#i do know her offical name is what
also like, full offense, superbug? the girl who came up with rena rouge chose superbug? like. okay. sure. whatever.
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every now and then ill see someone in the middle of applying to college/preparing to apply and want to offer to help them so badly
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[Where does the name Ren comes from ?]
[Excellent question, anon! I was HYPED seeing this in my inbox because no one has actually asked it before. It has finally come, the moment of truth to shatter all illusions. Without any further ado, let’s talk about where Ren’s name comes from~. As always, lengthy post under cut.
The name “Ren” is a very plain, gender-neutral Japanese name, which fits perfectly for her character. She has a low presence and is easily forgettable, so her name won’t be anything remarkable nor memorable like “Sakura” or “Natsuki”. Depending on the kanji you write it in, "Ren” can either mean “lotus/water lily” or “love”.
A lotus represents purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth: all concepts explored through Ren’s character during her time in Muken where she uncovers the truths about the Soul Society through interacting with Aizen, which ultimately changes her.
A lotus is the beautiful flower that grows from the filthiest water and submerges itself every night, returning to the mud only to rise to greet the sun come daytime. ALSO, did you know that a lotus flower seed can survive hundreds of years without water? There was a case where a seed was able to germinate after 2,000 years. Call its will to live stubborn or admirable; There’s no denying that the lotus is formidable, even if it grows from mud. It suits Ren well, doesn’t it? She’s the unwavering flower in the murky depths of Muken that rises to the challenge of overcoming the darkness to face Aizen, who is commonly compared to “the sun” by her.
Even though I don’t need to explore the second meaning of her name, I’ll go ahead and do so. “Love” refers to the sweeter aspects of her personality, specifically her sincerity, passion, and empathy. It’s also a tongue-in-cheek reference to a certain someone I’ll leave unmentioned. Whoever that is, though, could use a little love in Muken, don’t you think?
Let me break down the significance behind her surname as well. “Shirogane” and the kanji it is written with means “white steel/silver”. It sounds like a particularly elegant name, but, really, it’s a common Japanese surname, especially when you consider that she’s a shinigami who lives in the Soul Society. Consider how many people have that surname as well as “Hagane” (sword steel) and “Kurogane” (black steel). Just take a moment to pause and think about just how many of them are running around in the samurai afterlife, shaking their zanpakuto and such.
Put the two names together and you get Shirogane Ren, which means “white steel lotus” and “silver water lily”. It’s such a generic Japanese name, but it holds so much meaning when you apply it all to the context of her character. I’m rather proud of coming up with it.
Fun facts: Her name was almost Rin, but I decided that Rin was too popular of a name, and I came up with her surname long after her first name.
Also Ren rhymes with Aizen and Muken and just saying Aizen and Ren in Muken is SO satisfying and YES I KNOW it’s a terrible play on words but anyone who knows me or has read anything I’ve written knows I love my puns and wordplay.
There you have it, nonnie! That’s where Ren’s full name comes from. Thank you for sending in this ask and letting me talk about it!]
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oh my god.. everyone
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How does office hours work I understand nothing?? Like I can’t hear her talking with anybody in her office but there’s a list outside with people’s names on but nobody else is here should I knock? Should I cry?
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date: august 28
location: the cathedral -- rafaella’s office
status: closed to @rafaellacapulet
‘... if you speak in such a manner again I will remove you from our ranks as though you were an infection. I will cauterize your existent from us.’
Catherine can still hear her consigliere’s voice ringing in her ears. It’s much clearer now, much more terrifying and real now that the faeries have abandoned her and she’s no longer under their influence. How, she wonders, did it get so far? Within a blink of her azure eyes, the woman in front of her turned from from friend to foe, from a terribly beautiful wisp of a director to a terribly beautiful deity of vengeance.
‘You will see me tomorrow. At 10. Now go.’
10 PM has come far too quickly. In the span of the time from the trial to now, she’s only managed to clean herself up, sleep, and grab a quick bite to eat. Her body aches in protest at every movement, but she persists--she must, as she is still alive and well and certainly not as bad off as others. Always the proper lady, she knows better than to be late; she knows to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is unacceptable. This is why, still battered and broken and bruised from the event not even twenty-four hours ago, she trudges through the Cathedral’s hallway to the Capulet advisor’s office. Catherine self-consciously runs a gentle hand over her neck as though the touch of a fallen angel is enough to erase the grip-marks there.
She wishes it could, but she knows it cannot.
The littlest Daly makes it to the office, but the door is ajar, leaving room for the commotion inside to leak outwards. It causes Catherine’s breath to hitch and she freezes. Rafaella is a lion of a woman, yes, but she is also a lion with standards; such noises would not happen in her office, but rather in a less-prominent room to her. The sounds are it’s frighteningly close to the ones elicited while Grace and Regina fought, while Catherine herself and Grace fought. Though her frame makes itself heavy, makes it nearly impossible to move, practically begs against’s the saint’s mind to stay, stay, stay, loyalty propels her forward.
She pushes to door open to its fullest extent and steps in without permission or announcement--and for good reason, too, considering the God-awful sight she’s forced to take in.
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A black girl will be spending years in jail because she had a mental health crisis. PLEASE READ
Meet Saraya: she was experiencing a mental health crisis. Police came and tackled her. She is 15.
Saraya Rees is a 15 year old biracial girl from Coos County, Oregon. After being abruptly instructed to stop taking her antidepressants by a local pediatrician, Saraya went into psychosis. In her manic state, Saraya poured a small amount of gasoline on the floor. Her parents called Coos Health & Wellness in hope that that would send mental health advisors, Coos Health & Wellness sent the police. While still in psychosis, the officers arrested her, questioned her without her family or lawyers present, charged with attempted murder and assault, and sent her to juvenile prison for 11 years.
This is not justice.
This is inhumane.
WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP:
1. Call these people and demand that she be let go to the custody in her parents.
Please call Governor Kate Brown and Senator Jeff Merkely.
📞Governor Kate Brown: (503) 378-4582
📞Senator Jeff Merkley: (503) 326-3386
2. Sign the petition!
Please DO NOT donate to CHANGE.ORG, instead donate to Saraya’s gofundme.
3. Follow @justice4saraya on instagram. You can find info on where to send her encouragement cards and get updated on progress.
4. SEND CARDS TO THE FOLLOWING (please also note card sending rules)
OAK CREEK CORRECTIONAL FACIILITY
C/O SARAYA REES
4400 LOCHNER ROAD SE
ALBANY, OR 97332
EDIT: PLEASE CONSIDER THESE RULES WHEN SENDING HER CARDS! The family has asked for the following when sending cards:
-No vulgar language or cursing (she’s a child, afterall)
- Do not use return address stickers
Using these things could mean Saraya doesn’t get your card. If you want to donate to the family during this very hard time, please use the GOFUND ME.
You can also send her gifts for when she gets out to a PO BOX:
SARAYA’S PO BOX
PO BOX 211
MYRTLE POINT, OR 97458
MENTAL ILLNESS IS NOT A CRIME. LET’S FREE OUR GIRL SARAYA!!!
Saraya’s website: https://www.justice4saraya.com/
UPDATE EDIT: Jan.5.2021: Saraya has written a letter:
Dear Mom and Dad,
I want you to post this on every social media platform that you can. I want you to do so, so that everyone knows how messed up the system is and how messed up the state is.
I don’t care if people know about my “crimes”, and I don’t care if people know I’m in prison. All I care about is letting people know the truth, this for me, and all of the rest of the kids in the system. This is what really, this is the truth....
I am Saraya Rees. I’m 14 years old, and I’m being charged with attempted murder x2. And attempted aggravated assault x1. I was arrested July 8th, 2019. I was in a detention for 3 months and 9 days. I spent my 14th birthday in Juvy. Not only that, but I have been sexually and physically harassed and the staff did nothing to help. I physically hurt myself even though I was on suicide watch.
They allowed the boys to make sexual gestures and comments to all of the females. The staff at my Juvy made fun of people who self harm or attempted suicide. They would do that right in front of the kids who have done that. Out of all the staff there was only one that was respectful. That staff’s name was Tom (thank you Tom for helping me through all this BS).
The reason I’m telling (whoever it may concern) this, is so you know what really happens in the system. But now I’m going to tell you why I’m really stuck in prison. I am being held in prison because I cried for help. People who know me, know I’ve done many things as a call for help. This was all of the biggest, what I did was pour a small amount of gasoline of the floor at my house. I was never going to light it, but the police and the court all said otherwise.
When in comes to the court they don’t care about the fact they care about tearing people and families apart. The kids that they arrest are the kids who are being sexually and physically abused at home, the teen moms, the kids looking for love in the wrong places, places because their families don’t want them, the kids who are hurt, the kids who are suicidal. They arrest the misunderstood and that is not fair.
They arrest kids even if they have never committed the crimes, they arrest kids for no reason sometimes. As citizens of Oregon we need to take a stand, we need to stick up to this injustice. Please help get the kids like me who, without their families have nothing to hold onto. No reason to continue living out of places like this...please. Join our cause at #takeastand4oregon.
-Saraya Rees, 15 (she was 14 when this was written, I believe) (currently serving 11 years for a crime she did not commit)
MARCH 15. 2021 UPDATE: SARAYA HAS A HEARING! KEEP CALLING!
⚠️UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE⚠️
Saraya is going back to court for a review hearing!!
OYA neglected to transfer Saraya to an inpatient mental health facility despite the fact that Saraya has completed the program at Oak Creek Correctional Facility months ago. It was stated back in October that Saraya be transferred once she completed her trauma work, but her PO officer continues to create more obstacles to keep Saraya incarcerated. Saraya will be back in court soon for her review hearing.
All positive vibes greatly appreciated. This could be a huge step in the right direction. 🤞🏼
Please visit justice4saraya.com for more on her story and ways to help.
April. 13. 2021 UPDATE: THE FAMILY NEEDS YOUR HELP (via instagram)
1) We are looking for a level 5 inpatient residential facility (level 5 means it's being medically managed) ANYWHERE IN THE COUNTRY that works with Juvenile Youth with Saraya's charges. If you work with a facility that has these resources and are willing to work with Saraya and her family please contact the Justice4Saraya Instagram or the Facebook page in a direct message.
2) Private residential facilities outside of state-run care are notoriously expensive. In the state of CA and FL, these homes can run up to 50k per 30 days of treatment. We are looking for more amplification of the family's GOFUNDME page in order to get the best long-term treatment for Saraya and her family. They will require much individual and family therapy in order to heal from this atrocity and broken system. Please donate if you can or spread the word.
For any trolling behavior you have seen on social media, we want to make a few things clear
-Paul Fraiser, The DA of Coo's County who put out his "official statement" last year of Saraya's case had nothing to do with Saraya's case whatsoever. He was never involved in her sentencing and is only the boss of the Assistant District Attorney, who was advocating as recently as WEDNESDAY TO KEEP SARAYA IN PRISON. She even reminded the court that Saraya was placed in Oak Creek because of her risk of being a "danger to the public". Anyone referencing the DA's statement has VERY limited information based on a biased police report and interview.
-PLEASE DO NOT PERSONALLY CONTACT JUDGE MEGAN JACUOT. She is actively working to help get Saraya out with her new imposed timeline.
-It is up to Saraya's OYA PO officer and her Supervisor to find Saraya a way into residential treatment. Saraya has expressed her remorse and finished her program requirements in order to leave.
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man. I am never gonna be able to transition am I
Astrid et Raphaëlle writers: Astrid and Raph getting together would be complicated because Astrid is on the spectrum.
Also Astrid et Raphaëlle writers: *give Astrid a male love interest in episode 2*
I’m gonna rant a little for a second bc in the U.K., a woman named Sarah Everard was kidnapped and presumed to have been murdered by a male police officer. The MET police’s response? Asking women to stay home and be more careful when they walk at night.
Sarah Everard walked down well lit streets. She phoned her boyfriend and talked for most of her journey. She was literally just walking home. And she is being blamed for her own murder. The narrative surrounding this story has turned into what women should do to avoid these situations and not exposing the harsh reality that a police officer has literally done the exact opposite of his job description.
This story has hit hard with so many women across the U.K. and I have had so many conversations with friends in the last 24 hours about how tired we are. Of how insane it is the things we have learned.
Like how we learn to walk with our keys between our fists. Or how we text each-other when we’re in the Uber not to let friends know when we’ve set off but so they know where to look if we go missing. Or how sometimes we put a ring on our left hand bc a guy is less likely to harass you if he sees you as belonging to another man already.
We’re tired. We’re frustrated. We’re angry. 97% of women and girls in the U.K. have been sexually harassed. And men on twitter are telling us ‘not all men’.
Perhaps not but when it’s practically all women being sexually harassed then society needs to be looked at, starting with how we raise our men to treat women and the horrifying things we expect women to learn to do to avoid their dark sides.
edit (13/3): sarah everard’s body has been found and the police officer arrested on suspicion of her kidnapping has now been charged with her murder
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Three Whole Days
Summary: You should have known better than to leave Bucky alone. He’s had three whole days to think of what he’s going to do when you get back.
Pairing: Beefy!Biker Bucky x Reader
Warning: Smut, Minors DNI, Oral (M and F receiving), slight exhibition kink, public sex, vibe, handcuffs, orgasm denial, praise kink,, dom/sub, overstimulation, grumpy Bucky.
A/N: fair warning its a little tame. Not Requested. Beta’d by the wonderful @sweeterthanthis, @whisperlullaby and @navybrat817 but all mistakes are my own.
Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories. Comments, likes and reblogs are wonderful.
Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed
“Alright ladies, let’s gather around and have a moment of silence.”
You groan, more of whine really, embarrassment seeping through your pores, your cheeks heated when your best friend motions for the group to surround you. “Will you shut the fuck up?” you hiss, hiding your face from the onlookers in the too crowded airport.
