomach forming.

“Jake… I don’t know how much longer I can go, feels too good.” You whine into his ear.

“Me too, baby. Cum for me, soak my cock. I know you want it, I want it- Fuck. Baby. I’m gon- I’m gonna cum, cum with me, please. Let me fill you up.” Jake’s voice is filled with desperation, sending you over your edge.

“Oh God, Jake. Holy fuck!” Your release washes over you in waves of pure bliss, your vision going white. You feel Jake release into your cunt. When you finally come down from your high you feel a small puddle of wetness beneath you, you look down to see what it is and look back up to make eye contact with Jake.

“That's so good, baby. Such a good girl, squirting on my cock.” His finger dips down between the two of you into the puddle of your and his cum. He collects it on his pointer and middle finger and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers. “You want a taste, baby?” His fingers dip back down, gathering more, this time slipping his fingers past your lips. Continuing to buck up into you, getting a couple last thrusts, the overstimulation beginning to kick in.

You let out a content sigh and a little hm, as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “We taste so good together.” You admit to him leaning in to kiss him deeply. As you get up off him, you bend over to grab your clothing off the ground and feel a hard slap against your ass. You turn around to face him with a fake offended look plastered across your face. He pulls you in by your waist to kiss you once again. As you pull away you begin to pull your undergarments back on.

“You should just leave your clothing off and stay over tonight.” He says grabbing your clothing, throwing them onto the chair, pulling you in to grab your ass, nuzzling his face into your neck licking up to your jawline.

You push him off playfully going for your clothing yet again. He begins to pull his pants back on, deciding to leave his shirt off. “You know I can’t stay over. Did you not process anything that was just said about this secret?”

“Oh trust me I processed every moment of it, verbal and physical. Just thinking about it makes me want more. How about another round?” He said once again reaching for your now clothed ass, but that didn’t stop him from going beneath the fabric and grabbing your bare cheeks.

“Well you’ll have to wait for more next time, you think you can do that and keep our little secret?” Your hand trails down to his pants, rubbing your finger in between him and his waistband.

He looks down to your hand smirking at the sight. “This isn’t helping, you better watch yourself or next time it will be not just one round but two, maybe even three if you’re lucky.”

You push him back and go to grab your belt bag. “You're already leaving y/n?”

“Yes, I’m not facing Josh after what just happened. I’m texting him, he’s not finding out I was here. Got it?”

He nods before walking you to the door. “I know it's silly to ask after all that happened but can I have your number, you know to set up next time.”

“Sure, but don't put me in there as y/n. Change it to something else.” You grab his phone, putting your number in and leaving the name blank, him doing the same to yours. When you hand it back Jake immediately has a name to put in the phone. “What did you make the name for?” He turns the phone to you.

Squirt. What the fuck. It seems innocent at first but knowing the context makes it much worse.

“Oh,” your cheeks turn beet red at the sight of his contact name for you.

“Pretty creative don’t you think? Is that the first time you’ve done that?”

“I mean yeah but I don’t mind, it felt so so good.” You go to hug him, biting into his bicep playfully.

“You’re so fucking hot you know that? A beautiful girl, inside and out.”

You lift your head up to kiss him once more before leaving. “I’ll see you soon Jakey.” You wink to him and motion to zip your lips before leaving out the door.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of the unexpected night as you just had as you walked back to the dorm. When you finally get back to your dorm you go straight to your room, trying not to run into Charlotte. When you sit onto your bed you check your message notifications expecting it to be from Jake but it wasn’t it was from Josh.

11:14pm Josh: Hey y/n, I wanted to say sorry for the way I have been acting. I know that from the beginning this was all for the show and I let my feelings get in between that. I should have said something sooner instead of freaking out about it in front of your roommate. If you wanna go back to how things were before I’m totally down, if nothing else becomes of this that's also okay. Just know that, no matter what, I want to be friends and I’m glad something has become of this musical. Whether this ever becomes something or not doesn’t matter, even though one day I hope you see me as more than just a friend. I’ll see you tomorrow. Gn😊.

You’ve got to be fucking me. You're the worst person to ever exist. After everything you did tonight he finally wants to apologize. You're an awful friend. But tonight was something you never experienced before, something you didn’t really regret.

11:18pm y/n: It’s okay Josh, I'm sorry too. Let's work on getting this show back together and then we can figure everything else out. Have a good night, see you soon 😊.

You feel awful lying to him, but it's not like he asked, ‘hey did you fuck my brother tonight?’ So technically you're not lying, and you and Josh weren’t dating so it doesn't matter who you slept with. But the average person would probably be mad if they found out you were sleeping with their sibling.

There were too many thoughts and you knew that was your signal to end the night. You plug your charger into your phone, falling asleep in your outfit that was just taken off by the twin brother of the boy’s heart you just broke.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAGLIST

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12 @woyayaofdreams @freyjalw @musicspeaks @jennabobenasblog

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coreychick · 1 year

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Chapter 22: Kaleidoscope

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I do not post warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you.

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With Keyorin behind you, you were anxious to head straight to Tython- the planet indicated on Halo’s map. Maker knows, you weren’t in a rush to separate from Din, but there was a surprising desire to get “it” over with- whatever “it” may be. Whether it was finding Jedi that could potentially help you or answer questions that were plaguing your brain, or finding that there were no answers to be had, and you would continue with Din on whatever path that might be. It was not knowing exactly what was waiting there, that was stressing you out.

Din on the other hand, seemed to be in no rush whatsoever. He had plotted out a course that seemed to go farther out of the way than necessary. He said he had wanted to avoid the most direct route, the Axis, which served as a high frequency trade route on the edge of the slice. “Too many eyes and ears…the kind you don’t want following you.”

But avoiding the well-traveled hyper-route, meant having to make an unplanned stop for fuel and supplies. After that, he found an unfrequented planet to lay low on for a few days. Sarka was a lush basin, prominent with jungles and low mountains. The Sarkans were a sentient, reptilian species that maintained a unique relationship with the galaxy, by holding a monopoly on mining rare gems found on the planet. They were successful where other species had failed, because their society thrived, living in the vast underground caverns for long periods of time. Incidentally, that worked out great for you and Mando, because there was very little population on the surface. That and the fact that Sarka had a breathable atmosphere for humans, meant it was a good place to recoup for a few days.

Mando said he also wanted you to get some more blaster practice in, before heading into unknown territory. Although you did spend several hours a day practicing, a tiny feeling prickled at your senses, wondering if he was having his doubts or changing his mind about Tython, and if this might be a delay tactic. Either way, you were grateful for a brief reprieve. The Maker seemed inclined to doll out small rations of mercy -brief tastes of peace and heaven- in between the life-threatening and emotionally devastating moments he preferred. After Keyorin, your emotions were a jumble. Everything you’ve done, every decision you’ve made over the past year has been with one goal in mind- finding Halo. Now that he was gone, you were going to have to figure out where your place was, in this vast galaxy.

During practice sessions, Mando was all business. Despite a number of attempts on your part to distract him with subtle flirting that eventually bordered on blatant sexual suggestion, he insisted that you get in as much practice as possible, even turning you away, by the shoulders, forcing you to reface your target and fire. When the sun finally set at the end of the day, and the lack of light made it impossible to shoot any longer, he’d finally relented and let you retire for the night.

When you weren’t practicing with a blaster, he was teaching you how to use a blade.

“What happened to the knife I gave you before?” He asks, handing you a new blade. If there was one thing Mando wasn’t short on, it was an arsenal.

Thinking back on it, goosebumps wake across your skin. You absently rub your forearm.

“Uhh. I had a minor run in with the devaronian.”

Immediately, Mando’s body goes stiff, his shoulders roll back, and his spine straightens to somehow add another inch or two to his already imposing height.

“What happened?” His modulated voice sounds a note deeper than it had a moment ago.

“We were in tight quarters, and he had me backed into a corner, so I did what I could…I plunged the knife into his back…only…I lost my grip on it…when he threw me across the room.”

Mando goes very cold and very still.

“Your brother let this happen?”

“No!” you fire back defensively. “He wasn’t even there. I think we were being tracked. Anyway, the dev showed up and when I refused to go with him, it got…ugly.”

Mando closes the gap between you, his closed fists flex open and closed as his helmet tilts down to look at you.

From this close angle, you can see his throat muscles work behind the cover of the flight suit as he swallows before speaking.

“Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, no. “Halo found us, pulled him off me before it got that far. Those two fought until Halo pretty much separated the dev’s head from his body and turned him into a bigass shishkabob…. But not before getting Halo with a poisoned horn tip.” you say, voice cracking a little at the last part.

“I should have been there, should have been with you.” Mando says regretfully.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. You’re the one that’s been telling me not to let the ‘woulda’, ‘coulda’, shouldas’, hold me down.”

Mando remains silent, so you shift gears to get off the subject.

“Just, show me how to use this thing, so it doesn’t happen again.”

Mando leans over and grabs you by the wrist with his gloved hand. He makes a small adjustment to the way your fingers are gripping the handle and then flips the knife around and let's go. He unsheathes the blade he carries on his calf and takes a few steps back.

“Your instinct is to hold the knife like this.” He says, easily flipping his knife around to demonstrate how you were holding it a moment ago.

“You want to raise your arm and arc your hand downward in a stabbing motion, like this.”

The way he demonstrates it, happens to be exactly how you stabbed Vandaal in the back- minus the fact that you were hanging upside down at the time.

“But that’s really only effective if you are taller than your aggressor, and nine point nine times out of ten, your attacker is going to be taller than you.”

“What? Why do you assume that?” You say, sounding playfully offended.

“Have you ever seen a Jawa physically attack someone larger than them?” He quips back.

You thought about it for a second, but Mando continued his explanation before you can come to a conclusion.

“It’s a natural instinct. Nobody wants to get into a physical fight with someone larger than them. Jawas, Ewoks, Ugnaughts….generally speaking, are going to use long range weapons. They want to keep as much space between them and the enemy as possible.”

“You're comparing me to them? I am taller than a Jawa, you know.” you smart back.

“Even so, from this angle, you lose power. You don’t have enough force to bring the knife down hard and if they are able to block your strike, it puts your arm in a vulnerable position. You’ll likely be disarmed before landing a blow.”

You sigh, relenting that he makes a good point.

“I want you to use what you have to your advantage.”

Mando easily flips his knife around so that his thumb is now closer to the knife guard.

“Instead of arcing your arm down, I want you to make short-succession jabs.” He demonstrates the movement so quickly, you begin to doubt whether you can do this or not.

Hesitantly, you try to mimic the same motion, though you know you're not as quick as he is.

“Good.” he nods. “That’s good.”

“Okay. So, what do I aim for?”

“Depends on your enemy. Given time, you can learn the most vulnerable spots on any given species. Try to assess what those spots might be at the outset and you’ll be prepared if things go sideways.”

“Are you telling me that the first thing you do whenever you meet someone new, is figure out where to stab them?”

There are a few seconds of silence and then Mando says, “Yes.”

“Uh, wow. OKaaaay. Even with me?”

“Yes.”

No wonder you have trouble making friends, Mando.

“And where would you stab me?” you ask, humor coloring your words.

He steps forward, again closing the space between you. Your knife is still poised in front of you, your knife-arm, level with your ribcage in a stance meant to intimidate. Completely unfazed, he walks straight into the blade tip, his chest plate pushing your arm backward. He tilts your chin up with his left hand while running the blade tip of his own knife gently across your neck. It’s not enough to draw blood or leave a mark, it’s just enough pressure that you can feel the cold tip against your skin. “Here.”

He drags the tip down the center of your chest, between your breasts until it comes to a stop over your lower abdomen. “Here.” Your throat works hard as you noticeably swallow. He walks around you, gently placing his arm over your shoulder and grips you around the neck, holding you in place. Maybe it’s sick. You have no idea why, but the thought of being so vulnerable in Mando’s grasp causes you to clench between your legs and your pulse quicken. Bringing his helmet close to your ear, he lowers his voice to a whisper as you feel the tip of his blade just over your kidney. “And here.”

You turn and face Mando, staring deep into the T of his visor. With your voice dropping all humor, you ask in a serious tone, “You wouldn’t stab me in the heart?” And yeah, the way you ask hints that you’re not just asking in the literal sense.

He stares back for a few beats.

“No, I wouldn’t stab you in the heart.”

You sure about that?

“Why not?”

“For one, it would be a shame to mar these,” he says, gently pushing the flat of his blade against one breast. “

Your lip twitches as you work hard to fight the smile trying to surface.

“But also,” he continues, taking a step backward again. “You want to try and avoid the rib cage. It’s hard to hit vital organs. You have to slide the blade between the ribs, and you risk getting hung up on bone, and losing your knife.”

Okay, also eww.

“Instead, aim for the soft parts. The jugular and neck, the belly, the lower back on either side and the groin.”

“Fine, ok.” you say, listing off the parts back to him.

“Go ahead and try again, show me.” he commands.

With the knife securely in hand, you make some sharp repetitive jabbing motions, near the aforementioned body parts, but a few inches in front of him. Thankfully, even if you were to slip, all of his vital areas seemed to be protected by beskar or thick padding.

“Good, that’s really good. I want you to move in an upward motion though, enter the body diagonally.”

“Gross. Ok. Are we done?” This really was not your idea of fun.

“No. There’s one more place I want you to keep in mind.”

“Where’s that?”

“The lower forearms.”

Mando makes a move with his right arm, grabbing you firmly as an enemy might. His large hand splays over the side of your neck and the crook of your shoulder. With his grip like this, he can pretty much force you into any position he wants- though if it were him, at this point, all he’d have to do is ask and you’d take any position he wanted you to.

“If someone gets a hold of you like this, I want you to grab onto their forearm here.”

Doing as he instructs, you place your left hand on top of his forearm.

“With your knife hand, I want you to drive up from underneath, going as deep as you can. Use your left hand to pull down on his arm, that way you have as much leverage as possible getting the knife in. Don’t retract though….Instead I want you to use all of your strength to then pull the knife back toward you, through the flesh. You’ll likely slice through nerves and tendons. If you do that, he won’t be able to make a fist or hold onto you anymore. Understand?”

“Yes, I think so.” you nod.

“Good.” he says, releasing his grip.

“These locations may vary from species to species, but everyone has a weakness if you look for it.”

“Is that so?” you say, taking a step back to run your gaze over him from head to toe.

He stands still, letting you do a full body exploration with your eyes, searching for the kink in his armor. Of course, not a single inch of skin is visible. His helmet, and beskar armor, would easily deflect any blade. He wears tall boots and gloves. Everything else is protected by a thick layer of padding provided by his flight suit. You wouldn’t be able to cut his throat, stab his gut, his back, or even his forearm- none of the places he described.

“I can’t find it. Where’s your weakness?”

He waits a moment, and at first you wonder if he still might not trust you enough to share his vulnerable spot with you.

But then he answers….”I’m looking at her.”

After three days of training from sunup to sundown, your muscles are wrecked. The blaster grows exponentially heavier with every passing hour, until your arms are shaking so hard, your accuracy is actually getting worse instead of better. Mando finally relents, ordering you to take a hot shower and turn in early.

You’ll get no argument from me.

“Yes, sir.” You say with a halfhearted mock salute, before retreating to the Crest.

The hot water was bliss on your sore muscles. It had taken every ounce of reserve energy you had left in your body to wash your hair and soap down the rest of your body. Now you just stand, unmoving, letting the steady stream of the hottest water you can handle, pummel your aches away.

Is it possible to fall asleep, standing in the shower? Because I just might.

So focused on the hot water, melting away your aches and your cares, you don’t hear the door open behind you. With eyes already closed, there’s nothing you need to do when you feel Din’s solid chest press up against your back. He runs his hands up and down your arms, pressing his thumbs into the knots in your muscles, brushing firm circles around them, until they relax. It hurts, but in a good way. Your head lolls back, resting against him, your arms going slack. You’re a cooked noodle- probably couldn’t lift the bar of soap again, if you needed to.

“You’re a sadist. Everything hurts.” you grumble.

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

“I can’t take the pain away, but I can distract you from it.” he says, sliding his palm around to dip between your legs. He’s hinting at what you’ve been begging for, for days.

You let out a breathy moan of pleasure at the feel of his thick fingers, sinking into your flesh.

“Where’ve you been the past few days? Not sure I’d be much fun right now, I literally can’t move. Was thinking you might even have to roll me out of here.”

“What if I said you didn’t have to do a thing, except what you’re doing right now?”

“I don’t know….” your voice trails off, replaced by a soft whimper. Any semblance of coherent speech is lost when he starts sliding his thick fingers back out, using the arousal he’s gathered to paint slick circles around your clit.

“You don’t have to do a damn thing, but keep standing here, making those noises for me.”

Your breathing begins to space out, the delicious friction he’s giving makes your whole body feel drunk, aches and pains demoted from pressing to afterthought.

“I suppose I can manage just standing here….”

“Good girl.” he says, pulling his hand away. “Turn around for me.” He doesn’t bother telling you to close your eyes anymore. He simply trusts that you’ll do it.

His hand threads through your wet hair as he grips you behind the neck and pulls you in for a star- shattering kiss. Literally. His kiss so deep, his mouth so consuming, you swear you see a burst of stars behind your eyelids. You’re no longer breathing air, you’re breathing him. Every unspoken word between the both of you passes through his kiss. That’s it. It’s the kiss to end all kisses, and if you lived forever, you swear, nobody else in this galaxy could ever kiss you the way Din does.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you're breathless and panting, unsure of what to do or say next. He makes the decision for you, when he drops down on his knees, pulling you forward by the hips.

“Have to taste more of you…all of you.”

You let out another whimper as his mouth descends on you.

“Good girl. Let me hear those pretty little noises you make.”

You couldn’t be silent if you tried, not the way he was devouring your pussy like a starved man with a ripe peach.

Your first orgasm hits hard and fast, with little to no pause before the second is already building toward summit. Din plunges his tongue as deep as it can go, holding you in place with his vise-like grip on your ass. Your legs begin to tremble, the fatigue from the day reminding you that it’s only forgotten- not gone.

“I’m close, so close. Don’t stop Din…please.”

Spurred by hearing his name, Din increases his pressure and uses the tip of his nose to sweep over your sensitive clit. You come completely unhinged, coming hard on the man’s tongue. He groans deeply, drawing in every remnant of your orgasm. How the man was able to completely consume you without drowning in either the hot water sluicing down your body, or the sopping wetness between your legs, you’ll never know.

At that thought, your legs shake harder, giving the muscles in your arms a run for their money.

“Not sure…I can stand, much longer.” You say between ragged breaths as you slowly come back down.

“Let go baby…I’ve got you.”

With no energy to argue, you trust his words. The second your legs stop fighting to hold you up, Din uses his already firm grip on your ass to lift you up. You throw your arms around his neck and cross your ankles over his ass, as he turns off the water and carries you to bed.

You nuzzle into his neck, relishing the feel of his bare skin and the smell that is distinctly Din. His hard length it’s pressed tight between you, prodding your belly. Suddenly, you can think of nothing else, except how good it’s going to feel when his cock sinks into you, stretching you to the max, filling you until you can’t take any more.

He answers back, with a low, gravelly voice. “I will never get enough of your taste.”

His words heat you from the inside out, provoking a soft moan to escape.

He lays you down on the humble little pile of blankets you both have come to consider a bed and begins trailing hungry kisses down your neck and chest. He kneads your breasts, marveling at their softness as he burnishes his cheeks over them. The scruff of a week's worth of stubble tickles your skin, causing you to arch your back. He takes full advantage of the movement, salaciously sucking on each nipple. After giving each, it’s due attention, he trails his kisses lower, heading back down toward your waiting pussy.

“Need more of it.” he says.

The thought of him going down on you again makes you dizzy. Your body is already primed and wanting, ready to be filled.

“No.” you say gently, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth hovers just over your heat, practically quivering as his breaths make contact against the wet flesh.

It’s hard to explain, but you don’t want to come again. Your body is so exhausted, you fear one more of Din’s star-shattering orgasms, might deliver you right into peaceful oblivion. Would it be worth it? Hell yes, it would. But you have little energy left, and what you do have, you want to save for him. You don’t need to come again, but you need to feel him inside you, need to make him come too- long for it.

“It’s your turn to come…. I’d say you’ve well earned it.”

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

“I don’t think I can come again, and besides, I’ve already come twice, that’s enough.”

“Not for me, it isn’t.”

After another bone melting orgasm, you are practically begging Din to take you with his cock. You expect for him to take you hard and fast- or maybe that’s what you were hoping for based on how desperate you sound. Either way, he hears your desperate pleading and decides to take his tormenting a step further. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of his arm, spreading you wide as he slides his thick cock in, at a glacier-like pace.

You cry out in rapture when he finally bottoms out and just stays there, buried as deep as he can possibly go. The pressure, the full sensation, the weight of his body over yours, the feeling of literally being so deeply connected, is beautiful torture.

“Din….I need you.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll take care of you.”

I need to feel you move….. Need you to fill me with your cum.

Again, you didn’t understand why you were having these thoughts. Your body has been well loved, three times over and yet, you know you won’t feel completely sated until he fills your core. This is completely new- something that you’ve always tried to avoid all together with previous lovers- Bonus points if they had been willing to pull out! So why now, did you want it so badly from him? To the point where it almost feels as vital as your next breath.

Give me all of you.

“Need you to move….need you to fuck me.”

“Good girl.” he says, nuzzling his nose along your chin.

The pace he sets is agonizing in the most exquisite way. He slowly, yet intently slides in and out. You feel the slow burn, the stretch from his size, the impossible fullness, with every drawn out stroke. Time stands still in a way that makes you feel like you're dreaming. Unexpectedly and with absolutely no control, you start to cum again. He doesn’t increase his pace, doesn’t race you to the finish line. He maintains a slow torture so perfect, a hot tear slips down your cheek. It crashes over you in warm waves that stretch out, going on and on until you’re nothing more than a puddle. Your body is good for nothing else except this, and you may never be able to move again.

Is it possible to die from orgasm? Because this has to be what heaven feels like.

He never stops moving. He forces you to ride it out, weathering the moments of over sensitivity, walking a fine line between pain and bliss, until his mouth crashes into yours again. You breathe in your name, as it grates past his lips, and he finally gives you everything you need from him.

You wake feeling more refreshed and rested than you can remember in recent history. You have no idea how long you slept, but you don’t remember waking even once, and that is a rare occurrence. The bed is soft and warm and if you wanted to, you could probably lay there for a few more hours. Regrettably though, Din is not in bed with you. The absence of his armor and the steady rumble of the Crest’s engines tell you that at some point, he had set out on the course for the final leg of the trip to Tython.

You sit up with a satisfied purr, stretching your arms above your head and craning your back before heading to the fresher. Once dressed and all biological needs have been attended to, you head up to the cockpit.

As expected, Din is back in full armor, stationed in the pilot’s seat. At the sound of the door opening, he swivels his chair around to face you.

“Hey sleepy head, perfect timing. We’re just about an hour out from reaching Tython.”

“Tython? Really? Geeze, how long was I out?”

Day and night aren’t something easily measured when you’re traveling in outer space, but it had to have been awhile if you had slept through the last leg of the trip. Hell, you don’t even remember taking off, or falling asleep for that matter.

“About eighteen hours, give or take.”

“Eighteen!? Wow.”

PSA to anyone having trouble sleeping. Forget sleeping pills, teas and herbs. Just let Din Djarin slow-fuck you into a sex coma. Highly recommended for the best sleep of your life.

“Sorry…you should have woken me.”

“You needed the rest.”

Your cheeks heat a little at the mention of needing rest, when you think about the many reasons why.

You stand next to Din’s chair, admiring the view of open space. In the distance, you can just make out a small greenish white orb. Tython?

“By the way,” you start- avoiding eye contact, “I uh, feel like I owe you an apology for last night.”

“I told you, it’s ok. You needed the rest.”

“No. Not about that. Well, I mean… yes about that too, but also because, well….I’m just not normally like that. I mean, I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t into it, or that I’m always so selfish because…I pretty much just laid there while you did everything, … like everything …And I guess I’m just trying to say, that I’m not normally a lousy lay…I mean, I’m not like the GOAT either….probably…but, I am good…and are you going to say anything? Because I feel like I’m just rambling here…I should just shut up…I just..”

Din startles you right out of your self-deprecating tirade, by grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his lap. He leans you back until his visor hovers over your face. His voice is low and steady with resolve.

“You don’t have a single thing to apologize for.” Dear Maker, thank you for blessing this man with the sexiest bedroom voice I’ve ever heard.

You take a deep breath, imagining what his eyes might look like, because you know he’s staring straight into yours.

Brown. I think they’re brown. Rich, like the soil on Sorgan, and dark, like the ocean on Keyorin.

“I just think the scales were tipped…in my favor this time…and that’s not….I mean…I want to take care of you too.”

He leans forward, gently resting the top of his helmet against your forehead.

“Woman, I don’t think you have the slightest clue what you do to me. The look on your face…the sweet sounds you make… Watching you feel pleasure and knowing that I’m the one that's giving it to you….seeing ner atin solus, come completely undone…. it’s its own end.``

Your stomach does a little flip flop, your heart skipping like stones. You swear to the maker that if he wasn’t masked up, you’d haul your lips to his and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

“When you look at me like that….” he groans, in that gravelly modulated tone, “fuuuck, I can’t think straight.”

He shifts your position in his lap to relieve some of the pressure from his now straining dick. You slide your hand down his chest, grasping the very prominent bulge at the front of his pants.

“Maybe we can do something about that…balance the scales perhaps?” you say, emphasizing your point by cupping his balls. “I’m feeling very well rested now…thanks to you.”

He groans again and the satisfied rumble sends an electric jolt straight between your legs. You can feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

“Mmmm. As much as I’d love that right now, I’m afraid we don't have the time. There’s one more thing I have to teach you, before we land on Tython.”

You’re disappointed to be sure. Nothing sounded better than returning the favor and showing Din the same attention he had lavished on you the night before, however, your curiosity peaks.

“And what might that be?”

“How to pilot this ship.”

“There’s about three hundred switches here, but you’re going to teach me how to fly before we get to that planet over there?” you say, indicating the steadily growing planet in the distance.

Din lets out a small modulated huff, before turning you back around in his lap to face the console.

“Not exactly. It’ll take a long time to learn what every button does, and even longer to understand the mechanics of why and how. Right now, I just want you to get a feel for handling the controls. After that, I’ll teach you the basic sequence for takeoff and landing.”

“Why now, of all times?”

“Because…I’m not really sure what to expect down there. I don’t anticipate a fight…but, I am a sworn enemy, and I’ll be marching straight into their domain.”

“You think they’ll be hostile?”

“I’m hoping we can just ring the buzzer, the shiny gates open, and you’re welcomed with open arms, but I have to plan for the worst.”

“The worst?”

“If for some reason, I am unable, I want you to be able to fly outta there on your own.”

So that’s what all the last-minute training was for. As if I’d leave you there.

“Shiny gates, huh?” you snicker.

“I don’t know what it will look like, but when I imagine a place where you belong, I imagine it has pretty gates.”

You laugh out loud.

“Really? Cause that’s not what I was picturing at all.”

“Yeah? How do you see it?”

“Well, a tall, sexy man with washboard abs, greets me in a miniscule loincloth that leaves little to the imagination.”

Din pinches your side, causing you to giggle and squirm in his lap.

“Try again.”

“Ok,“ you laugh. “How about… a quaint little village with dozens of younglings running around with pretend laser-swords, and there’s a wise old man with a long white beard. He takes me under his wing, and I steadily chip away at his grumpy exterior with my undeniable charm and wit, while learning the valuable life lessons of the Jedi? Oh! And there’s a sweet old lady who bakes the best spiced rolls in the galaxy, and she lives in a giant shoe?”

“Giant shoe? Why a giant shoe?

“I have no idea, but I swear, every fable they read to us in the orphanage had an old lady who lived in a shoe.”

“What if it’s a grumpy old man, with a long white beard, in a loincloth, that leaves little to the imagination?”

You both start laughing, and Maker, you love seeing this rare side of Din.

“Then you’re correct, I’m going to need to know how to beat feet outta there real quick, so I guess you better teach me how to fly.”

After about thirty minutes, you have a decent handle on the steering controls and maneuverability.

“That’s good. You’re a natural- you’ve got the basic control down.”

“That’s all well and good Mando, but what about takeoff and landing?”

Mando hits a bunch of random buttons and kills the engines. The Crest remains floating in the dead of space, ready for you to reignite life back into her rusty bones.

“First, let’s focus on takeoff. The Crest can be primed and ready for flight in less than forty seconds. We don’t have time to go over the individual systems and what they do, but for now, all you need to know is the sequence of buttons to push. Once you’ve got that, you can hit this button here. I’ve already pre-calculated a nav plan, so you can hit that and be on your way.”

“Where would it take me?”

He takes a deep breath. “Trask, since that’s our best lead on finding other Mandalorians. Find them. Let them know you’re mine by showing them the necklace. They’ll help you.”

“Yours?”

Mando clears his throat a little, while your stomach flutters, warmth heating your skin from the inside out.

“I mean, one of my clan.”

Your heart warms at the thought of belonging to Din, being his in any way.

“Ok, I think I’ve got it.”

“This is where you need to pay close attention. You need to memorize the ignition sequence.”

“Oh that! I already know it.” you state, matter-of-factly.

A few beats pass. You smirk as Mando silently puts together how you could possibly know.

“Show me.”

You shift in his lap a little, and going from left to right, flip down five switches. Immediately, you can hear power coming online for both engines. Next, you lean to the right, first flipping the red light, then the green light above it. A quick glance out the window shows the engines are lit and adjusting. Next you reach overhead, switching on the two red lights at the right on the overhead panel. You push the lever with the silver ball doohickey on it forward, engaging the thrusters.

“Now, it’s liftoff, right?” you say, placing your hand over the accelerator.

“Right.”

You push the main toggle control forward and the Crest pitches forward.

“See?...got it.”

“When did you get it?”

“Huh?”

“ When did you memorize the ignition sequence?”

“Uhh……Tatooine?”

“Tatooine?”

“Yeah, I was weighing all my options. Hijacking your ship was definitely on the table, so I memorized your patterns, just in case the opportunity presented itself.”

“Clever girl.” he says, sounding kinda proud.

After that, he goes over the finer points of landing, though there’s not much that can be taught without actually doing it, so he ends the crash course in Razor Crest aeronautics, before you reach Tython’s atmosphere.

Before you descend upon the planet, Din regretfully vacates you from your preferred seat in his lap, and has you settlle into the passenger seat. He brings up the navigation screen and dials in on the exact coordinates left on Halo’s file. As you break through the clouds and the surface becomes visible, your heart begins to race. Tython is beautiful, covered in hills and grassy mountain sides. So far, there’s no indication of civilization, and the charts have it marked as uninhabited- which is curious, considering the breathable atmosphere and the temperate climate.

Din looks back at you over his shoulder. You both exchange a look, but neither of you says anything.

He continues to fly over endless hillsides, until finally you approach the targeted area on the map.

“Looks like that’s where we are headed.” He does a sweeping flyover of the area, but all you can see is a mountain top with an odd rock formation at the peak.

“What is that?”

“I’m not sure, but that’s where the coordinates lead.”

He hits a switch on his console and the computer gives off a beep before relaying some type of thermal readout.

“There doesn’t seem to be any sentient life forms…just a few birds and local wildlife.”

You suddenly feel some relief. Maybe this was all a wild goose chase, and if that’s the case, you could live the rest of your life knowing that at least you tried. But if you’re being honest, you won’t be crying yourself to sleep tonight, because you’ll still be in Din’s arms.

“Do we check it out?”

“We came all this way, might as well see if there’s anything helpful down there.”

Din lands the Crest about a quarter mile away, finding the nearest flat spot and the two of you hike up the mountainside toward the odd rock formation. When you reach the top, you see six towering slabs of rock forming a large circle. Each is supported by a smaller slab, allowing the larger rocks to lean toward the center of the ring. In the middle is a flat surface, dug several steps lower than the outer layer and in the very middle, is a half-dome rock that looks as if it was carved from a small boulder.

“Well, I guess this is it.”

There are overgrown bushes and weeds that pop out of cracks in the rocks, indicating that in all likelihood, there hadn’t been any people here in a very long time. Other than the crickets peacefully chirping in the background and the dozens of blue butterflies fluttering about, you and Din seemed to be the only living things for miles around.

“Does this look Jedi to you?”

You give him a look that says, really, you're asking me?

“Well, I don’t see any laser-swords or loincloths…beyond that- I have no idea.”

Side by side, you approach the half dome rock. There are small markings carved in a ribbon around the outside.

“Don’t suppose you can read those?”

Unfortunately, any hopes that the ability to read the ancient looking text was somehow imprinted on your brain due to your jedi mojo, is quickly dashed.

You slowly walk around the rock. “Yes. It says, ‘Drinks are two for one on ladies night.’ We should totally go, I haven't been on a date in for-ev-er. ”

“That’s not true. You had a date back on Tatooine, remember?”

“Oh yeah….good ol’ what’s his face. Tried to enslave me off to his douchelord friend and didn’t even buy me dinner.”

“Tell you what, “ he says, rounding on you to lift your chin up and meet his gaze, “I’ll buy you a real fancy dinner of dried meat and dehydrated bread…you just have to do one thing for me.”

“Mmmm, Mando- you sweet talker. What do I have to do? Is it put-out ? Because I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not that kinda girl. I do not put-out on the first date.”

Mando gives you a soft sigh of humor but doesn’t release your chin. “I need you to concentrate.”

“Concentrate?”

“There’s got to be something here. I don’t think your brother would have brought you all the way here for no reason.”

The mention of Halo sobers you up. Mando’s right. There’s got to be something useful here, you just need to stop with the nervous chatter and look for it.

“Ok. You’re right.” you agree, nodding your head.

“Good girl.”

Damn, why’d he have to say it that way. It does things to your body when he says, ‘good girl’.

STOP! Concentrate!

Mando activates the scanner on his helmet and starts walking around the rock. “Maybe there’s some type of control or something.”

It’s a rock- there didn’t appear to be anything technological about it.

“Hmmm, give me a boost up?” you ask. “Maybe if I stand on it?”

Instead of giving you a leg up like you expect, Mando grabs you around the waist and lifts you over his head, setting your feet first, on top of the rock.

You stand there in the center, arms slightly splayed, maintaining your balance. There's dozens of blue butterflies hovering around the rock. The kaleidoscope flutters around, haloing your head, and beautiful, translucent, blue wings tickle your nose.

“Anything?”

Other than the soft buzzing sound, of which you had no idea butterflies could make- nope .

You shake your head with a regretful ‘no’. Mando lets out a frustrated sigh, and you feel sorry to disappoint him. You squat down taking a sitting position, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The buzzing sound grows louder. So weird.

“Do you hear that?” you ask.

“Hear what?”

“That buzzing sound? Like an engine fueled by bees. You don’t hear it?! It’s getting really loud.”

Mando takes a few steps back, scanning the sky. A ship, unlike any you’ve seen before, passes overhead, making a landing not far from the Crest. Oddly though, the sound you hear doesn’t feel like it’s coming from the ship. It sounds like it’s coming from the rock.

The harsh buzzing amplifies sharply, causing you to cover your ears and close your eyes. It’s so loud! Bzzzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzz. Dear Maker, make it stop. It sounds like a buzzsaw cutting through your skull. Bzzzzzzz. You have to make it stop! Bzzzzzzzzz. You focus all your energy on the sound, willing it to stop before you literally go mad from it. Bzzzzzz.

Concentrate! You can do this. You stopped a mudhorn in its tracks, you can stop the buzzing. Concentrate!