Marcie takes a deep, overly dramatic breath in and exhales, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the memory of a tight, wet ass pussy that is going to be taken from the world too damn soon-ow,” her speech cut off when you jab her in her stomach.
“Quit it and get away from me,” you huff with a tinge of concealed laughter, not wanting to encourage them more. Adjusting your heavy bag over your shoulder, you embrace Marcie with one arm, giving her a squeeze, smiling when you feel your friends envelop you in a group hug. “This was fun and I can’t wait to do it again.”
As you walk through the gates, your friends break away from the small group with goodbyes, selfies, and more hugs. The impromptu girls’ trip was an incredible experience and you loved every moment.
Bucky on the other hand.
Yeah, he was not happy. Not happy with you at all. He made it very clear the night you left for the airport. You hope that he used the past three days to calm down.
Taking your phone out of your back pocket, you turn it on for the first time in three days. The rapid-fire notifications fill the screen, the continuous pings drawing Marcie’s attention. “God damn, your pussy really is going to die,” she laughs, looking at the flood of messages.
You shrug, keeping a grip on your bag, “Bucky just likes to talk,” you retort defensively. “He’s chatty.”
“I’ve never heard him say more than five words at time,” Marcie gives you a disbelieving look out of the side of her eye, “I hope you stretched.”
Snorting, you nudge her with your hip, rolling your eyes as you navigate your way to the entrance. Now you’ll never admit it but she’s right, and you really wished you had thought to limber up before you got off the plane. Your phone continues to light up with message after message. Scrolling through your screen, you can pinpoint the exact moment he began to lose his shit.
Five hours into your trip.
“Be safe” turned to “I miss you” to “when the fuck are you getting back” to “I’m horny.”
Sweet messages of “I love you” and “have fun” mixed in with “I’m going to fuck your brains out” and “tell my pussy I miss her.”
You’re staring at the dick pic he sent six hours into your trip, your panties dampening when you see the next message is a video and you want to play it so bad, part of you not even caring that you’re in public. Damn, he’s rubbing off you; at this rate, you’re going to be worse than he is. You're almost at the exit when you notice a crowd of employees huddled together whispering loudly.
“You need to ask him to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere near him. I’m not trying to die today, I have stuff to do tomorrow, you go ask him to leave.”
“How long is he going to just stand there?”
“I tried to ask but he glared at me.” A slight pause. “It was sexy.”
“What! He’s hot. I want him to glare at me like that while he makes me-”
You and Marcie exchange glances, her shoulders shaking as she covers her mouth with her hand. Sighing, you walk around the group and your steps falter, your pulse kicking up.
Bucky is frowning at his gloved hands, the black leather crunching with each clench of his fist. Your heart thumps in your chest. While you had fun, you really missed him. You swallow thickly, clearing your throat. He slowly lifts his head, tilting it to the side.
He’s jaw dropping gorgeous and your knees nearly buckle. You missed him more than you ever imagined.
His chestnut hair is hidden beneath his navy baseball hat. A hint of charcoal grey peeks out from his partially unzipped black leather jacket. Bucky wordlessly glares at you. He is livid, you can feel it rolling off of him in hazy waves.
He gestures for you to come towards him with his long index finger, his other hand shoved into his front pocket, one long leg crossed in front of the other, an untied boot tapping on the stained carpet. Oh, he’s very angry.
You freeze, drowning in the furious glint of his blue eyes. When you hesitate, taking a step back, he grins. You feel your clit twitch, your already damp panties soaked when he runs his tongue across his pearly white teeth. His eyes caress your face moving slowly all the way down to your feet, undressing you, stripping you bare in the middle of the airport. The heat of his piercing gaze searing you when his eyes snap back up to your face, his grin widening. Predatory, dark, and aimed directly at you.
Marcie whistles, “You are in trouble,” she leans over, putting her head on your shoulder, “Welp, I’m going to miss you, and, if you somehow survive, call me.”
She’s gone, saying hi to Bucky on her way out of the revolving doors. He doesn’t respond, perfectly still, except for his combat boot, the slow measured taps making you nervous the closer you get to him. He pushes away from the desk, much to the relief of the employee’s huddled several feet away.
He saunters over to you, leaning down until the rim of his hat touches your forehead. Walking you back into something hard, a counter judging by the sharp edge pressing into the middle of your back. Oceanic blue eyes capture your own wide ones and your breath stalls. Thoughts empty out of your head when his grin morphs into a smirk, slow and devious. Retribution. Reckoning. Punishment.
“Hi baby,” The words squeaked out, high pitched and wobbly. You place your hands on his chest, meekly glancing up at him through your eyelashes.
Good, he thinks, you should be worried.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I was going to do to you when you got back,” He brings his mouth over yours, the brim of his cap moving softly over your skin.
“I hope it was worth it,” His pink lips slotting over yours with each word, his deep timbre rumbling through you.
“Bucky, baby, it was only three days,” you protest, unable to stop your hands from sliding under his jacket and around his broad back. He’s so warm under there, his cologne, light cedar drifting off of him and sinking onto your skin, it's so hard to breathe with him so close.
Bucky’s brow quirks, those blue eyes widen just a little. Bucky mouths “three days” and you know you fucked up even more. Now Bucky is angry and offended.
“Only three days,” he hums, plucking your bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging around for something. The look in his eyes becomes more deviant by the second.
You can tell the second he finds it because those blues darken, he leans a little closer, his elbow resting on the counter, his other hand dipping to your waist, his fingers trailing under the waistband of your skirt.
You hiss out his name, a warning that makes his grin widen. You look around, the crowds of people milling around you, no one noticing the oh so casual scene of a man talking to his woman. To anyone else, it looks sweet, maybe two lovers saying goodbye. Anything but Bucky subtly shifting his large body so that he can slip his hand down your skirt, something cold and firm placed between your folds, nestled right along your clit.
He takes a step back, straightening to his full height, “You better remember those words later gorgeous.”
It’s a threat and a promise all rolled into one, sealed with a light kiss on your lips.
Wrapping his arm around your waist, he leads you out into the bright sunny day. Straight to his bike parked illegally in the loading zone. An officer is standing to the side, writing on a little yellow pad when Bucky pushes past him to grab your helmet. He looks at your burly man and back at his pad, ripping up the half-written ticket with a mumbled apology.
Bucky places it on your head, tightening the strap below your chin, using it to tug you flush against his body. Even through the layers between your bodies, you can feel how hard he is, how big. He palms your ass, bringing you even closer. Your mind racing with the possibilities, images of him fucking you over the kitchen counter, against the shower wall, on the front porch swing.
“Three days,” he sighs, bringing your face up, his lips slotting over yours, unhurried, tasting you, inhaling you, his wet tongue dipping into your open mouth with a low groan that you feel more than hear. “I love you.”
He breaks away when you start to wrap your arms around his neck. His thumb swipes over your swollen bottom lip, “Three fucking days without you. Do you have any idea of the power you have over me, gorgeous?”
He turns, straddling his bike in one smooth motion, revving the engine. You jump on behind him, wrapping your arms around his firm stomach, resting your head on his back. “You’re about to learn, gorgeous,” The words barely leave his lips before you feel the vibrations on your clit, he shakes his left hand, a flash of little black remote. Oh fuck, fuck me.
The ride home is a blur, he keeps bringing you to the edge, only to take your impending orgasm away over and over. Fuck, he knows your body too well, even with his focus on the road he can tell when your close, paying attention to your needy gasps swept into his ear by the wind, your body rigid around him.
By the time he pulls into the garage and turns off the engine, you have tears pricking at your eyes and you need to cum, your clit throbbing and aching for release. You hobble off and take a step back. “I love you so much and I missed you Bucky,” you exclaim, ready to beg him.
He grunts in response, tossing his helmet onto the floor with a loud clatter. You take a step back, clasping your hands behind your back. “Bucky, remember you told me to turn off my-.” Your words taper off in a squeal when he stomps towards you. He glowers at you, a slight pout forming on his pink lips.
He lifts you on the shiny, cold trunk of his classic car, bending your knees, his large hands moving down the insides of your thighs. Biting your bottom lip, you hold your breath when he taps his index finger over your damp panties, pushing the little bullet right over your clit. “You know I had a lot of time to think when you up and left me alone in our house.”
“I didn’t leav-ah, fuck,” Bucky turns the vibrator on effectively cutting you off with a flick of his thumb. Your moans, needy and dragged out with each turn of the dial until you’re writhing on the back of his car, your slick dripping on the painted exterior.
He leaves you like that, helpless and shamelessly pleading for more, legs splayed open, hips rolling, both hands clutching your breasts as you crest higher and higher.
Bucky smiles in your direction, unzipping his jacket, he lays it across the seat of his bike. He toes his boots off, placing them by the door. The sultry sounds coming from you are what his dreams are made of. Bucky was restless when you were gone and now that you’re back where you belong, with him, he can finally breathe again.
He stretches his arms over his head, twisting his back. He pads back to you, standing between your legs. Gazing down at your glassy eyes, the corner of his mouth lifts. He missed you, missed how you look when you cum for him. He turns it up one more notch and groans through your release, entranced as you gush over his car. His stiff cock leaking in his jeans, he pulls you up for a wet, sloppy kiss.
Breaking away, he pants in your mouth. “Gorgeous, get inside. Now.”
You slide off the trunk, almost falling to your knees, the aftershocks of your orgasm sparking with each rub of your thighs. “Bucky, please-,”
He crosses his arms and exhales. “Here or inside, your pick.”
It takes everything you have, but you manage to jog inside. Passing the kitchen, you skid to a stop when you see a platter of snacks along with a few bottles of water. Hearing a low whistle, you look over your shoulder and back to the table. Looking at the vast array on your table, you know you’re in for a long night. You take off again, wishing you had stretched now.
Bucky waits until he hears your footsteps, he looks around the garage waiting until the door closes. Stepping over to his prized toolbox, he checks the underside where he taped the ring. Tracing the outline with his finger, he puts the box back down and turns to the house.
Bucky sings your name, listening carefully as he moves through the house. He pauses on the bottom step when he hears a creak in the floorboard above his head. Bedroom. "That’s my girl," he thinks.
His shirt tossed over the railing, pants on the top stair. By the time he reaches the second floor, his cock is fisted in his hand.
Pushing open the door, he grins when he sees you. Naked and ready for him on the bed. He paces back and forth in front of you, his hand twisting around his thick shaft, “You left me ,” he accuses.
“Bucky you paid for my tick-”
Your protests cut off with a pointed looked. “Abandoned me,” he finishes, his slight pout making you smile, your eyes focused on his cock, you want it so bad, you’re not even pretending to listen anymore.
Bucky moves his cock to the left, laughing when your gaze follows it back and forth. “Now you’re going to make it up to me,”
You crawl over the bed, opening your mouth, “Yes, Bucky, let me show you how sorry I am.”
“No, I need to taste your sweet little pussy,” he pushes you back on the bed, taking advantage of your body bouncing back, he slides his hands under your hips and brings you to his face with a growl.
And his tongue attacks your clit. It's the only way you can describe what his tongue is doing to you; rough long licks through your folds, followed by light circles that make you arch into his mouth.
It’s vulgar, sloppy, and all he's been thinking about since you left him. He dips down to your entrance and his thick tongue glides against your walls, fucking you while his finger presses down on your bud, pushing back and forth, rolling it under his calloused pad.
“God, Bucky ple-oh shit, oh fuck,” you twist, pulling the sheets in a desperate attempt to get away.
Bucky feels you trying to run from him and he lets you go. Gasping, you stare down at him, backing up on the bed, you lean on your elbow, covering your mound with your other hand. “I need a minute,” you rasp out, your cunt pulsating, matching your racing heart..
Bucky cocks his head back, his pink tongue dragging across his bottom lip. A relaxed smirk creeps on his face and your stomach drops. He’s never let you go before, always insisting you can take it. You fucked up again and he confirms it, the smug bastard.
“So you deny me my pussy for three days, deny me your presence and love,” he says, voice deepening to a low growl, “and now you’re not letting me enjoy my desert.”
“I- no, “ you exclaim, “wait, I’m sorry,” you remove your hand, spreading your thighs.
He barks out a short laugh, his smile dropping and you wonder if you should try to suck his cock again. Bucky pushes himself up and walks over to the dresser. He opens the first draw, pulling out a small black box. He opens it, shuffling through the various new toys he bought you, pulling out a set of pink fur-lined handcuffs.
“Where did you get those?” you question, scooting back towards the headboard.
Bucky ignores your question, “Good girl,” he grins as you unknowingly move into place, “too bad it’s too late for that.”
You furrow your brows, helplessly watching Bucky stalk over to the bed. You continue to move back until you can’t go any further. He crawls over the rumpled sheets, his large body getting closer until his lips are touching yours, “I’m going to enjoy this, gorgeous.”
He straddles you, his weight pinning you down while his thick, long cock rests on your belly, your mouth watering at the sight of his swollen, red tip. He takes advantage of the distraction to grab your wrist, cuffing it to the headboard. You look up, seconds before he takes your other wrist, the soft clanking echoes in your ears as he secured it around your wrist.
You glance between your handcuffed wrists and his deep blue eyes, you can see how badly he wants you, his desire making your pussy impossibly wetter.
He drops his head, his lips grazing your jaw, “good girl,” he says, “ I missed you”, he kisses down your neck, nipping the skin below your ear, “ thought about you every single day.”
He moves up on his knees, his cock bobbing in your face. Before he can speak again, your lips are wrapped around his tip, a hot salty bead of precum melting over your tongue as you slide down his shaft. “Fuck me,” he groans. He grabs the back of your head, pushing you down even more until your nose touches his pelvis, “that’s it, gorgeous, you can take it.”
Inhaling through your nose, you let him fuck your face, drool leaking out the sides of your mouth, his heavy weight filling your mouth. His groans shooting straight to your heart, you love that you can bring your big muscular man to his knees. He tastes so good, you could hold him in your mouth for hours. Bucky listens to you gag, telling you how good you’re doing, and you suck harder, wanting to please him.
And you are, a little too well, Bucky’s eyes fly open when he feels his balls tighten. “No, fuck, too good, gorgeous, ah no stop, stop” he grunts, pulling out of your mouth with a wet plop, chuckling at your whine, “Sorry, doll, but I’m only cumming in your pussy tonight.”
He wipes the drool off your chin, placing a deep kiss on your lips, “But I’m not coming until you cum first. In fact, I want three from you, ” he mutters glancing down your body.
“Wait, I don’t think I can-” you blurt out, yanking your hands down.
Bucky rolls his eyes at you, a playful smirk on his features, “I wasn't talking to you, gorgeous, I was talking to her.”
He drops between your thighs, pushing them apart with his broad shoulders, spreading your folds, “I know you didn’t want to leave me, huh pretty girl?” He lovingly breathes into your glistening cunt, watching you clench down, “I know, you’re going to come all over my tongue aren't you? ” he coos.
He locks eyes with you, flattening his tongue, and he drags it through up from your slit to your aching bud, his eyes daring you to look away. The tip of tongue flickering over your clit slowly, so slow you could cry, the short waves of warm sensations making you throb and ache, his heavy arm keeping you in place.
He dives back in, his nose bumping your clit when his tongue curls along your walls - hot wet, his muffled groans louder than your own sobs. He's utterly ruthless, sending shocks of pleasure through you, his ego growing with each mewl and cry.
“Look at me,” he demands when he feels your orgasm approaching, waiting until you meet his dazed blue eyes, “cum now”. He pulls your bud into his mouth, and fuck, you don’t even recognize the sound that leaves your mouth. Pleasure burns through you, the coil so tight it bursts into a million pieces, leaving you wrecked and quivering under him.
You’re still high on your first climax when he pushes your hips up. Folding your body in half, his hand enclosing over your throat, he squeezes with every suck on your tender bud. It hits you hard, pushing you higher and higher until you can only whimper his name. Every last nerve burning as you cum again, sharp and fierce, your breath hissing though your gritted teeth as your orgasm wraps around you.
“Two.” He’s arrogant, reveling in your pleasure, not that you can hear over the roaring in your ears.
He leans back on his haunches, pulling your hips, your back floating off the bed, his strong hands holding you as if you weighed nothing. His cock, hot and thick, sits at your entrance. You both watch as he sinks into your cunt, the thick vein on the underside of his cock rubbing against your velvety walls, “Oh god,” you cry out, eyes rolling back.
“Oh no, it's only me here gorgeous, “ he remarks proudly, “Who's making you feel this good?”
“You, Bucky, only you,” your hoarse cries echoing across the room.
Bucky is mesmerized by your cunt swallowing him, your cream coating his cock with each stroke. He controls the pace, but fuck you’re controlling him. You’re so tight around his length, exhilarating pleasure taking over. He hates pulling out of your perfect pussy, but loves how you clench down when he thrusts back in.
Your moans make him want more, he wants you to shatter one more time, he won't stop until you cum for him again. His fingers swipe over your clit, “C’mon, gorgeous, cum for me. Please, doll, cum for me.”
Fuck, you clench down so hard, your walls fluttering over his cock, he could cry from how good you feel. Instead he drives into you faster, deeper and harder, fucking you senseless, your cunt sensitive, raw and his. Bound to the headboard, unable to do anything but let him own you. Bucky lives for this, making you take it, take him until you cum for him like a good fucking girl.
“Three.” Bucky chokes out when you’re frantic thrashing stops, your body absolutely rigid around him with a silent wail, head dropping back as your walls flutter around him, milking him dry. “Fucking beautiful, that's my good girl. ”
Only when your limbs loosen around his waist, chest heaving with each harsh breath does he let himself chase his own release, savoring your tight, hot pussy, his strokes erratic and sloppy until he fills you to the brim, his white hot cum leaking around him.
He stays inside you for a second, listening to your stuttering breath as his cock softens, his own breathing evening out after a few minutes. “You did so good for me, gorgeous,” he says with a cunning grin.
“Never letting you leave this bed,” he grunts, pulling out of your swollen cunt with a soft wet plop.
He grabs the key from the nightstand and brings your hands down, checking your wrists. You forget the ache in your arms as he rubs your back, murmuring sweet praises in your ear.
“Hold on,“ he says, leaving the warmth of your body to walk to the bathroom. You’re exhausted, on the verge of sleep as you lounge on the bed. The small ping near your head gets your attention, grabbing your phone, you giggle at the message on your lock screen before tossing it down. Bucky pokes out his head curiously, the sound of water running coming from the open door.
You shake your head, “That was Marcie asking if I’m alive. She thought you were going to kill me with your cock.” You yawn, curling up on your side, moving your sticky thighs apart, “Hurry and get back so we can sleep.”
“Gorgeous, that was the warm up, you have three days to make up for.” Bucky gives you a curious look as if you missed something quite obvious, his brow raised.
Bucky whistles, walking out with a warm washcloth, gently cleaning you up.
“What do you mean by warm up, Bucky?” You repeat, his whistling making you nervous.
“I’m going to grab your snacks.”
You stare at his back when he walks away, his tune getting louder. “Bucky, come back here!”
Bucky pauses in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, “Trust me, you’re going to want to eat the snack.”
Sunlight beams through the open window, the occasional chirp breaks the silence. Taking a deep breath, you sigh, happy and sated, resting for the first time since you got home. Bucky snoring lightly beside you, his thick fingers still in your cunt. His other arm under your head, you would move but he has a smile on his face. You trace it with your fingertips.
You’re glad you waited to tell him your little secret, you know how he gets when he thinks you’re keeping something from him. Maybe you should tell him in public, at his shop or around friends- no, no that’s not going to stop him from losing it, you also know he doesn't know how to behave when he’s excited.
You’re going to need to plan this, make this surprise perfect for him.
Across the street.
Mrs Smith has decided she has enough of bikers ruining her neighborhood.
She leans out her window, glaring across at your home. She lets the curtain go, holding her phone to her ear, “Hello, Michelle, dearie, I need you to do me a favor. There’s a man I want you to meet. His name is James.”
"I want you to break up his happy little home."
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So the other night my mom was upstairs on a zoom call with The Council of Retired White Moms (her book club) , my dad was downstairs working out, and my brother and I were cleaning up the kitchen, which obviously requires a soundtrack.
Now, you know how sometimes you’re like “alexa, play [a song]” and she’s like “playing [a totally different song] on TST’s spotify”? or maybe she just decides to play literally nothing instead? My workaround has always been to select the Echo as thr output device in the spotify app. It works like 80% of the time.
As such, when Alexa couldn’t manage to play my great kitchen cleaning jam on the night at issue, I opened spotify, selected the kitchen echo, and pressed play. When the Echo didn’t respond, I just assumed it was just the usual spotify/alexa bullshit... until the￼ screaming began.
This next part is important: there are 32 devices on our network and nobody but me ever names them. So when I’m selecting a device to play spotify on, I have to pick the right speaker out from a long list of random alphanumeric gibberish. I usually guess right, but I do occasionally fuck it up. Accordingly, it came to pass that I had not told Spotify to play my music on the kitchen echo; I had actually selected the iHome in my mom’s office.
Mom originally bought the iHome to play NPR loud enough that she could hear it from any room in the house. It’s not a smart speaker, though, and mom (like the majority of boomers) prefers to use voice commands. Once she got her own Echo, she just basically forgot about the iHome. More importantly, she forgot how to use it, and then, it seems, forgot that it was a speaker system at all - a few weeks prior to the events of this story, I was trying to troubleshoot her computer and had a private and very sensible chuckle to myself when she incidentally referred to it as “that digital clock.”
For the past few years it’s just been lurking silently on her desk next to her laptop.
As a result, when the iHome unexpectedly lurched back to life at its customary maximum volume, neither my mother nor the 25+ other Women of a Certain Age in her book club had any idea of:
a) where the music was coming from, or
b) how to stop it
I had started up the stairs in response to the screaming, but I paused (out of mom’s line of sight) when I realized what was happening.
“STOP IT!” My mom was out of her chair and screaming. “WHAT IS THAT!? NO! ALEXA, STOP IT! ALEXA! STOP PLAYING!”
A greek chorus of distraught book club attendees was echoing her sentiments over the laptop speakers, the monitor displaying the horrified face of each speaker in incredibly rapid succession.
“ALEXA!” My mom shouted at the mesh router point, “MAKE IT STOP! NO! NO! NO!”
(“Did you mean ‘set a timer?’” the Echo in her bedroom asked politely.)
The song, naturally, did not stop, and mom did not think to mute her laptop or pull the power cord from the iHome. Instead, she whirled around several times held her arms out in a sort of T-pose, as if she could physically stop the book club attendees from hearing the song I’d picked out.
I will say this for the iHome - sure, it’s old tech, but even at max volume, the lyrics could be understood with perfect clarity.
Now, this would have probably been funny regardless of the song I had chosen as my kitchen clean-up jam. I know that. But the actual song that my mom’s book club encountered that night is what raises the whole thing from “amusing anecdote” to “genuinely incredible.”
If you have been following me for a while, you’ll know that I tend to think of myself as a real prankster. A rascal, a scamp, a jester of a woman. I have engineered a few comedic misadventures in my day. But I have to be humble here... what I unintentionally accomplished that night was so much funnier than anything I have ever done on purpose. It was the absolute apex of comedy.
The song I had chosen, dear readers, was WAP.
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gif credit: @javier-pena
Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series
Word Count: 19.5K
Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!
A/N: Hey yall!!! So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read! School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕
Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!! As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!
You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot. Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider. You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns. The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.
Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime. Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip. You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago. On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes. Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.
It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.
“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it. “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”
Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it. Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy. Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you. Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.
“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth. “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”
Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours. “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids. “They start at eight.”
The fireworks, you almost forgot. You know what? Today is a good day. You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one. The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back. Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.
Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates. The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago. The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask. Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes. It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by. Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony. Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color. Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.
Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.
It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city. As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming. The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete. You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you. Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers. Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops. Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them. You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.
About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch. There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself. Good intentions, terrible idea. Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours. It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at. Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.
Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language. Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different. It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy. Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it. Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on. There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.
At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin. You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.
A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession. First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always. Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs. Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions. The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…
Through it all, you think of Din. No matter the faces, the sights you see. There’s someone juggling. There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts. There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed. Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din. Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you. You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year. You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go. For you, he’d go.
Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second. Why… Why was that scene so vivid? So wistful? You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din. But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation. Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him. Why? You want to travel the galaxy, right? You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?
For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.
It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.
More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over. You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.
“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress. So many fucking people here, you know her pain. “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”
She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.
“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you. “Before anyone knows they’re missing. Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while? You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”
Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task. Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be. Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days. The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.
“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees. It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”
You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word. You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.
“Really?” You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.
Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you. The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet. The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.
“How did you find us so fast?” One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.
“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn. Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off. All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult. “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”
“Are you gonna rat us out?” The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.
“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away. “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”
You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.
The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second. Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective. Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—
He’s here… isn’t he?
Only, there’s nothing. Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will. You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.
It’s so… unexpected, this feeling. It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter. You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens. Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not. Playing with you from so far away.
This… this is a taunt.
The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary. Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was. This is scarily sophisticated. Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you. You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid. You know him with your eyes closed. You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace. Not because you can see it, not really, not directly. But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.
“You okay, Nerida?”
The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you. The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.
“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room. He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least. But you’re not stupid, you know what this means. You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way. He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down. You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.
“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools. “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left. Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”
Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows. You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering. Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.
Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place. When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily. A purple fruit. She must’ve saved it for you.
Maker, fuck yes. It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors. As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards. It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him. You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.
Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it? It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float. It’s just a thing. Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives. Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles. You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time. You don’t know what else you’d call it. Love is the only word. To love, to know. To hold in the heart.
Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group. You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.
“Where is everyone going?” You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem. It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together. They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately. Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next. A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.
“The eastern part of the city!” Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings. “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”
“Is…” You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn. Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway. “Is it part of an ocean?”
Naydee shakes her head. “A really big lake!”
Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it. You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view. And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.
Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage. You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze. So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you. Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes. They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown. You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.
And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on. All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out. They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything. You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city. It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time. You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.
And that’s when you see him.
But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen. You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for. Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away… This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes. If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.
You have a decision to make, very quickly. Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear. Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time. Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.
You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping. Baby. He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion. You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to. You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.
Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly. What do you do, what do you do?
No matter what, you know it’s over. Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result. What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you? The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.
Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear. When you do see me… try to outrun.
You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.
Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor. You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right. This maybe has a… two percent chance of working? Maybe? Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have? Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.
You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead. He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing. Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left. Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—
A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.
Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear. Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.
You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.
“Miss Nerida?” A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him. Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.
Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner. They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units. Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you. Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.
Just a few more hours, kid. A few more hours.
Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.
“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking. Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong. “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”
They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you. You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it. She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.
“What did you do?” He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice. He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed? The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.
You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory. It worked. It worked. You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip. Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.
“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze. “Don’t get caught.”
There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds. “You look beautiful.”
You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you. The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.
Din is fucking furious.
He had you. You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere. In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you. Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.
But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you. They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following. It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.
He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour. It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.
Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes. There was… a moment. Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet—
No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be. It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.
But he can’t get rid of it. Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered. The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear. It was silvery, he’s almost certain. Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.
Color. Everywhere. Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.
This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.
It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it. Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream. The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.
That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would. You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.
You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now. You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud. You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though. Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be. Fully, without worry or fear.
Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—
It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen. So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it. You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.
As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response. There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.
Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.
You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above. You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself. “Do you always see in black and white?”
It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does. “Only when I’m tracking someone.”
The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you. You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is. He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.
“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?” You ask after a moment. This whole time, everything has been grey for him?
“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all. “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”
For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying. Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly. He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him. “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”
He takes a second, before clarifying for you. “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”
So that was the ultimatum. He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again. Does he not understand? Does he not know what you know? Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him. It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest. And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive. Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t. Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.