You focus on the sound, imaging its source as a small, glowing ball of blue and white light. It’s surrounded by darkness, pitch as black, with bolts of lightning forking away from it. You focus on the ball and imagine dimming its light. The lightning becomes intermittent, slowly dying down. The ball begins to flicker, and the buzzing sound wanes. You're doing it!

You keep focus on the ball, straining to dissolve it. The ball begins to shrink, its light dimming as it loses mass. The buzzing sound is now light- you won’t lose your mind after all. You press even harder, the ball shrinking, until finally, its light snuffs out completely, bursting into the kaleidoscope. The beautiful, blue winged insects flutter away until you can no longer see their color. Complete silence. Total darkness. You hear nothing but the sound of your own breathing. Ordinarily, you’d find that unnerving, eerie even. But right now, for some reason, you’re not scared in the dark. You’re alone in the dark and not afraid. There's almost comfort to it. You feel like you can say absolutely anything, and the universe will hear your message.

So what is it that you want to say?

Hello?

Your voice echoes through your mind and out into the infinite abyss. You wait in silence to see if the universe hears you.

Hello, it says back. The universe has the warm voice of a male, kind and intrigued.

What to say? What to say next? What does one say when the whole universe is listening? As if he senses your hesitation, he answers first.

What is your name?

My name? What’s my name? Why am I drawing a complete blank? The universe wants to know my name and I can’t land on an answer. Why is it so hard to speak? You try to focus your energy on projecting your name out, but it takes an incredible effort. You barely manage to say the words.

He repeats your name and answers in kind. I am Luke.

His voice is comforting, strong but friendly…so calm. He doesn’t seem at all disturbed to be hearing voices from the abyss.

How can I help you?

Help? Yes! You need help. How to answer? You start to speak, but your words sound like you’re underwater. What if he can’t understand? You begin to panic. What if this is your one chance to get help and you’re blowing it because your voice doesn’t want to work?

As if understanding your dilemma, the voice answers back. Show me.

Show him? But how?

He repeats himself again. Show me.

You forget about using your voice and try to conjure images with your mind's eye. You can’t explain what it is you need help within pictures, so instead, your mind flashes back to memories.

There’s a flash of your father fighting with your brother. A flash of the orphanage and running away. A flash of the mudhorn and passing out. A flash of the Imps hunting you down and a flash of you trying to heal Mando, his bloody head in your lap- your eyes squeezed closed. Not a single flash lasts more than a few seconds. It would be impossible for anyone to decipher much beyond some convoluted puzzle with far too many missing pieces.

The images dissolve and the darkness begins to fade to light. No! No! You failed! This was your one opportunity to find help, but you can feel yourself slipping out of the darkness, away from the voice. You try to reach out, but there’s nothing to grab on to. You can already feel the warmth of the sun returning to your skin. Just before the light completely drowns out the darkness, you hear the voice speak one last time.

I’m coming.

Face meets dirt as reality comes crashing back into focus with a hard thud . You blink your eyes open and spit the grit out of your mouth. You look to the side and see the rock you must of toppled off of when you came out of your stupor. As your processing comes back online, you register the sound of rapid-fire blasting in the distance. Din!

“Mando!” you shout, attempting to rise back to your feet. Your head is pounding with the galaxy’s worst hangover, causing your stomach to roll with nausea as you try to regain your wits.

“Mando!” you scream again, sounding shrill to your own ears. You stumble away from the rock, heading toward the sound of blasting. He must be under fire- you have to get to him!

Another loud buzzing sound grows. Not again.

No. Not buzzing. The sound of multiple small rocket engines, similar to Mando’s jetpack, and closing in. Dust wafts over your eyes and metal clanks, as several seven foot tall battle droids land in a circle around you. You pull out your blaster and begin firing with zero hesitation. Every shot is a direct hit, but goes ricocheting wildly into the atmosphere. You continue firing as they take synchronized steps forward, trapping you in a circle. You turn to face a different one, hoping that your shots will have better impact on the next, but whatever their exo-skeletons are made of, it seems to be resistant to blaster fire. The droid to your left swings out, hits your forearm and knocks the blaster out of your hand with a jarring impact that reverberates through your bones.

You hear Mando shout your name just as another droid grabs you from behind. You’re immediately lifted off your feet as rockets ignite, and you’re rapidly launched into the air. The ground disappears at an alarming rate and it’s mere seconds before the giant rock formations are mere boulders to your sight. You instinctually clutch to the metal arms holding you as the ground grows smaller and smaller. You still have a knife, but what good does that do you when the enemy is currently the only thing keeping you from falling to your death?

Wind blasts your face as you continue to rocket upward. You feel your lungs starting to burn as the breathable air grows thin, causing you to gasp and your vision to blur. Does this droid have any idea that you are human and that your species requires air to survive? You consider shouting as much but can’t seem to swallow enough air to form the words. It’s all a moot point anyway, when the world fades to black.

“I don’t understand why we have to just stand here, there’s nowhere for her to go.” an unfamiliar voice says.

A second unfamiliar- also slightly modulated- voice replies, “I don’t know, we just do.”

You woke several minutes ago, but sensing unknown surroundings, remained still, keeping your eyes closed, so as not to alert your new company.

“How long do we have to stay here?”

“I dunno, until Gideon arrives.”

“What’s so special about her anyway?”

“Ah, who knows. I think it has something to do with that dorky doctor onboard.”

You sense the two males- going by their voices- are staring at you. Somehow, you manage to remain perfectly still, though you sneak the slightest peek through nearly sealed eyelashes. Two black and white silhouettes in the vague shape of human males. Troopers. Beyond that, you are unable to see where you are without opening your eyes and giving away your conscious state.

You do a mental status check. Surroundings, unknown . Injuries, none that you sense . Enemy, at least two stormtroopers . Weapons, blaster gone …. sorry Din, another one bites the dust. Knife, maybe? You’ll have to slide your hand around to your hip in order to know if they’ve disarmed you or not. You can’t do it without being seen, so you’ll have to wait for the right moment. Until then, you continue to listen, hoping they'll unknowingly reveal some useful information.

A moment goes by, with nothing more than some restless shuffling.

“So, she’s the one we’ve been chasing all over the galaxy? I still don’t understand what's so special about her.”

“I don’t know, Maybe Moff wants to do some experiments on her. I don’t ask questions.”

Moff? And you thought you heard him say Gideon earlier. Moff Gideon- the man who sent Din that threat. The one who set the original bounty. Not. Good.

One of the troopers yawns, while the other one sighs……

“Hey, are you even sure she’s alive? I haven't seen her move once.”

“Shouldn’t we check and make sure she’s still alive?”

Sigh… ”You just wanna get a better look at her, probably check out her rack.”

“Well, we should check and see if she’s hurt, the last thing we want is Gideon coming in here and finding out that the thing we’ve spent months chasing all over the kriffing galaxy, just died on our watch.”

“Fine, go ahead. Take a peek, you check.”

You can hear the trooper's soft footfalls as he slowly approaches. You will yourself to slow your breathing so much that your chest won’t rise and fall. This might be my chance.

“She’s not moving.”

“Are you sure? Check for a pulse.”

The trooper comes closer, placing his hand on your neck, below your ear. He waits about five seconds. Not yet….Not yet.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“You idiot, you’re wearing gloves.”

“Oh yeah.” he replies, stupidly.

“I know, check her breath.”

“How do I do that?”

“Get close, see if her breath fogs your visor.”

“Ah, good thinking.”

This is it.

You feel the trooper sit down on the bench beside you. The rustle of his plastoid armor indicates that he’s leaning forward. You slide your hand over to your hip and feel the unmistakable shape of the dagger. When his helmet comes close, you peer through your lashes and zone in on his exposed weakness. You might not be able to penetrate the plastoid and blaster mesh under his armor, but at this close proximity, you could stab right through the black body glove covering his neck. You unsheathe the dagger, slipping it securely in the palm of your hand. The trooper leans forward, putting his helmet close to your lips.

You spring into action, grabbing the trooper with your empty hand, and yank him against your chest. Your knife hand strikes out, stabbing him in the neck, down to the hilt. Blood arcs across the metal wall when you yank the knife back out, and the trooper falls to his knees. His bucket hasn’t even hit the floor before his friend is on top of you. He grabs you around the neck, trying to push you back into the wall. Just like we practiced….

You pull down on his arm, while thrusting upward with the knife. Aiming for a thin, one inch strip of exposed black fabric. The knife finds its mark and the trooper loses his grip on your neck. You continue stabbing in quick succession, just like Din showed you. You find a vulnerable patch under his arm, leaving the left side of his ribcage wide open. The knife scrapes over bone, grating like stone on the withdrawal, but the damage is already done. The trooper scuffles back, stumbling to the ground with awful liquid choking sounds. Punctured lung.

One trooper dead, one will be, in a matter of minutes. Threat neutralized.

You take in the room. A dark room, maybe fifteen by fifteen with metal gray walls, lit by vertical light panels on the side. No windows. No control panels. It’s void of anything other than three walls, a bench, and a large door. Blasters! Troopers are usually armed with blasters! You quickly survey the gurgling trooper. His arms fall limp at his side, and he stops moving. There, next to his leg! You approach the trooper, squatting down to swipe the gun. The large doors retract into the walls and just as you lift your arm to take aim, the blaster is shot out of your hand.

You step back until the back of your knees meet the bench. A tall man, with dark skin and a mustache you’d love to punch off his face enters the room, flanked by more armed troopers on both sides, and a high-ranking officer behind him. He’s holding a glowing….well it can only be described as an ignited laser-sword. The blade is black as space, yet it emits an eerie white light that hums with electricity, sparking the air. It has death written all over it. You fail to swallow the hard lump in your throat, threatening to cut off your air.

Moff Gideon.

“Drop the knife too.”

You hesitate, squeezing the hilt tighter. You eye the troopers on either side- both armed- before meeting eyes with Gideon again. He has an irritating smirk on his face, because he knows you’re the fool that brought a knife to a laser-sword fight. There’s no getting out of it, not like that. You toss the knife aside, but remain standing straight, your chin jutting in defiance- even if you did technically obey his order. You may have lost your weapon, but you will not cower. I will not yield to this man.

“Such a crude weapon, for one such as you.” he says, kicking the knife away as he approaches.

“Such as me?” you manage to reply, without your voice wavering.

“Yes. You’d be much more suited to something with a little sophistication, don’t you think?”

“Well, you tell me. You seem to be getting off on your extra flair, aren’t you?” you quip back, nodding to his sword.

He lets out a small chuff, as he approaches closer.

“Ever seen a weapon like this?”

He waves the damn thing inches away from your face. With every movement, the weapon seems to voice its own opinion, emitting an unusual sound akin to running your finger over the rim of a glass of water- a strange vibration. Gideon is totally getting off on this little power play, but you do your damndest not to flinch.

“Why don’t you hand it over, and I’ll take a closer look?”

“Tsk Tsk, I don’t think you're quite ready for that.” he says, retracting the blade to disappear into the hilt.

He stares at you again, like he’s just won the galaxy’s best prize.

“I’ve been looking for you a longgg time,” he says, addressing you directly, by your given name. Hearing the sound of it roll off his tongue so easily, leaves you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. This man, so smug, is clearly trying to unnerve you.

“I must say, your welcome party leaves much to be desired.”

He smiles again, taking your attempt at sarcasm as a sign of weakness.

I hate this man.

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase, and you tell me what it is exactly, that you want with me.”

“Put her in shackles.” he orders a trooper, before taking a step back.

“We’ll get to that soon enough. For now, your obedience is a good start.”

You don’t fight when the trooper grabs your wrists, locking them in cuffs. The other gathers the disposed weapons. Their time will come. I will find a way out of this.

Gideon turns his back to you and leaves the way he came. Before the doors close, you hear him give orders to his officer.

“Tell Dr. Pershing, we have his vessel.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A/N: Fun Fact I didn't know until writing this chapter: A group of butterflies is officially called a kaleidoscope. Isn't that fun?! Sometimes they are referred to as a swarm. Groups of caterpillars are called an army.

So, yeah. That chapter was a little bit of everything. Are you still here with me? I can't believe we only have a few chapters left to go. Next chapter is going to be torturous....literally. We are going off course again, in case you're worried this is just going to be a regurgitation of the show....it's not.

Also, I am a shitty editor. It is what it is. Take it or leave it.

As always, kudus, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Faithful Readers: @brunette-overalls @yeetusfeetus3000 @mandomovermover @Wildmoonflower @littlemisspascalpascal @mOminousRex @pickledbeskar @spideysimpossiblegirlysimpossiblegirl @starwars-thirsthirst @mandomover

Taglist Request

#pornwithplot #Smutwithstory #slowburn #enemiestolovers #makingupabunchofshitaboutspace #the mandalorian #fanfic #mandalorian x reader insert #din djarin #in the dark

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asassydork · 2 months

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Chapter 1: One-Eyed Flying Monkey

Story: High Water

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Post-Apocalyptic Cult Vibes.

The day was supposed to be like every other at the end of the world. It was peaceful down by the creek. But when alarms are sounded and flares begin flying in the valley, it’s clear something isn’t right. Upon discovering the group returned with both members of a rival group, random stranger refugees, and everything they were meant to scavenge, it becomes clear there’s more going on than they anticipated.

TW: MDNI, 18+, enemies to lovers, they kiss in the first chapter, references to torture, whump inspired, adult language and adult themes.

The sirens came rolling in over the mountain. A series of sticks being smacked against trees loud enough to reverberate across the valley. Tens of them, spread out from the lookout points.

It was something we practiced but not something put to use yet. When the flare went up over camp, all sound ceased in a rush. There was no echo. Nothing but birdsongs rising out of the silence. A flare like that meant something had gone horribly wrong during the last raid. They were only sent out to scavenge but you never really know what you’re getting into when you go out there. The world is nothing like it used to be.

I drop the sticks I was gathering and take off running towards the camp. They’re going to need me for the sake of keeping everyone calm. I wasn’t the best with interventions of a certain magnitude but everyone seems to have enough faith in me that I influence decisions.

Black Water Creek was an outpost along the Black Water River, an ironically crystal clear safe to drink little river that flows between the mountains from a spring up north. It’s got plenty of safe fish to eat. Vegetation that’s not going to kill you. And draws in enough wildlife that we rarely have to go off looking for food. It was somehow a perfect place despite the reputation it once upheld.

The outpost is more like a compound behind walls of steel, iron and concrete. They’re over ten feet tall and four feet wide, plenty enough room to keep people out. It’s got a series of twenty five buildings behind those walls and plenty of vantage points and lookout spots. It existed before the world went sideways, but its mission was much different these days. It was a safe haven but only to the select. Most of the time, people we bring in choose not to stay. There’s a lot of rules and cooperation that goes into keeping a place like this functioning. And what we can’t get from the land, we have to scavenge from the wreck of the world. It’s something that started off small. A few trips into Brown Water, the town up and across the river. But then the town stopped having what we needed and babies continued to be born despite everything. It meant having to leave the valley all together for days or weeks at a time. But the groups had to be bigger to survive those trips. They had to be more prepared. After my last run in with the group we call the Flying Monkeys from up north, I haven’t been able to leave camp. It’s some paranoia attached to the post traumatic stress related to getting taken and tortured like I was. I was gone almost six months before they managed to figure out where I was being held. The scariest experience of my life and I survived The Collapse first hand.

The trucks pulled into camp around the same time I entered the gates, each vehicle accounted for but covered in bullet holes. That was new. The number of holes was over a hundred. I couldn’t begin to think who might have that many bullets. But I knew it wasn’t good. The Monkeys only use resourceful weaponry handcrafted so they don’t run out of munitions. They’re also more interested in skinning you alive than they are about shooting at you. Torture was more their style, which was why they’ve been plucking people off of trails and new access roads like it’s nothing. It makes the mountains a dangerous place.

A second flare goes off from the gate as a new truck pulls in behind the others. It didn��t have any bullet holes in it but it was also packed with people and supplies. People weren’t something meant to be brought back from this one. This was strictly baby business. My eyes scanned the vehicles and I ultimately moved to find Bastian unloading someone injured from the back cab of one of the old trucks. Caleb. He was alive?

My heart sank as Bellamy moved to help him carry the makeshift stretcher. Caleb was alive and moaning. He’d been assumed dead last year. MIA without a single sign of life. There was nothing we could’ve done. No one knew where he’d gone off to or how he got separated. But it was good to hear sounds coming from him. Chances were he might just survive this. But I don’t go with them to the infirmary. There was a commotion around one of the other trucks and I needed to get to the bottom of the reasons for the flares.

Inside the back of one of the trucks was a badly beaten, bloody and bruised man hogtied and gagged. There was nothing familiar about him that stood out of me as Jeremy and Derek both dragged him out of the truck and let him fall onto the ground hard without being able to catch himself. He groaned in pain behind the cloth in his mouth and another man awkwardly climbed out of the truck. He was beaten and bruised but far less purple and not so bloody. He just had his hands bound behind his back and a gag in his mouth that he likely didn’t need considering the large tattoo on his forehead. He was sworn to secrecy. Opening his mouth would mean a true death by the people he’d been stolen from. The Flying Monkeys.

I haven’t seen one of them without those stupid fucking masks on their head but I’d known about the tattoos. They’re basically covered in them, so the only way to get them off is to peel off their skin like what they do to their victims. It’s a cycle. A vicious endless cycle.

But they hadn’t tied his legs. He could attempt to run and get knocked down and dragged back. It was like a cat toy, basically. There was nowhere for him to go, now. But he didn’t make the attempt. He jumped down out of the back of the truck and scanned each of our faces like he was studying for a report back. It wasn’t until he looked in my direction that he even seemed to blink. The expression on his face became that of fear and he’d taken a step back. A step that was intercepted by Jeremy who shoved him forward roughly. They weren’t taking their chances with him. He’d be the first prisoner we’ve had in a while and the first Monkey. He’d have an awful long road ahead of him if he chose to survive.

I moved to help gather boxes out of one of the other trucks. I got first dibs on some of the supplies, even though I technically shouldn’t. Motherhood wasn’t something I spent a lot of time thinking about. It wasn’t in the cards for me by the way this was all going. The end of the world was the end of hope itself. I couldn’t imagine raising a kid in all of this. And yet, I technically have been. More than one. Children that weren’t mine but needed my guidance and my reassurance. Children who found me out of everyone else and chose for themselves that I’d be left with this impossible title. A role I didn’t ascribe to very well.

We made several trips from the trucks to the warehouse. The boxes had to be sorted and rifled through. It could take days to get that process flowing. It was when I went back to the trucks that I saw someone new that I hadn’t expected to see. Another Monkey. A more noticeable Monkey pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He didn’t have a forehead tattoo, so his identity wasn’t given away as easily. He was the One-Eyed Captain. The one who kept me locked inside a cargo container for months on end with barely enough food to eat. He tortured me in the most horrific ways and waited for me to die every time. A monster of all monsters. He was cruel and undeserving of life. When I moved to ambush him in front of the others he pretended to be with, he grabbed me harshly and pulled me right into his personal space with his fingers digging hard into the backs of my arms. He forced a kiss upon my lips in a savage threat to keep my mouth shut. He’d do all of those things to me again if I didn’t let him be. That was the promise the kiss swore.

It wasn’t a tender kiss or a violent kiss. It was the kind of kiss you can’t ever possibly be prepared for. The kind of kiss that not just anyone can give you. It was precise and practiced. He’s planned this assault on my senses and on my dignity. It was equal parts cruel and comforting. A man expressing to a woman feelings he wasn’t supposed to have. And when I didn’t head butt him like I could’ve, he loosened his grip on my arms and moved to hold my neck, keeping me in front of him like I was nothing but a pet now. My sense of self had been stripped away from me in a single second as he deepened the kiss with the taste of sex on his tongue. He was salivating as he thought about it. He was probably thinking about all of the harm he brought to me in our time together. I was nothing but a mere commodity now. Expendable. Recyclable.

He moaned into my mouth as he tasted me, forcing me to taste his hunger. It was violating in every way but I knew what he’d do if I pulled away or pushed him off of me. It made him smirk behind his lips as he sipped and licked at my mouth like he would’ve done this a long time ago if he thought it would’ve worked. It was like all of his torture was meant to make me submit to him, to give in to some desire I simply didn’t have. And yet, I reluctantly kissed him back, forced to play this part with an audience clearly watching us. His thumb on my neck stroked me like it was a reward. I was being a good pet giving him what he wanted. And that’s when I stopped being nice, nipping and biting at his tongue in my mouth. He growled at me a feral sound as he pushed me up against the side of the truck and nipped and bit at me just the same, fueled by the rage I just provoked and reminded him of. He grinds his hips against mine, rubbing up on me with his want. He manipulated my mouth and took all that he wanted from me because he wasn’t going to let it go. I kept my pace, a taunt in every movement. I’d get my revenge on him and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s in my territory now. He’ll be my prisoner by the time the sun goes down. That was a promise. I’d do worse to him than anything he’d done to me. I could guarantee it. It was what made him moan at me again. I was in control. This was my game. My pet and my leash. That was when I shoved him off of me and walked away. He’d gotten the scene he wanted and I’d gotten my message across. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back towards him, kissing me again softer like he didn’t want it to end on a high note. He was probably never going to stop kissing me, now.

“I’ll find you later,” he whispers, kissing the knuckles on my left hand in a strange way that I wasn’t anticipating.

He didn’t have to tell me. I knew he wasn’t going to leave me alone. He’d find a way to slip away from the others and come find me. And then I’d have him right where I want him, where he’ll never come back from. I’ve wanted my revenge since I escaped. I’ve wanted it since the minute he started hurting me. We’d never be whatever he thinks we are. It was a game. An act. A manipulation of the human condition. I’ll own him in ways he never imagined someone else would own him. I’ll do unthinkable things that he hasn’t prepared himself for.

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, pulling my hand away and escaping this weird exchange going on.

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years

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Wedding Bells, Planning Hell

Pairing: Terrance Swaino x Female!Reader

Warnings: Drug use, Alcohol, Smut (18+), oral, sex

Summary: Slight enemies to lovers. Reader is through in Manchester for a long weekend helping her best friend plan her wedding. The only thing is her friend’s older brother Terrance is hanging around and she hates him...or so she thought. Apparently he's not that bad. And kinda...hot?

A/N: Oops my fingers slipped and I wrote almost 9k worth of fic based on a character I have so many mixed feelings about. Hopefully someone else likes this ahaha enjoy!

If you had to look at one more shade of white you felt like your eyes might scorch away. You didn’t even know there were so many varieties, you just figured white was white. But that wasn’t the case, apparently you’d been living a very uncultured life. There was Ivory, pearl, ice, bone, ivory, simply white, scottish road, ivory, christ did you forget to mention ivory? Jesus lord, take me now.

“Mags, I love you so much, like so so much. But if you don’t make a decision I’m gonna pass away. The only white I’m gonna be seeing is the white light of heaven's gates,” you groan, dramatically falling to your knees in front of your poor friend.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning in her rickety wooden chair so that she could face you. Her long dark hair was mussed from the amount of times her hands had raked through it and her cheeks were rosy with stress. You’d both been at this for far too long. Your head was practically developing its own pulse.

“The only way you’re seeing heaven is if they take you up just to drop you harder into the pit,” she smirked. “Besides, I wanna do this right. I’m only getting married once, I want this to be perfect! God knows I’m not gettin’ input from George, I need you on this with me.”

You groaned again and picked up her fabric samples, abducting them all and leaving her with two small scraps. If she wasn’t going to choose between fifty then she could choose between two.

“Then you can pick between ivory and,” you squinted at the tiny loopy font, “chantilly lace? Christ, what even is that?”

“It’s classy is what it is,” Mags sniffed, shooting you a signature hazel eyed glare.

“Then it sounds like we’ve made a decision! At last!” you laughed, clawing the slippery ivory cloth from her fingers and into the discard pile.

“Ugh, you’re almost as bad as Georgie,” she said, playfully shooting you a glare.

You snorted and turned, dumping the table cloth scraps onto the old wooden table and sat back in your chair, wincing as it creaked with your returning weight. Everything in the Swaino’s kitchen was so old you wondered how it managed to sit the whole army that was Mags’ family. The place was filled with antique furniture and chintzy walls, smelling faintly of dinner and hair product, a touch of lingering cigarette smoke filling every room.

It was easy to see how Mags was the way she was, how she got so scrappy and determined. Being the youngest in a family like the Swainos had to be a fight. You shook your head as you watched her dutifully glue the off-white scrap into her heaving wedding scrapbook. It was barely closable with the amount of samples and leaflets and coupons she had bursting out of it. It made you break out into a grin as she struggled to keep the page flat.

“Face it, without me you wouldn’t even have a dress yet, the guests would turn up and you’d still be comparing centrepieces,” you tisked, thinking back to the dreaded first few pages of planning.

“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m bein’ crazy about all this, its just I want to be able to look out on my wedding day and think, ‘there’s not a single thing I would change’. I want to stroll down the aisle and onto the dance floor and know I did everything right,” Mags declared, resting her head on her hand as she day dreamed.

Mags had been your best friend since the moment you had started at your new company just a few years ago. The two of you worked in a New York office that her family always prefixed with ‘fancy’ in that knowing sort of way between themselves, and now you were both in her family home taking some time off over a long weekend to plan her wedding to George. You loved the girl, she showed the ropes around work and didn’t let anyone give you shit, but this wedding stuff was making her go full bridezilla.

You’d arrived the night before, on Thursday, and met half of her family, talking to extremely excited sisters and aunties and uncles, and of course her mother. You’d been bombarded with people. And now you sat with kids blaring cartoons from the livingroom and women on phone calls that rattled through the house. You figured you’d had just about all you could handle for the day.

“I think it’s time for a little break,” you said, waggling your eyebrows and hoping you could entice her out.

“What? We’ve still got to look at catering, and then there's the cake and the grooms cake and-”

“Margaret Jane Swaino,” you sighed, stopping her in her tracks. “We have been at this since eight this morning and now it’s three in the afternoon. I think we’ve earned ourselves a little drink. Whaddaya say?”

Mags huffed out a breath and stared at you for a moment, pursing her lips. She looked like she could be swayed in either direction until a mournful scream broke through from the lounge and suddenly she was jumping into action. She was hauling her puffy jacket on faster than you could even blink.

“Shouldn’t we go check on the kids and make sure no ones dying through there?” you asked, pulling your own jacket over your back and quirking your brow.

“Nah. We go through there it's gonna be all ‘I want a snack’ and ‘she hit me’ and ‘I shit my pants’,” she snorted, already sneaking over to the sliding door and making her way to the porch. “Get out before it's too late!”

You didn’t need much more convincing than that. Sure, you’d do anything to play polite house guest, but that was way beyond your remit. Escape sounded good.

—---

Well it turned out you were escaping one hell and entering another.

You didn’t know Manchester particularly well, so when you set off for drinks you let Mags lead the way. So ultimately she chose the local popular spot. Which also happened to be the same bar that Terrance Swaino frequented, Mags’ gross older brother.

“Baby sis! Oh my god, what’re you doin’ back here?”

His voice sliced through you like a line of rusty barbed wire. Sure enough, he was there in his big black jacket, sporting his usual goatee that made you wonder what decade he was from. Suddenly memories were filling your mind and the thought of him drunkenly slurring “you’re too pretty to be some jerk off’s coffee slave” was all that echoed around your head.

You’d only met him once before when he’d come to visit Mags for drinks one night and that one night had felt like more than enough time for you to make your mind up on him. He was a childish, gross dickhead. He’d spent the whole night taking cheap flirty shots at you, talking about his friends and dumping on them, and getting totally plastered before needing to be hauled off to his hotel room by Mags when he couldn’t stand anymore. Bleh.

To your chagrin Mags crossed the gloomy room and made a beeline for Terrance. You felt like you might melt into sludge on the old frayed carpet. You stalked behind her and approached his small group of friends, hunching over and appearing as small as possible. Hoping you wouldn’t stand out too much.

“Ter bear!” Mags laughs, throwing her arms around her brother. “I booked time off work! We’re weddin’ planning.”

“We…? Oh! Fuck, hello gorgeous. Didn’t see ya there,” he grins, finally directing his attention towards you.

“Hi Terrance,” you say, biting back a sigh. “How you keeping?”

“I’m keeping very fuckin’ well,” he smirked, running his tongue over his lip. “How bout’ you uh-…?”

You narrow your eyes as you watch him squint at you and for a second it feels like you can actually hear the rusty cogs squealing in his mind. He clearly has no idea who you are. You can already tell that he’s trying to decide if you were a previous conquest or a new challenge. You huff out a breath and put him out of his misery reminding him of your name.

“We met a couple months back after Mags’ engagement. I work with her at the firm.”

“Oh shit! Oh man, right! You’re not from around here, huh? You guys should sit with us and we’ll make sure to give you a warm Manchester welcome. These are the guys,” Terrance said, beginning to gesture to his two smirking friends. “Frank and Packie.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” you murmured, smiling weakly.

They sent a wave your way and immediately it felt like you were in the spotlight. A new girl, a girl that wasn’t related to anyone there. Fresh meat. You avoided eye contact and quickly sat down next to Mags, folding your arms across yourself and hoping the men would behave themselves.

“You said you work with Maggie, right? What is it you do there?” Frank asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, I’m a PA as well!”

“What, the boss needs two people to make him coffee?” Swaino sniggers.

“You made that joke last time,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Besides, Mags works for the Chairman, I work for the CEO and it’s more than just getting coffee too.”

“Yeah, man! PA’s have to respond to sensitive emails and set up workshops and meeting spaces,” Packie said with an all too serious stare.

“Uh, yeah that’s right actually…” you confirmed, not used to someone actually knowing what you do.

“Packie actually listens when I rant about my job, don’t ya Pack,” Mags trilled, cutting off your stunned silence. “Not like this fuckin’ idiot.”

She proceeded to mess with Terrance’s hair, rubbing her palm straight into the bouncy mop and sending it wild with static. You giggled as he ripped her hands off of him and started ranting at her, going off in that big broad accent of his. He was waving his arms around, getting comically mad as she unsuccessfully tried not to snort-laugh

“How many times do we have to go over this? The hair’s off limits!’” he growled, desperately trying to smooth it back to how it was.

You shook your head and turned just in time to see Frank roll his eyes as well. It seemed you had an ally. He winked at you in acknowledgment and stood up, asking if anyone would like a drink. You felt your cheeks heat up as you watched him. The man was tall and you had to admit it was a weakness of yours. You were a sucker for big guys that’d make you feel all protected and cherished.

“I’ll take a beer if you’re offering,” you smiled.

“Of course! Anything for you Maggie?”

“I need something stronger, I got the wedding planning guilt foggin’ my brain. Can you get me a double vodka and coke?”

He snorted at that but nodded and went on his way, taking all six plus feet with him. You must’ve been obvious with your staring cause you noticed Mags’ brother staring right back at you after a few seconds and uncomfortably looked away. Damn it. You prayed the asshole wouldn’t bring it up in front of everyone.

“So, what is it you do Packie?” you asked, ensuring the conversation stayed away from your staring.

“Well I actually do a couple different odd jobs-”

You let Packie drone on for a little bit and tuned out, satisfied that Terrance wasn’t going to rat on you and sat back waiting on your beer. At least this was a break from the wedding explosion waiting for you when you got back to the house, you thought. Even if you did have to put up with the staring and the dumb flirty comments.

—

A while later, just as you were relaxing into your buzz, Mags ended up doubling over and puking an oil tankards worth of booze up in the bathroom. You were by her side in an instant of course, sweeping up her hair and telling her it was all gonna be ok, but you knew for a fact that was her out for the count for the foreseeable twenty four hours.

“I just-I just-I..oh,” Mags wailed, not knowing what to say. “I’m soooo sorry, I-”

“Shh, it’s alright, Mags. Let’s get you home, huh?” You reassured, trying to haul her to her feet.

It took a little bit of force but eventually you managed to yank her up and soon you were tottering back through the bar and unsteadily toward the doorway. You bit your lip and kept her balanced over your side, her arm draped messily around your shoulder, but you weren’t quite strong enough to support all of her. Shit.

Just as you were about to tumble off balance you felt her weight lift from you and just as you righted yourself you looked up to see Terrance on her other side. He grinned over at you and motioned his head, urging you out toward the warm summer night just beyond the doorway.

You blinked in surprise at first but got to walking and soon you were out, breathing in the fresh air and looking up at the moon in a daze. Mags had now passed out, essentially lying across your lap, while Terrance was on her other side. He was talking to someone over the phone, ordering a taxi you eventually realised.

“You have to do this a lot?” he asked eventually, knocking you out of your stupor.

“What?”

“Get my drunk ass baby sister home to safety?” he chuckled.

“Last I remember it was you getting hauled off,” you muttered, defending your friend.

He looked at you, taken aback for a second before he laughed and shook his head. You frowned over at him, wondering what was so funny before he rested his head against the concrete and turned to you once again.

“You don’t like me much do ya?”

You bristled at the accusation and immediately started to try and defend yourself.

“Well you were being super gross last time we met…” you trailed.

“Shit…I was?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

You shook your head and grinned, leaning your own head back against the wall and looking back up to the sky. Of course he didn’t know he was being a weirdo. You thought for a second, figuring out the gentlest way to explain to him that saying, “if you’re looking for a man, I can pencil you in,” isn’t a turn on. Though you were interrupted before you could complete the thought.

“I’ll be honest I was kinda fucked by the time you guys got to the bar that night. If I was an asshole I’m sorry about that,” he said, offering you a small smile.

You blinked, surprised that he was apologising, but soon collected yourself. You gulped and offered him a shrug, feeling your tension around him ease.

“Thanks for apologising. I guess I’m just not used to being around guys like you,” you remarked.

“Guys like me?” he shot back, frowning deeply.

“Like, um…” you struggled for a second, “like I guess macho guys, I dunno-shit. I guess you’re just not like the guys in New York.”

He chuckled a deep gravelly laugh as he watched you struggle for words and clearly took great pleasure in watching you squirm. His smile remained on his face, and he side eyed you for a second, flicking his gaze over you like a jungle cat. Your breath hitched.

“Do you know what I think it is, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes at the pet name.

“What?”

“I don’t think you’re used to gettin’ flirted with,” he said confidently.

You snorted. Oh, this was where he was going with this. Like you were some kind of waif that couldn’t get attention. You got attention, you just weren’t keen on men that were too forward. Men that swaggered around like they owned the place. Men that thought they could force and flatter their way through to your pants.

“Why wouldn’t I get flirted with? I remember you saying I was so hot I could charge a solar panel.”

You delighted in watching him wince at that, he adjusted his big thick jacket around his shoulders and raked his hand through his dark hair. The thick locks bounced back up like springs and it made you look down to Mags, looking at how rumpled her hair was after her little puke fest. If the swainos had one thing going for them it was their big thick hair.

“You know what, I officially give up,” Terrance declared. “I can see when my chances are screwed.”

“Wise choice,” you laughed, staring back up at him “Maybe you could try and be a little less corny with next girl, huh?”

“Shit, y’know most girls think it’s endearing,” he shrugged.

“Wow, that’s a big word, must really impress girls,” you snarked, smacking your hand over your mouth when you realised how dry you’d been.

Terrance’s eyes comically widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked absolutely scandalised.

“Woah. You’re brutal aren’t ya? Better warn Frank about that,” he remarked.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, I saw you checking him out. You were pretty fuckin’ obvious about it,” he laughed. “Was waiting on you makin’ a move.”

“Was not,” you snorted.

“Yeah you were, don’t fuckin lie you coward. What was it you liked about him, huh? What’s he got that I don’t?”