“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky. It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point. “You’d find me without the helmet. And I’d find you.”
The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick. You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course. That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred. Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight. This is a celebration of life and family. Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching. A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.
“Think so?” He asks softly. He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant. You’re able to hear it in his words. You don’t know why, though. Doesn’t he believe you? Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way. Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all. Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love. This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that? How would the Mandalorians reconcile that? You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face. It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.
“I know so.” For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does. Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you. “Will you look at the sky?”
“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t. Not the way you want him to. And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you? The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest. You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them. All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time. You want him to know the significance of that.
“With color?” You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.
“I…” Din wants to argue, or at least say it again. He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off. It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.
“How do I fix it then?” You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold. How do you fix this problem? How do you convince him to look with you? You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left. “Do you want me to come look for you? It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away. Look at the sky.”
It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay. You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response. You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you. He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.
But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again. This must be the end, they saved the best for last. Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.
“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you. Maker, it is, isn’t it? Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying. Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.
It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways. It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.
Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.
“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on. “Come and find me.”
After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you. Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.
Stars, that’s a lot of children. They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.
“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her. “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”
“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up. At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you. Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day. You’re going to have to say goodbye now.
“What happened to your family?” She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention. “Have you been in touch with them? If not, I’m sure you can come back with us. It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”
You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.
But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?
There’s more people here. More danger, but better places to hide. It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense. But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women. He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.
It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule. Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses? Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time? No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.
“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that. Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end. Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond. Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical. Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it. You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.
“I…” Quick, come up with something. You clear your throat. “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them. I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”
Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”
Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t. You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is. You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them. But with Din, you don’t have any walls. They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since. It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.
Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is. Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back. The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out. You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.
You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is. You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time. He could be anywhere now. Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.
You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view. One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so. Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.
The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach. Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy. If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it. These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous. Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.
It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong. This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so. It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier. Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet. Why? Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right. What’s he waiting for? You can’t have won. It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.
When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.
“Sorry!” Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face. “Didn’t mean to scare you! I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there. “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep. Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”
You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus. She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din. Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you. You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far. Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards. You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls. What is he doing?
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it. “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”
She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently. The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.
Fuck, you just need to breathe. As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax. You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance. Breathe. Focus. There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.
Can you eat? You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy. You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now. The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard. It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there. The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.
A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there. Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator. Five minutes. You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you. Can you feel him? Is he closing in?
You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath. Focus on that feeling from earlier. The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards. Can you feel him?
Something catches your eye.
Or no… it doesn’t, does it? Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss. The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual. Nothing else.
But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall. It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat. He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?
Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back. You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—
—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.
Run. Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t. Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass. He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can. The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away. Where’s the kid? How did he get those robes? Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?
Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.
You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them. It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward. Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster. Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.
As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you. Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.
Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you. Walk right by… Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing. He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place. The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.
You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight. Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away. The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster. It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.
You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet. Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door. Where is he? There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them? Wasn’t he right behind you?
There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react. Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.
Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast. The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him. With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw. When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.
But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you. Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone. You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—
Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force. He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.
Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared. The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.
But then, your downfall. Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it. He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.
Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.
The whole thing is like coming home. You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is. Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you. Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else. His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it. It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.
Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.
He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough. The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way. His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet. You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck. You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.
“Where’s the baby?” You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.
“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling. Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now. It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.
“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps. “You lost, I caught you in time.”
“Did you?” You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you. Suddenly—
Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells…
…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.
There’s a moment. Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring. It’s not going to.
You think he puts it together. The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago. The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic. Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together. He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work. Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.
But then Din moves so suddenly. You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side. You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.
Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl. The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber. He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that. Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside. You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up. It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.
Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise. Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.
But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that? First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you. It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.
You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.
“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you. Fuck, what is happening, what is happening? It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in. You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.
Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is. You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand. And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does. He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.
Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again. Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead. He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source. He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow? You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—
Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.” Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip. His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.
“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore. What does he want to see? You losing your mind again? Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?
Fucking… apparently. It’s what happens, after all. You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too. He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied. This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat. You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.
“I missed you, sweet girl. Did you miss me?” It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements. You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.
Did you just cum? You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now. The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak. If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak? You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.
When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.
“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out. He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him. It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder. He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—
Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation. It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it? That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally. Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder. That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.
This feels different from before, though. It’s deep, purposefully so. His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can. You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp. His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all. You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.
You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier. Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you. There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.
You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.
Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place. You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still. He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm. They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.
“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth. “Shh, tell me—”
“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”
“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”
“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”
You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds. Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough. You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.
“—ve you—I l-love y—”
He kisses you to stop himself. But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that. Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light. It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever. He loves you. He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would. You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did. You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that. Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes. He loves you. You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.
When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.
Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t. He loves you. You’re looking into his eyes right now. You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you. He loves you. Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—
The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.
You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat. Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—
Maker. You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before. You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face. A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you. You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.
Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again. Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight. Completely lovestruck.
How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him? You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see. His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees. It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.
Stars. He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met. Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you. Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away. For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.
Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.
“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips. “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”
You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second. He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw. Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own. “Some guy was wearing it.”
It takes you a second.
“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat. It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed. “What did you do to him? Where is he?”
He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long. He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence. He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.
“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.
You don’t know which word to emphasize. A fucking closet? They’re? Plural? Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him. “They're in a closet.”
“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him. His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead. Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.” He kisses your neck so gently. “It was an accident.”
You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is. You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before. “Did they put up a fight?”
“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more. “You did.” Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again. “Did so good. Fought hard, outsmarted me. Pretty fucking girl.”
And then your eyes pop open as you feel it. His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it. He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?
“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful. Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it. Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second. You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but… “Mando, we can’t—”
His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper. Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time. It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.
“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips. “Not smart. Bad idea to fuck again.”
Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder. His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.
“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person. “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”
Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants. Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.
“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment. He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.
After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery. Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting. Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.
Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore. Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way. No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.
When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown. Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about. A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.
Hm. Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children. A mystery that may never be solved.
It makes you take a second. The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit. Of course. Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene. In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.
“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”
The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in. Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you. Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are? You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.
“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it. It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine. “It’s just…” Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond. “My… kid.”
Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit. “That is your child?”
You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you. All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return. What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.
“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms. “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip. “You making friends?”
He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging. He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet. No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?
“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes. “He’s… uh. Not great at sharing. We’ll work on it.”
Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing. Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.
Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side. They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond. Fuck, he’s a presence. An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse. Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone. Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.
You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything. Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.
Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded. And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning. He loves you, too. How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not. You love each other. You’re family.
So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.
“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him. “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”
It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you. Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears. Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye. You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.
Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh. A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh. Where the fuck did he go so quick? You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue. He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.
You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them. The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.
About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over. You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.
“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side. You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways. “I gave them the night off.”
“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.
“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any. “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”
Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought. “Wait. What do you mean you gave the robe back?”
He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet. “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”
If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement. You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.
“You fucked me wearing it, though.” Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.
“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator. Did he not even consider this?
“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him. You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him. “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then. You gave it. Back.”
Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time. You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact. You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.
Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.
You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle. Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.
The crib—he forgot the crib—
“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board. Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice. He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky. It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look. He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing. It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.
You raise your voice. “Din?!”
“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.
“What about the crib?” You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.
“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily. Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them. You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.
Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.
Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you. His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.
What’s he doing? He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.
Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.
“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”
Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.
“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him. He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day. “It ain’t fresh. Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”
The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy. He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him. He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well. Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.
You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.
“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him. It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush. Big man, makes me happy. Strong man, loves me, knows me. Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.
Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm. You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you. When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.
“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.
“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once. “It has to cool down.”
He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him. Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave. He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.
So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits. Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it. For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be. You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.
“Well, do you wanna just…” You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors. “Shop around for a bit?”
“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic. Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.
“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction. Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore. “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”
From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner. Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights. It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense. Muted, softer, more romantic.
“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything. You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here. “That stale caf was the last of it.”
Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.
“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his. “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”
So that’s what you do. Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him. At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too. There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.
You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner. The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.
“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his. You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”
After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky. He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less. You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.
You think he might shower? You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest. It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.
@followwhereshegoes Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!
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pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (MCU)
summary: In which Bucky can’t figure out why he feels so restless when everything is perfect in his life... until he does.
warnings: sex (18+), breeding kink!!! copious amounts of fluff and bucky being an adorable goofball
author’s note: ‘tis finally here!!! first fic on the new blog! also thought i’d do something new with formatting my fics! and once again, i couldn't help with keeping it short n sweet sorry! [wc: ~5k]
MASTERLIST // LIBRARY
Bucky doesn’t know what’s gotten into him lately.
There is this restlessness that keeps bugging him in the back of his mind. Sometimes it doesn’t let him focus on things. Mundane things, really. When he’s brewing the morning coffee. When he’s reading the paper. Or when he’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone.
He’s happy and it’s been years since he’s felt genuine happiness. He’s a free man, free to do what he wants. Free to talk, to walk, to wear whatever he wants. To eat whatever he wants. To feel whatever he wants. To love whoever he wants.
To love you enough and more to marry you and start his little family. He has all of this, he’s at peace. He gets to wake up every morning and is blessed to have the most gorgeous woman sleeping next to him. He gets to make a home with you, memories with you. Share your love for each other in your space, fill it with more love with things you love and care about.
And he has done that.
He’s a stable guy now, he’s got a wife and a home and the most adorable cat.
He can’t complain, he’s got no right to feel this restlessness. God knows, he doesn’t take a thing for granted in his life. Everything he has and everything he wants is right in the palm of his hands.
He should be happy. No, he is happy. He just wants to be… happier? Would it be completely selfish if he wants to be happier?
You’ve always told him, it’s a good colour on him. He’s gorgeous when he’s beaming and all smiles. Like a bright sunny day at the beach, warmth from the ocean water, warmth from the sun gently beating down.
You never fail to tell him that he has every right to be selfish, either. You love to spoil him rotten sometimes. Shower him with compliments, and constantly flirting with him – even though it’s been a whole year you’ve been married, been together for three years before that – not counting five years after the Blip.
Safe to say, he’s going to grow old with you. If science can help him do that, that is.
So why does he feel restless?
His question is answered one day in the most life-changing way.
The two of you were at the vet’s clinic, just a regular check-up for Alpine. She was seated in Bucky’s lap. He refused to get one of those pet carriers when the pet supply store owner urged him to buy one for Alpine. With the way she hissed at the cage, he could tell she didn’t like it.
While waiting for your turn, Bucky kept petting her back. Long, comforting strokes and soft scratches behind her ear, because she tends to get a little nervous during these visits.
The woman before you was called out. She was struggling with her newborn baby in the bassinet, and her dog whining – she looked helpless. While she tried to haul the bassinet and the dog to the doctor’s office – who refused to leave his spot because he didn’t want to go – you got up to help her.
“Let me help you, I can look after your baby while you’re inside.”
Much to her relief, the woman sighed. Your face is trustful enough, a kind smile on your lips.
“Thank you so much, sweetheart!” She said and handed you the bassinet. You told her it’s not a problem and she picked up the dog and went in.
When you came back, you left a seat to place the baby between you and Bucky. You look at your husband and the pure joy on your face lit up his heart. You picked up the baby. She wasn’t crying or throwing a fit, but she was just so adorable and you had to have her in your arms.
You cooed and called her all sweet names, talking to her in a different voice, a tiny one that made him smile on his own. He wondered what it would be like to watch you play with your baby like that.
That sudden thought answered his restlessness. The puzzle was finally completed.
It took him by surprise, though.
Does he want a baby with you? Yes, he’s pretty certain about that. One day he would want a little bundle of joy in his arms. Half like him, half like you.
But does he think he’s ready to be a father?
Are you ready to be a mother?
Yeah, those are the questions to which he doesn’t know the answers to.
But what he does know, is that he wants to have a baby. He just needs to know if you’re on the same page as him.
So Bucky… starts dropping hints.
They’re very subtle, considering he’s a 106-year-old, retired Avenger, determined to know your thoughts on having a baby.
The first one is when he brings home the mail after his daily walk around the block. You’re sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, eating a bowl of fresh watermelon, Alpine lazily draped next to you. Some movie plays in the background. Bucky, very subtly, drops a bunch of envelopes and magazines next to your feet and hands you the hydrangeas he brings you every day.
A sweet smile flashed his way when you smell the lovely flowers. Since you’re very comfortable in your position – and since Bucky doesn’t want to distract you from his plan – he offers to put the flowers in the vase for you.
“Stay here,” he gives your shoulder a little squeeze and takes the flowers from you. “I’ll put these in water.”
A mumbled thanks and you adjust yourself, your feet now under you. And something catches your eye. A parenting magazine lies under the heaps of bills. You shuffle them away with your fingers and grab the thick booklet.
“Mother & Baby,” you mumble, confusion lining your expressions.
All the while, Bucky is peeping at you. Standing at the sink in the kitchen island, the water in the vase is overflowing. He realises that when the cold water trickles down the vase and his hand.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, closes the tap and throws the excess water. The flowers shoved inside the vase, eyes never leaving you. Licks his bottom lip as a nervous habit and wipes his wet hand on his jeans. Trying to seem busy and nonchalant as he blindly arranges the flowers.
“Bucky?” you call out, eyes never leaving the front cover of the magazine.
The vase nearly slips from his grip, he scrambles up to attention – very nonchalant – and hopes that his voice doesn’t squeak terribly when he answers, “Yes, baby?”
Baby. Did he have to call you that right now?
He could have called you anything, honey, angel, sweetheart. But no, he just had to call you baby.
“I think you got somebody else’s mail by mistake,” you said, placing the magazine back on the table. He walks over to you, “We don’t have a subscription for ‘Mother & Baby’. It might belong to that new couple who moved into 1C. I saw them with a stroller the other day.”
“Oh, huh…” he feigns a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, I guess I didn’t notice. All the mail was just shoved into the box.” He scoffs as if it’s the mailman’s fault when it was Bucky who stole the magazine from the top of 1C’s box.
“Will you please give it to them?”
“Yeah, of course.” he shrugs and picks it up. Slips into his shoes and as soon as he’s out and shuts the door, he bangs his head on it lightly. “Barnes, you fucking moron.”
The next hint is when Bucky offers to babysit their new neighbours’ baby boy. It was weeks after that magazine debacle. In that time he’d earned the trust of his neighbours enough to let him babysit their kid while the new parents had a date night to themselves. It was a win-win situation. They were thankful and Bucky got a chance to execute his plan.
You were more than happy to help Bucky. In fact, you were elated. As soon as you were introduced to baby Will by your husband, you picked up the chubby kid and kept him with you the whole time. You only let Bucky have him when he needed a change of diaper and clothes for bedtime.
“I guess, I’ll have to do all the nasty work with our baby, too,” he mumbles, struggling to get Will’s clothes on after he finished powdering and diapering his cute little tushie.
“Yes, obviously. We all have our duties. I carry it for nine months and then you take care of it after that.” You shrugged, hands on your hips.
But what Bucky hung onto was the fact that you didn’t oppose the idea of having a baby.
That made him smile, it was a small one. Though it took everything in him to not turn it into a grin. He was happier than before.
Another hint was dropped soon after that, because for some reason you just couldn’t take a hint. And for some reason, Bucky couldn’t grow enough balls to ask you.
“Do you think babies are adorable?” he randomly asks.
Both of you, strolling hand in hand, in a park. Which was filled with new moms with their newborns and toddlers running around. Did he bring you out here on purpose? Yes, yes he did.
“Of course, they’re adorable,” you said, leaning into his warmth, curling your hand around his bicep.
“I like ‘em,” Bucky comments, watching two toddlers running towards each other to meet in a hug. His heart melts at the sight. But nonchalance is still his motto. He truly doesn’t want to scare you off. Although, you’re stuck with him. But that’s beside the point.
“You know what I like?” you ask, your tone low and a bit dangerous. A finger curling around the chain of his necklace where his wedding ring is looped in. Bucky has tried wearing it on his left hand, but it keeps slipping off. And he’s afraid of losing it. Bucky hums in response, a slight furrow of curiosity between his brows. “The baby-making bit of it.”
He full-belly laughs at that. Head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart.”
Laughter aside, Bucky came to his senses when he realised that both of you, in fact, need to go through the baby-making bit of it. Not that he didn’t think about it. He was just so preoccupied with the fact that he wants a child, the sex part had fused with excitement.
But every time you had sex, Bucky was incorrigible, horny, downright insatiable. It drove him insane that he would have to wear a condom for at least a few more days until he gets the courage to tell you what’s on his mind.
But the way he fucked you, he could tell something else would come over him. He felt like an animal in heat. He went hard and fast, was a bit sloppy at times, his cock would ache so much at the impulse control.
He swears, he could combust when he’d think about it. Think about not having to use that useless piece of rubber. Think about feeling your walls stretch around him. Think about nothing separating the two of you anymore. Think about filling you up, until he can’t anymore. Think about his baby growing inside your womb.
If he was being honest with himself, those thoughts were the only ones that helped his undoing every time you had sex.
So the fact that he was keeping it all inside his stupid little, fragile heart, didn’t help him.
God, why couldn’t he just tell you? You’re his wife, his other half, his soulmate. If he wants a baby, the two of you could start having the talk, at least get a headstart on the journey.
He’s pretty sure his emotions would burst out like an explosion. He’s taken back to the time when he was desperately and hopelessly in love with you, all those years back. When he met you in your restaurant, demanding the waiter to arrange a meeting with the chef because he wanted to give his compliments. You didn’t do that sort of thing at that time.
Now he thinks it would be a great meet-cute story to tell his kids. But how will he have them if he couldn’t tell you?
Just a few more days, and he’ll tell you. In those days Bucky conducts a little research. Google is his best option since he will not go to his friends to seek advice. Sam will only laugh in his face and Yori would start telling stories from his time – the old man could get a little explicit at times. Bucky could not live that nightmare again.
So in a world where people mostly searched, ‘My wife is pregnant, what do I do?’ Bucky searched things like, ‘How to get my wife pregnant?’, ‘How to get pregnant fast?’, ‘What are the best sex positions for assured pregnancy?’, stuff like that. He learned about the ovulation cycle. Learned how to record menstrual cycle frequency. Like any good husband would do.
Not that you will, but if you were to get a whiff of his search history, he would be mortified.
He knows there’s a fifty-fifty chance that your opinions on this baby matter could clash. But having absolute knowledge about this stuff is always good, right?
Bucky groans at the thought. He hopes there are no clashes in opinions. He drops his phone on his chest, heaving a sigh. The sunlight streams through the white cotton blinds as the wind gently blows them away. It’s been ten minutes since he’s been up. You’re already out of bed, probably cooking something. It’s Sunday, you like to take your time to make a big breakfast.
He finally gets up, padding over to the bathroom, splashes water on his face to wake his sleepy eyes. He notices that they’re out of toothpaste. Sighing, he checks the cupboard to get a new tube. While he was at it, he also noticed the box of condoms, which they’re almost running out of, too.
“This is a sign, Barnes.” he preps himself, huffing, “Man up and tell your wife you want a baby.” he nods to his reflection and brushes his teeth.
Bucky follows the smell of fresh waffles and berries and coffee, sweet maple syrup. Bacon and scrambled eggs.
But what really brings out his hunger is the sight in front of him when he enters the kitchen. You, standing at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, dressed in his black button-up. Looking otherworldly, as always in his clothes. Always a pretty sight, always sexy. Always his.
The outline of your chest accentuated by the light material of the cloth. It leaves nothing hidden to his imagination. And boy, it’s running wild. Sweatpants hanging low, he feels himself twitch underneath the worn-out fabric.
Like a siren, you pull him in, and once he's standing behind you, he gives your waist a soft squeeze and your temple a loving kiss. Breathing in your sweet scent, combined with a hint of sweat and the activities that went down the night before. Hey, it was date night and you were wearing that particular dress he loves on you so much.
“G’morning,” Comes his sleep-tired greeting, thick with lack of use, but loving nonetheless. His mouth pressing on the area where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing languidly, running his tongue after he leaves a small nip.
Your reply comes in the form of a light giggle, the shoulder curling up against his honey kisses. “Morning… don’t tell me you haven’t had your fill yet?”
“With you?” More kisses to your neck, “Never.”
Soon his hands start to explore, pulling and squeezing wherever he finds soft skin. A little pinch your nipples, a harsh squeeze to your waist, deft fingers rubbing over your heat, slowly soaking your panties. You quiver, place the cup on the counter, afraid it will slip. His other hand massaging your relaxed shoulder. Lips as sweet as they are, keep pressing heated kisses along your neck and jaw.
“Bucky, we gotta at least get through breakfast… Please – oh,” A heavy sigh parts your lips when he nips at the pulse under the tender skin of your neck.
He can’t tell if you’re pleading him to go on or stop.
“Cheesy as it may sound, you are my breakfast, baby.” he cheekily says into your neck, hips pressed to your ass. His palm, large and callous runs under his shirt, pressing against your belly. That insane rush of electricity zipping down to his dick and he’s fully hard in seconds. Rutting against your ass once again.
The hand on your abdomen only seems to drive his brain towards the possibilities, and before he could gauge his words, he’s speaking, breath hot and clouding with lust when he says, “I wanna have a baby, honey.”
The way your body tensed before his own doesn’t go unnoticed by him. With a hand on your waist, he turns you around, cupping your cheek. Plush lips brushing against your own, reeling you into his touch.
“Let’s make a baby, sweetheart.” His voice is a husky drawl of a request.
And you’re astounded, “Bucky –”
“I know this is sudden for you.” he reasons, “But I’ve been thinking about it for a month now. And it’s killing me, not being able to tell you. We don’t need to do anything right now. I’m just –” he breathes hard, nose flaring, “God, the thought alone makes me so hard.”
A shuddered breath rattles out of your lungs, your bite your lip, but he pries it out with a gentle swipe of his thumb.
“Let me just fuck you right now. We can talk later. Just please, let me –”
“Okay,” you nod, fingers run through the short hair on his nape, the other hand fisting his shirt.
“Okay to what?” he stops to take a look at you, hand on your chin to make you look into his eyes.
“Let’s make a baby,” you kiss his lips once. But that just changes the entire course of this morning. A peck on his lips won’t cut it.
A sort of a growl leaves his lips, wetting his bottom lip, blunt nails holding you in a bruising grip as he turns you around once again. He rips your panties off your legs, using his foot to discard them once they reach your ankles. A nudge to your legs to part them and you brace yourself, a tight grip on the edge of the counter, anticipating his next move. Because, right now, you can tell he’s not the same Bucky anymore. Your affirmation on his request turned something entirely different in his brain – maybe he even short-circuited.
With a simple tug at the lapels of the shirt you’re wearing, he rips it open, the buttons falling on the granite countertops with a clattering sound. You’re bare before him in seconds, breathless before he even had a chance to touch you properly. A sweet whine parting from your lips when he squeezes your ass, his touch rougher than usual, spreads your cheeks and then –
“Oh, my God, Bucky –” he’s slipping his fingers inside you, collecting the wetness, holding your waist in a bruising grip. You roll your hips, trying to seek more of his touch. Your head feels heavy from the impact his words and his touch have on you.
You’re unbelievably wet, seeping down your thighs, down his fingers. Soaking him and still unable to stop yourself. His blood pumps a little harder in his chest, in his veins, breaths growing shallow with each passing of his fingers inside your tight, wet heat. Your legs start to shake after a particular thrust, unable to hold yourself up, crying out with tears burning behind your eyes.
You’re right there on the edge when his thumb stops circling and his fingers leave you empty.
“Why’d you stop?” you pant.
“I need to be inside you,” he groans, quickly taking off his shirt and sweatpants. His cock slaps wetly against his abdomen, twitching painfully when he touches himself. A few strokes, languid pulls that have his knees buckling, his hand joins next to yours on the counter and he lines himself along with your heat, “You sure you don’t wanna talk about this first?”
He can’t help but ask you, giving you an out before anything happens. He’s not sure why because he’s only wanted this for so long.
“Oh, Jesus – fuck, Bucky!” you pant, “Just fuck a baby into me already!”
The way he whimpers at your plea, desperate and frustrated, it’s hard not to comply with you, he slips right into you. He’s not met with much resistance, you’re impossibly wet and he’s sliding home in one long thrust. And the stunted breath that rags out of his mouth at the feeling of your walls clenching around his bare cock for the first time, it nearly sends him reeling.
Forehead on your shoulder, breathe hot on your back, Bucky holds off on fucking you right away. He can’t wrap his head around this feeling.
God, he needs a second.
“I can feel just how wet you are,” he whines, “Remind me, why did we ever use condoms?”
“The hell, if I knew,” you reply with a huffed chuckle.
“This has never felt so fuckin’ good,” he moans, starts moving, sliding out of you, leaving you almost empty before he’s rocking hard, back in. It’s enough to force the breath right out of your lungs.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you like this? With my bare cock inside you – Ah, shit.”
“Believe me, I have,” you’re surprised you could get the words out through your gasps.
This… new version of sex, where he can feel every soft glide of your walls, where you feel every smooth, hard ridge of his cock, drives you both insane.
Only makes him move faster, makes you spasm around him quicker. Your broken moans spur him on. He pulls you flat against his chest, his vibranium arm cool across your blazing torso, holding your body close to his as he picks up his pace.
It’s all primal. His instincts, animalistic. The only goal in his mind to fill you up full of him. His right hand travels down to your belly once again, feeling the outline of his cock moving inside you. Turns him on beyond his imagination. And he can’t wait to see you get round and big, to watch your breasts grow heavier, larger. He remembers reading they get sensitive, he wonders if you’ll come with just a touch of his hands, with just a swipe of his tongue when you reach that stage.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me once again,” he breathes out, fingers inch down to where he disappears inside you, again and again, collecting the wetness that trickles down your thighs only to help him circle your nub.
“I want this, Bucky. I wanna have your baby, oh please –” you writhe against him, push your ass back into his hips, your back arching away, cool vibranium fingers toy with your nipples.
“You have any idea the research I did for this?” he chuckles, helplessly, grinding into you, more so than thrusting, the tip of his cock brushing your sweet spot, deliciously, repeatedly once he finds that angle. “All the positions we could try out to get you pregnant? Just thinking of all the ways I could fuck a baby insida’ you. Drove me nuts, honey.”
“Bucky –” Your walls grip him tighter, and he almost stutters to a stops.
“You’re close, aren’t you? Shit, squeezing me like a vice, sweetheart.” You nod and at this point, you’re wailing. The only way to muffle yourself is when you turn your head, a hand at the back of his neck to guide him closer for a kiss. Your tongue laves at his, and he tries to keep up with his thrusts but they’re getting sloppy with the way you suck on his bottom lip.
A final push and a splurge of white-hot intensity distributes itself all over your body, starting from your belly, reaching up to your chest as it swells up, flushed. And he’s coming too, balls pulled up tightly, he grows painfully hard inside you right before he releases. Breath hot and heavy, sweaty chest shivering with the aftershocks.
“I wanna go again,” he says, panting, noses at the underside of your jaw. You turn around to face him, eyes wide, still trying to catch your breath.
“Really?” you croak out.
But he gives you that smirk, it turns your insides to mush, “What? Are you tired?”
“I’m not a super-soldier with an insane sex drive, baby. I might need a minute, though. I’m not sure if I can even hold myself up.” you huff out, resting your head on his shoulder, grateful for his arms around your body as it sags against his.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Bucky says before pulling out. He turns you around and picks you up before even a drop of his come can seep out of you. A yelp tumbling out of your lips as he hangs you over his left shoulder, your arms finding purchase on his body, though you know he’ll never drop you.