Your heart thudded in your chest and felt like it might come beating right out. Just as you thought you might overheat from the embarrassment of it all, you saw headlights approaching and realised it must be your taxi. You were saved by the wheels. You sighed and got to your feet, starting to try and tug the still unconscious Mags up with no help from Swaino. He was still giving you that signature molton brown stare.

“Terrance,” you gritted out, arms burning from attempting to get Mags upright. “Little help?”

“Tell me why you got a crush on Frankie boy and I’ll carry her myself,” he declared, a shit eating grin spreading across his features.

Oh you could just smack that goatee right off of him. You groaned and when the car finally pulled up to the sidewalk, you realised there was only one way into it.

“He’s tall,” you shrugged.

“Really? That’s all it takes?” he laughed, getting to his feet.

“Tall men are hot- woah” you said, almost unbalancing as Mags’ brother took her from you and left you feeling feather light.

Terrance watched you for a second, before he shook his head and gathered his sister into his arms, rather ungracefully hauling her over his shoulder. He may as well have been lugging a sack of potatoes. Meanwhile you’d found your balance, impressed that Terrance was still able to hold Mags up like that after all those drinks and you were struggling just to stay on your own feet.

“You know I might be a little shorter than him, but it’s only cause those inches were put to use somewhere else,” he winked, stalking over to the car.

Every muscle in your face wrinkled in disgust and you took a pause before following behind him. You weren’t entirely convinced you actually wanted to go in with him, but then again you were desperate to get home and sink into bed. Sophie's choice. You rolled your eyes for the thousandth time and did a little half jog to catch up with him, scowling as you got into the taxi.

“You’re fuckin gross,” you muttered.

—

“Mornin, sweetheart. Cute PJs, very nice.”

You jumped as you walked into the kitchen and did a double take as you saw Terrance sitting at the kitchen table with a smug look on his face and a mug of coffee. You gritted your teeth and locked eyes with him, he trailed his gaze over you, biting his lip through his grin. There was no escape from the man.

You stared down at your baggy shirt and pyjama shorts, suddenly wishing the shirt came down just an extra few inches. Looking back over at him, you noticed he wasn’t wearing his jacket for once, he was just in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his golden chain glinting in the soft morning light. It was difficult not to notice his bulging arms now they were on full display, difficult not to think about how into him you’d be if he weren't…well him.

“Is there coffee left or did you just make enough for yourself,” you finally said, washing the image of his arms around you out of your mind.

“Coffee pot’s over there,” he said, motioning with his head.

As soon as you knew where to get yourself some caffeine you scurried away, finding a stray mug in the dish rack and filling it as much as possible. The warm bitter smell of coffee washed through you and before even taking a sip, you could feel the warmth seeping into your system. It wrapped you in a hug and washed through your head, numbing the hangover and your thumping heart.

Once you’d had a generous gulp, you took it over to the table and sat for a second, losing yourself in the heavily floral wallpaper. You traced along the vines and petals with your eyes and spaced out, feeling white noise creeping through your skull.

“Not a mornin’ person, huh?”

You blinked and stared back over at Terrance, fearing for a second that your head was going to fall off your shoulders you’d moved so quickly. He laughed as he studied you and reached over to the chair next to him, pulling a large white box out from under the table and offering it over to you.

“What’s that?” you asked, eying the box suspiciously.

“Breakfast,” he grinned, opening the lid.

Inside there were a few donuts scattered haphazardly around. Clearly the box had been full at one point but the supply had been decimated. You assumed that must be why you were woken up by the kids screaming outside. They were high out their little minds with a sugar rush.

You picked out a simple glazed one that was oozing a little jam, admiring the way the sugar glistened. It looked like a good fuckin’ donut.

After taking a bite, you could confirm, that was a great fuckin’ donut. You moaned and took another bite and sipping at your coffee, accidentally catching Terraces eye after your outburst. He was smirking.

“What?” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Didn’t say anything,” he said innocently, holding his hands up. “Glad you’re enjoying it is all.”

Yeah right. He was enjoying watching you a little too much for your tastes. You shook your head and continued to eat, staring off at the wallpaper again, hoping you could ignore anymore awkward conversation with Mags’ annoying brother and praying she’d be down soon. Though if track records were anything to go by that was doubtful.

Soon enough the comfortable silence was broken when giggles broke out from the hallway. You frowned and looked over at the door just as two little girls pounced through it, both sporting thick pigtails and big toothy grins. They skipped their way over to Terrance and pounced onto his lap,

“Uncle Terry!” One of them exclaimed.

“We drew this for you!” said the other.

The little girl whipped out a crudely drawn crayon picture, brandishing it proudly right in front of his eyes. You giggled as you watched him adjust to having the paper smacked right in his face, taking it from them and putting it to an actual viewable level.

“Aw man, look at that. You made this just for me?” He said, his voice breaking out into a dramatically touched tone. “Isn’t that sweet. Is that me and my bike? You guys did such a good job, that’s like the perfect red you used!”

“Yeah, and- and- an, um…” one of the girls trailed, struggling to get her words out with excitement.

“It’s ok, take a breath darlin’. Take a second and figure out what you wanna say,” he instructed gently, stroking her back in encouragement.

“Um, uncle terry I was just saying that um, we put a doggy in the picture cause uh, we know you like dogs,” she said proudly, pointing to a big grey blob that stood off in the corner of the colourful scribbles.

“Ah, yeah you did! That’s so sweet, it’s just like Frankie’s dog, huh? You guys did great. I’m gonna hang this one up on the fridge right next to your other one,” he declared, putting the drawing down and giving them a big bear hug.

You clutched your coffee cup tightly in your hand and let the warm ceramic distract you from the display in front of you. It’s not like you were racing to have kids, or even sure if you wanted them, but seeing him so sweet with his little nieces was certainly painting him in a different light. It knocked a chip out of the fuck boy caricature you’d constructed in your mind, because clearly he wasn’t all lewd comments and grossness.

Terrance Swaino was actually a multifaceted human man, not just a big talking dildo. Who knew?

The girls soon raced off, excitedly talking about the other masterpieces they were going to create together and left you and Terrance alone again. You watched as he examined the drawing further, before sliding it onto the table with a grin.

“Little picassos in the making my sisters say,” he laughed, taking a swig out of his coffee.

You took a closer look at the drawing and sniggered, looking at the homunculus in front of you and back at Terrance, comparing the two. They did a good job of thickly drawing his goatee and big hair on, though you couldn’t help but find his large sausage fingers and thumb like head hilarious.

“Yeah, I think they really captured your essence.”

“Oh yeah,” he snorted, “It’s nice to see they noticed my big ears and huge clown feet.”

You giggled and sat back in your chair, taking a sip out of your coffee.

“Figure you’d be happy with big feet. You know what they say about those,” you said, raising your brows.

“Big socks?” he answered, chestnut eyes glinting as he stared back at you.

“Woah, surprised you shot down a chance to talk about your big dick,” you snorted.

“Sounds like you’re doing a good job of hypin’ it up yourself, sweetheart,” he winked.

With that he stood up and dumped his coffee cup in the sink with a clatter. You scrambled, trying to undo what you’d just said but he didn’t give you the opportunity to take anything back. He raced off through the doorway and outside, roaring something to the kids that made them all scream.

You sat there with a deep sigh and rubbed at your aching temples. You did not just tell Terrance Swaino that his dick was big, you thought, surely that didn’t just happen. Jesus help me.

—-

Maggie had eventually awoken that day and man was the aftermath of her hangover a beast. She took two cups of coffee and three donuts until she could stop groaning. Then she piled herself into the shower and declared you both had to go out for brunch.

She packed her book of course, and soon you found yourself on your third cup of coffee continuing to bully your way through wedding planning. She would pull out endless options from leaflets and directories, slamming books onto the metal table and making unimpressed noises at every single option until you would snap and give her the choice between the two options she’d made the least faces at.

It was a tedious system but it was getting you both somewhere.

“You’re such a slave driver, you know that?” she laughed, penning her choice of make up artist into her book in a looping scrawl.

“Well after that night we had, you can’t not expect me to be a little crabby,” you shrugged.

Mags bit her lip and stared off in another direction, knowing that once the drinking started it was her that was buying rounds like they were going out of fashion. Not that you could blame her, you knew how stressed she was about getting the wedding perfect and how hard she’d had it at work. She deserved to unwind a bit. Even if it did leave you both fucked that day.

“Yeah we really overdid it huh?” she muttered, shaking her head. “We cannot let that happen again. You know how annoying Ter’s gonna be cause he had to carry me home again? After I made such a big deal about how I wasn’t that person anymore since I moved!”

“Aw Mags, I’m sure he’ll be very understanding and sympathetic,” you smirked.

You both sat in silence for a second and burst out laughing at the same time. Terrance sympathetic? No he was gonna milk this for all it was worth.

“Fucking hell. I come back here and I’m drinking myself into the toilet in two seconds flat,” she groaned, leaning back in her chair. “This town has an effect on me.”

“To be fair I wasn’t far behind you,” you shrugged, attempting to make her feel better.

“Yeah right, you were on beer all night,” she snorted. “It was a good thing you weren’t that close behind me, if I had to have Ter in the bathroom with me agian, I think that really would have me dying of embarrassment.”

“Again?” you asked incredulously. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to be caught dead in a woman’s bathroom, isn’t he like…too ‘alpha’ for that or whatever?”

“Jesus no. If he ever caught me out drinking he’d always be floating around making sure I had zero chance with any guys and holding my hair back for me when I hit my limit,” she grimaced. “He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s always been a good big brother. You know he bought me my first tampons?”

“Holy shit, what?” you laughed.

“Yeah, dude! He’s great, he grew up with all us women around him, so he’s actually really sweet about all the girly shit. He puts on this whole big asshole front to other people, but he’s actually a real marshmallow on the inside,” she insisted.

You wanted to open your mouth and immediately disprove her, but you took a second and realised you probably shouldn't trash her brother for one, and also he wasn’t all bad really. He had made sure you and Mags got home safe, and he did get breakfast for you and was really sweet on the kids. Maybe you’d been a touch too harsh with him. Just a touch though.

“Anyway, enough about my idiot brother,” Mags said, fixing her gaze back onto her book. “Back to the Wedding!”

—

A few hours later you’d departed from the diner and left for Mags’ house once more. She’d done her best to prop her eyes open and continue to pour over wedding stuff for a while longer, but as the night drew in and shadows crept into the house she’d called time out. Mags went to bed early and sluggishly mounted the stairs while you crept out onto the porch and drank in the warm summer air. You’d been dying for some peace to yourself.

The street outside was still and a gentle breeze rolled through, scattering a couple stray leaves here and there. It was peaceful. Perfect. You closed your eyes and bathed in the silence for a minute, enjoying a reprieve from traffic and screaming kids until the sound of a loud engine startled you from your dozing state.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself.

A cherry red bike sliced through the darkness with its bright headlights and barreled toward you, slowing as it approached the house. You squinted when it came to a halt and rubbed at your tired eyes, looking to see who was climbing off of it only to be greeted with the sight of Terrance clambering toward you.

“You’re up late sweetheart,” he called out.

“Hard not to be with that racket,” you grimaced, staring off toward his bike.

“Would you have rather I let you fall asleep out here?” he challenged, coming to a stop in front of you.

Your lips formed a thin line and you shook your head, not able to dispute him. Maybe it was better he’d ridden by, you thought.

“What’re you doing riding around so late?” you asked, changing the subject.

He shrugged, walking toward the front door and edging off to the right of it. You watched him, wondering what on earth he was doing. Though, Terrance was unaffected by your staring and muttered something to himself, sounding as if he was counting as he traced his hands along the worn white bricks of the house. He came to a stop suddenly and pulled a loose brick out, fetching a small silver tin out of the hidden crevice.

He walked back toward you and settled down next to you with a thump, setting the tin by his side as he slid his jacket off and revealed the T-shirt and chain combo he’d had on that morning. Your throat went dry as you found yourself staring at his arms again, but he didn’t notice your gaze. He was too busy messing with whatever was in the tin now.

“You partake?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You tilted your head and wondered what the hell that meant until you looked at the tin properly and realised he was in the beginning stages of rolling a joint. You quirked an eyebrow and watched as he began to roll the paper between his fingers, poking his big tongue out from between his lips and licking the paper.

“I uh- I used to,” you said finally. “Is that what you came by for?”

He shook his head and pulled a lighter out of his discarded jacket pocket. The lighter sparked up a warm yellow flame and licked through the brown paper, turning it to ash and sparking the joint. You watched the glow as it brightly shone off of his chain and admired the smoke as it crept toward the sky in a thick strand.

“I got stuff at home,” Terrance finally clarified, taking a draw. “I just noticed you sitting out and figured I’d see if you wanted company. I always keep a stash here so when it comes to getting through parties, I got a little somethin’ to help. When you say you used to smoke, does that mean you won’t now?”

You considered him for a second, watching as he took another draw and relaxed back against the porch post. The skunky smell was filling your senses and suddenly flashbacks of lazy high school days were filling your mind. You found yourself shaking your head back at him and smiling.

“If you’re offering I’ll smoke a little,” you shrugged.

He took one last draw, tapping the end against the bannister and shaking the ash from it before handing it over to you. You accepted it, bringing it to your lips and taking a puff, drawing the smoke into you and inhaling slowly. You giggled as you huffed the smoke from your lungs and simpered off into the distance.

“Hitting you already, lightweight?” Terrance teased.

“Nah…I just haven't smoked weed since I finished my degree,” you smirked. “I feel like a school kid again. Sittin’ outside my friends parents house and talking quiet so we don’t get caught.”

He laughed at that and let you have another few draws before taking it back from you, closing his eyes sleepily as he took another. You settled your hands behind you and smiled sleepily to yourself as you felt your mind begin to buzz and your body relax into the porch. This was actually nice. His company wasn’t too shabby after all.

You swivelled a little and faced him, admiring the way he smoked through your hazy eyes. He looked effortless, like he was in a photoshoot or something. It turned out when he was quiet he was genuinely quite attractive. His jawline caught the glint of the streetlights and his nose was silhouetted sharply in the night shadows. It made you wonder how many fights he’d been in, made you gaze across down at his hands and observe the hardened calluses.

“Your eyes are big as shit right now,” he smirked, watching you right back.

You poked your tongue out at him and he snorted before reaching out to ruffle your hair. You were about to squeal until you remembered the sleeping people in the house and settled for a fake glare instead.

“I thought there was a ‘no messing up the hair’ rule?” you groused.

“For me,” he clarified. “Besides, you were being cute. Couldn’t help it.”

Heat crept up onto your cheeks and you looked away from him for a second. This couldn’t be happening. You were not crushing on him, you absolutely were not. You tried to remind yourself of all the gross things he’d said, but all that was ringing in your head was your conversation that morning. He actually was kinda endearing?

How baffling.

“You know, I’m not a woman expert. I’m a big enough man to admit that,” he said, speaking slowly as the high settled in, “but I do feel like I’m growin’ on ya.”

You stiffened and swivelled your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Just because I’m not cursing you out doesn’t mean I fancy you,” you growled.

“I didn’t say ‘fancy’, mostly because I’m not a little school kid, but no one brought up anything like that. I just said I was growin’ on ya. And it looks like I’m absolutely right if that’s your take.”

You gritted your teeth and stared him down, willing yourself to see him as the asshole you’d always thought he was before. Though now, maybe with a little help from the weed and maybe with looking at him a little harder, you couldn’t quite see him the same. Sure he was a childish dick, but there was no denying that he was hot as shit and he had his nice moments.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you finally said, trying to dismiss him.

He smirked at that and put out the last of the joint, making sure to stow the stub away into the bush. Once he was sure it was hidden, he faced you again and shuffled closer to you, his big body filling your personal space. You gulped.

“You telling me if I kissed you right now, you’d hate it?” he murmured, breath tickling your ear as he brought his face close to yours.

You shivered and breathed him in without meaning to. You caught the fresh smell of the weed mixing with his spicy cologne and you breathed out, trying to collect your thoughts. Oh god, you really wanted it. Though, surely he wasn’t gonna-

Without any more warning he brought his lips to yours and grabbed your chin in his hands, capturing you in a kiss. At first you were too surprised to do anything, but soon you found yourself kissing him back, even lashing your tongue out and trading smoky breaths between each other. You moaned as his tongue tangled with yours and all too soon he pulled away and presented you with his pearly white grin.

“Fuckin’ knew you were changing your mind on me,” he laughed.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“I don’t think anyone would blame you for failin’ to resist the Swaino charm, sweetheart. I’m pretty irresistible.”

You shook your head and rubbed at your temples, trying to process the disbelief of what you’d just done. You’d kissed Mags’ brother. Her gross brother that you maintained you’d rather die than touch with a barge poll for so long. You’d just kissed him and worse, you wanted more.

This had to be the weed. This had to be weapons grade quality weed you thought. No way you were doing this all of your own accord. You breathed out again and looked up at him again, but sure enough it wasn’t the weed. You knew your own mind too well to know that you wanted his chain to dangle in your face while he gave it to you hard, and no amount of sobriety would clear the thought.

Fuck it.

“Ugh, come here jackass.”

You got to your feet and yanked him and his jacket up, pulling him into the porch and through the front door. He raised his eyebrows at you, but stayed quiet, allowing you to tug him up the stairs and through the hall, bringing him into the spare room. Luckily you guys were on the end, away from everyone else who you hoped would be deep deep asleep.

You let go of Swaino, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to you, leaning back into the covers. He sucked in a breath and you watched as he scratched a hand through his beard and stared back at you. His eyes were filled with lust. Though there was a shimmer of amusement ringing through them.

“You asking me to sit there for a reason, sweetheart?” he asked, playing dumb.

“Obviously,” you groaned, already growing impatient.

“Huh, and I thought you hated me,” he grinned, settling down beside you.

You rolled your eyes and moved to kiss him, but he leaned back and shifted where he sat. God, why was he being difficult now? You groaned as he drank in your frustration.

“If you want me to do anything to you…I want you to ask for it,” he smiled.

You huffed out a frustrated breath. Part of you wanted to call the whole thing off, but a larger part of you acknowledged it had been a few months since you’d gotten laid. If you let that chance go then, you would’ve probably gone a few months more as well.

“Fuck me,” you moaned, trying to be sexy but coming across more demanding.

Terrance tisked and smiled wider, shaking his head. That definitely wasn’t going to be enough. He was going to be a dick about it.

“Ask me nicely, sweetheart.”

You sighed and closed your eyes for a second, gathering your courage before you slid down off the bed. You crawled the short space between you both and shuffled in between Swaino’s legs, placing your hands on the expanse of his thighs. He took a sharp breath and looked down at you, pupils somehow dilating more.

“Pretty please, Ter,” you purred, rubbing his steadily growing bulge. “Please fuck me.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, pulling you up smothering you in another kiss.

You moaned out lowly into his mouth and fumbled around with your hands, shucking off your clothes haphazardly. All too soon you were stripped down to your underwear and Swaino was in his boxers after wrestling his shirt off. Goddam, what a sight he was. You raked your eyes over his pecs and down to his abs, glancing back up to his molten eyes.

Swaino was staring at you like he was going to eat you. And man, you wanted that bad. You crept up onto the bed with him and bit your lip, ready to go further. Ready for him to take you.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, raking his eyes over your body and grabbing your hips. “Such a pretty fuckin’ girl.”

He groped at your body, his hard hands palming at your flesh and caressing your ass, leaving behind hot tingling sensations wherever he touched. Your chest was rising high with your short breaths and you groaned out. You were on fire.

“Swaino please,” you sighed. “Need you.”

His hooded eyes were gazing at you intently, burning as you talked dirty to him. He liked that, you noted. He liked that a lot.

“You gonna get me warmed up for you?” you asked breathily.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you so wet, sweetheart. Gonna get you soaked,” he growled. “Just gotta do one thing for me, baby. Just gotta stay quiet for me, no matter how much you wanna scream my name.”

A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, but you were too deep in it now. You bit your lip and nodded instead, gasping as he expertly unclipped your bra and slid your panties down your legs. You were completely bare to him.

The man was a smooth operator, you had to give him that. He got to work immediately, kissing and sucking on your neck, trailing wet kisses down your body. Moans escaped from you like a symphony, you found yourself jamming your hand up to your mouth biting at your knuckle. Fuck.

He licked and sucked at your nipples, biting a little and taking every little sound you made into consideration as he went on. He was clearly paying attention to what you liked because the more you breathed out, the more he continued to do those things that had your legs shaking.

“So pretty…look at these tits. You’re fuckin’ hot,” he growled, grabbing at your boobs and continuing on his way down.

His tongue trailed across your stomach, tickling your flesh. You could feel your pussy clench as he grew closer, could feel yourself getting wetter with every passing second. This was almost too much. This was the most attention you’d ever received from a man. And it was Terrance!

The thought quickly left you as he finally worked his way down. Finally! You couldn't silence the small cry that rang out into the room. Swaino paused just as his fingers began swirling on your clit and raised his head, drawing himself up above you with his free arm.

“You moan so pretty for me, baby,” he sighed. “But I already told you. You gotta stay quiet.”

His look hardened as he stared down at you and you looked up with glazed eyes, nodding enthusiastically. Anything. Anything, as long as he’d just keep going.

He soon resumed his motions, gathering up your wetness and drawing circles across your clit. You silenced yourself with your knuckles and tried as hard as you could so that you wouldn't make a noise. Your skin burned and your thighs shook with every motion, your body was on fire.

The coil in your body was tightening fast now, your stomach was taut and the hand that wasn’t currently silencing your cries found its way into Swaino’s hair. His hair was soft underneath your fingers, you scratched your nails through it and gently applied pressure, forcing him toward your pussy and moaning as he licked a stripe through your folds.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he muttered.

His expert tongue worked at you and focused on your bud, his fingers drawing away before sinking into you. Mother of god. The man knew exactly what he was doing. He curled his fingers expertly and you groaned quietly, taking in all of the pleasure. Your heart was racing. Your legs were shaking and you were writhing, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

And then it came. Your orgasm tore through your body. You gave up on your knuckle and pulled your wrist to your mouth, keeping yourself as quiet as you could. Your whole body ran wild with tingles and white noise rang through your ears.

You sighed out finally and brought yourself back into the room. Swaino was fumbling for something in his jeans. After a second of searching, he pulled out a condom and grinned falling back onto the bed next to you.

“You carry that with you everywhere?” you giggled.

“I always keep one on me, never hurts to be ready” he shrugged. “You still want me to fuck you?”

Who said romance was dead?

“Duh,” you snarked.

“You gonna be mean to me after I just rocked your shit like that?” he laughed dryly.

You gulped and realised you still could still hardly feel your legs.

“Ok,I’ll be nice,” you smiled sweetly. “I want you to please fuck me with that big cock of yours.”

That was encouraging enough. He slid his boxers down his thighs and revealed a massive dick. Normally your eyes wouldn’t bulge when a prospective partner’s cock was revealed but damn. Damn, that was a nice cock.

“It’s so big,” you murmured, losing yourself for a second.

“Ain’t it just?” he smirked. “Clearly I got that big dick energy people talk about.”

Oh yeah. His was an ego that didn’t need stoked.

He didn’t waste anymore time teasing you though. He tore the condom wrapper roughly and slipped the rubber over his dick, groaning deep in his throat at the contact. A breath caught in your throat as you watched him and you only released it as he rutted into you. Even having been warmed up, he stretched you and had you cursing out in low whispers.

He wrapped his thick arm around your head and swallowed you with the pressure. You were coming down from one high and crashing into another. His eyes were boring into you, his impassioned gaze lighting a new fire inside you.

“So tight,” he said through gritted teeth, “You feel so fuckin good.”

“Mmm, your dick feels so big, fuck!”

“Yeah, tell me.Tell me what you want, pretty. You want me to go harder?” he asked, thrusting deep into you.

Fuck! You couldn’t help your moan, though you realised, was there any point? The mattress was jumping and Swaino’s groans were tearing through the quiet. If the house wasn’t woken already, you guys were going to be fine.

You stretched out your body, and writhed underneath him as he continued to pound into you, making slow deep thrusts. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. Your second orgasm was creeping up, but you wouldn’t be pushed over the edge like this.

“Faster,” you moaned. “Please Swaino, faster.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he grinned.

His pace ramped up and soon he was thrusting into you with reckless abandon. The room filled with the noise of flesh and moans, both working in tandem. Your breath was taken from you once more as you came again, clenching hard down on his cock and drawing out a groan.

He came a little after you did, burying his face into the pillow and collapsing on top of you. His full weight crushed you into the mattress. Luckily, he rolled himself over after a few seconds, and you were both lying there staring up at the flaky ceiling. Soon your pants were the only sound that broke through the room.

“Fuck,” Swaino sighed out.

“Right?” you grinned, still feeling your head race with static.

Your heart was thudding and you were flush with warmth. The room smelt like sex and weed and Swaino’s cologne, maybe it was cheap but it was a little sexy too. You sighed and lay back against his chest after a few moments, grinning as you listened to his heartbeat, listened to the loud uncontrolled thump that mirrored yours.

“Fuck,” he repeated, gritting his teeth. “Can’t believe you got me to fuck in my famiy’s house. Haven’t sneaked around like this in fuckin’ years.”

You smiled smugly to yourself and drew the covers over you, twisting to meet his eyes and cover him as well. He looked over at you incredulous and moon eyed, looking thoroughly tired and fucked out.

“Worth it though, right?” you murmured, bringing your hand up to stroke his jaw.

Swaino grinned and grabbed your hand, kissing it and lacing his fingers through yours.

“So fuckin’ worth it,” he confirmed. “You’re way hotter than those girls I used to bring back when I was in school.”

You wrinkled your nose and hit his chest lightly. You’d forgotten who you’d invited to bed and now you were getting a stark reminder as to what you’d actually done.

“What? It’s a complement!” he said, biting back a laugh.

“Jesus christ,” you groaned. “Shut up before I kick you out, Swaino.”

He smirked at that and nodded, drawing you back against his chest and back into the warmth. You could only lie there and pray you wouldn’t regret what you’d done in the morning.

“Just let me know if you wanna go again by the way, I think this condom’ll last another time,” he whispered.

Fucking hell. You were regretting it already.

#terrance swaino #terrance swaino x reader #small engine repair #jon bernthal #small engine repair fanfic

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

Paradise Circus - Chapter Fourteen.

Huge thanks as usual to everyone still reading and enjoying this! Sending much love!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 2,694

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. NO MINORS, PLEASE!

“Don’t hit me again.”

Turning round from her assigned punchbag, Darla smiled to see Tommy there. She’d had a hellish Thursday and truly, should have been at home preparing for the last day of term the following day, but she knew exactly what she was like. It would be going over everything she already had, spending her previous evening awake until 1am making sure she was all prepared early. Darla Cooke was nothing if not meticulously well organised.

“Hey you, I didn’t think you were coming up tonight?” she asked, wiping her sweaty forehead on her forearm, Tommy turning to say hello to Aimee, whom he’d now met once before while she was there with Obie, going over to introduce himself. He’d scored points for that.

They’d been talking on the phone for a little while almost each night that week and he’d both revealed he’d chatted with her bestie on Monday, and also told her he wouldn’t be at the gym that night either, Darla only half decided whether she’d attend her now usual session with Aimee and Obie or not at the time, too.

“I wasn’t, but apparently the new guy wants his ass handed to him, so I thought I’d come for a ruck.” He replied, loud enough for his friend Curtis, who had just begun at the gym to hear him.

“Fuck y’all, big T! Your ass is eating the canvas!” he called from the ring as he stretched, tapping around with one of the resident coaches.

“Yeah? We’ll see, homie. We’ll see.” Tommy vouched, pointing at his eyes and then at Curtis with a nod, laughing. “So, how’s it all going with work?”

“Don’t ask! I shouldn’t even be here!” she wailed comically, tearing the Velcro on her glove and picking her water up, Tommy assisting by pulling the cap up for her.

“Yeah, but we both know you’ll only be checking over the same shit you’ve already done.” How well he was beginning to know her.

“True, I guess. And everyone needs a break once in a while, right?”

“Damn straight. Anyway, I gotta get up there. See you in a bit.” He winked, prompting her stomach flip, as usual. She resented the feeling a little, though, namely because Chantelle’s words had been playing heavily on her mind since their curry date the previous Saturday. Would continuing the sexual side of things with him truly be in her best interests toward making a clear-headed decision?

Things were beginning to become really good with them. In fact, they were finding a little more common ground, surprisingly enough. During one of their phone calls, Darla had mentioned watching a documentary on big game hunting out in Africa, Tommy staunchly agreeing with her over how utterly abhorrent the practice was. ‘There ain’t nothing sporting about shooting a creature as beautiful and noble as an elephant, or popping off a lion. Nah, fuck that’ he’d stated at the time, asking where she was watching it so he could see it himself.

He’d even also greatly surprised her by revealing that the dinner he was eating while he spoke to her was from the vegan restaurant they’d ordered from at her place that one time, Tommy stating that the dim sum was the best he’d ever had. It was true, their sweet potato and scallion bao buns were to die for. Was it enough to form anything more than friendship upon? Darla wasn’t sure, and as long as they were getting along so well, she honestly didn’t want to rock the boat by adding another complication.

Watching him in the ring out of the corner of her eye, though, denying herself someone so attractive, so incredibly chiselled, denying that ripped, huge body between her legs, could she do it? Sometimes, raw lust won out over common sense. Attempting to focus, she couldn’t help but have her concentration ripped away again once more, Aimee screaming ‘Jesus Christ!’ at her side, just as the sound of a body pounding off the canvas filled the gym, Tommy having Curtis locked completely, legs around his middle, arms gripping on around his shoulder, his arm wrenched back.

“Okay, alright, alright!” Curtis conceded, tapping out, Tommy immediately slackening and rising to his feet, grinning through a mouth full of tooth guard at him.

“He’s a damned machine!” Aimee exclaimed quietly at her side, Darla feeling her pulse flip madly. Oh yes, he was.

“Oh, you got that right,” she muttered.

“Girl!” Aimee exclaimed quietly, tapping her shoulder with her gloved hand as she snickered. “Are you going to get yourself some later? But not in the locker room this time!”

“No, no, locker room is out,” she chuckled, watching him continue to fight ahead of her. “I want to, but I’m unsure whether or not I should.”

When Aimee looked puzzled, Darla filled her in on everything she’d discussed with Chantelle, her friend nodding throughout her explanation.

“Well, ultimately, I think it’s your call. I do sort of agree with her, though. I can see that it might be judgement clouding, but if you don’t feel like it is, then you go have at it, which to be fair is exactly what I think you’re going to go and do, aren’t you? You only have one eye on me.”

Darla cringed a little at the fact she was severely preoccupied by the sight in the ring, a very sweaty Tommy completely handing Curtis’s ass to him.

“Dude! You just put your fucking knee right in my dick, man!” He suddenly shouted, Aimee looking back at Darla wide eyed.

“Or maybe not!” They cracked up, continuing their focus when Obie came over to supervise, calling Darla to do some pad work with him. She kept her focus, working through her routine, a very sweaty Tommy jumping out of the ring and finding another pair or focus mitts, offering to work with Aimee.

“Jab cross, turn more, power comes from your hip, that’s it. Upper cut, body shot, round kick, awesome!” he encouraged her, Darla stealing little glances, liking that he was making an effort with her. After finishing, they hit the showers and changed, Tommy out by the front desk when she exited the main floor. The way he looked at her, wow. It was more than apparent he had on his mind exactly what she’d been wrestling with all night. Except with Tommy, there was no mental struggle.

“My place?”

“I’ll meet you there.” She vowed, winking before she sauntered out. Ten minutes later, and they were tearing one another's clothes off in the hallway, Darling jumping to lock her legs around him, Tommy focused on sucking her nipples and spanking her bare ass as he carried her up the stairs, absolutely ravenous for her.

She let him sweep her up completely, lost in the moment, but not enough to wonder, was this her wanting a last hurrah with him, before denying it completely? Could she do it, should she? That thought was the eye of the storm, a temporary mental lull before it began to swirl once more, his teeth at her neck as he lay her down on his bed jolting her back to the moment, their passionate kisses thereafter pulling her into it once more, his divine lips travelling down her body, every rise and curve attended to, his elbows nudging her legs apart as he levelled with her sex.

“Fuck, you have such a pretty little pussy.” He complimented, stroking her folds with his thumb before delving his tongue through them, her insides sparking with incandescence at that first indulgent lick. Her hands held his head, nails flexing in his hair as he took a mouthful of her and sucked, evoking her wail, watching her with lust blown pupils, a dark, stormy blue stare, watching at how she reacted to the thorough way in which he slowly began to eat her alive. It always made his arousal bloom wildly.

The wet drag of each lick languidly rolled through her slit and up to her clit, circling, nudging, glimmers skittering through her when he aimed his next suck right there, her breath catching in her throat, her little bud sucked plumper before bathed in the fast beating of his tongue.

Her body arched off the bed, her toes curling, an orb of fire rolling through her groin before boom, it exploded and she came hard, her legs wrapping around his head, her clit throbbing against his tongue. He moaned against her slick petals, tongue continuing to explore her, hands roaming up to grasp her breasts and roll her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. There was no other way to explain it, she was lost in pleasure, unmoored, adrift on the wide, dark sea that was Tommy, her body quivering as her arousal flowed unabatingly.

His fingers pushed within the heat of her core, laying soft kisses all over her slit, up her abdomen, tongue circling her navel before slipping down again to continue eating her. He granted her no clemency with the sublimity of his mouth, rapid and unyielding as he gratified her fervently, her womanhood the altar where he laid his worship of such beauty.

He was predatory with his ministrations, not ceasing or slowing, his fingertips seeking the place they had before to press precisely, her insides twitching aggressively as his tongue swept her bud with rapid circles, her body keening at she felt herself driven nearer, her core close to absolute convulsion as she panted and wailed, the surge of orgasm skittering through her strongly.

He delighted in sucking it from her further as his biceps strained, fingers arrowing her plush cunt so strongly, it broke over her once more, like a match being thrown onto explosives, the wave rolling through her entire body as she crashed against his shore, overcome, howling as she trembled, pleasure melting down her spine.

Could she really, really relinquish this, the giver of multiple orgasms? Would she?

“Get on your back, big fella. I have some serious making up to do for that, damn.” He flipped himself so quickly, she couldn’t help but laugh, stroking her way up his powerful thighs, laying kisses to the muscles before reaching the fat erection waiting for her. She grasped him, squeezing the girth of his cock, slipping her lips over the head to swallow him hole, his groan deep and gone to gravel.

She pulsed her lips, increasing and decreasing pressure, her mouth slowly descending until he was almost all the way back in her throat. A few more pulses of her lips made him twitch violently, her mouth dragging slowly back up once more, letting a long drip of saliva coat the tip of his hardness, her tongue flicking, her eyes firmly on his before once more, her mouth descended.

He watched her for a few moments before his head hit the bed, closing his eyes, a deep, guttural groan echoing through his throat, fingers lacing in her hair. He let himself enjoy it for a few minutes, before it became a little too much, especially when her mouth tightened over the very head of his colossal erection, her tongue swirling around speedily. It was too much to withstand, to have her there in his bed and not be inside of her in the way he wanted to be.

“Okay, I was planning on longer, but totally up to you,” she exclaimed lightly after he’d grasped the top of her arms and hauled her up, settling between her legs, the bulbous head of his erection nudging her entrance. As always, her mouth dropped open as he breeched her, his cock sliding in fully, snug within the tight clutch of her aqueous walls, the feel of him beyond incredible. His cock was so perfect, he could have lain completely still inside her and she would have still cum.