“Bucky! Put me down!” you squeal, all the blood rushing your brain for a second. His vibranium palm is secured around your legs, the other hand kneads your ass, as he walks down the hallway to your bedroom.
“Nope!” His answer is punctuated with a sharp spank on your ass.
He carefully settles you on the bed, body sinking into the soft mattress. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch him crawl up the bed on his knees. He stalks you like a predator, eyes hungry and dark, brimming with pure, unadulterated lust.
Your legs widen on their own, his hands rest on your knees as he settles between your thighs. That’s when you start to feel a sort of warmth trickle down your weeping cunt, but Bucky is quick to catch it.
“Not a chance in hell,” Two of his fingers gather the hot trail right before it soaks the sheets, he shakes his head, pushes it back where it came from. And oh, your head falls back, as a languid moan escapes your lips, you can’t help it. You can’t keep looking at the way he stares at you down there. Ready to devour you without a single breather.
He’s hard and sleek and glistening. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth, he curls his hand around his girth. Releases a shaky breath when his thumb grazes over the tip. He’s a throbbing, pathetic mess above you. Unable to control this insatiable appetite for sex that suddenly came over him. It’s surprising, but what else would you expect from a freaking super-soldier all set to breed you?
He slides himself between your folds, once, twice, a third time only to watch your writhe against the sheets. Hands caressing your curves, your breasts, tugging and squeezing. Legs somehow spreading wider.
“One more time and we’re done for today, yeah?” he asks, eyes finding yours, “I wanna try this one position I saw this morning.”
“Is that what got you all worked up?” you chuckle, “As long as you’re doing all the work.”
“Gladly,” he mumbles, and the slide is easy, and the moans that slip out of those plush pink lips, easier, softer. It’s so filthy – the wet, squelching sounds that now accompany your sweet love-making. Bucky leans down to be closer to you, a gentle hand cupping his scruffy cheek to guide him for a kiss as he sinks right in until there’s no room left.
Noses brushing, heads tilting, mouths divulging for deeper kisses, wet and warm and sloppy as he begins to move. He’s gentle this time, threading your fingers through his own next to your wild hair laid out on the pillow. His wedding ring lands on your sternum, right above your beating heart.
The overwhelming feeling from before, the primal instinct that had taken over him had settled down… for now. He just wants to make love to you, in your bed, create life inside you, for both of you.
He’s desperate, light-headed from all the blood rushing south. Even though you’ve done this countless times, you’ve never seen him like this. It turns you on beyond your imagination. How his hunger turned into anguish. How he’s the one that has turned into a pleading, whimpering mess.
You kiss him until he eases into your touch, delicate fingers running all over his hot skin, over the ridges of the muscles on his back, smooth and rippling. Over his erratically beating heart that you help calm down a bit. Tongue seeking out his own, to make him focus on this one feeling at a time. And he kisses you back, for what feels like an eternity.
When the need for air arises, he pulls away but presses his forehead against yours. Breaths mingling, hot and damp. Then he adjusts himself, in a way where he’s slipping inside you even more. Your calves are brought to be placed on his sturdy shoulders, secured there by his arms bracketing the outside of your thighs. It’s a good stretch, comfortable in a way that makes you purr like a kitten.
And then he begins his move once again, hips undulating, rolling deliciously, lazily. The sweet symphony of your love-making soon fills the room. Both of you moaning, panting, the sounds softer than before. He kisses you some more, pouring all his love, all his affection into this simple act because he cannot express it any other way. This right here, your cocoon of love and warmth, desire and lust is all you want, all you need.
He whispers sweet nothings, he calls you sweet names, he tells you how he cannot wait to start a family with you. How completely and hopelessly in love with you he is, and how it’s the only thing that helps him get up every morning. You, your love, the warmth that your offer him.
His lips catch a tear the dares to roll down the side of your face, tasting the saltiness. Legs giving out, slipping down his shoulders but he doesn’t stop moving.
Not when you’re both so close, not when your hand travels down to claw at his back, grounding him into you, not when you’re grinding yourself against him, and definitely not when you beg him not to stop.
Your soft hand around his sweaty neck urges him to look into your eyes. And he’s helpless when you whisper, “Come inside me.”
“Jesus, sweetheart –” He feels that tingling at the base of his spine.
“I want it, please, Bucky.” God, you don’t have to plead. Chest rubbing against chest, sweat sticking and fusing your bodies as one, hearts beating as one. Toppling over together.
“Oh, fuck me,” he all but whimpers, hips stuttering to an abrupt halt as he spills into you.
He stills once it’s all over. Those glazed, coral blue eyes gazing over your features. Lips pressing over the delicate frown between your brows, to ease it, to calm you. More kisses follow, on your eyelids, on your cheekbones, down your jaw and neck, and your clavicle, and finally a lazy one to your lips. You brush away the dampened hair that fall on his forehead, kissing him just as fervently.
“I love you,” he beats you by a fraction of a second because you utter the same three words right after him. A bite of your lip to stop the laughter from pouring out. The dimpled smile you give him clutches at his heartstrings. His chest swells impossibly large and he’s never been more in love with you.
“I hope this works,” you mumble, your knuckles gently brush over the top of his cheekbone. Eyes on his, soft and loving.
“It will,” He assures you, with a sweet kiss placed over the golden band of your wedding ring.
“If it doesn’t, we have all the time in the world to try more.”
“Hmm,” He grins, “Let’s hope we can try all the positions before we get pregnant.”
“But we can get pregnant and still have sex in those positions.”
“No, I wanna see which one worked for us.”
You laugh, “Why does it matter?”
“You never ask a man why the position matters.” He states it as it is. A stern but playful pout on his lips.
“That makes no sense.”
“We’re just gonna have to agree to disagree, sweetheart.”
i hope you enjoyed reading! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! :)
(a little part ii)
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hello!! i have a bit of a request! could i get oikawa bokuto and kuroo w a s/o who absolutely loves to cook and bake and does so a lot, but always always always shares the food they make? n they kinda slowed down in making food bc ppl arent accepting or wanting the food they make and its making them really down :(
ive been having this issue w my roommates bc i always cook for them w lots of love and they never eat what i make and its,, draining on me,,,,
but yea!! i just want oikawa bokuto n kuroo to make me feel a lil better :( thank u so so so much!!!! i love ur blog n ur writing so much 🖤
THEY AREN'T EATING YOUR FOOD SO YOU STOP COOKING FOR THEM
CHARACTERS: bokuto + kuroo + oikawa + (gn!reader)
NOTES: i hope everything is ok and if not i hope it gets better!! <3 + i tried to make these a little happier ! they all take place over a week + i tried a new format with this we'll see if i stick w it sfkjhg
bokuto honestly didn't not want to eat your food
it's just that he had to go on a new diet for the upcoming season, his trainer and nutritionist told him to try it out to see how it works with him
and the things you cooked and baked were on the no eating list
he just loved when you made food for him, it tasted amazing and he could feel the love you put into it
he was planning on waiting the diet out and stockpiling all the food you made for afterwards as a treat
but he may or may not have failed to tell you that
so when you noticed he wasn't eating the food you left for him when he came home late after practice, you were disheartened and not to be dramatic, but heartbroken as well
deciding not to waste anymore, you simply stopped
turns out, the diet wasn't really working with bokuto, his nutritionist decided it was unecessary since he was getting the same results when he wasn't on it––thanks to his genetics, metabolism and workout routine. if anything he was glad, he was beyond excited to come home and finally eat your cooking again.
he practically ran home with a skip in his step, shouting out cheerfully as soon as he stepped past the front door. "baby i'm home!" he put his things down and took his shoes off, before gliding in front of the fridge to open it. "what's for dinner?––" he trailed off when he noticed there was nothing cooking, maybe you were starting later? he looked through the shelves in the fridge, looking for something to snack on in the mean time and gasped abruptly when he couldn't find the containers of food he'd been saving over the past week.
he closed the doors and frantically looked around the kitchen, opening random cupboards that couldn't possibly keep any refrigerated food fresh.
you walked in to find him searching around like a madman and you paused. "kou? what's wrong?"
he looked up at the sound of your voice and ran over to you, placing his hands on your waist. he kissed your forehead to say hello, despite the pout on his face and the clearly pressing matter on his mind. "hi baby doll. i was looking for all the food that was in the fridge, did you move them?"
you paused, "well i––i threw them out?"
his eyes almost bulged out of his head, "what?! why??"
you were confused by his sudden outburst, it's not like he was eating any of it. "i mean you weren't eating, kou...it's been a week since you've stopped eating my food, i just didn't see the point in keeping it all in there...that's also why i'm not making dinner right now."
he stared at you, shocked and disappointed in himself, he had no idea you were feeling this upset. "oh my god...did i forget to tell you?" your brows furrowed curiously but he simply pulled you into his arms for a tight hug. "i'm so sorry bub––they wanted me to try out this new diet, that's why i wasn't eating! i didn't mean to make you upset! i was even planning on eating all of the dinners i missed afterwards...but the diet wasn't for me so i can go back to eating normally now!"
you pulled back slightly to look at him, not knowing what to say. "oh..."
he gave you a sad smile, "yeah," he brought a hand up to hold your cheek, "you know i love your food––it honestly hurt my heart when they told me i couldn't eat it!"
you cracked a smile and he gave you one right back, "i'm serious!"
you sighed happily, "okay...so i guess i should start making dinner then?––"
he was pulling you over to the fridge before you could finish your sentence, "absolutely! and i'm helping!"
you laughed and started getting the ingredients together, "how about i make your favorite tonight?"
he nodded like a child excited for ice cream and kissed you on the cheek. he wasn't really a chef himself, that's why he left it to you––he didn't want to burn down the kitchen. so he'd mostly be staying by your side, maybe handing you things or mixing things, but you enjoyed his company nonetheless.
you had started seasoning the food when he slid his arms around you from behind, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. "hey baby?" you hummed in response and his hold on you tightened a bit. "would you...mind making my favorite dessert tonight too? i've been craving it for a while now..."
you smiled to yourself and nodded, "i'd love to."
he squeezed you and kissed your cheek loudly, "yes! thank you i love you so much!–"
almost every day you sent kuroo off to work with a baked good you made him
he loved them and you loved making them so it was a win-win
you'd put them in a little container with a cute note
and though he knew what to expect each time, they never failed to brighten his day
but earlier this week you stopped by kuroo's office to drop off the treat he'd forgotten to take with him today in his rush out the door
he was in a meeting so his assistant let you into his office
and you felt an ache in your chest when you noticed four of the treats you'd given him this past week all on his desk, unopened
that day, you went back home with all the uneaten sweets and unshed tears aching to fall from your eyes
did he just take them to please you? did he not really want them this whole time? was he just trying to be a good husband?
all these questions flooded your mind, only confusing and hurting you further
but one thing was for certain, you'd stop baking them for him
it didn't make sense for you to if you knew it'd be going to waste
kuroo was beyond done with his day and it wasn't even halfway over. he sighed, loosening his tie as he shut the door to his office, drained from the two hour meeting he'd been in.
thankfully, he had no more meetings today so he could sit and relax while he worked in his office. he sat down at his desk and shut his eyes for a moment, needing to calm down and regenerate himself. he reached over to his left blindly, knowing he'd left the treats you baked him there––things had been getting so hectic lately, he barely had time to eat them, but he was saving them for when he did have the time.
his hand smacked down on the desk three times as he tried to reach for the containers before he finally opened his eyes. his brows furrowed slightly, "what the..." he looked around the desk, opening the drawers and everything before giving up and calling his assistant in.
she knocked on the door and he signaled for her to come in.
"hi, do you know where the sweets i had on my desk are? i thought i left them here."
his assistant thought for a moment before perking up, "oh i believe your partner came and collected them while you were in your meeting, sir."
he frowned, "y/n was here? why didn't you tell me?"
"they asked me not to disturb you."
kuroo nodded, "oh alright...well, thank you, that'll be all."
he immediately pulled his personal phone out and called your number, you must have been back home by now.
you saw his name pop up on your screen as you were about to throw out the baked goods and hesitated for a good while before sighing and picking up. "yes?"
you could practically hear the smirk on his face as he spoke through the phone.
kuroo leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he spoke. "you stole my sweets from me? where'd you hide them? or did you eat them?"
he didn't even feel bad that he'd just left them there?––"well you clearly weren't eating them kuroo," the smirk dropped from his face and he sat up, alert. woah––kuroo? why did you sound upset? "they were just sitting on your desk––anyway, i was about to throw them out."
"woah, what?? why would you do that?!"
he was speaking to you but you honestly weren't listening, too annoyed and too hurt to pay attention. "look if you didn't like them, you could have just told me so i wouldn't have to waste hours every day busting my ass to make them for you––were you just throwing them out this whole time, is that it?––"
he shook his head with each word you uttered before realizing you couldn't see him, he was just in complete shock. "what? no no, kitten listen to me, hey listen, okay?" you paused, mostly to catch your breath, but he took that opportunity to speak up. "i love when you bake for me, everything you make tastes amazing. i love eating the sweets you make when i'm at work because they remind me of you and of how much you love me––this week's just been a complete pain in my ass and i haven't had the time to sit down, eat and enjoy your treats, i love them and you too much to just scarf them down in a minute. i need to savor them, you know?" despite the adrenaline running in your body, you cracked a smile. "i finally had some time to myself and i was gonna eat them just now when i realized they were missing so i called you..."
he trailed off and you took that as your cue to speak up. "oh..."
you could hear his smirk again, "yeah, oh."
"so i...maybe...overreacted a bit."
he chuckled, the sound warm even through the phone. "no kitten you didn't, i get why you were upset––but, you should have asked me about it first."
you sighed, "yeah, yeah..." you looked at the open containers in front of you, only now noticing the notes you put in them were gone––he must have taken them out to read them even though he didn't have time to eat––"wait a minute, if you haven't had time to eat..." you could hear him clear his throat awkwardly, "kuroo you haven't been eating lunch?!"
he laughed awkwardly, "um, i mean, i eat after work––"
"that's not the same!" you rolled your eyes, "i'm coming back over there and i'm bringing you lunch and you're going to eat it, understand?"
he poked his tongue to the side of his cheek. "okay, kitten."
you sighed, "you're lucky i love you."
he leaned back in his chair again, "oh could you bring one of the––"
you cut him off, putting one of the already closed containers back in your bag. "already on it."
he grinned, "god, i love you."
oikawa loves your cooking
and normally he scrambles home after practice to eat it
but this past week training was grueling and tiring, so by the time he came out every day, he was drained mentally and physically
and he was starving
he couldn't wait any longer as soon as he stepped foot out of the gym
so he went to the nearest takeout place, bodega, whatever to get something to eat quickly,, for the whole week
he thought nothing of it
but when he came home every night for a week straight saying he'd already eaten when you tried to offer him the food you spent hours making?
it hurt, a lot
so you decided you'd stop cooking
oikawa was aching to go home––he was exhausted and all he thought about to get him through the day was you, your cooking and your cuddles. he needed all three immediately. when his coach said they were all free to go home, he could almost feel a weight lifting off his shoulders.
he sighed loudly as he stepped into your home, peeling his sneakers off and setting his things aside. he padded into the house, going straight to the kitchen and frowned when you were nowhere in sight. he'd come home a bit early today, around the time you were usually making dinner.
he looked around and walked to the living room, smiling to himself when he found you sitting on the couch, looking for something to watch on tv.
you smiled up at him and greeted him, the sound of your voice making him feel warm inside. "hi baby, how was your day?"
he huffed and slid onto the couch, lying down so his head was in your lap. "don't even talk to me about the day i've had––i was thinking about you the whole time." he took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips to give it a soft kiss. "you got me through it."
he placed one of your hands on his cheek and the other in his hair, mumbling a thank you when you started playing with the slightly damp mess on his head. "mm that feels good baby." he closed his eyes and sighed contently, settling in comfortably to your touch.
after a few moments, he spoke up softly, trying his best not to fall asleep. "what's for dinner?"
"um i'm not sure," your eyes were focused back on the tv as you thought for a moment. "what do you wanna order?"
he paused and cracked one eye open, opening the other when he realized you weren't joking. "wha––order?"
you looked down at him and nodded hesitantly, "yeah? like takeout?"
he sat up abruptly and turned to face you, "what? why?"
you paused this time, unsure of how to respond. "well...every night for the past week you haven't been eating my food. i think it's fair for me to assume you don't want my food anymore."
he felt a piece of himself break on the inside, "oh angel..." he grabbed your hands, "no no––i love your food, you know that––i've just been so tired this week, i couldn't even wait to get home to eat, so i stopped by the nearest places with the boys." he scooted closer to you. "i'm so sorry i made you feel like i didn't appreciate what you do for me––i promise from now on i'll drag myself on my hands and knees if i have to to come home to you and eat––"
you laughed and shook your head, "tooru there's no need for that––"
he cut you off, almost offended. "of course there is! i hurt your feelings baby, i never want to do that again!"
you smiled and pulled him in for a sweet kiss that he quickly melted into. you pulled away to look at him earnestly. "it's okay babe. just...maybe tell me next time? i was just worried you were tired of my food, that's all."
he pulled you into his lap and held you tight. "i could never and will never be tired of anything you do for me, i promise." he kissed your cheek. "though it is my fault, i did miss your cooking this week––but if you're not in the mood to make anything i understand and we can still order––"
you shook your head, "i'll make your favorite, okay?"
he pulled you in for another kiss, "i really don't deserve you."
3K notes · View notes
abstract ; an accidental nude turns out to be the best mistake of your life.
pairing ; dadsbestfriend!bucky x f!reader
word count ; 3,003 words
warnings ; age-gap [reader is 25 & bucky is 39], talk of parents, talk of heartbreak & breakup, sexting, nudes, pet-names [baby & peach(s)], lots of flirting and kissing, soft!dom!bucky, dom/sub dynamics, panty gagging [in reader’s mouth], oral [reader receiving], multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, bucky finishes on reader’s chest, mention of drinking, mention of masturbation, nipples + tit play, mocking & degradation, taunting, teasing — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI
notes ; this is longer than i expected but it’s because bucky owns me <3
There was nothing worse than being confined to your parents house after your apartment had to undergo emergency repairs that left you temporarily moving back into your childhood home.
Because fate was cruel and the universe was laughing at you.
Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t gotten properly laid in around six months.
This was some sick and twisted joke being played on you and you wanted to scream in pure frustration because how the hell were you supposed to masturbate in your parents house?
Maybe it wouldn’t have been too bad if your neighbour, your father’s best friend, wasn’t a total fucking beefcake.
You didn’t know Bucky until you met him two years ago for your 23rd birthday right before he dropped the news that he would moving into the neighbourhood.
It was then that you quickly learned that Bucky was nothing but a fucking tease.
Finding every possible way to rile you up, leave you flustered, and absolutely tripping over your words.
Then something happened on New Years that would shift the course of whatever the fuck your relationship with Bucky was.
You were sad. Entirely upset and sobbing after the few glasses of champagne over your shit-bag ex posting a story of him and his new girlfriend.
No, he didn’t cheat on you.
No, he just broke your heart.
Bucky found you outside, tear and mascara stained cheeks as he extended that bionic arm and pulled you up.
He didn’t say anything, holding you close before he began dancing with you.
The fireworks being set off, welcoming the New Year, cause Bucky to tilt your chin up before your lips met his.
It left you dizzy, his lips tasting of your dad’s expensive scotch you once tried only to grimace at the smoky, burning flavour.
But it tasted good on Bucky’s lips.
When he pulled away, whispering a faint Happy New Year, Peach, you wanted to pull him in by that worn-in leather jacket he was always seen in and kiss him again.
Except you didn’t.
Bucky placed a kiss to your cheek and retreated back inside and left you even more sexually frustrated.
Nothing ever happened, neither of you initiated anything more despite the flirty texts you continued to send each other for the next few months.
Before the conversation died out completely.
You would get the occasional hey, how are you text before quickly catching up. But being in a completely different city made it difficult for anything to go further than just that.
Now you were back home and you knew that Bucky saw your old, piece of crap car in the driveway.
You were home with absolutely nothing to do and for once, you had the house to yourself.
This was a big deal. You could finally take care of yourself and maybe get a good nights sleep that didn’t involve another sex dream.
A Bucky sex dream.
You had to get him off your mind, sinking into the bath you ran yourself and grabbing your phone to text your best friend.
Advice. What you needed was advice from her.
Well, more like justifying your bad idea.
That’s what best friends are for, though, right?
There was someone back home, a sweet man who always brought you your favourite hot beverage in the middle of the day.
His name was Ben and after an office work party, you had both ended up falling into bed with each other.
It was your typical no strings attached sort of relationship. No feelings and no messes, just mediocre sex.
Ben was sweet, he tried his best, but he never quite got it right. You were worried that he thought you were losing interest because of the nearly four months of celibacy, but your schedules never lined up.
And well, if you couldn’t get laid. You might as well indulge in some reckless sexting as you let your vibrator do the rest.
You also had to admit, the bath selfie was hot.
Showing just enough skin, but not too much to give everything away.
Needless to say you were excited to finally get some sort of action, even if it was virtual.
Except you were just a little too excited, clicking the first ‘B’ contact that popped up and typing away without even realizing it.
Your trigger finger would be your demise, you had always expected it. But this? Oh this was so much fucking worse.
Not only had you sexted your father’s best friend, who you also ended up kissing, but you had sent him a nude.
At least it was tasteful?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
You wanted to scream when you saw those three bubbles pop up. He saw it and now, he was typing something probably along the lines of what the fuck?
It’s a situation you never thought you’d be in. Never hoped you’d be in. Yet here you were, cooking bath water and bubbles that had begun to fade as you accepted your fate.
Oh Peach… read his reply.
This is just cruel. You have any idea what this is doing to me? ;)
It’s when you shot up, deciding that you were done with the bath because Bucky fucking Barnes was sexting back.
Your hands were shaking, heart racing and your core was aching because of his reply. A string of words had gotten you riled up, enough to wrap a towel around your body and sprint back to your room.
Your reply was bold.
Show me then, Barnes.
You really don’t know where your confidence came from, but you suspected it to be from how fucking desperate you were.
The bubbles popped up again, then stopped, and then up again before…
There he was, grabbing his cock through the sweatpants he was wearing and you couldn’t pry your eyes away from how big he was.
Another text from Bucky.
You gonna come help me, Peach? Or am I gonna have to take care of this myself?
There is no way in hell he was taking care of it himself.
Your reply was rushed and you were thankful for autocorrect as you threw your phone on your bed.
Be there in 5.
Fuck your bra, it didn’t matter as you grabbed a new and lacy pair of panties. You pulled on the closest pair of shorts and nearest shirt before flying down the stairs and shoving your feet in a pair of Birkenstocks.
Then you were out the door with your phone in hand as you made the short and quick trip to Bucky’s.
His house was dark, not a single light on as you knocked on his front door only for it to be opened immediately.
Bucky pulled you in, a soft yelp leaving your lips before the door was shut, locked, and you were pressed against it.
Both of your chests were heaving, pressed tightly against each other’s as Bucky smirked.
“Hey there, Peach. Missed me?” You rolled your eyes, trying to squirm against him.
“Oh I wouldn’t do that,” he purred. “Unless you plan on gettin’ on your knees and openin’ that pretty little mouth of yours.”
God, you had forgotten just how insufferable Bucky really was.
He was charming and cocky, but above all he was a fucking tease.
“What? Not even gonna buy me a drink first?” You tease back, continuing to squirm because you can feel him growing harder against you.
He chuckles, deep and low.
“Oh baby,” his nose runs along your jaw. “I promise to get you a drink after I fuck you absolutely stupid.”
The whimper you let out is pathetic before Bucky’s lips are swallowing your moans. They’re soft, but his stubble is rougher against your skin as you tangle your fingers in his shirt.
“Bucky,” you let out softly causing him to swear under his breath. “Fuck.”
“My name sounds s’fuckin’ good comin’ from your lips, Peach.” He groans, fingers digging into your hips trying to anchor your body to his.
Bucky doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this; young, alive, and happy.
But right now, kissing you and having your body so close that he can feel your erratic heartbeat? He doesn’t want the moment to last because maybe he’s been waiting for a sign to make a move on you.
“This is so wrong.” Bucky mumbles against your lips as you shake your head and pull away.
The look in your eyes is intoxicating, glimmering and shining with lust and mischief.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you whisper, hands running up his chest and Bucky thinks he’s fallen in love.
Whatever the fuck he was feeling, his dick was telling him that this is exactly what he needs. The consequences don’t fucking matter when you’re in his arms.
“I’ll just have to find a way to make sure your screams are muffled,” he retorts, quickly pulling you into his bedroom where you’re flung onto his large and comfortable bed.
You’d never been in Bucky’s room, let alone his home, but it’s exactly what you expected.
Minimal decorations, no pictures, and grim.
His bedroom is no different, dark blue sheets and two pillows is all that’s found on the bed as you turn your head back to watch him hovering over you.
He leans down, placing teasing kisses to the column of your throat before you feel his warm breath against your ear, “but I can always stuff your panties in your mouth to shut you up.”
You gasped, watching the way his eyes were now almost entirely engulfed by his pupils. His hands roamed your body, wasting little time in tearing your clothes off.
“You’ve been invadin’ my dreams ever since I saw that beat up car of yours in the driveway,” he mumbles, your tits in his hands and the juxtaposition of warm and ice-cold is enough to send a chill down your spine.
“Ever since New Years,” he adds. “I haven’t been able to shake you from my mind.”
Your nipples are hard, rolled between his thumb and index finger as he places kisses between your breasts.
“And by the looks of it,” he smirks, eyes meeting yours. “You’re awfully needy for me too.”
He runs a single finger up your panty covered core, focusing on the small wet-patch as you let out a soft whimper at the touch.
“That picture wasn’t for me, was it, Peach?” He then asks, hooking two fingers in the cotton fabric, waiting for your answer.
You just shake your head, “no.”
He’s not offended, he’s amused as he barks out a laugh and rips the final layer of clothing off your body before bunching it and shoving your panties into his back pocket.
“Well I hate to break it to you,” he’s got a carnal look to him, hungry for a taste of you as he drinks in your naked form.
“But after tonight, no man will ever compare to me.” His words hit you like a freight train and knock the air from your lungs leaving you gasping when he pries your legs apart.
It’s when he peels his shirt off of his body that you can really see just how strong he is. His muscles ripple with his movements, jeans still tight against his legs as he falls over top of you.
“Now open wide, I don’t want anyone hearin’ you screamin’ my name when you’re supposed to be a good girl sittin’ at home.” He winks, grabbing your discarded panties and stuffing them in your mouth.
He hums, “so pretty like this, Peach.”
You’re practically on the verge of tears when he finally crawls between your legs.
When he finally touches you, giving you sweet, sweet satisfaction is when you know that no other man will ever come close to making you feel like you do right now.
Bucky isn’t just experienced, he’s intuitive.
He listens to your body, keeping mental notes of what makes your toes curl only to do it better.
“Aww don’t tell me you’re about to cum, I was havin’ so much fun,” he taunts, chin wet but fingers still curled knuckle deep inside of you.
Your moans are muffled by the panties, only fuelling Bucky’s own arousal as he realizes just how submissive you are.
“Cum for me, Peach. Be a good girl and show me what ‘m doin’ to you.” He praises before you’re clenching around his fingers, thrown into the best orgasm of your life.
A feeling you knew only Bucky could give you.
You don’t have time to catch your breath, not when Bucky is rising to his height and tearing his pants off of his legs.