He was heavy and so wide within her, Darla gasping in exclamation as her depths opened by the fluid trawl of his thickness, his hips rocking against her gently, fingers stroking her throat as they kissed. She was wracked by muscles cording, jumping under goosepimpled flesh, Tommy beginning to establish a rhythm within her, the slow rolling gaining in voracity as his mouth began to wander everywhere it could possibly reach to plant heated, open-mouthed kisses upon her beautiful, dark skin.

The grinding of his pelvis right against her clit felt like absolute sin, as if a thousand thunderstorms were striking within it, her escalation sudden as the coil within her rapidly grew, her moans unabashed as she felt herself teeter and then fall headlong into nirvana. The release that crashed through her in waves and didn’t abate, her nails digging deeply into his neck as he groaned at the flutters consuming his cock, loving that he’d made her cum so rapidly.

Nothing felt like him, his huge body so incredibly delectable, his face so devastatingly handsome, and his kisses so heated, so amazing, Tommy returning his mouth to hers with nothing short of utterly ravenous hunger, pleasure still rippling through her.

She’d never felt more alight, her nerves sizzling as he pushed her up off his chest and sat back on his heels, slapping her ass as he bounced her on his cock, carnivorous growls of desire echoing through his throat. Resting her hands behind herself on the bed, she arched back, her hips rutting against him, working in a roll so deliciously serpentine, he felt like he was about to lose his mind. It aroused him exponentially, to see her body roll against his like that, every inch of her beautiful skin sheening with a mist of perspiration.

His groan was pure gravel, watching her grinding herself upon his hardness intently, his eyes darker from his lust blown pupils as he leaned to run his tongue up the centre of her body. The pleasure was biting and powerful, like a tempest storm, rolling over them both without pause in a ceaseless continuation, their passion spiralling.

Pulling her body back to him, his hands glided through her curls and down her back, forehead resting to hers, lost in her completely. She was just so fucking beautiful to him, his heart somersaulting in his chest, taking her face in his hands and kissing her so forcefully, he near knocked the wind right out of her. It was like that for the next two hours off and on, too, chatting casually between bouts of hot, heavy, passionate sex that left them dazed, so dazed that Darla didn’t notice the time.

“You can stay if you like, you know,” he offered as she dressed downstairs where her clothes had been scattered, after noticing that it was 12:37am and very much past her bedtime.

“I’d like that, but it’ll put me in a mess for the morning, since I have so much stuff I need to take into work with me from home,” she lamented, pushing her feet back into her flipflops, Tommy leaning against the stair banister, looking so good that she almost didn’t want to leave him. He was one of those men who could just wear a pair of grey sweats and look like the sexiest thing alive in them, just like he did right then.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”

“You will. Goodnight.” Pausing, she then walked back from the door, kissing his lips softly, that kiss deepening in and instant, his arms wrapping around her. She shared a look with him afterwards, a moment, one that was weighted, as they often slipped into. God, her head. It was a mess because of those moments, fighting against the good sense she knew had to prevail.

“Go on, get outta here before I drag you back to bed.” He smacked her ass, Darla squeaking and giggling before letting herself out, taking a deep breath once out within the cool, summer night again. To keep going like that and potentially confuse herself even more, or for the sake of simplicity in a situation already fraught with complications, cease what she had sexually with him.

That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

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cantstoptheimagines · 2 years

Text

Measure Up (Eddie Munson | Stranger Things)

Part One | Part Three Coming Soon

Summary — Jenny Campbell didn’t know what to expect when it came to tutoring Eddie “The Freak” Munson, but it’s not quite what she thought it would be.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Cursing; mostly fluff; the Upside Down doesn’t exist here; Twenty Questions Trope; falling in love super quickly.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 4,080. ➳ This does not have a ‘Reader’ within the story. Instead, there is an OC named Jenny Campbell (she/her, 18). ➳ Eddie x Valedictorian!OC, a fluffy pairing that I really need in my life, so I decided to write it on my own.

Fourteen days.

Eddie Munson only had fourteen days, including weekends, until Ms. O’Donnell would be giving the spring exam for her class.

Jenny Campbell only had fourteen days, including weekends, to make sure Eddie raised his grade to at least a D, if the Hellfire Club was going to be allowed to keep holding their meetings at Hawkins High School.

And that meant on every assignment until the spring exam, Eddie had to receive a passing score.

Every. Single. One.

There could be no mistakes.

But as Eddie stared at Jenny Campbell’s house, sitting in his van, which he had parked next to the sidewalk, he was really starting to doubt Dustin Henderson’s decision-making skills. He wanted to keep the Hellfire Club going, but he wasn’t entirely sure if Jenny was the best option to make that happen.

But she was the only option he had at the moment, so he did what his friends wanted him to do. He sucked it up.

Eddie pushed open the door of his van. As he approached the front door of Jenny’s house, his eyes scanned her neighborhood. Prim and perfect houses on either side of the street, each one surrounded by a white picket fence and a flower garden. He could only imagine what was going through the mind of the elderly woman across the way, especially since she was practically shooting daggers into his skull.

He scoffed to himself, climbing the small set of stairs that led him onto Jenny’s front porch. He then raised a fist to knock on the yellow door.

It didn’t take long for it to open nor for him to meet Jenny’s gaze. She smiled and welcomed him inside, directly into what Eddie could assume was going to be his introduction to fourteen days of hell.

Day One

Jenny’s house was immaculate. And Eddie realized he had never felt so small before. Not to mention, he never pictured himself going to her house, especially on a Friday evening.

“Does your neighbor always stare like that?” he asked, trailing behind her as she led him up a seemingly endless staircase.

“Who?” asked Jenny, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“The woman across the street,” he replied.

“Oh!” exclaimed Jenny. “Yeah, that’s Mrs. Conway. She’s in charge of the Neighborhood Watch, or as I like to call them, the Cul-de-sac Creeps. She’s so nosy.”

Eddie chuckled at that, and asked, “Well, she definitely didn’t like me.”

Jenny was quick to respond, “She doesn’t like anyone, so don’t take it personally. I’d watch where you park your van though. She’s been known to call tow trucks on people.”

Eddie nodded. Maybe Jenny wasn’t the worst person ever, but he still wasn’t entirely sure about her. She seemed way too ‘perfect’ for the likes of Hawkins. There was no way she didn’t have a secret or two.

He didn’t have too much time to dwell on his thoughts. Jenny had led him down an upstairs hallway and through a door, allowing him to enter what could only be her bedroom.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at the sight of it. Jenny’s room was incredibly messy. A writing desk, which was overwhelmed with papers, was set up in front of a wide window with open curtains. There were clothes strewn about the floor, along with a few books. There were some cassette tapes and a Walkman on her bed as well, leading him to believe that she had been listening to music before he came over. Lying next to the Walkman was a large dog that had raised its head to stare at him when they entered the room.

Well, that’s one secret out of the way, he thought, watching as she kicked some magazines aside before retrieving her backpack from her closet, where he noticed an even bigger pile of clothes.

Who would’ve thought that Jenny Campbell, Ms. Perfection herself, was so unorganized?

“Sorry about the mess,” she muttered, digging through her backpack for a textbook and a black composition notebook. She then grabbed a pen from her desk before tossing her backpack onto the floor. “Ready to get started?”

Eddie smirked, “Sure. Ya know, Campbell, I really expected you to be some sort of neat—”

He had barely taken another step before the dog on Jenny’s bed leapt to its feet, barking loudly as Eddie yelped in surprise, “—freak!”

Jenny covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter, as her dog glowered at Eddie. After placing her supplies on her bed and revealing her smile, she tightly grasped the dog’s collar, and said, “And I’m sorry about Ozzy. He doesn’t appreciate strangers very much.”

Eddie shuddered as the dog, a German Shepherd, continued staring at him. He got the feeling that Jenny’s dog was not one to be messed with. Eddie watched as Jenny tugged the canine off her bed by its collar, sending it away to a dog bed near a bookshelf. The German Shepherd huffed as it circled twice before finally lying down again.

“I don’t think he likes me either,” muttered Eddie, referring back to their conversation about Jenny’s nosy neighbor.

Jenny snickered, moving to sit on her bed and then gesturing for him to do the same, “C’mon. He’s all bark, I promise.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Eddie. He yelped again when the dog let out a low growl, quickly deciding his safest course of action was to leap onto Jenny’s bed to avoid any potential ankle biting.

But then he considered that any fate he’d find with the German Shepherd was much better than that of the open textbook Jenny placed in front of him.

“So,” she began, “where do you wanna start, Munson?”

It was nearly dark outside by the time Eddie and Jenny had finished their first study session. She had wanted to see what he needed the most help with. Eddie had claimed that the answer was, in fact, “Everything!” but Jenny didn’t think that was true.

She still didn’t.

Eddie’s problem was that, well, he couldn’t focus to save his life. And Ms. O’Donnell’s English class was, apparently, a gun being held to his temple.

Jenny had realized his issue rather quickly. First, he’d asked about her dog’s name, Ozzy, and was obviously pleased when the German Shepherd was actually named after the iconic member of Black Sabbath. He’d done that to stop her from talking about critical thinking while reading passages, which he didn’t seem to understand the irony of.

Then his attention had been drawn away by the pile of cassette tapes on her bed. He shuffled through them as she spoke about Ms. O’Donnell’s Shakespearean unit, slowly tuning her out as he examined her choices in music.

“Most of the questions on our last test were about Macbeth, so she’ll probably include a few more of those—”

“You listen to Mötley Crüe?”

Jenny had looked up at him, snatched the tape out of his hands, and said, “Of course! Now, like I was saying...”

The third time had been the last straw for Jenny. Eddie was now focused on the various posters that were pinned to the ceiling above Jenny’s bed. He’d heard about girls doing that, but didn’t think much of it until now. He thought it was weird, but who was he to judge?

He’d already realized that Jenny wasn’t what he thought she’d be like. Maybe. But he started to doubt that thought as he examined her posters of ABBA and Cyndi Lauper. The artists were a rather stark contrast to Black Sabbath and Mötley Crüe.

“Seriously?” he asked. “ABBA?”

Jenny paused, looking at him with a confused expression before glancing up at her ceiling. She rolled her eyes at him, finally closing her textbook and tossing her pen to the side.

“You know, it’d be better if you asked questions about O’Donnell’s class,” she said, “not my dog and which bands I listen to.”

Eddie gave her an apologetic smile, “Sorry. You’re just more interesting than I thought you’d be.”

“Wow, thanks,” said Jenny, her voice riddled with sarcasm. “How about we make a deal?”

“Another one?”

“Eddie!”

“All right!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up in a defensive manner. “What’s your idea?”

“Since you’re just so curious about my life,” she chuckled, “how about this? After, and only after, you’ve put a little work into our study sessions, you can ask me one question that isn’t about Ms. O’Donnell’s class. Sound good?”

Eddie hated to admit it, but he was starting to believe that Jenny might be a pretty decent person. She hadn’t made fun of him, unless it was in a friendly, teasing way, unlike almost everyone else in Hawkins. She genuinely wanted to help him improve his grade.

He gave her a smirk, and said, “Sounds great, Campbell.”

Day Two

The two met again the next day, though this time they found themselves sitting across from one another in the Hawkins Public Library. Jenny had told them that there would be ‘less distractions’. That, and he was still afraid of Ozzy, which he vehemently denied, even though Jenny could see directly through his façade.

As soon as he arrived, she gave him two sheets of paper. The first had a writing prompt at the top. He had tried not to groan when Jenny told him to write at least two paragraphs, so she could give him corrections and writing tips.

Once that had been completed, he moved on to the second paper. He glanced at Jenny in confusion, who was already reading and correcting the work he had given her.

Jenny looked up at him at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, immediately noticing his furrowed eyebrows, and said, “It’s a form for the guidance counselors at school. Everyone who signs up for tutoring has to fill one out. Don’t worry, it’s just some basic info.”

Eddie nodded slowly. Since he appeared satisfied with her answer to his nonverbal question, Jenny returned her attention to correcting his writing, which was better than she had expected it to be. Eddie didn’t really seem like an essay type of guy, but maybe she’d been wrong.

He did, however, need to work on his handwriting skills because some of it was absolutely abhorrent and left Jenny scratching her head. Just as she was about to ask him about a certain word, she heard him curse under his breath.

“Damn it.”

Jenny’s eyes quickly shifted to look between Eddie and the paper in front of him. She watched as he tapped his pencil against the table, and then asked, “You okay?”

“No,” he muttered. “I think I’m gonna have to use my question already.”

Jenny immediately burst into a fit of giggles, and asked, “Why?”

Eddie huffed loudly, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat, “Because I don’t know your full name to finish filling out this stupid form. What is it?”

“Jennifer Marie Campbell,” she chuckled, watching as he picked up his pencil to scribble down her answer with an irritated expression. “You know, technically that form is for Ms. O’Donnell’s class, in some roundabout way at least, so... I’ll give you another question since we’re nearly done.”

Eddie’s hair whipped around his face as his head shot up to look at her with wide eyes, “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, before allowing a smirk to take over, “but you just used it by asking me that.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, and then his irises lit up with frustration. He tossed his pencil aside, leaned back in his chair with his hands covering his face, and groaned, “Shit.”

Day Three

Jenny’s neighbor, Mrs. Conway, had glared at Eddie when he visited again on Sunday. The woman’s hawkish eyes didn’t leave him until he had finally shuffled through the bright yellow door of Jenny’s house.

Instead of going up to her room, Jenny had led him to her kitchen, where they sat across from one another at the marble island in the center of the room. Eddie knew he’d never get over how big her house was in comparison to his uncle’s trailer.

He occasionally looked over his shoulder to make sure Ozzy wasn’t lurking about, which Jenny still found rather amusing. She knew that if Eddie ever decided to stand his ground, her dog would most likely tumble over on its back for some good old belly scratches.

Constantly glancing over his shoulder paid off. Eddie had been having a staring contest with Jenny’s dog for nearly ten minutes, neither of them moving a muscle. Jenny’s house apparently wasn’t big enough for the two of them.

“He really is harmless, ya know?”

Eddie’s eyes didn’t leave the German Shepherd sitting next to the door as he muttered, “Yeah, that’s what everyone says about their dog. And then they bite your face off!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Ozzy sneezed, and exclaimed, “See!”

Jenny looked up from the paper in front of her. She’d given Eddie a practice vocabulary review, knowing that Ms. O’Donnell always gave her vocabulary quizzes on Mondays. Probably to ruin everyone’s weekend, Eddie had claimed, which Jenny had scolded him for, despite finding his comment sort of funny.

Jenny glanced between Eddie and German Shepherd, and then she scoffed. Eddie watched her from the corner of his eye as she approached one of the kitchen cupboards. Her dog’s ears perked up and his head tilted.

When Jenny turned, the German Shepherd immediately stood, excitedly spinning in circles, the pads of his paws repeatedly tapping against the floor. Eddie blinked in surprise when Jenny shoved a jar of treats into his arms. Then she said, “Here.”

Eddie almost panicked when Ozzy ran up to him. The dog balanced on his hind legs, leaning forward to place his front paws on top of Eddie’s lap. Jenny chuckled as Eddie recoiled, held the jar of treats above his head, and tilted his face away from the excited canine.

“You have to give him a treat, genius,” she joked.

Eddie stuttered, unable to speak as the dog stared at him while wagging its fluffy tail. Jenny rolled her eyes at him. She then took the jar away from Eddie’s hands, Ozzy’s eyes following her every move. She pulled out a treat and shoved it into one of Eddie’s palms.

Eddie looked at her nervously as she wrapped a hand around his wrist, forcing him to hold out the treat. He watched as the German Shepherd followed Jenny’s orders to sit.

“Good boy,” she said, and then she looked at Eddie. “Open your hand.”

Eddie stared at her with wide eyes, but listened to her instructions. As soon as the treat was visible, the dog ate it out of Eddie’s palm, tail still wagging happily. Jenny quickly put the treats back in the cupboard before her dog could start begging.

Eddie turned to her as she returned to her seat across from him. Ozzy sniffed around the floor, trying to find any other possible sign of treats, before shaking out his fur. Eddie glanced down at the dog, watching as it finally decided to curl up next to his feet.

Assured that he might not be growled or barked at, Eddie finally focused entirely on Jenny, and said, “You scare the shit outta me, Campbell.”

Jenny’s eyes met his as she burst into laughter. Eddie allowed a grin to spread across his face at the sight. Jenny leaned against the top of the kitchen island, covering her mouth in a failed attempt to control herself. ‘Failed’ being the key word.

Once her laughter had died down, she swiped away her school supplies, and grinned, “I think we’re done for the night.”

Eddie looked out one of the windows in Jenny’s kitchen. He hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten nor how long he’d been at her house. He could only imagine what was going through her prissy, old neighbor’s mind.

“You gotta go?”

Eddie nodded in response, sliding his denim jacket onto his shoulders. Jenny followed him to the door, but Eddie didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he turned back to her, and asked, “Do you think I’ll pass the quiz tomorrow?”

“Is that your question for the day?” she asked.

Eddie nodded, glancing down at his hands and fiddling with his bulky rings nervously. Jenny noticed his demeanor and felt the need to comfort him.

Eddie paused when her hands wrapped around his wrists, stopping him from anxiously twiddling his thumbs. When he looked up at her, she smiled softly, “I think you’re gonna do fucking awesome, Eddie.”

And Eddie Munson’s heart started racing as a grin slipped onto his face, her words sending shockwaves directly to his core.

Day Four

Eddie ran through the halls of Hawkins High School, occasionally bumping into other students. He even pissed off one of the jocks by accidentally knocking a basketball out of the snob’s hands. His heart was pounding with excitement and he had a wild grin on his face. His quiz from Ms. O’Donnell’s class was clutched tightly in his fist.

He burst into the school cafeteria and immediately spotted the person he had been so anxious to see. Jenny stood in line, waiting patiently for her turn to get a lunch tray. Eddie soared in her direction, aware how ridiculous he probably looked to everyone else.

Jenny yelped in surprise as a body suddenly bumped into her and a pair of arms draped over her shoulders from behind. She stared at the blank piece of paper the person was holding in front of her eyes.

“Read it and weep, Campbell,” said a confident voice, which she recognized to be Eddie’s.

He flipped the paper over, allowing Jenny to see his quiz from Ms. O’Donnell’s class. In the top corner was a D+ written in bright red ink. Jenny quickly ripped the paper out of Eddie’s hands, staring at it with a wide smile.

“Eddie, that’s awesome!” she exclaimed, looking over her shoulder.

He ducked his head, allowing some of his long hair to shield his face, but Jenny could still see the shy grin spreading across his face. When he looked up at her, he shrugged, “Thanks to you.”

“Hey, I helped you,” said Jenny, “but when you took this quiz, you were on your own. You did that, Eddie.”

“I still feel like I should do something for you,” he muttered. “Can I buy your lunch?”

Jenny laughed, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

He nodded, and then asked, “All right. I’m gonna use my question then. So, tell me, Campbell... Tots or fries?”

Jenny returned his quiz with a friendly smile, “Fries.”

“What?!”

The cafeteria went silent. Nearly everyone in the room turned to look at Eddie, most of them with either glares or looks of disgust. Jenny raised her eyebrows at him, trying to hide her laughter. Slowly, the cafeteria returned to normal when the other students realized Eddie didn’t care that he had become the center of attention.

“I don’t think I’ll ever look at you the same again,” said Eddie, shaking his head in disappointment. “I mean, seriously?! You like fries more than tater tots?! What kind of monster are you?!”

Jenny laughed, “The kind you promised to buy lunch for, Munson.”

“My greatest mistake. You really are a freak, Campbell.”

Day Five

Jenny quickly thanked Steve Harrington as she took a Family Video bag from his hands. She turned to leave and smiled as soon as she stepped outside. Eddie raised his eyebrows at her from his place behind the wheel of his van. He watched as she went around the front of the van, opened the door, and sat down in the passenger seat.

“I got it!” she sang, smiling brightly as she put on her seatbelt.

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head at her. The more time he spent with her, the more Eddie began to realize he had been wrong about his perception of Jenny. He wouldn’t admit it though, especially to Jenny... and especially to the Hellfire Club.

“All right,” he said, “I guess you’re gonna show me your favorite movie?”

Jenny nodded. That had been Eddie’s question earlier in the day, but it had come with one condition. Jenny would only let him know the answer if she could rent it for a movie night, one that Eddie definitely deserved after another passing score in O’Donnell’s class.

As Jenny revealed the movie, Eddie let out a loud groan, “Seriously? You’re gonna make me watch that!”

“Hey!” scoffed Jenny. “This is a good movie! And you know what? I bet you’ve never even watched it before!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Jenny was right... again. Instead of answering, he kissed his teeth, started the van, and began driving to her house while she laughed at his defeated silence.

But later that night, when his meeting with the Hellfire Club began, Eddie’s friends glanced at one another in confusion as he quietly sang to himself, “You’re the one that I want! Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!”

Day Six

“Are we friends?”

Jenny paused in her read aloud of Ms. O’Donnell’s latest assigned book. Lying on her back, Jenny placed the book on her chest as she turned her head to look at Eddie. He was sitting next to her on the edge of his bed, lightly strumming his guitar.

Glancing between his hands and his relaxed face, Jenny smiled as she gazed up at him, “I’d like to think so.”

Eddie nodded, though he didn’t look at her. Jenny set the book she had been reading aside. She then rolled onto her side, silently watching Eddie as he continued to quietly strum.

Jenny took a moment to look around Eddie’s room. It was exactly how she had imagined: almost as messy as hers with band posters on the walls, cassette tapes all over the floor, and a pile of fantasy books in the corner.

“You know... I think I’ve been too lenient with these questions of yours,” said Jenny, refocusing her attention onto Eddie.

He only glanced at her, and then asked, “What d’you mean?”

“I said that you ask questions after we finish studying,” she said, “but I haven’t really been holding you to that.”

Eddie smirked, finally pausing in his strumming before he looked down at her, “Not my fault you’re a pushover.”

He burst into laughter as Jenny’s mouth fell open. He could tell that she knew it had been meant as a joke when she reached out to shove his shoulder. He grinned down at her before he continued strumming his guitar, quietly listening as she once again picked up the book’s narrative.

Day Seven

Eddie felt his heart sink.

Across the room, Jenny was talking to none other than his biggest adversary, Jason Carver. The blond boy gave her a smile that most people would deem charming, but Eddie just thought it made the guy look like a creep.

His foot tapped against the floor as the two parted ways. Jenny gave Eddie one of her signature smiles when she sat in the seat across from him.

“Why were you talking to him?”

Jenny barely glanced at him, but Eddie noticed how her hands paused as they shuffled through her backpack for an extra pencil. Slowly, her smile became playful.

“Why?” she muttered. “Jealous?”

Eddie let out a dramatic scoff, “Of that blockhead? Get real!”

She finally looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she asked, “Did you just say ‘get real’?”

Eddie paused. After a moment of brief contemplation, he glared and pointed at her smug grin, “I know it’s only been a week, but you’re rubbing off on me way too much!”

Jenny covered her mouth in an effort to contain her laughter. She could tell Eddie was joking by the way he was trying to hide a smile as he continued ‘scolding’ her, “I’m being serious, Campbell! I was singing Grease at the last Hellfire meeting!”

Jenny finally lost it. She burst into a fit of laughter, quickly muffling the sound by hiding her face in her arms, leaning against the tabletop. Eddie crossed his arms over his chest.

Something about her laughter sent an odd feeling through his stomach. His smile fell as she finally revealed her face. Resting her cheek against her arms, she continued to giggle quietly as her sparkling eyes looked up at him. Eddie stared back at her with a thoughtful expression.

What the hell was Jenny Campbell doing to him?

#2022 #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x oc #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x oc #flying colors

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thinkingofbananas · 2 years

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tw: school shootings, gun violence (mentioned)

i forgot to include this in my last post, but i would like to stress just how much schools (especially in texas) have practiced active shooting drills. i did it every year from k-11 and will be doing it next year. they start showing us an “i love you” video (made by the parents of a girl who had been shot during a school shooting) in the third grade. they show a lower level more “age appropriate” one in k-2. even in the k-2 years we had kids, teachers, and other staff that were assigned to close blinds, lock doors, run into the halls and sweep for kids before inevitably having to close the doors leaving kids in restrooms. kids caught outside of a class would either have lock themself in a stall and stand on a toilet seat or run out of the building into the neighborhood that bordered the school. in sixth grade i had a teacher that would tell us that whenever a shooter comes into school locked doors certainly help but they don’t always work so we needed to make sure to keep something sharp or barricade the class. at the ages of 11 and 12 we had plans on who would do what if a shooter got in the room. mine was to grab the scissors and flip over the desks and chairs in order to attempt to trip the shooter. it was a futile attempt to feel safe when thinking about that, but it was helped us feel like maybe we would be okay whenever it may happen. at the age of 15 i was helping my friend through a panic attack when they had an unannounced drill and we were ushered into a librarians room kids weren’t allowed in. now at 16-18 we all have grown accustomed to it (not that we weren’t before but now we’re old enough to know that if it happens it happens and we will do all we can to stop them because our state government won’t) and we sit and play truth or dare or listen to music together while we wait for an administrator to come knock on the door. i have no doubt that even if my teachers aren’t fond of me they would stop at nothing to protect those that they teach and now as old as we are, we know we would do the same. it shouldn’t be this way. i shouldn’t know this information for years and just now reach the age to understand and speak out on it. again i am still a minor and yet my classmates, friends, and teachers are familiar with the idea that one day we may go into school and never go out. it sounds dramatic because it is a very serious issue that shouldn’t be political. it shouldn’t be an issue to restrict access to the object that makes kids feel the need to try and decide if they wanna risk getting up to close the windows, knowing they may be shot. again my love and condolences to those in uvalde and those victim to school shootings and gun violence previously. please look into ways to support the people at uvalde at this time. protect the kids of texas who are born and making decisions like the ones i listed above.

#texas #tw school shooting #tw gun mention #gun laws #gun regulation #uvalde

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atlanticcanada · 1 year

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Firefighters want police watchdog to reopen investigation into 2020 RCMP shooting at N.S. fire hall

Almost three years after two RCMP officers opened fire on a civilian outside a fire hall in Onslow, N.S., two firefighters who were inside the building at the time want the province’s police watchdog to reopen its investigation into what happened.

Onslow Belmont Fire Brigade volunteers chief Greg Muise and deputy chief Darrell Currie hid for hours inside the hall along with Portapique evacuee Richard Ellison after the shots were fired, fearing a wanted gunman on the loose was outside.

But the shots were fired by two RCMP officers, Const. Terry Brown and Const. Dave Melanson, who had stopped outside the hall in their unmarked car, believing a regional EMO coordinator standing next to a stationed RCMP cruiser was the killer.

At the time, a massive manhunt was underway for Gabriel Wortman, who had already murdered 13 people in Portapique, N.S., the night of April 18, 2020, before continuing his rampage while driving in his mock RCMP car, killing another nine Nova Scotians the next morning.

Last Thursday, the inquiry into the tragic events released its final report, criticizing the RCMP for how it handled the Onslow shooting, and the ensuing investigation by the province’s police watchdog, the Serious Incident Response Team (SiRT).

“I was glad to see that there was a lot of criticism of the SiRT report itself and the way that it was written,” says Currie. “I've said all along that it was a flawed report. So the commission has once again, verified that for me.”

Currie and Muise say the Mass Casualty Commission’s findings only highlight the need for SiRT to reopen its investigation into the shooting.

In 2021, SiRT cleared both officers of any criminal wrongdoing.

But the MCC report lays out failures by both the RCMP and SiRT to follow policies and procedures both immediately after the shooting, and during the investigation that followed.

“The RCMP command group did not recognize the gravity of the Onslow fire hall shooting,” write the Commissioners. “They failed to take the necessary steps to evaluate the circumstances of the shooting, secure the scene, or evaluate the involved members’ capacity to continue with the critical incident response.”

While policy dictates SiRT be notified “as soon as practicable” after an incident, the investigative body was not informed of the Onslow shooting until hours later, and the officers involved had already continued on with their duties together that day.

“It’s frustrating. There's no appeal process for SiRT reports,” says Currie. “What do you do? You know, they have their final say, they write the reports, however they want them to turn out and there's nothing you can do. It just leaves me frustrated.”

Muise questions whether SiRT investigators gathered all the information at the time that they should have.

“It’s should be reopened, and go back and get the eyewitnesses that saw it and go from there,” he says.

“(SiRT) didn't talk to us very long. They didn't ask us a whole bunch of questions … if I spent five minutes with SiRT that was it, and that’s the last I heard of them.”

The commission’s final report states it “heard from several witnesses and participants that were directly affected by the Onslow fire hall shooting that the SiRT report did not instill confidence in the investigation of that incident.”

The commissioners also found SiRT representatives communicated with the RCMP and exchanged information before SiRT issued its final decision on the incident.

In one instance, logs included as part of the SiRT investigation and provided to the commission indicate Const. Brown contacted two SiRT investigators to ask for updates on the status of the investigation, and to inquire whether their investigation led to him being placed on administrative duties.

As a result, the inquiry’s report recommends “an officer who is the subject of a SiRT investigation should not communicate directly with the SiRT investigator (outside of providing evidence or information to the SiRT) during ongoing investigations.”

CTV Atlantic is seeking comment from the director of SiRT and this story will be updated once that is received.

Along with calling on SiRT to reopen its file on the shooting, Muise and Currie are also dissatisfied with the MCC’s own findings on exactly what transpired outside the fire hall that morning.

“(Our lawyer) always tried to get (the commission) to bring in more witnesses that saw what happened that day. And I think that would have been a big help,” says Muise.

Their lawyer, Michael Scott, says EMO coordinator David Westlake and RCMP officer Cst. Gagnon -- who were the ones mistakenly targeted by the shots fired outside the hall -- should have testified at the inquiry.

“We didn’t hear from a number of important witnesses, and that didn’t really help the fact-finding process,” says Scott.

“So I don’t know how we can say we addressed the facts of Onslow-Belmont appropriately if we never heard from two of the most important witnesses,” he adds.

As for whether the report’s recommendations will lead to change, Muise and Currie are skeptical.

“The biggest thing that would make me feel better would be to have an accurate SiRT report completed,” says Currie. “Second, would be an acknowledgement by the RCMP that they actually did something wrong, instead of continuing to say everything was done, ‘according to the textbook.’”

The RCMP is doing its own internal investigation on the incident, which a force spokesperson says is being finalized, and will be received by the Nova Scotia RCMP this month.

But Scott says he isn’t holding out hope his clients will ever get to see those results.

“The facts of what happened at Onslow-Belmont were not really dealt with in our view appropriately by the MCC, they certainly weren’t dealt with appropriately by SiRT, and the (internal RCMP report) is the best that we can ask for.”

“Do I think that we’ll get to see it? Absolutely not.”

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/g93pxKS

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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ech0isl0st · 2 years

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How I was 1-2 days away from ending my own life…

(If you didn’t know I am @zodiacfreak321, I was locked out of my account and forgot my password-)

My Name, or Names, are Echo, Dakota, or Echoda. I am 15 Years old and I am just going into my first year of Highschool as a freshman. I live in North America that’s all you need to know about that stuff…

I am a Nebularomantic, Non-Binary, Greysexual, Lesbian. I am considered a Author for my own book series, The Hidden Signs. I don’t get paid because the books are not published yet… I have an amazing friend that helps me with the book series and is even included as a side character in another book I am writing: Avian Academy. The month was December, Not sure what the exact day it was, but I was being forced into the towns swim team… I was not happy as I did not enjoy it, but I grew near the end of the season, but before that, I was forced to quit my favorite sport, Cross Country… I was devastated… My mental and physical health quickly depleted, and soon, I had myself an eating disorder, I was losing too much weight…

To make it worse, We recently figured out, after a small incident where I had trouble breathing during a nightly swimming practice where I had trouble breathing, That I had mild iron deficiency. Great… My mom described my deficiency like this: “If it could be negative, you would be on the negative side of the scale.”

so I basically had little to NO iron inside of my already weak and getting weaker, body. Soon I had to take iron pills to help (twice every day, once a day, once a night) and that was barley helping, Then I went to go get an Iron infusion, but that wasn’t enough, and I had to get another. Forgot to mention that before I started swim I was indeed diagnosed with Social Anxiety Syndrome, and Depression, and to make it worse, Vitamin C Deficiency… Which luckily wasn’t as bad as my iron deficiency! Soon I was forced to eat healthier foods like chicken, iron rich meat in general, and we got A LOT, Of snacks that included iron in them. After swim season, I had a break from sports, except literally one week after swim ended, My new favorite sport started, Track and Field! I loved Discus, Shot-put, and short sprints! Ah yes, Gym as well, I hated gym with a fucking passion, a short kid who look like that one chihuahua,(and barked,LITERALLY BARKED, like a chihuahua too) He started to be, what can only be described using a couple of words… Five year old shit stain that everyone hates, but thinks their cool but they are literally the definition of a moronic asshole with the brain size smaller than a stegosaurus. He also looked like Timmy Turner from the Fairly Odd Parents, but on drugs… This short shit stain started to spread horrible rumors about me, that EVERYBODY, knew were false, like: “*insert dead name* has autism!” Or “*deadname* is retarded!” And other Jack shit rumors. He then threatened to shoot up the school, he wasn’t expelled but suspended for the rest of the school year, which is expelling somebody because we only had 3 weeks left of school-

He made my anger issues 10x worse. And before all of that… January 11th 2022, I wrote a note… a suicide note… Listing my wills and how much I loved my family, it was two pages long(the paper was fairly small), and I was bawling my fucking eyes out writing it. I stated that I wanted my good friend to carry on the series for me and become the successor to my book series’s.

[TW!!!] I planned to stab 18 holes in each of my legs using a kitchen knife when I came home the next day. On January 12-13th, I went to school, with the note, planning to put it inside of my best friend’s trumpet case at the end of the day. But I didn’t, I decided not to end my life. I would hate to see everyone I loved to break down, I would hate not being there with them. I wished to have a good life with them, and so I didn’t commit suicide; And to this day, every month on the 11th, 12th, and 13th, I would celebrate my decision to change and save my life forever, but I, Didn’t save my life… My family, and most importantly, my friends, saved my life, if they weren’t there for me, I would be dead… But I’m not, thanks to them… So I will now proudly say this with a smile on my face and my fist on my heart and my other hand behind my back…

Well, Hey…I Only have one life, and I fucking love it…❤️

#my story

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years

Text

To Be Human – Part 01

Squares Filled: Firefighter AU @spndeanbingo // Superhero AU @anyfandomgoesbingo & @taylorswiftbingo

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reporter!Reader

Series Summary: Dean and Y/N have been best friends and inseparable since they were kindergartners, leading somewhat boringly normal lives in Lawrence City, Kansas. Now all grown up, Dean is working as a firefighter and Y/N as a reporter until one fateful night changes not only their lives but also their friendship forever.

Warnings: +18, strong language, Firefighter/Superhero AU, fluff, pining, slow burn due to idiocy, angst

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: Welcome to another series, loves! This one is very special to me and might be my favorite one yet. Fair warning, though, Dean’s a bit of an idiot in this & patience is definitely required. (I also wrote a philosophical intro cuz I was feeling fancy, sue me.) Without further ado, let’s start this rollercoaster ride of a journey! 🎢

Feedback is highly appreciated! ❤️‍🔥

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

There’s been a question going around philosophy for ages, wise old men scratching their beards over it since one poor little fuck at some point in time dared to pose it: What does it mean to be human?

Is it the ability to show kindness and courage? The ability to remember the past, live in the present, and hope for the future? To be special? Unique? Or is it the ability to love and form connections that make us human? Is it the ability to make your own decisions and carry the consequences of them? Or the knowledge that you’ll die someday and see your loved ones die as well?

The truth is: to be human means everything. It can’t be narrowed down to one single trait. It’s the sum of every little part that makes the whole.

Love and hate. Joy and sadness. Empathy and anger. Pride and shame. Hope and fear.

Being human means trying your best, even through loss, heartbreak, and pain. To be human means everything – the good and the bad.

One sunny morning in Lawrence City, KS…

The fire station is pleasantly quiet in the early morning hours, the sun rays flooding in through the big scarlet garage doors providing the green-eyed firefighter with sufficient lighting as he gives the engine a few touch-ups and checks if any of the hoses need patching while sipping blissfully on his coffee. He always enjoys the silence and calm of the mornings, knowing full well how fast the day can quite literally heat up in a city inhabited by two million.

“Good morning, Winchester!”

Her chipper voice echoes through the deserted garage, his head shooting up to her with a wide smile as she saunters towards him with an enthusiastic swing in her hips and a coffee in hand. There’s no doubt Y/N’s his favorite person out of the two million living in Lawrence City.

“Morning,” he chuckles and sets the rag and cleaner aside when she stops so close in front of him he can practically smell the cherry body wash on her skin from this morning’s shower. “What’s gotten you in such a good mood today? You’re not usually a morning person.”

Honestly, Y/N is the kind of person that just glows whenever she enters a room (even in the mornings). No matter where she goes, she instantly makes everything brighter, illuminates even the darkest spots – pure fucking sunshine in a bottle. If she were a drink, she’d probably be marketed as that. Maybe that’s why she’s been his best friend for ages – he’s mostly rain and thunder and he knows Y/N’s probably the only person that willingly puts up with his bullshit. Sam’s just forced to. That’s just how it works with brothers. With Y/N around him, though, even Dean’s darkest clouds always seem to dissipate.

“Well, uh, today I am a morning person and you’d be too if you had a big story coming up,” she announces with that broad grin of hers, showing off her cute dimples that he loves seeing so much. It instantly makes his mornings better. He craves her smile with his caffeine at this point; otherwise, it’s just a bad day guaranteed.

She pulls out her tape recorder and holds it up to his face, no boundaries whatsoever for personal space. Her eyes focus on the little freckles that dust his nose and the way it twitches when he tries to play annoyed but is actually biting back a smile. “Speaking of which, any comment on the fire last night? My sources are saying it was arson.”

Amused over her little trick, he sniggers, “No comment. You know I can’t tell you.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes back dramatically, “Oh, c’mon, Winchester! What’s a girl gotta do to get a good story around here? First Jo, then you. The people of Lawrence City have a right to know what’s going on in their hometown. Freedom of press… all that.”

Laughing, he shakes his head at her. She’s always been like this – eager, tenacious, and never taking no for an answer. “Hey, if your sister, the detective, refuses to give out any info, I sure as hell won’t either. Not falling for that again, sweetheart.”

She playfully narrows her eyes at him and stores her recorder back in her bag, adding another theatrical sigh to her reply, “Fine. Buzzkill… If I get fired, though, I’m blaming you.”

“If you get fired, I’ll buy you a drink at the bar. How does that sound?”

“Drinks,” she corrects him with a smirk.

“Drinks,” he nods resolutely and winks, seeing her cheeks flush a little. He loves he’s had that effect on her since they were little. “Are you coming to Sammy’s birthday party tonight?”

“Duh. Wouldn’t miss it. Can’t believe that little dork is turning twenty-three. We’re getting old, Winchester,” she huffs with a laugh, gracefully guiding the paper cup to her lips without spilling anything on her white blouse tucked into a pair of washed-out high-waisted jeans.

“Speak for yourself,” the firefighter chuckles. “Still don’t feel a day older than twenty.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed by all the wrinkles on your face,” she sasses, smirking.

He glares a little at her, but it’s all fun and games. It wouldn’t be Y/N and Dean if there wasn’t the occasional bickering and bantering. That’s just how they rolled. And honestly, he’s glad she keeps his ego in check, keeps him grounded. He knows he needs that.

“Ha ha. Don’t you have a job to get to? No wonder your editor hates you,” Dean retorts and she raises her hands in surrender, slowly retreating backwards out of the garage with a sly grin.

“Say no more. I’m going… Tell Sasquatch I’m coming a little later. Still have that big event at COSMOS tonight!” she shouts from the curb.

“Oh, yeah, right. Good luck!” he calls after her, trying not to seem too worried whenever she goes out on an assignment. It’s not like her job is dangerous – she’s thankfully not reporting out of a riot in the Middle East – but knowing Y/N as well as he does, she’d find the danger somehow anyway. That girl is trouble through and through. “And Y/N? If you run into trouble-”

“Run away from the danger, not towards it! I know! I got it! You tell me every time,” she shouts back, laughing like a teenager at a worrying father. He can still see the little mischievous twinkle in her eyes from feet away. It’s crazy hot every time she does it and all he wants is to smack her goddamn ass, but alas, he’s left to resort to words alone.

“Never seems to take, though!”

Smiling softly, he leans against the fire engine, a little sigh leaving his plump lips as he watches her disappear down the busy street, her hips swaying with every joyful step.

“Are you ever gonna tell that girl how you feel?”

The firefighter startles and spins around to look into a set of shining blue eyes, “Geez, man, you scared me.”

Benny only laughs wholeheartedly in response, “Sorry, brother. Didn’t mean to wake you from your daydream.”

“I wasn’t-… She’s not-…,” Dean starts to argue, opening and closing his mouth several times, and then stops with a swallow, knowing it’s not going to help his case the more he says. Instead, he fixes a glare at his co-worker, “We’re best friends. She’s just Y/N to me, man. I’ve known her since I was five. She’s like a little sister to me.”

Ouch. That lie even hurt him. He doesn’t want to think of Y/N as his little sister because he’s had way too many R-rated dreams about her over the years to stomach that with a clean conscience. He’d be the worst big brother ever. Not to mention, she’s only seven months younger than him and has always been more mature by like, light-years. So if anything, she’d be more like his older sister or even his mom. Wait… God, no, it’s just getting worse now, isn’t it?

Let’s just say she’s the one and only Y/N to him. She’s unique in her uniqueness, you know? So Dean has always put their friendship on a pedestal and held it close to his heart. She’s been pretty much special to him ever since he saved her from that bullying kindergartner on the playground when they were both only five years old. Maybe it’s because she’s called him her hero after and kissed his cheek, and that just did things to him he can’t explain to this day. It’s like she became his after that and it was just a sealed deal, you know? The gold standard of the best-friends-forever club.

Of course, romantic feelings have surfaced on occasion over the years. When they were six, he asked her to marry him and they even held a ceremony in Y/N’s backyard. There’s still video of it, too. Their moms just loved to haul that one outta the attic whenever Christmas arrived – so much so, he and Y/N ended up calling it Cringemas. Honestly, the video is cute altogether. He still remembers his ‘vows’ word for word, even though it’s been so long. Isn’t that just weird?

Then there is the time when they were sixteen, at the height of teenage hormones, and he almost kissed her during a high school Halloween party at Suzy Lee’s place before a call from his crying little brother luckily prevented him from making a huge fucking mistake. He still doesn’t know what came over him there. It was probably the cheap vodka and he assumes she must’ve looked nice in that porch light when they sat alone outside, away from the party because she knows he hates the crowds, so she kept him company on the steps, their knees softly touching and thighs pressing together. But yeah, he’s still glad Sam puked during apple bobbing. Besides, it was fucking hilarious, too.

And then there is the time when they celebrated their college graduation in his apartment – well, his community college degree and Y/N’s actual degree from the University of Lawrence City, although Y/N would smack his head if she’s heard him saying that out loud.

That night, they almost ended up in bed together. Like, they actually discussed… having sex… with each other, which was mind-blowing at the time. Honestly, it still would be. If she asked him to have sex right now, his head would explode. And granted, they were both hammered that night, like stupidly drunk, obviously. But he recalls being fucking hard because he’s never heard her say so many dirty words before. He didn’t even know she knew that many, but whatever innocence he’s ascribed to her before that night was definitely gone out the window once she opened that naughty mouth of hers. All he wanted to do after that was to just ravage her entire body then and there. He still remembers one of his hands was around her neck and the other…

Yup, his left hand definitely touched a boob. Yeah, okay, so what? It was one boob, sue him. One boob and the nipple a little bit – through fabric. It basically doesn’t count and he never thinks about it.

In all honesty, he thinks about it a lot, actually, and grins like an idiot too while doing it. But he swears he always feels bad right after. (Also, he still remembers it was his left hand. Like why?!)

Anyways, he almost kissed her, again, before Sam, again, burst through the door because the library closed and he couldn’t study for his SATs any longer, so his little brother plopped down on the couch between them and turned on the TV.

Somehow he sounds a little bitter about it now, but he promises he isn’t. Dean’s happy they’ve never crossed the line and ruined their friendship for good, always recovering the next day with a laugh and continuing on as if nothing ever happened. They have always been there for each other – good times and especially bad times. He held her for hours when her dad died and she slept on the ground next to him on the couch for months when his mother passed. They helped each other through loss, heartbreak, and cheaters, their friendship never wavering even during the strongest storm.

One thing is abundantly clear, though, through all their ups and downs: Dean can’t stand the idea of losing his best friend. He just doesn’t want to cover her sunshine with his clouds. It always feels like he could taint her shine.

“Ah, sure,” Benny chuckles sarcastically. “So, you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

Juniper eyes widen and his brow raises in surprise. He almost chokes on his fucking coffee, “You-, uh, you wanna ask out Y/N? My Y/N?”

Great. Could he be more possessive? No wonder all their friends and family think they'll get married someday. Now, he only hopes Benny hasn’t picked up on his mishap.

The blue-eyed firefighter shrugs his shoulders coolly, unfazed apparently by Dean’s wording, “Sure, why not? She’s a great girl. She’s funny, smart, beautiful. And man, that ass surely takes your breath away…”

“Whoa…” Dean’s look darkens so much it becomes a black hole as he stares at his friend, his jaw clenching and the grip on the wrench in his hand tightening. “Slow down, Romeo. Don’t talk about her like that,” he growls warningly and wishes he could keep his emotions better in check, but he can’t help it when it comes to Y/N.

“What? You don’t think so?”

“Wha-… Of course, I do! I mean, not the ass thing… I mean, not that she doesn’t have a great ass. I assume she does, but I don’t look, okay?”

God, he is a fucking liar, isn’t he? Of course, he’s looked at her ass and feels guilty every time he does. In his defense, Benny’s right and she has a fucking great ass, though. Not looking would be a crime to humanity. Like Monet saying, ‘Hey, don’t look at my waterlilies!’

“And that’s not even the fucking point…,” he continues his rant. “The point is… she’s the fucking best,” he defends with a huff, his shoulders tensing. He’s not sure, though, if he’s defending her honor or his own at this point. “Which is precisely why you’re not good enough for her. No offense.”

“None taken,” Benny snickers in amusement before erupting into loud laughter and hunching over as he rubs a few tears out of the corners of his eyes.

Dean frowns, his brow knitting so much he is close to a rage headache, confusion mixing with his anger, “What?! What’s so fucking funny now?”

“You! I’m just messing with you, man. I’m not gonna ask her out. Just wanted to see your reaction. Was worth it,” Benny grins broadly as if he’s just won a boxing match and folds his arms over his chest, his eyebrow arching. “Are you sure you’ve got no feelings for her, brother? Because to me, it looked like you came this close to bashing my head in with that wrench in your hand.”

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffs, furiously shaking his head while Benny just laughs more. Why does everyone always have to taunt him about Y/N? Can’t they just let it be and leave him alone?

So what if he has never liked a single boyfriend of Y/N’s? It doesn’t have anything to do with harboring some secret romantic feelings for his best friend. He only ever wants the best for her and none of her ex-douchebags have ever come close to even being remotely adequate. It is pure, innocent concern that plagues him, far away from any jealousy. He isn’t territorial like a dog defending its toy. If she ever meets a decent guy up to his standards, she can date him all she wants. He would have zero problems with that. Honestly, guys should fucking worship the ground she walks on and kiss her feet, and they don’t deserve sex until like… the hundredth date.

Those are his rules. Really, they’re simple. He’s not asking for too much, right?

So what the hell is so wrong about it? Is he not supposed to care about his friend’s wellbeing and look out for her?

Sure, the vanilla scent in her hair when she softly rests her head on his shoulder whenever they watch TV on his couch, or her adorable and intoxicating laugh whenever he cracks a joke, or her twinkling Y/E/C eyes whenever she looks up at him like he’s the fucking best could quite possibly drive him mad with want. Add to this, the thought of her getting touched by some other guy that isn’t him makes him want to commit murder. Her in some asshole’s arms? It undoubtedly makes his skin crawl, but that doesn’t mean…

Fuck… Is he actually jealous? Is he in love with her? No, right?

The more he thinks about it, the more he knows it, though: he is in deep fucking trouble.

Later…

Rocky’s is buzzing with people as Dean arrives at the bar after his shift, squeezing through the crowd on his way to the counter, hoping to find his friends there. He hates people. He doesn’t mind saving them, but he surely hates being around the masses. He prefers a quiet seat at a booth with a few trusted friends over lavish parties – or whatever is going on here tonight. How many fucking friends can Sam possibly have?

The speakers are blaring music, but Dean is sure the thoughts in his head are booming even louder. He’s put on a red and black checkered flannel, one of his nicer ones (the one Y/N likes so much), his mind reeling with thoughts and decisions since this morning. He still blames fucking Benny for most of it, although his thoughts about Y/N aren’t entirely new. He will admit that much. He’s thought about it before, countless times even (usually when Y/N would drag a new boyfriend into their lives), but always put it on the back-burner as a ‘maybe in his thirties’ kind of thing. When he got his shit together, you know?

Because God knows, he doesn’t have it together now. Right now, he holds the maturity level of a fourteen-year-old, if you haven’t noticed. But what if she can’t wait for him to outgrow his Peter Pan syndrome and finds some actual grown-up? What’s he supposed to do then? Stand idly by at their wedding?

Shit, he will have to walk her down the aisle, won’t he? Because her father died, so he’s the only possible option. Maybe he can get Sam to do it – or Bobby. But then she’ll just end up asking why he isn’t gonna do it and what the fuck is he supposed to say then, huh?

Yeah, he might have to pull his shit together a little faster and hope Y/N wouldn’t mind a few of his deficiencies. Hell, she knows all of his flaws better than he does, anyways. And she’s still by his side even when he fucks up, so what is he so scared of, really? Weirdly enough, running into burning buildings doesn’t terrify him as much as confessing his feelings to his best friend.

During lunch, he even caught himself scrolling through his photos on his phone, almost every picture either with Y/N or of Y/N, realizing he really doesn’t have a life outside of her. She is his life. So he keeps thinking about what life would look like if she were truly by his side. And he has to admit, it would be fucking fantastic.

She knows him better than anyone on this planet, better than Sam, and he knows her better than anyone else too. He knows how to make her laugh, what songs make her smile, and what movies make her cry. He knows her coffee order and her favorite pizza toppings. He knows her dorky dance moves and her nervous ticks. He just fucking knows her, inside and out. (And parts of her he doesn’t know yet he wants to know. Seriously, the curiosity is sometimes killing him.)

There would be no first-date awkwardness, no fights between them that couldn’t be solved, and no hesitations. He’s sure they’d still hang out together like best friends, but he’d also get to do all the other stuff that always feels so natural to do whenever she’s around but he always refrains from doing. Like, hold her tightly in his arms, kiss her pink lips until they were both blue in the face, and feel her smooth skin under his fingertips. He’s always wondered what those things would feel like. All in all, being with her sounds fucking awesome. A dream come true.

Fuck. He really does love her, doesn’t he?

“Hey, man, happy birthday!” Upon seeing his little brother, he hugs Sam tightly and pats him several times on the back with the proudest smile. He can hardly believe the kid is a year older again and graduating college. Y/N was right – he is getting fucking old.

“Thanks. Glad you could make it, man,” Sam smiles and slings his arm around his girlfriend Jess as she joins the men.

The two have met in college and have been inseparable since, causing Dean to wonder how his little brother has turned out more mature than him. He intends to take credit for Sam’s perfection, nonetheless. After all, he’s raised the kid since Sam’s fourteenth birthday and dropped out of college for him, so he gets to. At least Dean thinks he has a right to be proud and call Sam his greatest achievement, even though Y/N would cut in and remind him that his community college degree and graduating fire academy can also be counted as his biggest achievements.

“Dean, you’re here!” Jess greets him cheerfully, almost to Y/N’s degree of cheeriness, before looking the firefighter up and down with an impressed smile, “Damn, you look good tonight.”

“Hey!” Sam throws in with mock upset and kisses her temple, chuckling.

“What? Look at him! Doesn’t he look good tonight?” Jess swats her boyfriend’s arm repeatedly, the baffled smile not disappearing from her lips.

Sam then squints his eyes at his brother, taking a closer look now too, and his eyebrow raises slightly, “Actually, you do. Why?”

In true little brother fashion, Sam’s found an error in Dean’s code and wants to know what caused it, so the older sibling has to scramble for an answer.

“Oh, this? I just threw something on that wasn’t in the laundry basket,” Dean shrugs the nosy pair off, wishing he had a drink in his hand for this conversation.

“Dean, don’t be modest. You got some hot date tonight?” Jess wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

“Yeah… do you?” Sam questions suspiciously, his tone a lot more serious than his girlfriend’s.

God, Dean really does have a reputation if that’s everyone’s first assumption. It also makes him question tonight’s plan. Should he really ask out Y/N? Because now he’s direly realizing she doesn’t just know him; she knows too fucking much.

“What’s with the Spanish inquisition tonight? Can’t a guy just look good for no reason at all? ‘Sides, I’ll have you two know I would look good in a fucking trash bag. Leave me alone,” Dean huffs, a little too defensive. Now Sam will definitely be suspicious.

“Jess, can you excuse us for a second?”

Yup. Just as Dean thought – his younger brother caught a trail.

“Sure, I’ll order us a round of shots, so we can get this party started,” Jess winks and kisses her boyfriend’s lips, leaving for the bar counter.

“What’s up?” Sam asks bluntly, not letting a single minute tick away on the clock. He has always been like this since the brothers were children and it has always annoyed the shit out of the oldest Winchester.

“Nothing,” Dean shrugs and hates he doesn’t have a beer bottle in his hand to hide his face.

“Dean…”

“Sam…”

The brothers then enter into an intense glaring match, neither wanting to cave. But Sam, shining with maturity and simultaneously rubbing it into Dean’s face, eventually breaks the silence.

“Dean, c’mon, man. What’s going on with you?”

With a deep exhale and a heavy eye roll, the firefighter finally crumples. Not because of Sam’s puppy dog look, though. He just really needs to get it off his chest and he obviously can’t tell Y/N, so his little brother truly is his only option. “Okay, fine, but you’re not allowed to tell anyone, especially Jess.”

“What, are we in kindergarten?”

“Sam!”

The youngest Winchester raises his hands in surrender at his brother’s warning growl, “Fine, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, alright… here it goes, uhm… I think I’m in love with Y/N,” he shares nervously and swallows the gigantic lump that has formed in his throat. Wow. Jesus fucking Christ, how long has that been there? His shoulders feel a million pounds lighter after his confession already.

Sam stares at his brother for a moment, not a single emotion readable on his face before he purses his lips and his brow knits, “So?”

“So?!” Dean wildly flings his arms around, almost hitting several people in his vicinity as heads and bodies duck away from him. He fucking can’t believe Sam right now. Here he is, pouring his heart out and that’s all the little shit has to say?

“Dean, everyone knows that already. That’s not news. It’s like saying the sky is blue,” Sam replies with a twitch of his shoulders and an amused chuckle.

“Well… I didn’t know!” he hisses, flustered and frustrated.

Sam lets out a laugh and grins, “Yeah, that one was pretty obvious too.”

“This isn’t funny, Sam! What am I supposed to do?” As his nerves get the best of him, he starts to pace the sticky bar floor in front of Sam, vigorously scratching the back of his neck in the process. “You think-, uh, you think she likes me… I mean, you think she likes me like that?”

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I mean, I’d ask Jess since they are friends and both girls, but you said I wasn’t allowed to tell her, so…,” Sam trails off and shrugs.

“You aren’t,” Dean emphasizes through gritted teeth and runs a hand over his face, irritated. “You know what? You have been of no help at all tonight. Zero!”

“Maybe because it’s my birthday,” Sam points out innocently.

Dean sighs, knowing himself it’s not the right time and place for this discussion, not to mention Y/N might show up any minute and the thought of seeing her makes his heart race like it never has before. “Yeah, you’re right, man. I’m sorry.”

Sam sends him a patient smile and bobs his head, “Look, Dean… you said you think you’re in love with her, but I think you really need to make sure you are before you say something to her. She’s not one of your flings. I mean, you can’t just ask her out because you’re curious.”

“That’s not-” He closes his mouth as the gears start turning in his head. He wants to say that’s not the reason why, but now he isn’t sure. Sam’s just fucking confusing him more. He’s not that big of an asshole, right?

Fuck. Is he?

Sam just blinks at him innocently. Dean can see his shoulders are itching for a shrug and the corners of his eyes are already forming another puppy dog look. “I’m just sayin’, it’s a very fragile ecosystem. We’re family. Y/N’s kinda the glue that’s all holding us together. I mean, I’ve learned to say Y/N’s name the same time I learned to say yours, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I know, thanks,” Dean mutters bitterly.

Yeah, Sam really isn’t any help at all. The oldest Winchester can’t really blame him, though. Y/N is like a big sister to Sam, who tutored him not only in school subjects but also in girls, not trusting Dean to do a proper job with the latter. Not because he didn’t have any game, but because, in Y/N’s words, he had ‘too much.’ Looking at Sam and Jess now and then at his own empty life, he understands that she was pretty much right in her assumption.

Not wanting to continue this discussion with his younger brother, Dean’s gaze lazily wanders to the TV screen above the mahogany bar, his eyes narrowing at the breaking news report and he asks the bartender kindly to turn the volume up a few notches.

“…the number of casualties is still undetermined as of now. First responders from the Lawrence City police and fire departments are still trying to get as many people out as they can. Our sources at the location are reporting that the cause of the explosion at COSMOS laboratories is still unknown. We will keep you updated as the story progresses…”

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, his heart achingly constricting as he watches the live footage from the scene, smoke and flames bursting out of the collapsing skyscraper as a few of his colleagues scramble to get every last person out. He tries desperately to find Y/N’s face in the pixelated masses on the tiny screen, but of course, he can’t.

“COSMOS… Y/N, uh, Y/N’s there! I-, uh, I’m sorry… I gotta run,” Dean splutters, trying to collect his thoughts and keep a straight head as his heart is close to detonating. He isn’t even on call, but if there’s a chance Y/N is hurt, he has to be there and make sure she’s okay.

“Go, man,” Sam nods with worry and understanding, watching his older brother rush out of the bar faster than he’s ever seen Dean run in his entire life.

Part 02

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years

Text

MBFD - C3: What You Need

Dave York x Female Reader

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Word Count: 9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) mentions of… separation/divorce, childhood trauma, family distress, domestic arguing, vaginal sex, and masturbation.

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Summary: You can’t make up your mind on how to feel about Molly’s dad, but he seems to know exactly what he wants. Dave makes a decision regarding his relationship with Carol, something he allows you to see. A moment together gives you both what you need.

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A/N: okay this chapter was intended to detail a little more buttttt I decided to make y’all wait just a little longer lol.

Co-written by @moralesthots without her beautiful mind half of this chapter would not even exist 😍🥰

Also, I'm so excited I'm writing chapter four right now lol. Next chapter reallyyyy ramps it up with reader's past, reader's relationship with Dave and Dave's job (;

Enjoy my loves

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The annoying blare of his ringtone shocks you awake, your body jolting slightly as your head shoots up. You groan, pulling the covers over your head as you lay back down. It’s not even daylight yet, why the fuck is he already getting up? And that noise? Definitely not something you missed. You do your best to muffle the sound, shoving the bedsheets up against your ears. But him on the other hand, he springs right up.

“You gonna get up?” he asks, finally turning off his alarm.

“Um, fuck no.” you retort, your sass muted by the covers.

He only chuckles, and you can hear him as he moves around the room, gathering his things.

“Still as sassy as ever.” he mutters to himself, stepping into a pair of sweats.

You roll over, removing the sheets from your face and sitting up against the wall.

“Why do you get up so early?”

“You know why.” He replies, shrugging on his backpack. “I have practice. Always do.”

A small buzz rumbles next to you, prompting you to reach over and check your phone, still connected to his charger. Just an email from one of your professors.

“You can stay here if you want,” he then offers, “I’ll be back around ten.”

Still looking away from him and at the screen on your phone, you scowl, a look of disgust running over your features.

“I’m good.”

Even though it’s a small jump, you hop down off his bed, reaching for your clothes. They’re set out on the desk beneath his bed, folded neatly. Just like always.

“Why don’t you want to stay?” he asks, his hand suddenly on your shoulder.

You flinch a bit, shrugging him off as you climb into your hoodie and sweats.

“Ant, you know what this was.” You chuckle, gathering your things.

“That’s really all this was?”

“Don’t play dumb.” You roll your eyes, giving him a knowing look. “We do this all the time, man.”

You step around him, finding your tennis shoes and quickly slipping them on.

“I’m sure I’ll see you eventually.” He remarks, his smug attitude incredibly aggravating to you.

“Yeah, okay.” You respond, your words expressing your doubt in his statement. “Bye, Anthony.”

“Thank God,” you mutter, grateful to not have a parking ticket.

The meter attendants around the university were hell bent on ripping as much money as they could from every student that had a car. You swear they have timers set up somewhere; it’s like they know exactly when your meter will run up, getting there just a second before you do.

You decide to drive home, parking your car in your parking space before walking up to your complex. Your first class of the day doesn’t start for another three hours, the six am wake-up call completely unnecessary. So, you plop your bag down on the couch, and walk down the hall to snuggle into your bed. And until you fall asleep, you decide to pull up your Instagram page, mindlessly scrolling through.

Unbeknownst to you, Dave’s doing the exact same thing. He’s continued his search for your accounts, moving from Facebook to Instagram and thanking himself repeatedly for doing so. Your photos on Instagram were much more revealing than the ones you had on Facebook. He finds pictures of you on vacation in Hawaii, your thong-like bathing suit exposing your entire backside. Pictures of you at your Pom formals that show of your gorgeous figure, pictures of you out at the bar with friends with your makeup and hair done so prettily under the night lights, even one of you in a devil costume from last Halloween. That one is his favorite. You’re in a bright red one-piece with long sleeves. Your thighs are wrapped in black, knee-high tights, with a pair of red horns on your head to match. The red shade on your lips makes his heart pound, the softness of your body heightened by the smooth material. And if he looks close, he can see the outline of your areola, and that… that makes him lose his fucking mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers, moving to undo his belt.

He’s working from home today, stowed away in the privacy of his office. Whenever he gets bored, which is quite often due to the languidness of his current case, he pulls up pictures of you. He teases himself, edges himself, sometimes for hours. And he’d been doing that since he started work this morning. But now, it’s 11AM; it’s been two hours and he wants to follow through.

Some of his favorite pictures are where you show the most sass, like the one taken of you on Halloween night in your skin-tight devil costume. Another one he prefers is from last year’s homecoming halftime show. The makeup you have on is unique to these photos, dissimilar to the shades you usually use in your other posts. He likes how dark and dramatic it is. It also has that familiar red lip stain that you had on in your devil costume, too. His eyes trail lower as he scans the picture, flipping through the posts from that day. He comes across a picture of you on some guy’s shoulders, a football player. The team had won that day and it looks as though the two of you are celebrating. A pang of frustration and even slight jealously shoots through his chest, quickly flipping to another photo. The next one shows you on the ground doing your side splits with another teammate mimicking your pose beside you.

“Oh…” he groans, licking his lower lip as he zooms in.

The way you’re leaning forward shows off so much more of your cleavage than he’s previously seen. If he squints hard enough, he can even see the outline of your nipples beneath your top. And that’s all he needs to push him over the edge.

It's easy for him to free his erection, having been aching for hours now. Leaning back in his chair, he grips himself in hand, throwing his head back and sighing out deeply at the sensation. He gives himself a few squeezes, head lifting to watch as he does it. A trickle of precum leaks from his tip, already shiny from the copious amount due to his previous ministrations. His thumb swipes over the head, wetting the pad of it with his precum as he imagines it being your tongue. He wonders if you’d lick it for him, wonders if you’d like the taste.

“Dave?”

“Jesus!” he nearly shouts, hearing two knocks on his door accompanied with the sound of Carol’s voice.

He hurriedly tucks himself away, taking a few deep breaths to steady him before he responds.

“Uh, yeah. Come in.”

“Hey,” Carol greets softly, opening the door with a smile. “I was thinking about dinner tonight, anything in particular that you’d like?”

You. He immediately thinks of you. He has to pick Molly up from practice later today, maybe he’ll get a peak then…

“Honey?”

It’s so easy for him to get lost in his thoughts when they’re made up entirely of you.

“U-um,” he stutters out, releasing a quick breath. It catches him by surprise, the affectionate nickname. “I, uh, I don’t know. Not sure.” He stutters out, trying to redirect his thoughts away from you and toward something to eat for their family meal.

“Ugh,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

His own dart up, narrowing at her. “What?”

“Can you just make a decision? I’m trying to be nice here.”

“You’re not doing a very good job at it.” he retorts, leaning back in his chair.

She frowns at this, gripping the doorknob tightly in her hand.

“Why do you have to be so aggressive?” he continues, crossing his arms with a huff.

Dave can never understand what her exact motives are behind these interactions. They’ll start off calm and seemingly well-intended. Then within two seconds, everything seems to blow up.

“Are you serious right now?!”

“Okay, Carol. I don’t care, okay? Just make whatever you want.”

“David, you know wh –”

“Please, just leave. Please. I’m working. And you’re supposed to be working, too.”

“Oh, what? Are you getting another headache from talking to your wife, David?!” she challenges, hands now on her hips.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I am. And Carol, if we’re being honest, you’re not my wife anymore. Do you just wake up every day and forget that we’re separated?”

“If we’re separated, then why are you still wearing your ring?”

His eyes immediately shoot down to his hand, uncrossing his arms and setting his left palm on his desk. His next words are quiet.

“I’ve been wearing it so the girls don’t find out before we tell them.” he then looks up at her, raising a brow. “Do you want to tell them now?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, David. This isn’t happening, and you know it. So, why don’t you stop being so dramatic, and realize that you aren’t ever going to take it off because you don’t want to take it off.”

With that, she turns, smirking to herself at Dave’s shocked expression as she moves to leave the room.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” The words end their discussion, or argument, or… whatever just happened.

He’s shocked, honestly. His blood boils with rage, with the need to prove her wrong. How could she be so fucking arrogant after all they’ve been through?

Dave looks back down when his phone lights up, the buzz drawing his attention. The notification alerts him of his upcoming conference call in thirty minutes, accompanied by an alert prompting him to swipe back to your Instagram account. You’d just made another post, one to your Instagram story, actually. Apparently, you’d gone to Florida for spring break with a few of your teammates last spring.

“Fuck,” he whispers, glancing over at his watch to check the time. Twenty minutes.

Without another thought, he reaches down, quickly moving to unbuckle his belt. Regardless of his more than unpleasant interaction with Carol, he’s still half-hard. He can thank his two hours of edging for that. The only thing that stops him though, is his ring.

It’s almost too easy for him to slip it off, swiftly pulling out his top drawer and dropping it inside. With a hard slam, he’s back on his phone, heart pounding in his chest. He’s never taken that ring off before, not it was put on his finger on their wedding day. But something about it feels incredibly freeing, like a massive weight has been lifted off of his chest.

He props his phone up in front of his computer, staring at the picture you’d posted on your story. You’re wearing a bikini in the photo, much more revealing than the one-piece he’d seen you in before. As soon as that thought pops into his head, so does the memory of you showing him your bare chest. His eyes momentarily close, re-opening when he lightly spits into his palm. He smears his saliva over his tip, his erection having fully returned. Dave watches himself do it, lips parting as he takes in the sight and feel of the liquid on his cock. Slowly, he places his fist over the top of it, sliding back his foreskin until he sees his tip peak out. Slippery pearls of liquid seep out, a deep feeling of arousal already growing at the base of his spine. And with the thought of your tits mere inches away from his face now roaming freely in his head, his eyes flicker back up to his phone, scanning your figure as he begins squeezing himself tighter.

It looks like your muscles have become more pronounced since this photo was taken. You did tell him how hard you had been working during the summer, after all. He thinks about that, about how your body looks when you move, how you’d look naked in his hands. He knows that if he ever got the chance, the first thing he’d touch would be your breasts. It took everything in him not to do it that day, trying to take your overt teasing like a man instead of giving into his needs like the teenage boy you’ve managed to bring out in him.

You looked so fucking soft, so velvety smooth, so valuable to his touch-starved body and mind. He’d cup them gently in his hands, weighing the shapely curves in his large palms. And then, he’d curl his fingers, really grabbing you the way he wants. When he does it, he imagines you’d moan, imagines that your lips would part slightly as your head tilts down to watch him do it. His thumbs would stroke over your nipples, the thought of it making him throb in his fist, continuing to pump himself at a rapid pace. Maybe you’d let him fuck them, let him sit up on your chest and place himself between your tits. You’d push them together and he’d lean forward, sliding in and out of the soft curves he already loves. He’d thrust against you, sliding in and out of the warm crevice your hands and chest create, your breaths pushing slightly against him with every pretty, little gasp.

It feels different, he didn’t think it would but it feels so much different. The cold metal of his ring no longer reminding him of his tie to Carol while he thought about you, the engraved lines it in no longer rubbing against the skin of his hand and cock. He feels like his own person right now, feels like he can do what he wants. Jesus Christ, he wants you.

He's already close, he can feel it. He imagines looking up into your eyes, his own roaming your beautiful face. He’d allow his sense of sight to indulge in you while his sense of touch was overwhelmed by your body. Grunting stiffly, head thrown back once again as he tries to keep himself quiet, he cums, mind teleporting himself to a place where his white spend littered your chest instead of his hand, a place where you’d open your mouth and lay out your tongue to catch any stray drops. You’d hold him there, moving yourself with him until he’s overstimulated and jerking above you at your touch, gasping out at the feeling, heart pounding in his chest as he watches you let him defile your beautiful chest.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dave’s jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck straining as he moans and whimpers at the touch of his hand.

But of course, it’s not really his hand, at least not in his head. Ever since he met you, he’s imagined every single touch on his body, every single pleasurable sensation he feels, every single joyous emotion in his mind, to be from you.

You decided to skip your classes today, and consider skipping practice, too. After spending the previous night with Anthony, you feel kind of gross. You were the one who reached out this time, just wanting some form of physical love and affection. Even though you’d found out that Dave was no longer married, or at least in an active relationship, you still felt bad. It’s none of your business, honestly, but even though they sleep in separate rooms, he still wears his ring. It’s still wrong. He’s also Molly’s dad and it’s just plain inappropriate for you to think of him that way. You needed to get your mind off of him, so you turned to Anthony. He can be a good distraction for your sometimes, at least for a night.

The reason you contemplate skipping practice is entirely different, though. You just don’t feel appreciated anymore. You’d been skipping out on Pom practice, too, because you didn’t feel appreciated there, either. It’s just gotten old, this constant expectation that you be absolutely perfect, all while receiving no words of affirmation or any kind of encouragement, no constructive criticism, nothing at all. It’s depressing, honestly, working so hard for a team just to have them shrug it off. You put your mind, body, and soul into these groups, working as hard as you can day in and day out, because you truly love them. But what’s a team, a family, if you don’t give your companions love?

Then, your phone buzzes, causing you to groan. You’d rather just ignore it, turn it on silent and hope the person goes away. You just want to be left alone. But inside, you know who it is, and you know she’ll never leave you alone. Hopefully she hasn’t found out about you and Anthony yet; she’d lose her shit.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you coming to practice?” Molly asks, her voice tinged with concern. “You don’t usually miss.”

“I don’t know, Goof.” You sigh, rolling onto your back and closing your eyes.

“Please? C’mon, it’ll be fun. I don’t know what’s going on but, maybe we can talk about it. You can come spend the night tonight if you’d like! You know I always love when you do.” She gives you a lighthearted laugh, one that makes you smile. “And anyways, we have that bonfire later tonight, too. Everyone will ask why you didn’t come.”

Okay, if there’s any reason to go to practice, it’s definitely to see her. So, you decide to go, your happiness returning at the prospect of seeing your best friend. And lucky for you, you’re still able to make it practice on time. Your coach, Amelia, didn’t give you any shit for not showing up early, either, which was a nice little cherry on top. Maybe practice wouldn’t be so bad after all.

If it weren’t for Molly, you wouldn’t even be on the team anymore. You are beyond sick of receiving this treatment. What you have to offer is valuable, and as much as you hate to admit it, it fucking hurts when that’s ignored. Your ego is bruised, your blood is boiling, and you have no idea what to do. You'd tried your best to stay, to stick it out through practice for Molly's sake, but your bitch of a coach made that impossible. She bitched you out as soon as you walked in, claiming that you being 5 minutes late was unacceptable. She even went as far as to say you’re becoming the weakest link on the team. This is the last straw for you. If they don't appreciate you, maybe you shouldn't be there at all.

Since you stormed out of the gym, you’ve been pacing the halls, waiting for practice to end so Molly can take you home. You’d promised her that, at least. Maybe staying the night at her place will be night, maybe it’ll help with your racing thoughts. It’ll be better than sitting alone in your apartment all weekend stewing in your own aggression.

You eventually find a bench, folding your legs as you sit atop it. You pull out your phone in an attempt to distract yourself, but it only causes you more strife. Anthony had sent you multiple messages throughout the day, asking to talk and for you to come back to his dorm after you both got done with practice. His next text makes you laugh.

He’d never made you cum, not in the two years you had (previously) been together. But whatever strokes his ego, I guess. You’re not sure how he thinks he’s made you do so, you’ve never even faked it. Honestly, his message makes you feel gross all over again. You really had to go to him, of all people? Why couldn’t you have just gone home to your vibrator instead? Using that felt better than Anthony did, anyway. Dave simply looking at you felt better than Anthony.

Jesus Christ, that really was exhilarating. He looked so fucking awe-struck when he saw you bare, his eyes could barely leave the sight. It was such a powerful moment, the two of you alone, him watching intently as you exposed yourself to him. When he licked his lips, when he’d breathe deeply in, and god, when he fucking moaned. It felt intoxicating, forcing that reaction out of him, watching a full-grown man nearly fall to his knees at the sight of your body. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter.

Your thoughts send a shiver up your spine, the heat between your legs now beginning to rise. Another occurrence that rarely happened around your ex. The memory of Dave alone was enough to rile you up, and before you know it, you’re imagining what he’d feel like. You find yourself missing the sight of him, your imagination not doing him justice. Maybe you could find a picture of him, maybe on one of Molly’s accounts or…

Does he have a social media account?

Immediately, your hands are back on your phone, swiping right past Anthony’s text and heading to Facebook. You type in Dave’s name, scrolling quickly through the results. Disappointment floods your system when you don’t find him, and you assume that if he doesn’t have a Facebook profile, he probably doesn’t have any social media accounts at all.

“Ugh,” you groan, resting your head back on the concrete wall.

Entertaining the thought of interacting with Dave on a more personal level is far too fun for you, far too fun. His hands look so big, would they be calloused and rough but soft with you? How would he handle you? Would he be gentle and go slow, or would he take what he wanted with passionate pleasure? Honestly, you’re hoping it’s the ladder…

“Hi,”

“Fuck,” you spit out, body jolting in the direction of that all too familiar voice.

Dave chuckles, hands sliding into his front pockets. You see him casually striding towards you from down the hall to your right, his silhouetted figure slowly approaching.

As soon as he saw you, he couldn’t stop his feet from moving. Like he’s seen before, you’re in your sports bra and sweats, an outfit that constantly toys with his mind. His thoughts dare him to rip it off, desperately wanting to see what’s underneath… again. He has to will himself to settle down as he approaches you, helpless to the movements of his eyes as they scan your body. He can already feel himself rising, the canvas of your skin too tempting to his incredibly intrigued mind. He thinks back to the situation he’d imagined you in earlier today, letting him glide over your curves, his cum littering your nipples and skin.

Fuck, stop it.

“Did I scare you?” he asks, briefly biting his lip as he fights off his rapidly rising erection.

“A little,” you huff out, laughing lightly.

You hadn’t realized how much time had passed. You also didn’t expect to see him here in the fieldhouse. You’d assumed you and Molly would meet him in the parking lot, or maybe even her mom. But you know you’d hoped it would be him.

“Sorry,” he sighs. “I like to get here early. Never know when you guys will come out. Practice already done?”

“Oh, uh no… not yet.”

He gives you a questioning look, tiling his head slightly to the side. Something about the moment seems… tender. The last time you saw him was when you wandered upstairs to find more blankets, and the time before that was… incredibly riveting. You each became so breathless and enticed at the sight of one another, your pulses shooting through the roof and your hands didn’t even touch.

“I decided to skip today, but um, Molly’s in there. She invited me over so…” you shrug, glancing down at your hands. “Thought I’d hang around ‘till she got out. Is, is that okay?”

Dave’s brows raise with intrigue, but he quickly relaxes his face. “Yeah, of course.”

He thought Molly would invite you over; she’d mentioned something along the lines of it earlier this morning. Of course, his pulse thumped with excitement when she said it, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Because edging himself for two hours to the thought of you wasn’t getting his hopes up.

He smiles, shifting his weight to lean against the wall. Your body sits so nicely along that bench, appearing strong and tall, even though you’re shorter than average. He inhales a deep breath, watching as you peer down at your phone. He thinks you’re just passing the time but it’s really to calm your nerves, to distract your mind. But you couldn’t do that even when he wasn’t here, so how the hell are you supposed to do that now?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he says, his deep voice pulling you into a trance. “Why’d you skip practice today?”

You contemplate telling him the truth, but you’re not sure if he wants to hear about your drama. So, you decide to keep it short.

“Just haven’t been enjoying it as much lately.”

“Cheer?” he asks, furrowing his brow. He’s seen you on the sidelines, he knows how good you are. You seem to enjoy it, too. He’s not sure why you’ve had this sudden change of heart.

“No, I like cheer. I’ve done it too long not to like it.” you huff out a laugh, setting your phone down on the bench to twiddle with your thumbs. “It’s just… not the same, I guess.”

“Since Molly came?”

“No!” your head shoots up. “Hell no, she’s practically the only thing keeping me here. It’s everyone else that annoys me.”

“You’re not a people-person, huh?” Dave inquires, an amused grin on his face.

“Not really.” You smile, though you’re not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because his is so infectious.

“Neither am I.” he admits, grin growing wider. “But I don’t think you should quit; you’re good.”

Your eyes don’t leave his as he says it, your heart fluttering wildly inside. The praise nearly makes you melt, words you’ve been dying to hear.

Dave thinks back to when he first saw you, walking out of the locker rooms and then stretching out on the field. You captured his attention right away and have held it tight in your grasp since the moment your eyes locked, whether you realize it or not.

“I really like the way you move.” Dave confesses, mind lost in the memory of your first meeting before quickly fumbling over his words. “I, I mean, the way – the way you dance.”

You smirk at him, watching him as your silence prompts him to become even more flustered. His eyes briefly avert your own, quickly clearing his throat.

“Thank you, Mr. York.”

Mr. York. That certainly sends a tingle up his spine. Little does he know it has the same effect on you. The tension you so often feel when around the other begins to return, along with your confidence. Immediately, your mind returns to that night…

“Do you…” you breathe out, adrenaline shooting through your chest as you feel yourself become bold. “Like how I look?”

Dave’s lips part slightly at your words, his face expressing slight shock. He sees you smirk, sees the game that you’re playing.

“Maybe… I could show you again?”

He folds his arms over his chest at this, licking his lower lip with a grin. But before he gets the chance to respond, a flurry of voices fill the air. Each of you jump at the sudden noise, heads turning to see the gymnasium doors swing open as your team’s practice finally comes to an end. When you see Molly, you stand, leaning down to grab your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

“Hey!” she smiles, walking over to you. “Oh, hey dad.” She then says, seeing Dave walk into view.

“Hey, honey.” Dave’s hands come out of his pockets, pulling her in for a hug. “How was practice?”

“Good,” she shrugs. “Tiring.”

Dave glances over at you out of the corner of his eye, watching as Molly says, “You still coming over?”

You think about the offer, think about seeing her and your teammates, think about sitting alone at home, think about your stupid coach and then you think about Dave.

“Hey,” Molly says again, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you confidently nod, forcing a smile on your face. Dave notices.

“Sweet! Is that okay, dad?”

“Absolutely.” He grins in return, watching his daughter become giddy at your plans of staying the night. And inside, Dave’s just as thrilled. Maybe he’ll get a chance to ask you what’s really wrong. And maybe he’ll get a chance to see you be bold once again.

Molly is the first to move, turning to walk out the front doors of the fieldhouse. You intend on following her, stepping forward but suddenly held in place by a firm hand on your shoulder. Dave’s large hand rests there, squeezing lightly as he walks up behind you. A wave of arousal washes over you when you hear his words, feel his breath against your face when he leans down to whisper into your ear.

“I’d like that.”

“Hi sweetie!” Carol greets, smiling happily at her eldest. She moves around the kitchen, striding over to the dining room to set the table.

“Hey mom, where’s Alice?”

“She’s upstairs in your room. Oh, hi honey!” she then says, noticing your arrival as you walk through the door.

“Hi Mrs. York,” you wave, feeling Dave’s footsteps behind yours. She doesn’t greet him, doesn’t even look at him.

“Molly, can you get your sister please? It’s time to eat.”

“I’m gonna go put my bag downstairs.” You tell her before she turns, each of you taking a separate flight of stairs.

Your feet patter down to the basement, tossing your bag on the couch you’d slept on last weekend. You could get used to sleeping down here, the space alone cozier than your entire apartment. When you turn to head back upstairs, you notice that the door to Dave’s office is open. You can’t help but look inside, eyes glancing up the stairs to make sure no one’s coming down so you can get a closer look.

You don’t go inside; you only walk up to the doorway. Gently, you place your hand on the knob, leaning further in to peer around the room. It looks pretty normal, a desk with a computer, an office chair, a couch off to the side. The only thing that catches your eye is a small, glimmering object poking out of his desk. It looks like it’s in a drawer on the other side…

“Oh shit,” you jump, spinning around.

Dave stands looming behind you, the sound of him clearing his throat scaring you shitless.

“I’m so sorry, I, I was just –”

“Looking in my office?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the act of being caught snooping making your pulse pound. His eyes scan you, noticing the slight change of your normally steady chest. You nibble on your lip, the nervous quirk making him grin. The almost wicked smile on his lips only furthers your nerves, eyes dropping to the ground. He takes your snooping as a sign of interest, which is entirely true. You must be quite curious about him and his life to wander into his space like this.

He chuckles. “I’m just grabbing my phone.”

Dave steps forward, his hand resting atop your shoulder. You jump at the touch, immediately moving aside. You can be so shy sometimes, and he finds himself liking that.

When he walks inside, he hears you scurry up the stairs, his smirk only growing. But his attention is pulled away from you when he notices that the top drawer of his desk is slightly open. You never came inside, so you couldn’t have opened it. Immediately, he pulls it open, wondering what prevented the drawer from closing. Apparently, he’d been in such a rush taking his ring off earlier this morning that when he threw it in the drawer, it got jammed in the side. He takes it out, twirling the golden band in his hand. Should he put it back on? The girls are home now, maybe he should.

Carol’s words echo in his mind as he slips it back on, frowning down at his hand.

By the time he makes up his mind and returns to the table, everyone is already eating. He feels a little left out when he sees this but finds himself thankful he missed out on the beginning of the meal once he finds out what’s being served.

“You’re not hungry?” Carol asks, and when he looks up, he finds her smiling smugly.

She’d managed to make one of the only meals he hates, mushroom strata. It’s a type of roasted salad, a recipe Carol had found online and decided to make a month or two ago. He’s never cared for mushrooms, one of the few vegetables he refuses to eat.

But Dave just shrugs, his own smirk forming as he picks up his glass. With his left hand, he lifts it to his lips, keeping Carol’s gaze and watching as her eyes widen at the realization. Her fingers curl around her fork, a small frown covering her mouth. He then briefly glances your way, making sure you’ve seen his little hint, too.

Molly and Alice continue to eat but you can feel the tension between their parents, your own eyes widening as you see his ringless hand. Your anxiety rises when you see him move, unbuttoning his sleeve and rolling them up his arms. The muscles in his forearms are visible now, twisting beneath his skin as his fingers move.

You notice he doesn’t eat, doesn’t even put the food on his plate. He only flips out his phone, scrolling through something on the screen. You don’t feel incredibly hungry at the moment either, so you reach forward to take a sip of water instead. When you do so, you shuffle your feet, suddenly stumbling across Dave’s much larger, sock-covered foot.

“You okay?” Molly asks, furrowing her brows as she hears you cough.

Her dad chuckles at your response, glancing up from his phone upon hearing your reaction. He felt your foot move across his before quickly twitching away, but his remained still, enjoying the subtle touch.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I’m fine.” You wave her off, your skin shivering with goosebumps.

When you turn your head, you find Dave staring, an overt grin on his face. It makes your cheeks flush, his stare unwavering. He looks at you with admiration, with intrigue. You wonder what’s going on behind his head.

You turn your focus to your food, at least, outwardly. Internally, you focus on Dave, eyeing him from your peripheral. He didn’t move his foot when yours slid over… did he mind?

As dinner wraps up, the girls become more vocal, detailing on school and work but it’s nothing but background noise for you both. Your senses are tuned to one another, listening to the other’s breaths, watching the other move. At the same time, you each become incredibly aware of just how close you are. He’s sitting at the head of the table, Carol at the other end. On one side sits Alice, taking a seat close to her mom. On the other side Molly sits beside their mother too, leaving you to sit between Molly and her dad. He’s so close you swear you could touch him, or he could touch you; he could grab your thigh if he wanted to. And he does want to, but not right now. Not with his family so close.

“David,” Carol says, drawing his attention as the girls stand to clear the table. “Are you listening to me?”

“What?” he says, having not heard a single word. He didn’t even know she was talking.

Carol scoffs, rolling her eyes. “She doesn’t have any clothes for tonight. Why don’t you drive her back to apartment so she can get her things?”

You hadn’t thought about it yet, but you didn’t really bring anything for the sleepover. Molly told you her dad had fixed the pool, so you’d need a suit, one a little more comfortable. You also need some clothes to sleep in, a change of clothes for tomorrow, and your phone charger, too.

“Um, uh… sure.” He nods, then turning to you. “How far away do you live?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Is he really going to get you alone?

Dave has to call out your name for you to snap out of it, quickly rambling off “about fifteen minutes” to him. Neither of you can seem to get a grip, not when the prospect of being alone together is so close.

“Okay,” he nods again. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

He’s conflicted about how he feels, a mix of excitement and anxiety flooding his system at the prospect of being alone with you again. Will you surprise him again? He’s seen you both strident and shy, and so far, he can’t predict which trait will come out when.

“I can um, I mean, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Dave shrugs, raising his hand before glancing down at his watch. Why did that make you so hot?

“Not a bother.” He answers simply, his nervous thoughts doing little to change his outward appearance. “Do you want to head out now?”

It’s all happening so fast you almost put yourself on autopilot, your mind running a mile a minute but your mouth simply responding with, “Sure.”

Your limbs tingle with nerves as you stand, walking over to the kitchen to place your dishes in the sink. Molly tells you to change into your suit when you get as she’ll likely already be in the pool. She also hands you your cheer bag, assuming you’ll use it to pack.

“I think everyone will be here around eight,” she says, referring to your team bonfire later in the night.

“We should get going then.” Dave smiles, gesturing for you to follow him out to the garage.

He feels eager to get you alone now, knowing you’ll be busy for most of the night. You’ve been quieter than usual, and he wants to find out why.

“Oh,” you stop, watching him open the Tesla door for you. He’d apparently drove you and Molly home in Carol’s car. He grabs a handle closer to the bottom of the car, lifting the door up instead of opening it to the side. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he lightly grunts out, walking over to his side. “Most people don’t know how it works.” He chuckles, sliding into his seat and watching as you reach up to close the door yourself once you’re in yours.

“I definitely wouldn’t have been able to figure that out on my own.” You return, laughing lightly as he begins pulling out of the driveway, the car now driving smoothly down the street. You buckle your seatbelt in, the top strap pressing between your breasts. For some reason, all of your anxiety leaves as soon as you settle in, feeling quite comfortable next to him.

“Do you have a car?” Dave inquires, keeping his eyes on the road. His right arm rests on the center console, his left remaining on the wheel. He figures silence would be awkward and thinks he won’t get distracted if he only hears your voice.

“I do; I have a black Jeep wrangler.” You explain, smiling to yourself. “It’s my pride and joy.”

“Really?” Dave asks, raising his brows. “I love those cars, especially the newer models. When I was younger, I wanted a wrangler, too. Never got one, though.”

“Well maybe I can let you drive it sometime.” You joke, turning to look at him as he drives.

No matter what you seem to tell yourself about him being Molly’s dad, your body seems to react in a different way. Your heart flutters in your chest at the sight of him, hand resting languidly on the console with the other on the wheel. He seems so much more relaxed now that he’s out of the house.

Your own forearm comes to rest on the console, too, only a hairsbreadth away from his. He can almost feel the electricity sizzling between your nearly touching skin, your bodies begging to connect. And maybe you feel it, too, because just as he thinks it, you lean in. Your skin brushes lightly against his, the movement accidental and making your heart leap into your throat.

“Oh, s – sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” He calmly responds, his own heart beginning to drum harder in his chest. He liked the light brush of your foot earlier, and he doesn’t mind the small touch of your arm, either.

Upon his reassurance, you relax a bit, letting your arm rest beside his, your skin just barley touching.

“I’d love to drive that Jeep of yours sometime.” He says, only slightly joking as he returns to your previous conversation. “It’d fulfil a lifelong dream of mine.”

Dave’s deeper chuckle makes the hairs on your skin rise, an exciting feeling washing through you. You like how his voice sounds, how deep and husky it is. You cross your legs at the familiar feeling building in your core, and Dave notices.

“Are you cold?”

“No, no I’m fine.” You stammer in response, smiling shyly to yourself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dave sees that pretty smile of yours. He turns his head slightly, eyes immediately dipping down to the skin he’s already seen. It took everything in him not to stare at your barely covered form while he sat through dinner, your sports bra and sweats still adorning your curves. The soft pants hug your hips, your bra holding your breasts snuggly together. The Tesla drives smoother than any other car he’d ever had, but for once, he wishes it didn’t. He’d do anything to see them bounce.

When Dave pulls up to your apartment complex and puts the car in park, you look over at him, lips parting when his eyes meet yours. You move to undo your seatbelt, nibbling on the corner of your lip. He’s beginning to like seeing that nervous trait. The word cute pops into his head when he tries to describe it.

“Um, I might be a minute. Is that okay?” you ask, turning to face him. Maybe… maybe you could invite him in, see if he’s bold enough to follow through on his word of wanting to see more.

“I need to pack a few things, but, I mean, you could come inside. If – if you want to.”

Jesus Christ, can you get a word out without sounding like a child?

Dave takes a breath when he hears your offer, steadying himself both inside and out. He’d been trained for years on how to handle his emotions and somehow, you’re bringing out every single one. It’s wildly attraction; he’s never been so influenced by another person before.

“Sure.” He finally agrees, still wanting to talk to you about what you’d told him before.

You smile, unsure of what you’d expected to hear but finding yourself happy with his response. He lets you lead him up the stairs once inside your building, taking note of his surroundings. He finds himself feeling more… involved. You’ve become quite close with his family, and now he knows where you live. Maybe he could find a reason to wander back over here again.

“I haven’t cleaned up much, I’m sorry.” You mumble, unlocking your door.

Dave raises a brow, interested to see what you mean. When he walks in, he scoffs, closing the door behind you.

“What?”

“What do you have to clean?” he asks, glancing around at your incredibly tidy home.

You shrug. “I don’t know,” your eyes follow his, eventually landing on a bookshelf. “Think I need to dust.”

Your dad would’ve been ashamed at the sight of your home. He would’ve seen the dust, seen the two dishes you have in the sink and your unorganized Tupperware cupboard. But Dave isn’t your dad.

“You can sit on the couch if you like.” You offer with a smile. “I’ll try to be quick. Do you want anything to drink?”

Dave strides over, his walk confident and firm. “Take your time.” He sighs out, taking a seat in the center of the couch and resting an arm along the top of the cushions.

He asks for water, which you give before wandering down the hall. The atmosphere in here is… strange. It’s neutral, the opportunity for chaos and bliss entirely equal. How will this interaction go?

“What…” he mutters, leaning over to pick up a frame off the side table.

It’s a picture of you and another man, an older man, who he assumes is your dad. He’s a police officer offer from the looks of it. What confuses Dave is the name, your name. He’s fairly familiar with the officers in the area, the information useful for his job, and he’s never met this officer before.

“Oh, um,” your sudden presence makes his eyes dart up, but his nerves are quickly calmed by your comforting smile.

“That’s my dad.” You explain, arms carrying a pile of clothes.

He watches you sit down, laying the clothes out as you begin to fold them and place them inside your bag. You’re quite meticulous with it, focusing intently on each piece and setting it aside carefully.

“It’s sweet that you have a picture of him out here.” He says, sighing as he places it back on the table.

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “I’m glad someone thinks so.

“Are you guys close?” he then asks, admiring the picture. You look happy; he wishes he had a picture as nice as that with his daughters.

“Um, no.” you outwardly laugh. “He and my mom live out of state.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Well, that explains why he’s not familiar with the officer. “Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Georgia,” you explain, zipping up your bag. “My family and I were never really that close, always had problems. It was honestly refreshing to leave.”

He’s starting to realize that your strict cleaning regime and stringent internal tone are likely due to the relationship you have with your family. It makes him wonder, if you’re this harsh toward yourself, how harsh are they toward you?

“Oh, I’m sorry…” he says quietly, a look of sympathy on his face. He knew his relationship with his girls wasn’t great but at least he tries. You deserve someone that tries for you, too. “You know, every family has their problems.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just, my problems are caused from childhood trauma.” You force out a sarcastic, dry laugh.

You notice Dave’s finished his water, the glass sitting on the table beside him. With your dad’s strict voice in your head, you stand, intent on grabbing the glass and placing it in the sink right away.

“I wasn’t close with my dad, either.” he then says, and your heart beats at the confession.

He’s surprised he said that, extremely surprised. He feels more vulnerable in this moment now more than ever. Between your flirtatious actions, your nervous glances, and unsure touches, you should be nervous around each other, especially when alone. But you aren’t, you’re actually quite the opposite.

Dave is beginning to admire you so much more, his appreciation for you not only tied to your physical features, but now your character, too. It’s clear that you’ve worked hard to get to where you’re at, and you’ve done it all on your own. Instead of letting your past make you bitter and mean, you’ve used it to make yourself stronger, and he respects that. It’s more than he did.

“Really?” you softly ask, setting the glass back down and taking a seat beside him.

“Yeah,” he nods, sighing out and looking down at his hands. “It’s, it’s why I try so hard with Molly and Alice. Honestly, I feel like I should just stop.”

You wish your dad would’ve cared as much about you as Dave does about his girls. You’ve seen it, the effort he puts in and the rejection he faces. Molly ignores him when he comes to pick her up, Dave initiating any kind of conversation or hug. And even then, she does anything she can to walk away. Alice is the same. Last weekend, he’d offered to help her with her homework after the three of you came inside. Alice brushed him off and walked upstairs, claiming she’d rather ask her mom.

Your heart races in your chest, feeling an overwhelming desire to comfort him. After all, it’s what he did for you. Back in the fieldhouse, he’d given you comfort when you were feeling down. He praised you and reassured you, and it seems like he needs that, too.

“I used to think I was a really good dad.” He whispers, releasing a somber sigh. Dave shakes his head slightly, his words and movements prompting your hand to reach out.

The feeling of your hand on his thigh causes his head to jolt up, eyes immediately seeking yours. He finds your sympathetic face, beautiful even when sad. You look like a picture, a painting, you look like you can’t be real. You look so concerned; more emotion written on your face than he’s received in months.

“You…”

Your throat runs dry, swallowing before you continue. You need to say this, it’s clear he needs this. Maybe it’s what you need, too.

“You are.” You nod, glancing down at your hand on his thigh before your eyes return to his

They’re so deep, like you could dive right in and find out every detail about his world. He stares at you with such admiration, with such focus, his breaths now coming out unsteady.

“You’re a really good dad.”

Your own eyes flicker back and forth between his, your hand tightening slightly on his thigh. You shudder slightly at the feeling shooting up your spine, unsure of the effect your words had. It’s not right how he feels, it’s not right that he’s treated this way.

He doesn’t let himself register his thoughts, they’re too complicated to sort through in this moment. Maybe not necessarily complicated, but abundant. Full of emotion and disbelief, the hairs on his skin rising as his pulse pounds rapidly in his neck. His heart swells inside, the words he’s needed to hear for so many years finally being spoken. He tries so hard, puts so much effort in; it’s never realized by anyone.

Neither of you imagined this situation turning into something intimate and tender, something that would allow the two of you to actually connect. But in a way, it makes him want you more, it makes him yearn to be even closer to who you are.

His eyes move, dipping down to your lips, roaming your face, your expression so kind and understanding, but filled with something more. And before he realizes it, he leans in, curious as to what that something more is.

“Wh – wait,” you stumble over your words, trying to gather your bearings. You don’t take your hand off his thigh, and you don’t lean away. Is this what you think it is?

“Are you, are you trying t – to kiss me?”

Dave places his own hand over yours, his skin hot to the touch. You can see his chest inhale a heavy breath, moving closer until nose is barely an inch away, his tongue poking out to wet his lower lip.

“Do you want me to?”

Detailed Chapter Summary

Sleeping with your ex does little to take your mind off Dave. Carol seems to think their separation isn't happening, but Dave is sure of it, he was even before you came around.

After having a shit practice, you leave early, waiting for Molly to get out so you can ride home with her. In the meantime, Dave shows up, prompting you to open up about your current life stressors. And right before Molly shows up, the two of you mention the incident you had a few weeks ago in the basement.

Deciding to hangout and then spend the night, you realize you didn't pack any clothes. Upon Carol's request, David drives you to your apartment so you can gather your things. While there, you share your most intimate moment yet.

Chapter Four: I Want You To Stay

#oof #idk how to feel abt this #my best friend's dad series #mbfd series #Dave York #dave york and you #dave york and reader #dave york and female reader #dave york imagine #dave york smut #Dave York fluff #dave york fanfiction #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 imagine #the equalizer 2 smut #the equalizer 2 fanfiction

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softyoongiionly · 3 years

Text

chapstick

based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on.

Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship, jungkook has a man bun idk what else I could possibly want

Warnings: language, explicit smut (18+ only plz), oral (male receiving)

A/N: Hello yes, I am mess. I wrote this in like four hours and it’s unedited but wow wow wow wow I am GOING THROUGH it for Jungkook. Anywayz, I love u. here u go

Jungkook is in a bad mood today.

He’s been awake since 6am, he hasn’t eaten since mid-morning and, he’s been practicing for over 12 hours.

Worst of all, everyone else seems to be in a good mood.

It’s not that he hates when his hyung's are happy, it’s just that when you’re in a bad mood- sometimes the shriek of someone’s laughter can feel intrusive.

“Alright!” Hoseok’s voice hits the practice mirrors and with Jungkook feeling oversensitive, he cringes at the sound of it, “Let’s go again from the top!”

Jungkook sighs through his nose, stretching his sore back for a moment before getting back into formation.

“Jungkook-ah! Push a little harder in the second half ok?!”

Hoseok is in dance-mode and therefore he has no idea how loud he’s being.

Jungkook purses his lips and nods, taking a deep breath before shaking out his hands.

“Yah! Jungkook?” Hoseok calls, facing the mirror, his eyes searching for Jungkook at the back of the practice room.

“Yeh.” He grunts, barely looking up from the floor.

“Did you hear me?”

He nods, his hands fumbling around in the pockets of his sweatpants, “Push harder in the second half...”

The rest of the boys seem unphased by his uninterested demeanor. They are no stranger to exhaustion.

“Alright- let’s go.”

For what feels like the 100th time today, Jungkook moves through the routine as if it were second nature. The movements feel robotic and the muscles in his arms are beginning to turn to Jell-O. The strands of his hair are covered with sweat and, he’s thankful for his newly procured undercut for lessening the amount of heat he’d normally feel after working out this long.

He feels gross though.

Normally, he enjoys working this hard but today he isn’t feeling it. In fact, the strain between his brows is getting a little painful as he really tries his best not to frown.

The new choreography is intense and as much he likes the challenge- after the 100th time of running through it, he’s starting to get frustrated.

Panting through his nose, he holds his position at the end of the routine before Hoseok finally calls it.

“Yahhhh! That was a lot better huh? You guys did good.” He praises, clapping his hands, “Now go get some water and then we’ll run it again...”

Jungkook sighs hopelessly, letting his head fall back on his shoulders. He cringes at the feeling of sweat collecting on his skin, wanting nothing more than to make it back home to his shower.

Amongst other things...

Grabbing a bottle of water off of the table, Jungkook has to work very hard not to crush the bottle in his hands as he eagerly gulps down what he can. He finishes the bottle in record time and as he reaches for a second one, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check it.

Tweety: hiii I hope you’re having a good day! Do you want to takeout tonight? I got caught up at the school and, I didn’t pull anything out.

Jungkook feels his tight chest loosen up a bit as he sees your text come through.

You made a comment one day that he ‘gives off bugs bunny vibes’ and he responded by comparing you to Tweety bird.

Needless to say, the nicknames are dumb but you guys think they’re cute.

Bugs: takeout sounds good. I’ll be there late tonight though :/ I hope you had a good day too. Miss u.

Jungkook has just enough time to respond to you before he is wincing at the sound of Hoseok corralling everyone back to the practice floor.

Again, again, again, again, and again...

He’s so tired by the end of the circuit that he’s starting to feel throbbing in his temples. Headaches are a common side effect of over-exertion and just as he is getting ready to beg to go home, they are calling it.

“Ok ok- good job! You’ve worked hard everyone. Let’s rest for a day and then resume on Sunday.”

Jungkook feels his entire body deflate with relief at the last words parading out of Hoseok’s mouth.

His day is finally over.

He reminds himself to never wear new boots to rehearsal again because he can’t feel the tips of his toes and his fairly certain there are blisters on the of his ankles.

“Are you riding with me?” Jimin asks him on the way out of the practice room, his voice decorated with exhaustion.

Jungkook doesn’t fully pay attention to his question, his eyes already trained on his phone.

“No, I’m getting my own car.”

Jimin looks confused for a moment before a small smirk comes over his face.

“Are going to see her?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond quick enough, his mouth parted slightly as he types out his message to you.

“Aren’t you worried what people are going to think? You’re over there a lot...”

Jimin isn’t being judgmental with his questioning and Jungkook knows this. He can hear the genuine concern in his voice and understands that his hyung is merely looking out for him.

“I don’t really care what people think anymore.” He answers honestly, ensuring that he keeps his tone as polite as possible.

Jungkook’s had to worry about the opinions of others since he was 15. As grateful as he is for his career, he is growing tired of being unable to make his own decisions. His gaze hones in on the tattoos covering his fingers and forearms and remembers a time not too long ago where he was required to hide them. Putting a band aids on his own self-expression didn’t feel good and he sort of promised himself that he wouldn’t allow the expectations of others to stop him from doing what he wanted.

Or seeing who he wanted...

“You’re getting bolder with age.” Jimin notes, somewhat proudly as his eyes flicker over to him, “You really like her, don’t you?”

Tweety: miss u toooooo. I ordered ramen

Bugs: I just got out. I should be there in 20 minutes. I’m so hungry

Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up at Jimin’s question and rather than answer him, he just kind of shrugs, his mouth turned up in a small smirk.

“Yah, don’t hold out on me-”Jimin bumps his shoulder, tilting his head in an attempt to get him to look his way, “We’ve known each other for how long?”

Jungkook slips his phone back into his pocket and adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“I think the answer is obvious hyung.”

Jimin rolls his eyes playfully, “If it’s so obvious then why don’t you just say it.”

The two of them lean against the wall of the lobby, waiting on a notification from their drivers that they are outside.

Jungkook bites his lip, in an attempt to reign in the grin that threatens his face.

“I like her.”

Laughter trickles out of Jimin’s lips as he bumps his shoulder, “Why are you shy all of the sudden? Is there something else I don’t know?”

Yes.

There was something else Jimin didn’t know.

Jungkook hasn’t told a single soul since it happened.

He’s so incredibly private and after meeting you, he only has more of an urge to keep things to himself.

“There’s nothing.” Jungkook mutters, his eyes eagerly looking checking his phone for the driver notification.

“You’re lying to me.” Jimin calls him out, “What is it?”

Jungkook shakes his head, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. He licks over his lips and immediately regrets the fact that he forgot his Chapstick.

How’s he supposed to kiss you, if his lips are chapped?

“Jungkook-ah, tell me-” Jimin whines, tugging on his sleeve.

He merely snickers finally and shrugs him off, shaking his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think I’m hiding something from you?”

“Because I’ve known you for almost ten years and I-” Jimin begins before a knowing smirk comes over his face, “Wait- you’ve slept with her haven’t you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen a bit, taken aback by his bold statement, “Someone’s going to hear you, why are you asking questions like this?”

His hyung giggles, deeply satisfied with his discovery, “You have, haven't you?”

Jungkook feels the threat of a smile come over his face again, “Why do you want to know? It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters-” He shoots him a pointed look, “Because we’re best friends? And I want to know. When did it happen?”

Jungkook is feeling a little bit bolder, unable to help the pride he feels that he was finally able to experience an intimate relationship, “Which time?”

Jimin’s eyes widen before he slaps Jungkook on the arm, “Which time??? You’ve done it more than once?”

“Shhh-” Jungkook whisper yells, his brow furrowing, “We’ve been seeing eachother for 6 months. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jimin chuckles this time, glancing behind him, “I just- I don’t know...it was your first time, wasn’t it? I just thought you’d make a bigger deal of it.”

He shrugs again, a smirk still lingering, “It was a big deal- to us. I thought you guys would just figure it out eventually.”

Ever the nosy one, Jimin slinks a little closer to him, a bit of mischief in his eyes, “It’s fun huh?”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, brushing him off playfully, “I thought I was supposed to be the youngest.”

Jimin ignores his comment and just looks at him expectantly.

Giving up on holding out, Jungkook finally gives him what he wants and replies.

“It was fun.”

Jimin offers his signature bit of laughter again but before he’s able to interrogate him any further, Jungkook finally gets the notification that his driver is here.

“I’ll see you Sunday, hyung.” Jungkook gives him a short wave before adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Jimin smirks and flutters his fingers in his direction, “Have fun.”

Jungkook just shakes his head, groaning to himself as he finally leaves the building.

Slumping into his seat, he shuts his eyes for a moment and tries his best not to fall asleep. Thankfully, his desire to eat his weight in ramen paired with his desire to see you keeps him from passing out.

You and Jungkook have been together for a while now and although the initial nerves surrounding seeing him have lessened slightly, you still want to look good for him. Thankfully for you, when it comes to impressing your boyfriend- less is more.

Slowly but surely, he has revealed his preferences to you but they have slipped out casually. He doesn’t ever want you to feel like you have to look a certain way for him.

But you do know he likes black.

And you do know he likes when you wear oversized pieces.

The harsh bit of winter also makes dressing in gigantic hoodies and thick socks a lot easier anyhow.

So you opt for something along the lines of cute but comfy and tend to your hair the easiest way you know how.

Jungkook also loves it when you don’t wear any makeup. But he’s never told you directly, you’ve just figured out based on the way he gets all starry eyed every time you wash your face at night.

The ramen is all set up in the living room and you’ve got one of the Christmas movies the two of you started the other day, ready to play.

By the time you hear a knock at your door, everything is ready for a cozy Friday night with your boyfriend.

Upon opening your door, you are met with the sight of Jungkook- sweaty, soft and slightly sleepy standing there in all of his glory. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a big white t-shirt, his hair tied up messily atop his head. Along with the smell of sweat, you can faintly make out the remnants of his cologne and it stirs something deep inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes scan over you briefly, offering a small smile as he leans in to peck your cheek, “Hiiii...”

He sings the greeting, patting your hips as he quickly steps into your apartment.

“Hello,” You sing back, giggling a bit, “Did you guys just now finish up practicing? Didn’t you start at like 7?”

Jungkook winces as he begins slipping off his big clunky boots, leaning back against your front door, “Yeah. I really thought they were trying to kill me- I did the new dance so many times, I lost count.”

Pouting your lips, you take his bag off his shoulder and hang it up on your coat rack.

“I’m so sorry.” You murmur, shaking your head, “Did they give you tomorrow off at least?”

At this, Jungkook grins, nodding as he does, “Yeah, I was going to ask you what you were doing tomorrow cause I thought maybe you’d want to hang out. Our night was supposed to start a lot earlier...”

He looks regretful and even slightly annoyed.

He’s been having this issue a lot lately where his prior obligations and engagements seem to mean nothing to his directors, which never used to be a big deal but, now that he has you in his life- he never wants to let you down.

“I’m free all day-” You reply happily, before narrowing your eyes at him, “I have one condition though-”

Jungkook looks intrigued, cocking his head as he steps forward, “What’s your condition?”

“I need one of these...” Pointing to your lips, you pucker them and make grabby hands at your boyfriend.

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he closes the space between you, “I just got here and you’re already using kisses as collateral now huh?” His voice gets a little lower and before you can reply, his gently places his lips on yours, sighing out through his nose as his flutter shut.

Once he starts kissing you, you aren’t really able to think of a coherent response. Leaning into him, you hum lightly in your throat, tucking your lips between his.

However, when you attempt to slide your hand up the exposed skin of his arm, he winces and pulls away.

Groaning, you can’t help but giggle, “I know- I know... ‘babe, I’m too sweaty. Let me just shower really quick and then I’ll promise, I'll kiss you so much better’...”

At your attempt to imitate his voice, Jungkook starts laughing- cute nose scrunched up with delight.

He kisses his teeth, “You know me too well. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook leans in again and kisses you on the cheek before disappearing into your bathroom moments later

After his showering, he comes out in a baggy t-shirt and some sweats, his hair freshly blow dried and piled up on his head in a messy bun.

He scarfs down his dinner in record time before the two of you settle back against the couch.

You can feel him looking at you as you giggle at the TV but he doesn’t let his eyes linger very long. He just kind of stares for a moment before simply tightening his grip around your shoulders. He feels so warm beside you that you seriously wonder how long you’ll be able to stay awake with him being the human equivalent of a weighted blanket.

When your laughter erupts again, Jungkook leans in to pop a kiss on your check, which broadens your smile that much more. It’s only for a moment before he turns back to the TV, seemingly satisfied with his actions. However, you decide to return the favor and smoosh your lips against his face, eliciting a snicker from his throat.

You snuggle into him more, grabbing his arm that’s resting on the couch beside you and wrapping it around so that his hand is resting your lap. Leaning your head against his chest, you slowly began tracing over the markings on his skin lightly brushing your nails against each unique line. Jungkook’s eyes are trained on the TV and despite his blank expression, you can see the goosebumps forming on his skin.

Regardless, you just keep going, allowing your fingertips to trace over the letters adorning his hand. Using your nails, you trace between each of his fingers, before interlocking them your own. Once you’re holding hands, Jungkook squeezes slightly, brushing his thumb along your skin which then prompts you to finally to turn to the side and look at him.

He grins softly, still not glancing your way but choosing to offer a playful comment instead, “You’re not watching the movie...”

You laugh softly, reaching out with your free hand and tilting his face towards you.

“We’ve watched this movie four times-” You retort, “Besides I’m pretty sure I remember you promising me that you’d kiss me properly once you were out of the shower.”

Jungkook’s grin broadens, his doe-eyes alight with defiance, “I’m pretty sure you promised yourself that for me- I don’t remember agreeing to it.”

You scoff in mock offense, “Damn ok. So it’s like that huh? I buy you ramen and yet this is how I’m treated. I’m calling the UN...”

Jungkook laughs a little harder now, the sound a little sharp but intensely endearing, “It’s that serious for you?”

Pouting, you nod, “It is that serious.” You’re about to say something else before you brush your thumb over his lips and notice the dryness there, “Did you remember to bring your chapstick today?”

He immediately sucks his lips between his teeth and given that his ability to speak is no compromsied he simply nods, his eyes wide with false innocence.

“Mhmmm.” He lies

“No you didn’t!” You exclaim, laughing a bit as you press your thumb against the thin line of his mouth, “Babe, it’s so cold outside- your lips are going to start cracking.”

Unfurling his lips, he lets his head fall back on his shoulders, “I know, I know-” He whines playfully before his head snaps back up to yours, the same glint remaining in his gaze, “You have some right?”

You roll your eyes, “You know that I do.”

He snickers, quickly leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Can I have some then?”

Playfully shoving him off, you rise from the couch and shake your head, “I’m giving you one to keep in your rehearsal bag,” You shuffle over to your bathroom, “You better use it!”

He laughs as he hears your demand echo down the hallway before calling back, “Hurry jagi! They are so dry- I can feel them! They are so close to cracking!”

Seconds later, your hurling one of your many lip balms into his lap which he catches just before it hits him.

“Put it on...” You demand pointedly and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I can-” He sighs dramatically, holding the lip balm out to you, “You have to do it- all of the moisture in my body is slowly fading away...my lips are trying to suck it all up.”

Giggling, you cross your arms, shaking your head, “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Y/N! Please!” Jungkook chokes out, “Before I waste away...the winter-” His eyes bug out of his head, as his hand clutches his chest, “the winter jagi- it's going to dry me out completely.”

Finally snapping, you grab the Chapstick out of his hands before asserting yourself into his lap. He laughs, resting his head against the couch cushions whilst his hands sneakily find their way to your hips.

“You’re so annoying...” You grumble, still giggling yourself as he puckers his lips dramatically.

“I’m only following your recommendations.” He insists, making kissy noises at you, “Balm me up baby.”

Uncapping the chapstick, you press your chest against his before starting to drag it over his lips. As you get to work on helping him, his mischievous gaze slowly softens until he’s looking up at you with stars in his eyes. Carefully, you make sure every inch of his mouth is covered with balm, paying special attention to the corners and his lower lip. As you finish up, you put the cap back on set on the couch cushion.

He rubs his lips together, humming in satisfaction.

You smirk, “Better?”

Jungkook nods his Adams’ apple bobbing in his throat as he feels you shift on his hips.

“Make sure.” He murmurs, puckering his lips, his eyes starting to swim with arousal.

You lean in, unable to refuse him before capturing his mouth in a kiss. Rotating your head, you slowly deepen the connection between your lips, drawing a sigh from the boy beneath you. You can feel his thumbs rub ever so gently against the back of your hips as he leans fully back so that your chest is resting on his.

He nudges your nose, allowing his tongue to brush against the bottom of your top lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. You accept him, licking along his tongue, a shiver running up your spine as he sucks slightly on the top of you.

Jungkook really is a filthy kisser but you’d never guess by just looking at him.

He’s quite sure his face is growing numb, his only focus on the way you’re making him feel and a somewhat annoying pain on the back of his head. His ponytail is digging against the wall, causing unnecessary discomfort to wash over him. Still kissing you, he reaches behind his head to pull the hair tie out, allowing his hair to fall freely around his face. You take the opportunity to slide your fingers between the strands, scratching gently at his scalp and causing a slightly shaky breath to leave his lips.

He loves when you play with his hair.

You use both hands now to tuck it behind his ear before using them to slide down the length of his arms. Finding his hands on your hips, you lace your fingers with his and bring them back up so they are pinned against either side of his head.

The making out didn’t get him fully hard but as soon as he feels his hands pinned against the head of the couch, he feels his dick twitch almost painfully in his sweatpants.

Smirking into his mouth, you delight in the sudden halt to his breathing. Subtly, he pushes his hips up a bit when you start kissing your way down his chin and throat. Jungkook summons all the resolve he has and goes perfectly still when you start placing soft kisses along the expanse of his throat. You feel the ache between your legs worsen when you feel his fingers tightening against yours. Jungkook is a very sensitive person, both emotionally and physically. Over the time you’ve become intimate, you’ve slowly uncovered all the little spots that drive him crazy.

And you’re determined to kiss every single one.

“You had a hard day huh?” You murmur sweetly, kissing up the right side of his neck.

All he does is nod, his eyes falling shut as he feels your lips getting closer to his earlobe.

Placing another kiss at his hairline, you slowly kiss along the bottom half of his ear before capturing it between your teeth.

His breath immediately leaves his lips in a shaky mess, his eyes squeezing together as the grip on your hands tightens.

“I think I should help you relax after you’ve worked so hard don’t you?”

He has no idea what you plan to do to him but, he honestly couldn’t give a fuck.

He’s too hard, too wound up and too into to you to ask any meaningful questions.

Jungkook merely nods, not trusting his vocal abilities at the moment as he waits for your next move.

A smirk comes across your face as you suckle lightly on his earlobe, knowing how much he likes it before using your lips to descend back down his neck.

You lean away from him to get a closer look at his expression. Smoothed out in pure pleasure but also tightening slightly at the discomfort brought on by his throbbing dick.

His eyes are still closed as you release your grip on his hands and he keeps them that way even as you move to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” You tease and he merely grins, shaking his head.

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

He doesn’t open them and instead allows a breathless bit of laughter to leave his lips, sound almost exasperated.

“I feel dizzy.”

His simple responses elicits another desire within you that intensifies your goal to make him feel good.

“In a good way?” You check, playfully pinching his stomach as you slowly pull up his t-shirt.

He goes back to nodding, his hands coming down to assist you with your task. His hair flops haphazardly as the material of his shirt messes with it. You take a moment to admire how incredibly beautiful he is when he settles back against the couch, your mouth going dry at the sight of him. Flushed face, pouted lips, defined muscles and hardened nipples lay before you, and you are a little unsure of where to put your lips first.

Although it doesn’t really matter, your destination is the same regardless.

Deciding on another spot that drives him crazy, you allow your fingers to brush along his ribs before leaning in to kiss over his defined chest. Jungkook’s hands are laying limp against the couch but when he feels your lips nearing his nipple, he turns them so they are able to grip the edge of the couch. Sucking his nipple into your mouth, you let you tongue rub against the peak of it. Jungkook sighs loudly from above you and you can’t help but smirk as he still doesn’t allow himself to moan.

It’s a quirk you’ve noticed and you feel like it’s likely left over from the long-discarded idea that Jungkook has regarding his masculinity. No matter how often you tell him that making noise is perfectly ok (and really hot) he still waits till he can’t help himself.

And to be honest, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy pushing him towards that point.

After you finish kissing his chest, you begin trailing your wet lips down the middle of torso, taking a moment to suck over the soft skin of his not so softly defined stomach.

“All those hours in the gym are really paying off-” You mumble against his skin, brushing your fingers over his abs, “You look so strong...”

At your compliment, his lips part, one side of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

“I wanna look good for you.”

It’s quite a ridiculous statement really.

Jungkook would look good no matter how many visible abs he had but you know he likes the praise none the less.

So you shower him with it.

“You always look good for me.” You assure him, kissing along the band of his sweatpants now, “I’m proud of you for working so hard.”

He grins a little more, leaving his eyes mostly close but allowing them to peak open a bit to watch you sink to your knees.

“Thank you.”

He swallows back the threat of hyperventilation as he feels you spread his legs, his eyes closing completely once again.

If you weren’t able to make out the sound of his breath picking up, the movement of us chest certainly would have given it away, his pecks heaving a bit as he tries to relax.

But as you begin gently massaging up his legs, Jungkook realizes relaxing might not be possible.

At least not at the moment...

He’s stained the seam of his sweatpants with precum which would upset him if it were any other substance but with his dick being so hard, he really can’t find himself to care about anything else.

Tucking your fingers beneath his sweatpants, you begin tugging them off of his hips, relieved that he isn’t wearing any underwear.

Jungkook takes another deep and shaky breath through his nose, tilting his head back again as he tries to center his thinking.

But you’re kind of driving him insane.

Starting at his knee, you kiss all the way up his inner thigh, taking in the scent of his body- indescribable and mouthwatering, just like him. You stop just before his dick before repeating your actions along the other leg.

Jungkook’s stomach is caving in at the teasing but he does absolutely nothing to urge you further.

He likes the torture.

“Is there anything you want me to do while I'm down here?”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip at your question, knowing that you’re going to make him ask for it but feeling shy regardless.

“Yes.” He breathes

You brush your fingertips over his balls, his hips only slightly twitching at the sensation.

He’s trying to stay calm, not wanting to get so ahead of himself he blows his load before you’ve even started.

“What is it that you want me to do?” You murmur, leaning in to breathe against his length.

You’re expecting him to stall and use every other word to ask for what he wants but instead, he surprises you.

“Suck on it...” He whispers, taking a deep breath before exhaling on the word, “...please.”

Smirking to yourself, you wrap a hand around him- feeling him throb within your grip before kitten licking over the tip of him. After ridding his dick of all the precum, you decide to end his descent into madness and suck him into your mouth.

You start slow, licking up and down the length of him, your core aching at the taste. Jungkook’s nails are digging into the couch cushions as he feels your movements, his teeth starting to chew on the inside of his bottom lip.

Bringing your hand into the mix, you guide a flexible grip up and down up, using your lips to suck on the tip of him, your tongue tracing the curves of his frenulum.

Jungkook’s lips part in awe as he feels the combination of moves on his dick, his toes curling against the shag carpet. He knows that his vision will be swimming but he wants to watch you so badly, he decides to finally open his eyes.

As he predicted, his vision is spotty and the dizziness he felt earlier is nothing compared to the way he feels now.

It all becomes irrelevant though when he locks eyes with you. Your boyfriends normally innocent gaze is completely glossed over with lust, his mouth hanging open as he stares down at you, the same smirk slowly returning to his lips.

Sucking off of him, you use your hand to jerk him off as you address him, “Does it feel good?”

He bites his lip, his face and chest decorated with the flush of arousal as he nods.

“Why are you so quiet then?”

For whatever reason, your question tickles him and drunken giggle bubbles up past his lips,

“’ss too good.” He explains, shaking his head at you, “I don’t know how to say anything...”

Logically, he understands that you aren’t talking about him necessarily saying anything but more so referring to the lack of noise he’s making. However, he knows very well that he’s going to be moaning for you soon, especially when your mouth returns to his dick a second time.

When he feels you palm his balls, his eyes fall shut again, his hips twitching all over the place when you resume both sucking and jerking him off.

Jungkook knows he’s biting his lip really hard when he starts to taste a bit of blood but he doesn’t care, the pleasure he’s experiencing overpowering any semblance of pain.

“Y/N” He whispers, “I’m getting really close.”

His warning makes you swoon because he sounds so desperate and yet he’s being considerate, not wanting to intrude your mouth with the taste of him.

Despite the fact that, that’s all you want.

You merely moan against his length, signaling for him to let go whenever he wants, your speed increasing all the while.

“Fuck...” He whispers again but the word sounds like it got caught in his throat, “Fuck...fuck...fuck.”

Hearing him swear makes the wet disaster in your shorts much worse but you wanna make him cum so badly, you ignore it completely. The sound of him nearing the edge is enough to take him all the way in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him harder.

Finally, he breaks- a whimpering skipping past his lips, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth. As much as you want him to moan for you, you don’t want to stop your motions long enough to tell him.

He throws his head back against the headrest, his eyes opening wide as he stares up at the ceiling in amazement. His body jerks as the first wave of his release hits your tongue and rope after rope, you swallow everything he gives you, sucking him through his orgasm and until the sensitivity becomes too much and he starts squirming beneath you.

You suck off of him, allowing his softening length to rest against his lower stomach, which is now trembling with his heavy breath.

Jungkook pants, still staring him at the ceiling and while he’s coming down, you kiss along his hips, letting him take his time. Whilst you’re kissing up his happy trail, one of his hands reaches out to brush over your face. Its then you notice that it’s clammy and a bit shaky so, you take a moment to press a kiss over his knuckles, trying to encourage him to look at you.

“You’re shaking.” You whisper and before you know it, you can hear that same drunken giggle coming from his lips again.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, a deep sense of amazement in his eyes as he laughs still, a bit delirious.

“Yeah well-” He shakes his head, still trying to get his wits about him, “You should have a talk with your mouth about that...”

You giggle now, resting your chin on your hand as you admire how fucked-out he looks. His hair is a mess and he is covered in a light layer of sweat and if you’re being honest, you really want to jump his bones all over again. But you know he needs a minute.

“I just wanted to help you relax.” You claim innocently to which he just shakes his head, gesturing for you to get on the couch.

“Come here.”

You scramble up towards him, sitting beside his exhausted body and before you know it, he’s pulling in for a kiss, his smile creeping back when he feels your lips.

“You’re amazing.”

He sounds silly but sincere all at once, kissing softly at your lips before nudging your nose.

You smile back into the kiss, mumbling something of the same nature to him.

The two of you kiss one another for a moment until Jungkook is pulling back, allowing his dark gaze to scan over your face, eyes suddenly full of determination.

“I think it’s time you relax too now, don’t you think?”

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joontopia · 3 years

Text

Teach Me | KNJ Oneshot

pairing: wolf hybrid!namjoon x human!female reader

genre: smut, slight angst, dashes of fluff, basically porn with a dollop of plot

au: hybrid au, roommates to lovers

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

word count: 6.6k

warnings: slight angst, some pining, first time sex, public sex, unprotected sex, biting, scratching, hickies, breast play, knotting, cum holding, cockwarming, slight breeding kink, size kink (joon got a big cock), fingering, oral (f. recieving), multiple orgasms

House Jincubus presents: Room of Restraints

AU Type: Hybrid AU

Theme: First Time Sex, Public Sex

Kinks: Biting, Scratching, Hickies, Breast Play, Knotting, Cum Holding, Cockwarming, Breeding Kink, Size Kink

a/n: Finished this just in time... Didn’t mean to go so long without posting anything but please accept this as an apology. Thank you, thank you, thank you to my soultwin @escapingreality4now for running to my aid when I hit multiple writing blocks with this piece. your support and wisdom saved me. you always know what I need to help me through before I even think of it and i love you. Also, big big thank you to @kimtaehyunq for looking over this last minute to help me make sure everything flows. you are awesome and i love you!

“What have I gotten myself into,” you think to yourself as you walk through your front door from packing up your car.

The loud sound of something large hitting a wall somewhere in your apartment greets you upon entry. You peer down the hallway towards the bedrooms, eyeing your roommate’s, Namjoon, closed door as you make your way to the kitchen. The moment your feet touch the tile of the kitchen, you stop in your tracks. Eyes growing wide at the mess of your countertops. Various amounts of Tupperware half filled with chopped up meat, fruits, and cheeses are scattered around the room, proving to be the aftermath of somebody’s abandoned attempt at meal prepping. Another loud bang comes from behind Namjoon’s door, startling you as you let out a sigh. You walk up the counter and start to organize the food into the containers in equal portions as your mind begins to wander.

It’s only been nine months since you and Namjoon moved in together. Being best friends throughout college, the both of you decided to stay in the city after graduation. Agreeing to move in together to help split the expensive cost of rent that came with living in the heart of the city. You thought the only thing you’d have to worry about is the secret crush you still harbored for him and if it would affect you being able to live together. How naive of you to think that would be the biggest issue.

Namjoon is a wolf hybrid. You’ve never lived with a hybrid before. It’s not that you regret the decision, you just wish you would have thought to research what it would be like to better prepare yourself. Especially for one who is about to go through their heat.

In the beginning, living with Namjoon was going great. The close quarters and seeing each other every day brought you two closer and it didn’t take long for you to feel as if your crush wasn’t so unrequited. Only a few weeks ago Namjoon was placing soft good morning kisses to the top of your head or resting his hand briefly on your waist as he brushed past you. But just as soon as it started, it all had stopped. You continue with your task of sorting the food as you think back to the day he told you what was going on.

2 weeks ago

“Joonie, what’s all this meat for?” You ask, a slight giggle to you tone as you walk back up to the shopping cart. Namjoon stands there with two stacks of meat in his hands, the muscles in his arms flexing as he places the items into the cart. His pointed ears perk up at the sound of you walking up to him. His tail wagging sheepishly as he blushes, dimple ghosting his cheek as he gives you a shy smile. You can’t help but inwardly swoon at how attractive he looks. The bangs of his dark brown hair falling into his face as he stands up straight.

“Well, uh… My heat is coming up. Need to make sure I have enough food to make it through,” he says, eyes on you as he watches you process the news.

“Ah.” You nod your head in response. Not sure why you are as it’s not like you fully understood. Being human, hybrid heats weren’t exactly your expertise. You take another step towards the cart, placing the bottle of laundry detergent you had gone to retrieve on top of the growing pile. You hear a small cough and look up at it’s owner. You notice Namjoon staring at the detergent bottle with furrowed brows.

“Did I get the wrong kind?” You ask, looking back down at the item. You could have sworn you grabbed the right brand. The smell of this detergent being one you would know instantly. The subtle woodsy fragrance being one you associate very much with Namjoon.

“No, it is the one I buy. It’s just, um…” Namjoon trails off, scratching the back of his head as you look back up at him. He averts his eyes, avoiding eye contact with you as he starts again. “I was actually going to grab a bottle of yours.”

He continues speaking before you can say anything, answering your unspoken question. “I was going to take it with me to the hybrid hotel. In case I started to miss you,” he mumbles shyly.

You feel your cheeks heat at the sentiment. A blooming warmth in your chest begins to grow only to be cut off by your mind fixating on the rest of his words. “Hybrid hotel?” you repeat, your brows furrowing in curiosity.

Namjoon shuffles slightly on his feet as his eyes finally meet yours. “It’s a place for hybrids to go during their heat. Where other hybrids can get together for, umm…” He pauses, clearing his throat as his face turns a darker shade of pink. “... for help.”

“Help?” you parrot back in confusion before your brows shoot up. Your mouth dropping open as you let out a soft ‘Oh’ in realization. “Oh! Right, okay. Uhh, yeah. I’ll just go swap them out then.” You rush out the last of your words, snatching the bottle from the cart and turning around. You practically run back to the laundry aisle, not giving Namjoon a chance to say anything more.

As you place the last bit of meat into the last container, you remember how hurt you felt. Still feel if you were being honest. You wonder if he ever thought about asking you for help. You’d consider it, even though you don’t know what all that would consist of being. You remember thinking it would be something more comfortable to go through in your own home. Maybe he chose the hotel because he didn’t want you around. This thought is what led you to make the choice that you did. Considering his reaction when you told him your plan, it only added to your realization of how sorely uneducated you are on hybrid heats.

1 week ago

“You don’t have to go to the hotel. You can stay here.” You didn’t mean to blurt it out, catching Namjoon off guard as soon as you got home after work. You just didn’t know how to bring it up and you’ve barely talked to him, let alone seen him, since the grocery trip a week ago. So when you walked into the apartment and saw him folding laundry on the couch, you acted without thinking.

You can tell you startled him at the slight jump of his shoulders. He turns to look at you. A look of surprise displays across his face as he replies, “You… you want me to stay?”

“Yeah. I figure it would be more comfortable than any hotel,” you explain, walking into the living room and sitting next to him on the couch. A mix of his woodsy detergent and another scent hitting you as you get closer.

He looks at you curiously, a twinkle of wariness in his eyes as he goes to fold the blanket in his hand. “Are you sure you’d be okay with me being here?”

You let out a small giggle as you give him a reassuring look. “Joon, this is your place, too. Why wouldn’t I be? I just figured I’d help anyway I can.”

His ears perk up as he takes in your words. Eyes wide in shock as he looks at you. Mouthing dropping open to speak, but you cut him off before he gets a chance. ”Which is why I’ll be staying elsewhere for the week,” you rush out. “I have a coworker who's dating a fox hybrid and she’s offered a place for me to stay.”

You watch as his pointed wolf ears fall just slightly as he looks away. His features darkening as he clenches his jaw, grabbing his folded laundry and placing them into the basket. “So, you won't be here,” he deduces from your words, placing the last piece of laundry into the basket.

“No,” you reply cautiously. “I figured you’d want your privacy? I didn’t want to get in your way in case…” In case you wanted to bring someone to help. You finish the sentence in your mind. The words cause an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Namjoon nods at your words, still looking at the basket in front of him. “Right,” he clips, grabbing the basket as he stands from the couch. “Well, thanks,” he mutters, his tone laced with annoyance as he walks past you. You get another small whiff of the other other scent coming from the laundry as he passes, identifying as the mystery scent as the lavender detergent you use. You watch as he walks down the hallway, still not looking at you as he slams his door, disappearing into his bedroom.

Another loud thud startles you, pulling you from your memory. You look down at the completed meal preps and let out another sigh. You make sure the lids are secure on the containers and begin to stack them in the fridge. You place the last container of food in the fridge and wipe down the counter. You inspect your t-shirt and jeans, making sure no food stains have found their way onto your attire, prompting for a wardrobe change. Having no other distraction to delay your departure to your coworker’s house, you decided now is as good as any time to hit the road.

Walking out of the kitchen, you stop in the hallway, looking back down towards Namjoon’s room. You figure it would be rude of you not to tell him you were leaving. You walk towards his door, raising a fist to knock when you hesitate. Wondering to yourself if he even wants you to say bye to him. You debate if you should ask him to give you a call should his heat end early. Or if he would like for you to call and check on him. Or even drop in to make sure he eats. “Oh god what if he has someone over?”

Before your mind could dwell too much on that thought, the door in front of you swings open, bringing you face to face with the tall, brown-haired hybrid. His ears pointing up in shock to see you standing there.

“Why are you just standing here?” He asks you as he holds open his door.

“I, umm,” you stammer, the sudden appearance of him catching you off guard. “I’m about to head out. Just wanted to tell you bye before I…” You trail off, taking in his appearance. He had a plain shirt and gym shorts on. Sweat is building on his hairline as you notice his breathes seemed slightly uneven. Your eyes trail down his arms, ogling at how noticeable buff they look, wondering if his upcoming heat has anything to do with how they look larger than usual. You catch the sight of his house keys in his hand and nod to them. “Are you going somewhere?”

He looks down and clears his throat. Taking a step forward around you and closing his door. “Uh, yeah. I forgot to settle something at the bookstore. Didn’t set for Jimin to have access to process payroll. It needs to be sent out while I’ll be gone,” he says, walking down the hallway to the front door.

You follow him, grabbing your keys from the kitchen counter as you pass by. “Do you want me to drive you and drop you back off? I don’t mind.”

“No, I got it. I’ll take my bike.” He grabs his jacket and reaches for the front door. You try to shake off the feeling that he doesn’t want to be around you and go to offer again.

“But, Joon it’s…” You’re cut off by the loud curse Namjoon lets out as he opens the door, taking in the state of the weather outside.

“It’s raining,” he finishes your sentence. The sound of raindrops hitting the pavement hard filling the brief silence that follows. He turns to look at you as he lets out a small huff. “Yeah, a ride would be appreciated. Thank you.”

You give him a soft smile as he holds the door open for you, closing it behind him as he follows you to your car.

The drive to the bookstore was silent. The rain drowns out any music playing from the radio during your short drive to Namjoon’s work. You pull up to the curb, parking right in front of the storefront to give Namjoon the shortest trek in the rain possible. He unbuckles his seatbelt, grabbing the door handle before he stops and turns to you. “You can come in if you want. I don’t know how long this will take me and it will probably be more comfortable than waiting out here.”

You give him a smile, nodding at him as you pull the keys out of the ignition. You both speed out of the car and towards the shop, managing your best to stay as dry as possible in the short distance. Locking your car, you follow Namjoon into the bookstore. Once inside, a warm, angelic voice greets you.

“Welcome to Cypher Bookstore! Oh, Namjoon! Didn’t expect to see you for another week,” the cute blonde male behind the front desk addresses your roommate, smiling when he notices you standing behind him and reaches out his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Jimin. Namjoon’s favorite employee. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re my only employee,” Namjoon grumbles as he walks around the counter towards the back office, stopping briefly as he turns and motions towards you. “This is my roommate, Y/N. I’ll be here for just a little bit. Forgot to do something before I left yesterday.”

You shake Jimin’s hand, giving him a smile as you see his eyes light up. A sudden realization forming in his mind as he looks at you. “OH, YN! I’ve heard so much about you,” he sing-songs, letting out a little chuckle as he notices the faint trace of confusion on your face. “You’re one of Joon’s favorite topics,” he whispers as he raises his hand to block his mouth. It was only for show, seeing as his volume was still loud enough for Namjoon to hear from the office. The wolf hybrid pops his head out of the open office door, interrupting Jimin before he could say anything else.

“Hey, Jimin. Why don’t you go take a quick lunch while I’m here? I can watch the store. We shouldn’t get very much traffic with this kind of weather.” By the way Namjoon glares at Jimin, you both can tell it was more than just a suggestion. Jimin gives Namjoon a thumbs up as he smiles, winking at you as he walks around the counter and heading towards the door.

“It was nice to finally put a face to a name. See ya!” You wave him bye as Jimin bounces out the door and into the rain. You watch as he disappears out of sight when you hear Namjoon call for you, turning to look at him from across the desk.

“You can take a look around if you want. I’ll just be in here if someone comes in or if, you know, you need anything,” he says, giving you a half smile. You nod your head, huffing out a small “okay” as you turn around, venturing into the small two story shop.

You roam around, taking in the numerous shelves of books, all sorted by what seemed to be genre and author. In the middle of the room, you notice an iron spiral staircase leading up to another section of the store. A loft area that would overlook the entire bookstore if it weren’t for the long curtain that blocked it off.

You walk up the staircase, entering into the cozy little section as you make it to the top. You notice only three bookcases in the small area. The rest of the space fitted with a table in the middle and a medium sized couch against the wall behind it. You figure it’s an area created for study groups or research. Your assessment is confirmed when you browse the loft’s reading contents. Various informational books and research journals line the shelves once again sorted by genre. Your eyes stop on the label marking the start of the ‘Hybrids’ section. Eyeing the titles, you find one that catches your attention. You reach for it without a thought as you read the name of the book in your mind. A-Z on Hybrid Heats. Flipping it open, you turn and walk around the table, sitting down on the couch as you stop on the page titled Heats.

Heats are a biological mating cycle all hybrids go through. Heats can last 4-7 days and begin with fever and increased pheromone production (see Pre-Heat).

You continue down the page, skimming the sections leading into information on heat triggers and heat suppressants. You come up on the section of breeding, reading through prevention options when your eyes stop on a word that catches your eye. Knotting. You flip to the page it points you to. Your eyes grow wide when you’re met with an anatomical picture of what knotting is. You continue on, taking in the brief explanations the book offers on knotting, marking, and various other terms. You knew heats were a time where a hybrids sex drive was high, but you had no idea it consisted of all this. You didn’t realize sex for a hybrid would be that much diffierent.

As you look back up at the anatomy diagrams, your mind wanders to the wolf hybrid just a floor below you. Is this what happens with him? Does it hurt? Has he ever marked or claimed anyone before? Surely not, as it seems like a one and done type of ordeal. You would know if he had someone in his life like that, wouldn’t you?

“Would he ever consider me?” you think to yourself, eyes closing as you picture what it would be like between you and Namjoon. Would he be rough? Would he be gentle? You begin to fantasize what it would feel like. Him buried to the hilt inside you, his knot growing as he grabs your chin. Moving your head to the side, exposing the bare canvas of your neck as his other hand roams over your body. Mumbles of how you belong to him and only him falling from his lips as he plants kisses across your body. The mental imagery causes you to squirm in your seat. You rub your thighs together, trying to find some relief as you feel your growing arousal start to leak from your core.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon’s voice comes out of nowhere, snapping you out of your day dream as you shoot up from your seat, the book dropping from your lap and onto the floor.

“S-sorry, I was just reading while I waited,” you stammer under his gaze. Feeling like a little kid caught looking at something they shouldn’t. You take a look at Namjoon, noticing how he was now drenched in sweat. The knuckles of his hands turning white as he holds onto the railing by the staircase. “Are you okay?”

“My heat,” he growls. The tone of his voice is an octave lower than usual, the deep rumbles of his baritone causing another slick of arousal to leak from you. Namjoon’s eyes flicker down to your groin before looking back up at your face. His eyes watch you hungrily as he speaks through clenched teeth. “It’s starting early.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod, bending down to grab the book you dropped off the floor. Trying your best to hide the cover as you walk around the table. Hoping he won’t see the title when you pass him. “Let me put this up and we’ll hurry and get you home. Namjoon?!?”

You barely make it past him when he reaches for your arm, snatching the book from your hands and glancing at the front cover. “Why are you reading this? He asks, a single brow quirking up in half amusement.

You reach for the book, letting out a small gasp of surprise when Namjoon stops you, catching your wrist with his free hand. “Answer me.”

“I was just reading to pass the time.” You can tell by the way his ears twitch that he could sense the lie in your words. He tosses the book to the side. A soft thud echoes in the small loft as it hits the ground. He starts walking you backwards into the room, hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“I can smell you, you know,” he drawls. Your eyes grow wide as you blink back at him. Cheeks heating with embarrassment as you immediately know what he’s referencing. “Is that what was getting you all worked up? Reading about my heat?”

You feel the back of your legs hit something solid. Placing your hand on the surface behind you, you realize it’s the table. “Why read that book?” he asks again, his dark orbs piercing into yours as he waits for your answer.

“I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, but considering his close proximity, you know he’s able to hear you. He eyes you carefully, moving his free hand to brace itself beside yours on the table. You notice the strain in his arm muscles. As if he was trying to hold himself back from you, despite how little of a distance there already was.

“Help,” he mimics. You notice one of his pupils is already half blown, something you think is a cause of his brewing heat. He leans in closer to you, his nose barely touching yours. “Like more than just giving me my privacy at home?”

You push yourself slightly off the table, trying to stand up a little straighter as you look the wolf hybrid in the eye. You take in a deep breath, replying to him with as much certainty in your tone as possible. “Yes. More than just giving you privacy.”

You barely register his growl before you feel his lips on yours. His mouth devouring you hungrily as you return his kisses. A small moan slips past your lips as his free hand cups your face, tilting it to the side as he traces small nips across your jawline, ending just by your ear.

“You know, I can teach you so much more than that little book,” he purrs. The insinuation of his words traveling down your body and straight into your core. Your hips grinding up into his out of instinct as he pulls away from you just slightly.

“I need to know you want this,” he says to you. Breathing heavily as he searches your face, looking for any traces of doubt.

“I want this, Joonie,” you answer him, moving your free hand to cup his face. You watch as his eyes flutter shut at your touch, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Teach me.”

The moment the words leave your lips, his eyes shoot open. His gaze full of hunger and lust as he no longer holds himself back. His lips come crashing back down on yours. He lets go of your face and wrist and reaches for the button of your jeans. You help him remove them, sliding them down your legs and kicking them off as he lifts you up. Sitting you down on the edge of the table as your legs wrap around him, drawing him in closer to you. He presses his hips into you, his growing bulge pushing right into your weeping, cloth covered core. Your panties, soaked from your arousal, were sticking to your skin as you grind your hips in him. Namjoon’s hands scour your body. He lets out a soft moan as he brushes his hand over your breast, giving one a soft squeeze as he trails his hands down to the hem of your shirt. He breaks the kiss, lifting your shirt up over your head, a soft groan of approval at the sight of your lace covered chest. You take the opportunity to do the same to his, tossing his shirt to the side before grabbing his shoulders and bringing him in for another kiss. He rips at the back of your bra, breaking the clasp as he tears the offensive fabric from your body. You find it hard for you to care, feeling his desperate need for you too much of a turn on to dwell about the ruined garment.

He lays you back on to the table, kissing down your body and stopping at your breasts along the way. He wraps his lips around a hardened bud, massaging the other between his thumb and finger tips. He sucks lightly, pulling off with a pop as you let out a soft moan. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he confesses, trailing kisses across your skin before circling your other nipple with his tongue. He takes it in between his teeth and gives it a small bite. You breathe in sharply from the sensation, gasping out your response as he starts to trail kisses further down your body, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“Me, too, Joonie. Wanted you for so long.” You take in another sharp breath as he moves his face between your legs, nudging your clit with his nose before moving your panties to the side. He runs his tongue up your slit, gathering your leaking juices on the tip before flicking it against your sensitive bud. He brings his tongue back into his mouth. A deep guttural growl resonating from his chest as he savors your taste. “All for me” he growls as he reaches for the top of your panties. Pulling them down your leg and tossing them to join the previously discarded clothing.

He leans back into your core, planting soft kisses around every part of you except where you wanted him most. He moves over to your thigh, giving the soft flesh a nibble before sucking on the skin leaving rose colored patches trailing back towards your center. You feel him place his fingers on either side of your entrance, splitting your lower lips apart as he makes a V with fingers. You let out a small whine, reaching down to find the top of his head and weave your fingers into his hair. “Joonie, please. No teasing,” you beg.

The breath from his chuckle tickles you as he leans back in, flicking your clit again with his tongue. “So needy for me,” he mumbles, taking your clit between his slips. A soft moan slips past your lips as he slowly begins to suck rolling his tongue around your swollen bud. You feel him gathering your wetness on his fingers, slipping two of his digits into your slick hole with ease. You arch your back, mouth dropping open at the stretch as he pumps into you, scissoring his fingers every other thrust. “Need to prep you quick. Can’t wait any longer, “ he huffs out between licks, inserting a third finger into you as he picks up his speed. You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands each time he brushes against the small patch of nerve inside of you. Your walls start to flutter around him, alerting you both of your oncoming orgasm. Namjoon continues with his pace as he wraps his lips once again around your sensitive bud. “Come for me,” he demands. The words are muffled but your body hears it, obeying him as if it knows nothing else. Your orgasm leaves your body quivering, your toes curling in as a high pitched whine falls from your mouth.

You feel Namjoon pull away from, a soft groan rolls through your chest from the loss of him inside of you. You look at him through hooded eyes as he stands, hovering over you as he sticks his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them of your release. Your eyes flicker down to his large bulge, watching as his other hand busying itself as he palms himself over his shorts. Leaning up on your elbows as you observe Namjoon’s every motion of dropping his boxer and shorts.

Your eyes grow wide the moment his impressively large, erect member is released from its clothed cage. He grabs a hold of himself, pumping his throbbing length as he moves closer to you. Namjoon is huge. You can’t help but not feel surprised considering the build of him. You feel your core begin to clench, your pussy crying to be filled by him. Your mouth starts to water, your tongue wanting so bad to lick the precum leaking from the mushroomed tip. “I want to taste you,” you purr, pushing yourself up off the table. A pout forming on your lips as he shakes his head, laying you back down as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Later baby,” he groans as he rubs his cock between your swollen lips. “I need to feel you.” He slowly starts to push in, catching your lips in an opened mouth kiss, swallowing every one of your moans. The feel of him stretching you open burns slightly, the sensation overridden by pleasure as Namjoon slips his hand between your bodies and rolls circles around your clit. You swear you could feel him in your stomach when he stops, still pleasuring your swollen bud as you adjust to the size of him. You want to tell him to move, breaking apart the kiss to do so when he speaks first.

“Just a little more baby. You think you can take in all of me?” He asks you, a shit eating grin splitting across his face as he notices the shock on your face.

“There’s still more of you?” You breathe out, peeking down in between your bodies at where you’re connected.

“Oh yes baby,” he coos, trailing kisses down your throat. “And it’s all for you.” Namjoon takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly as he pushes his remaining inches inside you. Your back arches, pushing your breast further into his face as he bottoms out. A deep groan rumbling through his chest as he starts grinding into you.

“Move, Joonie.” Those words were all Namjoon needed to start up his pace. The first few pumps were slow, his hips stuttering ever so slightly as you can tell he was trying to hold back, to ease you in. His control falters as you pull his face up to you from your breast, whispering “faster” into his ear as you wrap your arms around his back. Your nails anchor into his muscles as he unleashes at an unrelenting pace.

Namjoon pumps into you with fervor. The storm and your surroundings fading into an abyss as the small room is filled with the sound of your shared wanton moans. Each thrust pushes Namjoon deeper and deeper. His length makes it easy for him to hit you in all the right places. Your nails leave red welts on his back with every pass of his tip over the rough patch inside of you. By the occasional hiss that leaves Joon’s lips, you can only guess a few of your love marks broke skin. Very soon, you feel a warming sensation building inside of you again. You shut your eyes, trying to sooth your body to hold out just a little longer.

Just as you feel yourself near the edge, Namjoon slams into you, pausing his relentless onslaught as he lifts you up from the table. Your legs wrapping around his waist for balance. He starts walking you around the room. The accumulating sweat of your naked bodies causes you to slowly lose group. You slip from his grasps just a little, your nails clawing into his shoulders as you squeeze your legs tighter around him. The action makes your walls clench around Namjoon’s member, still buried to the hilt inside of you. The sensation causes Namjoon to stumble, groaning as he braces you up against the nearest bookcase. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he buries his face into the curve of your neck, nipping at your skin as he slowly grinds his hips up into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last much longer.”

You make your walls give him a playful squeeze, not able to help the giggle that escapes your lips as he pulls his face from your neck and glares at you. “Is that how you want to play?” He growls as he pushes you further against the bookcase, grabbing ahold of your waist as he reels his hips back. He pounds into you furiously, your head tilting back as your mouth drops open. You feel the warmth in your center resurfacing, growing fast as Namjoon bounces you harder on his dick.

You didn’t realize you had moved away from the bookcase until you feel the soft fabric of the couch hit your back. Namjoon lets out a soft grunt as he falls slightly on top of you, readjusting the two of you into a comfortable position in between each thrust. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck again, nipping along your collarbone as he transitions his movements into a slow grind. You feel like he’s holding himself back again and you silently hope you don’t ruin the mood with your next words. “You can mark me, Joonie. Only if you want to.”

You feel Namjoon’s hips pause as his shoulders tense under your arms. He leans up, wide eyed as he meets you face to face. “Y/N… You don’t know what you’re asking for. I mark you, I claim you. You’re mine forever.” He cups your face in his hands, his eyes watching you so intently, you feel as if he could peer into your soul. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes, Namjoon. I’ve only ever wanted you.” The look in Namjoon’s eyes turns feral as he dives down, taking your lips into a passionate kiss. His hips pull back, reigniting his pace with one hard thrust as he once again begins to pound into you. Releasing you from his kiss, he grabs your chin turning your face to the side as he whispers into your ear.

“All mine, huh? Pretty baby wants me to claim her? Want me to mark you? Mate you? Fill you up with my pups?” He continues to fucking into you as he insuates each point of his speech with hard thrusts. “You want me to pump you full of my cum? Fuck you until you’re good and pregnant?”

His words have your mind turning to mush. Thoughts of being his and only his taking over your every thought. A future where you bear his children. A future with him. You can hardly make out the words of agreement that fall from your lips as your entire body starts to tingle. Your walls begin to flutter, the subtle indication causing Namjoon to quicken his pace, helping you chase your release alongside his.

“Come with me baby.” Your mind barely registers Namjoons words as waves of euphoria flow through your body. The power of your orgasm minimizes the sudden stab of pain on your shoulder from where Namjoon’s canines pierce your skin from his bite. You feel his length twitch inside of you as spurts of his come fill you to the brim. Suddenly, you feel an uncomfortable pressure just past your entrance. The excessive stretching of your walls causes you to whine as you try to squirm free. Namjoon caresses the side of your face as he peppers kisses around his mark, whispering to you that it’s okay. You let your body relax as much as possible. The ringing in your ears subsides. The only sound you hear now is the mismatched heavy breathing between the two of you.

Namjoon places his arm next to your head, trying to prop himself up to keep as much of his body weight on top of you. He leans up just a bit, the movement causing his knot inside you to slightly tug at your entrance and you wince. Namjoon freezes before lowering himself back down a bit. “Sorry,” he huffs out in a chuckle. Kissing you on the lips as he rubs tiny circles with his thumb on your hip. “I know this can’t be comfortable, but it’ll go down soon.”

“It’s okay,” you breathe out, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck. “I can handle it. Anything for you.”

He smiles at your words, leaning in closer to you to rub the tip of his nose against yours as you smile back at him. You both lie there for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of being so full of him as his cock slowly softens inside of you. The feeling doesn’t last much longer as the realization of where you still are sinks in. “Um, how soon is soon though?” you ask. Your nerves make you feel suddenly very exposed under the fact that anyone could have walked in during your activities.

Namjoon leans back up and gives his hip a little test tug. With no signs of resistance, he continues to pull completely out of you. The both of you wince at the loss, you once more as you feel the mixtures of your releases starting to spill out of you. Namjoon catches the escaped fluids with his fingers, pushing it back inside of you. “Fuck, I need to get you back home,” he says as he moves off the couch, retrieving your discarded clothes and bringing them back to you. “Seeing you like this will definitely be something that could set off my heat again.”

You let out a giggle as you grab your panties, slipping them on before any more of his release tries to slip out. “We’re lucky Jimin didn’t get back early.”

As if on queue, you hear the front door chime, alerting you of someone’s arrival. “Hellooo! Joon Y/N? You guys still here?” Jimin’s voice trails up the stairs as you and Namjoon look at each other, eyes growing wide in panic. You both scramble to throw on the rest of your clothes. Barely getting the final pieces settled in place before Jimin’s blonde hair comes into sight. He stops at the top of the stairs, head cocking to the side in curiosity as he sees you and Namjoon standing awkwardly by the couch. Mischief twinkling in his eyes as he crosses his arms. “What have you guys been up to? Y/N, what’s that on your neck?”

You reach up to your shoulder, feeling part of the bite mark sticking out of your collar and pulling your shirt to cover the rest. Namjoon lets out an awkward cough, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the stairwell. “I was just showing Y/N around. But it’s time for us to go, see you in a week.”

You give Jimin a wave by as you follow Namjoon down the stairs. As you make it to the front door, you hear Jimin call down from the loft, “I hope you have a great vacation, Joon. Have fun you two.”

You see Namjoon’s cheeks flush pink as he pulls you faster out the door and towards your car, the weather taking a temporary break from the rain. Opening your car door for you, he waits for you to start to get in before tugging on your arm, bringing you back to standing in front of him. He pulls you in for a kiss, the both of you breaking into a smile before it ends. Oh yes. Fun you two will most definitely have.

#bangtansorciere #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btscreatorscorner #houseofddaeng #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #bangtaninn #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Nobody else — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hello! May I request number nine from the fluff prompts and number seven from the smut prompts for Five? Maybe where the reader is a super skilled fighter, and the other Hargreeves siblings can’t get over how amazing she is, but that causes Five to become a little jealous?”

“Okayy if you're not tired of Five and smuts yet, can I request 18,70,74 and 84 from smut list with fem reader?”

Fluff prompts:

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

Smut prompts:

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

18. “Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

70. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

74. “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you for requests💖 I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, dirty talk, bad words, fluff, fight, mention of death, jealousy.

— — — — —

People need each other to find support, comfort and understanding. Thomas Merton said: “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life alone, but with the other. ”

And as cliché as it was, it was the truth. And that is exactly what happened to you.

It was difficult to explain how many years you had already been killing for the commission. Ever since, maybe? You did not remember a time when that work was not part of your life, your routine, your system. But you could feel, vaguely like a hazy dream, that one day the act of breathing was ... light.

Killing without conscience brought many regrets, and the weight of guilt filled your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But you were good at that. God, you were very good. Maybe it was the endless years of training, your quick thinking, or the simple fact that you had a lot more physical stamina than the other agents. But, whatever it was, it helped you move up the board quickly.

Murdering with a gun was easy, quick, clean, and there were already many agents who did that job. For someone like you, so empowered, the commission has relocated you to more… arduous and dangerous missions.

Your job was to kill those whose gunshots could not show up at the necropsy. Someone who needed to die without the body revealing what had happened very well.

Shoot JFK? It wasn't with you.

End Hitler? It wasn't your job.

To kill Socrates with your bare hands and make everyone believe it was poison? This is where you came in.

The difference between the jobs was that you had to do the whole process. And a melee interaction instead of a weapon always brought people who wanted to fight for their lives. And that is why the commission chose you to do that, without any partner.

They elected you because you fought like a super soldier, focused on your goal like a robot, and never came back without success. It didn't matter how many fights you had to fight with your target, how many punches you had to throw and also take, or how many injuries you returned. You always won.

Over time, you learned things in practice, tricks that made it easy, scams that would save you effort. You learned to study each person in seconds, find their weaknesses, and use his own strength against them.

That's when you met Five Hargreeves. And Thomas Merton's quote made sense.

You two were so much similar. Both the best in their fields, wrecked in a sea of personal traumas, buried by a job that got the best of you two. You two felt misunderstood, alone in the vastness of that world. And when you two met... well, were no longer alone.

You two got involved, in all possible ways and ways. Loved each other, adored each other, and completed each other. Life went out of automatic mode, and for the first time in a long time, you two managed to breathe lightly. The food now tasted good, the heat of the sun on the skin was now better, and the world... the world was ruled by the red color of love.

So it became the most obvious and coherent decision to you two get married. Five could no longer imagine a life in which you did not exist, and you did not know how the world could go without him.

“I can't believe we did that!” You laughed, astonished, as you entered the apartment that you and Five shared.

You two had just married, something just for you two and the ceremonialist. You two chose something very intimate, reserved. And now the ring on him left hand looked like the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

Five laughed softly, hands moving up your arms, bringing you closer.

“We did. Wife.”

After that, your two contract with the commission changed. Five would only continue to do that if no one dared to touch a hair of yours, and you swore to The Handler that if someone did something to Five, you would destroy that place brick by brick.

Five saw in you a strong and atrocious ocean, which could swallow whole cities only with the force of its fury. And he liked that. He liked having someone as competent and firm as he was. Five liked to know that if there was a disaster, he would not be the only one who would go after a solution.

You were the type who knew that if you wanted things to happen, you had to do it with your bare hands. And Five loved it, because he felt understood. He carried so many responsibilities on his back that it was relieving to find someone who also felt the same things.

Five knew that, when him found way home, you were going with him. And you went. You two exchanged vows that would be together in joy and sadness, in any situation. And if the situation now said to go to 2019, well, you would.

“It makes me so sick, God!” Five heard you say when you two fell out of that blue portal he created.

He would have laughed if his muscles didn't hurt so much. For someone so trained you got sick of his powers very quickly.

"Five?!” And then the voice of one of the brothers was heard.

And that's how you two ended up there. A week later, in the Hargreeves' living room, with Diego swearing that you wouldn't be able to beat him in a fight.

Five laughed against the margarita's straw, sitting comfortably at the bar, giving up on telling his stupid brother that you had already killed much more dangerous people with your bare hands.

“I do not want to hurt you.” You smiled understandingly, and Klaus laughed.

“I bet 50 bucks that she beats your ass, Diego.” It was only logical that he was going to encourage his brother to fall.

“There is no way you can hurt me.” Diego guaranteed, getting up and starting to push the sofa away, making room for a fight.

“Are you up for it or are you scared?” He played with you, and Five laughter it back there, having a lot of fun.

“This is ridiculous, Diego.” Allison stressed, but it was obvious that she wanted to watch too.

You smirked, getting up from the bar chair next to Five. You didn't want to defeat your husband's brother in that fight, you understood that the circumstances between the two of you were not fair.

You were created to kill, injure and decimate. Body wrestling was your job and it wouldn't be fair to Diego. You knew, from Five, that the Hargreeves were created to be heroes. Saviors of the motherland. Hurt and kill if necessary, but don't make it a goal.

But not with you. Killing was your goal, always. And your weapon was not super powers or pistols, but the body itself.

“Okay.” You laughed and went to the circle that Diego had made “But I don't want to hurt you. The first one to fall to the ground loses.” You were trying to be peaceful.

Diego agreed, giving him a friendly smile before saying:

“But I will use my knives to distract you.”

It was logical that he wouldn't make it cheap and easy, even if it was for himself, you knew that.

So you agreed, took off the suit you were wearing and rolled up the sleeves of your white dress shirt, while the Hargeeves sat in a safe area, away from that makeshift ring.

Diego delivered the first blow, and you just deflected the trunk, taking him by the same arm and twisting it against his back. At that moment, if it was something for real, you would put more strength to break the bone, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you just released Diego with a little push forward.

Diego turned to face you again, the naughty smile on the face of someone who knows his own potential. He was very good, you knew that, but the different upbringing made you a better opponent.

This time, the blow came from below. It was a trip that you jumped while pulling on the fist he used to land another blow in the same second, forcing him to come forward with force while you deflecting once more. Diego staggered forward, steadying himself on the floor once again.

It was all absurdly fast, as if you were a robot. A machine programs for that.

Diego hurled the knife in the wind while attacking with his other fist. You dodged again, but this time you struck back, slamming a blow down the side of your stomach, blocking his attack with your other arm and unleashing a kick in the chest, which made Diego stagger backward.

In a matter of seconds, the knife was at the end of its course. And while Diego was advancing again, the wind that the knife was making hit your hair. But the knife didn't finish course. You stopped the blade with your hand, holding to the object with your palm.

At that moment, you saw Diego's eyes falter. And a surprised gasp by the Hargreeves graces the ambience. Then it was your turn to attack. You threw the knife on the floor, driving the blade into the wooden floor as you went.

There were punches, deflected blows, creeps. The two of you were dancing to an agitated song, which was reaching its climax.

Diego had holding you in him arms, and you turned your body, locked him left arm in your hands while you used the momentum to propel your legs up, past his neck and turning, taking you both to the floor. He fell on his back while you used your own momentum to balance yourself, standing upright.

“YES! YOU OWM ME 50 DOLLARS!" Klaus's voice was heard.

You laughed, and you were about to walk away when Diego dug his left hand into your heel. He pulled you in a single stroke, and it made you fall, your back hitting the ground as he took the lead. Diego put his legs on your hips the first second you fell on the floor, and he used his own strength to keep you there.

You laughed out loud, and so did he.

“This is cheating!” You scolded him, punching him in the chest.

“Whatever, but you had to fall too!”

Diego was a good loser, you recognized that by the intonation of the voice. He was not possessed or reviled because you won, but he wanted it to be an eye for an eye, even if only as a joke.

But as soon as Diego got up off you, holding your hand for you got up too, your eyes went to Five. And you found the green irises burning in an atrocious fire. You frowned, not understanding, but you didn't have time to go over there and ask what happened. Klaus and Luther came to you and Diego.

Klaus charging his brother and Luther asking you how you did that final blow.

“It's for me to use when he pisses me off!” Luther looked directly at his brother in a silent threat “ But he will not get up alive!”

“Fuck you” Diego said before practically shoving 50 dollars in Klaus's face.

“Is easy.” You replied Luther “I'll show you."

But while the brothers were having fun, marveling at you, Five burned in a visseral cholera.

Wasn't it enough for Diego to have literally been on top of you, you had to want to teach that stupid gorilla too ?!

Oh fucking no!

When Diego went to Luther and started explaining with you, him your side, how the scam worked, Five was exploding. Now that stupid men butcher knife would be on your side?! Agreeing and explaining whit you as if it were your husband?!

Wasn't it enough just fucking being on top of you?!

Definitely fuck not!

“Take it easy, buddy.” Klaus appeared beside him “You are looking at them as if you want to kill someone.”

Five just snarled, not bothering to respond, his eyes never leaving you.

“Wait..." Klaus looked better at who Five was staring “Are you jealous of Y/n ?!” He was amazed.

“Shut up!” Five forced himself to swallow a handful of margarita.

“Oh my God!” And he wouldn’t stop “You like her! That must be why you live in a bad mood! You must be in the friend zone! ”

“Didn't I tell you to shut up already ?!” Five looked deathly at his brother “And I'm not in the friend zone with her.”

But Five realized that he gaved too much information to his brother, because now Klaus's face was opening in a shocked smile.

Goddam!

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Klaus was loving the situation.

But, out of the corner of his eye, Five can see Diego holding your arm, showing Luther the place to deliver any stupid blow.

You gotta be fucking kidding!

“No, that girl is my wife!” Five tapped the margarita glass on the counter, teleporting to you and pushing Diego's hand off your arm, replacing his own.

“The show over!” He growled as he left the room, pulling you with him, your feet stumbling a few times before picking up the pace.

“Five!” You said, but he didn't seem to hear.

The image of Diego's legs at your fucking waist, the body sitting on you, the hand on your arm, rewound Five's mind like a curse. He felt his anger inflate, jealousy whispering in the back of his neck like a little devil, making him see the situation bigger than it really was.

You called him again, but for Five, it was like you called his brother's name. And then he exploded in his own fury.

He couldn't wait to go up all those stupid stairs, all those corridors, Five just pulled you against him, disappearing in the blue flash and reappearing in the his room.

“You are crazy?” You pulled the wrist out of his grip.

“I should be asking you that!” He said “Did you see that scene ?!”

“What a scene?” You frowned.

Five focused his eyes on you, in angry energy.

“Diego on top of you, fuck!" He snarled “Luther drooling like a dog on you!”

“Five.” You thought all that was absurd “They are your brothers!”

“You have no idea how much i don’t give a fuck!”

The situation was ridiculous, and you ended up laughing in disbelief and bewilderment.

“We were fighting!” You defended yourself "Nobody was drooling on me!"

“I swear to god tha ...” Five walked over to you, his eyes flooded with rage, his body enveloped in that intense and explosive energy.

You lifted chin to get a better look, your chest stuck to him, Five's breath hitting the top of your nose. That week had been full of emotions and issues to deal with, 24 hours being insufficient to do everything, explain everything. And, well, you and Five didn't have much time alone...

All of this compiled with the fact that your husband possessed the beauty of an angry god,and that excited you so fuck absurdly.

Suddenly, the air in the room became caustic, seething with the expectation of something improper happening, injecting heat into your chest that descended to the middle of your legs.

You sighed softly, and Five immediately noticed the waters where your thoughts were sailing.

“Does it turn you on?” His voice was hoars “See me angry?”

The sigh you gave was your whistleblower, your chest started to rise and fall more breathlessly than usual, your core starting to pulse. You wouldn't be able to say anything even your life would depended it, you drowning in the malicious and hot climate of that room, compiled with the absurd beauty and intensity of the adult in front of you.

God, you needed him!

“Yes, you like.” Five had an arrogant, boastful tone, mocking how sensitive you were.

But his eyes took on a more conscious tone, and he whispered as he said: "Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop. ”

Five knew his own limits, his own anger, his own strength. If he touched you now, in most simple, he wouldn't be able to stop. You agreed, hands moving gently up his body, resting on him hips.

“I will not be gentle.” Five wanted to you know again.

He had already fucked you hard, drowned in insatiable desire, marking your skin with slaps, hickeys. Five had already mistreated your mouth, made you scream. But never fucked you in anger. He never took his anger out on you. And now, submerged in jealousy, he knew how much strength he would discharge on you.

“I don't want it to be.” But you gave Five the go-ahead on a needy sigh, your fingers running around his waist.

Five dropped his mouth to your ear, tracing a path across your skin with warm lips, now bringing hands up to your skin, feeling how hot, needy you were.

“You're wet and I haven't even touched you yet.” His words hung over you like a warm warning of what was going to happen, what to expect.

You moaned softly, your body shivering, screaming for you to get more, seeking some friction, some contact. Then, as if Five read you thoughts, his left hand clung fiercely to the back of your neck, curling him fingers in your hair.

He forced you to look at him, watching the rage and the extraordinary lust.

“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Five left you brutally, telling you to take off all your clothes, watching all your movements while he got rid of the shirt himself. He left him tie beside the bed, sitting on the mattress and pulling you onto him lap as soon as you finally got naked. He fit thigh in the middle of your legs, making you sit on his thigh.

You groaned, the friction in the place you most wanted, the core pulsing against the dark cloth of him pants. You rummaged your hips for more than you wanted, but Five dropped his hand on your ass, releasing a loud, stinging slap. The groan was unable to be controlled, and you buried your face in the curve of him neck, sobbing there.

“You will be grateful for every slap I give you, do you understand?” He snarled, fingers tightening on your flesh, marking your skin.

You agreed, and thanked him when Five slapped your ass harder. This time, he moved him thigh beneath you, brushing your pulsating core, leaving you in an extremely needy state.

“Fi-five!" A sob escaped, followed by another thanks when a slap hit your in ass again.

Five's hands roughly grabbed your waist, holding you firmly in place as he started to rummage in him thigh, making you moan louder every second. That was torture. You pulsed and wet him thigh, your body rigid from wanting more of that friction, the sobs escaping your lips, the muscles contracted.

“Such a needy slut." He snarled in your ear “So desperate for my thigh.”

You groaned at him words, your fingers around him shoulders, squeezing there while Five took you so badly in him thigh. He dropped his mouth to your hot neck, pouring a hickey there before sighing hoarsely:

“The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

It sent electric currents to your swollen core, and moans got even bigger when Five increased the speed of his movements, rubbing your clitoris in those mind-boggling movements. His strong grip, compiled wheezing on his neck, his hoarse voice and the movements of his thigh took you to the limit. And you were pushed into that abyss of the climax.

“So fucking quickly.” Five delighted, in a groan, and stuck his hands on your back, holding you there, turning you in one movement to the bed.

Your back hit the mattress, Five’s warm hands roamed your legs, squeezing thighs and parting them, exposing your wet, red core at the climax. Five groaned loudly, as if seeing you hurt physically, and he took his hands off you to grab the tie next to you.

“Be good and open your mouth for me.” You obeyed, and he wiped the cloth over there, fastening his tie.

You sighed brokenly, your heart beating fast, breasts stiff and sore, your ass burning with slaps, core sensitive to climax.

“I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth." Five reflected, him hands roaming your trembling body, squeezing every bit of skin, reveling in how your skin felt at him touch.

Five reveled in the breath you took, enjoying how you looked like a fucking goddess like that. So vulnerable, so needy, so needy.

He was controlling himself until now, pushing you to the limit, making you sensitive, teasing you, making you sensitive to what was coming. Him smile was purely lustful, and Five leaned toward you, roughly sucking the nipple from your breast, nibbling at the needy skin. Then he brought hands up to his pants, opening his belt and zipper, pulling the pieces down far enough for his dick to pop out.

The moan you gave when you felt the hot, luscious member on your thigh was enough to inflate him ego even more. Five turned your body down, pulling your waist up, leaning into your ear to whisper:

“I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget that day.” Then he entered you, rough, strong, badly.

He forced your walls to get used to him size and sank to the bottom of the well, clutching his hands to your hips and pulling you against him dick. You screamed against the tie, pressing your fingers to the pillows, sobbing when Five set a fierce, wild and badly pace, mistreating every inch of you.

One of him hands went to your neck, closing his fingers there and pouring out all the fury and jealousy he felt in the thrusts, going in as deep as he could and pushing your limit. The pornographic sounds of the two of you moaning, the sound of his hip hitting your ass, invaded the room, mixing with the smell of sex, lust and hunger.

You shouted him name when Five left and brutally entered you, making you choke on your own sobs.

“What's it? Are you unaccustomed to my dick?” He tasted it, leaving your neck to slap your ass aggressively “Is it too much for you?”

You sobbed, stopped by the tie, and Five hit you again.

“Do you think someone can fuck you like me?!”

Now him voice was angry and his movements too. Five fucked you like he had spent his whole life in fury at you, waiting patiently for the day when he would discount everything on you. Him hand went to your mouth, pulling tie from there and releasing your toxic moans.

“Answer me, fuck!” One more slap, leaving your ass on fire.

“N-no!” You cried “Nobody ... no-nobody fucks me like you!”

You talks with a more thrust, and Five pushed your chest to the bed, keeping his hand on your back, him moans mixing with your.

Then he reached the peak of anger.

Five came out of you, turned you up and bent your legs, placing your knees on your shoulders. He entered in a brutal way inside you, the new position making him occupy all the minimum vacant spaces. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, your hands tightening on his arms, your heart already racing.

It was too much. Your body begged for more, for the climax, for the lust, for anything fierce that Five could give you. He dropped his mouth on yours, biting your bottom lip instead of kissing you, making you swallow his lines when he said:

“Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? ”

You desperately denied it. Five could very well come out of you and not let you come, and just that thought made your body tremble and tears flow.

“Plea-Please!” You sobbed “I beg you!”

That did things with Five. He stuck his body to your, him arm going around your waist and fucking you as if that could chase away all his anger. This time he kissed you, sticking his lips to yours as he felt you pulse around him and break up in a hushed scream, trembling at the climax.

Five did not falter, his black hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, his heart pounding. He cum strongly inside your core, filling you with hot cum. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as he came inside of you, slowly calming down.

The two of you sighed, the room flooding with the smell of sex and desire, your hearts thudding at the same pace. You whimpered in his mouth, and when Five want to leave inside you, you denied it, tightening your legs around him waist.

“N-No.” You moaned softly, "Stay inside, please."

Five drew air through his teeth, him hands gripping the sides of your body, stirring inside you, beginning to feel the lust rising.

He kissed you again, whispering:

“You want to have a child of mine, don't you?" It was an arrogant, provocative voice, and you sighed. “You are such a fucking sensitive little thing.”

Then Five started moving again, and you stayed in that room for much longer.

1K notes · View notes

xcertaindarkthingsx · 3 years

Text

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child. one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck. i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep. You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no. Not odd. More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it. It had been quiet and awkward the first few months. He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt). But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence. It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up. You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut. How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad. It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now. He shook his head.

“Not yet. I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease. Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Complications?”

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily. “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back. Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued. “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information. I came back for you and the kid first. I know you guys must be hungry.”

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you. “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town. It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender. Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion. On Mando’s end. Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you. “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“No. Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.

“Listen, Mando. This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.” The Weequay sighed. “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man. You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out. You were non-negotiable.

The bartender just shrugged. “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in. All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so. He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.

But Mando needed this, right? You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you. This was the least you could do for him. You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty. It was a lot of credits.

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself. “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room. “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.

The dress was too… everything. Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure. His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you. It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous. The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform. As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one. One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you. “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it. Good?

You gave him an exasperated look. “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid. You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this. And well, he tried. The whole way back to the ship, in fact. But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.

The reality was, Mando wanted you. He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception. And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get. He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him. And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mando. Everything will be fine.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The night had started well enough. After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside. He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you. You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze. The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose. Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him. His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business. The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention? You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours. Kriff, he had caught you staring. So much for subtle. Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering. With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was. An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche. You wanted to smack him for being so close.

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning. You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street. You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow. Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall. A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse. Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted. Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse. He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me. “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick. That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made. He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you. As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor. What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise. That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg. He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty. He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times. The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething. You could have sworn his hands were shaking.

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless. The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl. Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room. The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long. When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship. You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels. Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears. He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.

Worry bloomed in your chest. The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it. You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine. You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped. You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists. The tremble in his hands. Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me? I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine. “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways. Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red. But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.” He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly. Wh-why did he care so much? A lump had lodged itself into your throat. “Mando, I—I’m fine. Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure. “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again. You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work. Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel. The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream. You must have been freezing in that dress.

Your head snapped up at him. “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t believe this idiot.

“Mando, seriously?” Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him. “I promise you I’m fine, thank you. Really.” You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one. “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind. His lips twitched under the helmet. “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared. “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache. Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child. A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel. The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand. Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit. “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray. I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.” You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you. You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work. Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it. “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged. “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.” You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound. It could have been worse, but it was still very deep. An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk. “You got lucky. Any higher and this would be a lot messier.” You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching. Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position. You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use. The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle. “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake. “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor. It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered. You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat. “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft. He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap. You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh. You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do. And so, you went to work.

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him. “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg. A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips. His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself. In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working. The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle. But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place. Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up. How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out. “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.” Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit. The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand. Regret began to bubble up inside him. He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it. Your next words caught him off guard.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did. There was no question about it. You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise. He took a steadying breath before answering. “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care. “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up. He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face. “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage. “My name. It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation. He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate. How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear. His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable. Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face. “I like it.”

I do too, he thought. Especially when you say it. “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.” For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile. You were the first to break it.

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again. “No, I… I would protect you every single time. Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine. Instead, you tried to change the subject. “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person. A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips. “You need to teach more Mando’a. Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him. “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din. You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now. It was endearing. The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping. “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors. You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest. May as well be honest.

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.

Din tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why?”

You scoffed. “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”

Din was dumbfounded. Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache. How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy? That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself. Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be. I—you are absolutely stunning. Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh. The front of his pants tightened in reminder. “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.” He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames. “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words. It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now. You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him. Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone. It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants. Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath. “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it. “Use your words, cyar’ika. I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din. Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had. The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle. Desperate, but tender. Rough, but passionate and loving. The contrast was making your head spin.

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Make you mine?” He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach. He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that? Just like this?” You frantically bobbed your head. “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek. “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core. If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now. But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep. He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut. His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed. Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them. A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg. He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh. “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants. The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck. His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you. “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard. Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair. He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high. You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure. It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.

“Mesh’la,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself. You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly. He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body. You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name. He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm. A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow. You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor. “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear. “Just like I said.”

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs. “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured. You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission. “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat. He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you. Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants. You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room. “We’ve got a problem. I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel. “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee. You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing. Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed. “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing. His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #make you mine #certaindark writing #the mandalorian smut #smut #AHHHH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #IDK HOW TO TAG LOL #I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT IT’S FINE #din djarin x reader

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