“Holy fuck,” you gasp. Bucky looks at you with a knowing look as your jaw drops.
“There’s no way you’re gonna fit.” He was massive, and now you knew that Bucky was a double threat.
A man with a big dick that actually knew how to use it. Not to mention the way he was able to make you fall apart over his face in minutes.
A triple fucking threat.
He cocks his head to the side, wrapping a flesh hand around himself.
“We’ll make it fit, Peach. Don’t you worry.” He growls, the mattress dipping under his weight and you’re half expecting him to flip you onto your hands and knees.
“Uh uh,” he tsks. “There’s no way in hell ‘m passin’ up the opportunity to watch you take me, baby.”
You shiver, spine tingling as you feel the weight of him against your thigh.
“Look at me,” he whispers, titling your chin up. “’M here to make you feel good. To take care of you.”
You swallow thickly, throat dry as ever and it feels like you’re gulping down sand before Bucky kisses you again.
It’s much gentler this time around, “let me know if you want to stop.”
You just shake your head, whining out a pathetic “no.”
“Then lay back for me and relax, Peach.” He purrs and you’re sinking back into the pillow as he runs his cock through your folds, collecting the new rush of arousal.
He locks eyes with you before pushing in, slipping into you easier than he expected but it only makes him spit out a strangled moan, “shit.”
“God, you feel s’fuckin’ good. Tight ‘n warm,” he groans, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into you as you welcome the stretch.
A feeling you hadn’t felt in months, slowly growing accustomed to Bucky’s size.
“You’re takin’ me so well, baby. Look at’cha,” he bares his teeth when he grins, looking down at you.
Bucky’s hands massage your pelvis, hips, and thighs as he bottoms out in you, loosening and relax your tense muscles. You hadn’t realized how much it was helping until you fluttered your eyes open.
“There you are,” he coos. “Can you feel how deep ‘side you I am?” He poses the question teasingly.
His hand is placed over your lower tummy, adding pressure as you moan, “oh.”
“That’s me, Peach. ‘M right here,” he whispers, moving his hips gently, rocking into you steadily as you grip the bedsheets.
“And now,” he smirks, gripping onto the headboard. “I get to watch you get fucked.”
He doesn’t hold back, snapping his hips against yours, relishing in the way the room fills with the sound of slapping skin.
“So pretty under me, baby. You look like such a pretty sub, y’know that?” He growls, taking hold of your cheeks.
You didn’t know that, but you’re sure as hell glad that Bucky said it because it caused sparks to shoot through you as his pelvis bumped against your clit.
“That’s exactly what you are,” he smirks. “My pretty little sub.”
Bucky tapped into your needs and desires so quickly. Or maybe you had been giving off hints and clues throughout the years, he has known you for two years now.
“Look at me, Peach,” he growls. “You’re gonna look at me when you come, understand?”
He’s not stern, instead, he’s almost begging you to look at him when pleasure consumes. And you nod, letting him know that you would do exactly what he wants.
“Good girl,” he purrs, thrusts growing far less calculated and much more desperate before your jaw drops and you’re unable to stop the moans from flowing freely past your lips.
“Could listen to you moan all damn day, fuck.” Bucky pants, “‘specially when I get to pump you full of my cum.”
You shudder, aftershocks still flowing through you before Bucky quickly pulls out and finishes over your chest with a low moan you would be thinking of for the rest of your life.
TWO WEEKS LATER.
“Hey Buck,” you chirp, picking the phone up as you hop into bed.
“Hey Peaches.” He replies with a laugh, “what’re you up to?”
You sigh, playing with the old blanket on your bed, “nothing much, I think I’ll cal an early night.”
He chuckles again, “you’re missin’ me that much, huh?”
You roll your eyes, shaking your head, “can you blame me? If anything this is your fault. You’re the one that ruined men for me.”
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Well then quit poutin’ and open your damn door so I can finally have you all to myself, Peach.”
You don’t even have time to end the call before you’re racing to your front door, weaving through your apartment and hurdling into Bucky’s arms.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” You laugh as he shrugs his shoulders.
“What? I can’t surprise my girl?” He asks innocently, putting you back down on the ground, “plus,” he smirks. “You expect me to send me a photo of you wearin’ my shirt and not expect me to race over so I can fuck you sideways.”
Your jaw drops, thrown onto the bed before Bucky is crawling over you, peppering kisses over your body.
Sending an accidental nude to Bucky was the best worst decision of your life.
3K notes · View notes
lisp 1/3 - JJK | M
↣ from day one, he has the irrational urge to protect you, even from himself.
pairing: hybrid!jungkook x reader
based on this request.
genre: angst, fluff, smut, f2l
word count: 9K
warnings/tags: snake hybrid!JK, childhood friends au, protective JK, goofy namjoon, strong language, JK has a weird pet name for you (smiggle vibes), JK has a forked tongue, JK is soft for you, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, mentions of masturbation, JK’s spit has abilities, explicit smut- dirty talk, hair pulling, thigh riding, soft to rough sex, wall sex, scratching, biting, oral (f & m), handjob, unprotected sex, choking, spit kink, lots of cum, cum inflation, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping, overstimulation
I added my own spice to snake hybrids.
a/n: Watch this video, you know, as a taster.
“Look at his eyes!”
Hands on your hips, palm tree ponytails swinging as you walk, “leave him alone!”
“What are you gonna do?”
With a light push, you fall to the floor, tears prickling your eyes.
“Leave her alone!”
The next thing you hear are wails, “help help!”
Mrs. Choi steps out of the classroom, while you stare wide-eyed at the raven-haired boy in front of you, slit pupils, sharp teeth digging into his lips, forked tongue poking out.
“They started it!”
You dust your hands on your baby pink dress, chubby fingers pointing at the three boys who cower behind the slide.
“Now, Y/N. You know what happens when you lie.”
“But I’m not lying,” you pout, “they were pushing and hitting him! I helped him!”
“Taeyong, is that true?”
“Why are you asking him?” You shout, “he’s just gonna lie to you! Don’t you believe me?!”
“What’s your name?”
“Y/L/N Y/N,” you sniffle, waiting outside the principal’s office for your mother, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.
“I’m Jeon Jungkook.”
“Hi,” you manage a smile, closing your hand around his extended one, immediately pulling it out of his hold when you feel how cold his hand is.
“I’m sorry, Taeyong makes me so angry! I had to do something! And when he pushed you, I was so so angry!”
“I’m scared. Do you think the principal will kick us out of school?”
“I don’t know…”
The clock ticking above your head sends another gush of tears down your cheeks.
“If we get kicked out, we can go to the same new school! Together!”
Wiping your nose with the back of your wrist, you stare at the boy with scales on his hands.
“A new school?”
He nods, “mhm, a school for hybrids and humans! All over again!”
“Are you a dragon?”
“What?! No! I’m a snake!”
Offended, the boy’s beady eyes look you up and down.
“You don’t seem like a snake!”
“What are you saying?! I am a snake!”
To prove his point, his brown eyes narrow into slits, you notice shimmering flecks in them this time.
Folding your arms, you squint your eyes in his direction, “you aren’t scary at all! Snakes are scary!”
You poke his cheek, “you’re soft!”
He pinches your arm, “but you’re softer, human!”
Rubbing the sore area, you shake your head, “yes I am! But you aren’t scary!”
“I will bite your neck and tear you apart! Make you cry!”
“Nope,” you shut your eyes, “you won’t.”
“Yes I will!”
He springs up from the chair, you do the same.
Grabbing you by your shoulders, he tugs you closer, “I will hurt you!”
“I’m not scared of you, Jungkookie.”
“My name is Jungkook!”
“You didn’t push me at the sandbox like Taeyong, you won’t hurt me. I know!”
Sighing, Jungkook looks down at your hands, clear and smooth, unlike his scaly ones. He takes your hands in his and compares them, in awe at the difference.
You’re looking down at your hands too, goosebumps prickle your skin with how cold his hands feel.
Your mother grabs your arm and tugs you away from Jungkook, she glances at you then back at him.
“Remember what I said about the dangerous kids at school?”
She crouches down in front of you, her back facing Jungkook who stares at you with big doe-eyes.
“Mhm, those humans are dangerous!”
“Humans? Y/N,” she shakes her head, “you’re a human. Come on-“ she takes your hand in hers and pulls you toward the exit while you wave at Jungkook.
“Mom,” you look up at your mother, “is his mother gonna fetch him?”
“I don’t know sweetheart, but he’s in big trouble for biting that boy.”
“He bit Taeyong because Taeyong pushed me!”
Your mother buckles you in the backseat while you cry out, “Mommy can Jungkookie come play with me?”
“We’ll have to ask his mother, okay?”
You beam at her.
The next day at school, you search for Jungkook, seeing him sit at a corner near the sandbox.
“My name is Jungkook! And hello.”
You plop down next to him, “can I have your mother’s number?”
He picks up a handful of sand, tongue poking out to wet his lips, you blink at him.
“So my mommy can tell your mommy to let you come play at my house!”
He shakes his head, “mother won’t let me.”
“Why? You have to come play with me!”
“I can ask her.”
You grab some sand in your own hand, wondering what’s so good about letting it fall from between your fingers like what he’s doing.
“Yes ask her! And bring your toys!”
He laughs, forked tongue darting out, you gawk at the movement.
“You won’t like my toys.”
“I eat them.”
He nods, “yes I eat them.”
You furrow your eyebrows, moving a little closer so he can hear your whisper.
“Why do you talk funny?”
He turns his head to look at you, lips in a pout, “like what?”
“That’s because I’m a snake.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I am sure! If you are my real friend you’ll believe me!”
He stands up but you yank him down by his hand.
“Okay okay I’m sorry. I’m your real friend!”
You’re letting your hair fall in front of your face, blocking out the snickers that are pointed in your direction. Despite pleading with your mother to not send you to school today after yesterday’s accident, knowing almost everyone in your class saw, even the boys, you’re extremely embarrassed.
You feel something hit the back of your head, so you spin around and right at your shoe, is a pad in bright pink packaging, when you lift your head, you notice that everyone is watching you, sniggering with their friends.
Vision being blurred by tears, you run down the hallway, wiping your tears furiously only for you to be stopped by two strong hands on your shoulders. You hiccup, meeting Jungkook’s worried gaze.
“What’s wrong, precious?”
Jungkook’s natural drag on his “S” sounds only comes out on a few occasions; when he’s overly excited, when it’s just the two of you hanging out, when he’s extremely angry and when he’s worried. The way his pupils narrow tells you that it’s the last two.
You point behind you, to the pink packaging that’s still on the floor.
Jungkook’s nostrils flare, eyes darting to the children who still stand and watch, murmuring insults about you and your accident yesterday. He can hear them, whispering about the both of you and it drives him mad.
“Wait here for me, okay?”
You nod, standing to the side near a classroom door, watching Jungkook as he grips one of the boys by his collar. You want to call out to him and tell him to stop what he’s doing, you don’t want him to get into trouble again for your sake, but you know better than to interfere.
You can’t hear what he’s telling the boy, but the way the frightened boy’s cream pants starts to darken at his crotch makes everyone laugh, and when Jungkook lets the boy go with a disgusted face, spinning around to glare at the onlookers, they fall silent. The only thing you can hear is Jungkook’s footsteps as he makes his way back to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the building to your favorite spot under the tree. Just enough space between the leaves for sunlight to poke through and just enough shade for you.
But you stop in your tracks when you notice who’s sitting in your usual spot. Jungkook glances at you then follows your gaze to the senior lying down under the tree.
Jungkook walks forward, but you grip his arm with both hands and pull him to your side.
“Let’s find somewhere else to sit.”
He pats your head, “that’s our spot, come on.”
He drags you along the grass, while you keep your eyes fixed on your shoes, tightening your hold on his hand.
“Hello. This is our spot.”
Your eyes flicker to the wolf hybrid who chuckles, regretting it immediately when you catch a glimpse of his pointy teeth, a reminder of the fresh wounds on Jungkook’s neck.
“I don’t see your name on it.”
“Actually-“ Jungkook begins but you tug at his hand, pleading with him to let it go, you do not want to witness him in a bloodied state ever again.
“Actually, it is. If you-“
The wolf hybrid springs up and comes face to face with Jungkook, you gasp, burying your face in Jungkook’s shoulder.
“Please, please,” you whisper, knowing he can hear you.
“Actually if I- what? What, Jeon? You gonna spit on me again?”
You feel Jungkook tense in your hold, then he surprises you.
“Come on, Y/N,” he wraps an arm around your waist, shoving his hand in your hoodie pocket.
You can hear growling coming from behind you, but Jungkook ignores it.
Jungkook remembers the terror on your face when he tore at Sungho’s arm, but in the end, he was the one who faced suspension from school after he tried to protect you from a beast like Sungho.
He beams at you, knowing that you’re proud of him for walking away, something that he never does.
“You think that the end of the semester will bring happiness and joy, all I feel is the pressure of waiting for my results.”
You nudge Taehyung with your hip, “come on. What’s done is done, have some fun.”
Giggling, you give a dramatic bow then down your drink, turning around to ask the bartender for another round.
“Maybe you should slow down, hmm?”
You shrug Jungkook’s hand off your shoulder, “don’t kill my vibe.”
Jungkook lets his hand fall to his side. He can’t argue with you, not with your human friends around, knowing how much they love to scrutinize your relationship. They love to put him on the spot, nit-pick his behavior around you and he’s afraid that they might draw your attention to something he’s been trying to hide since the first day of middle school.
“I’m gonna dance.”
He watches you prance in between the sweaty bodies, the loud music hurts his ears, but you had asked him to come with you, to the club, he knows what kind of danger lurks in a place like this. Danger in the form of a man who is currently wrapping his arm around your waist.
Jungkook watches you smile and politely push his hand away. Jungkook nods to himself in approval.
The man is insistent and Jungkook slams his glass on the counter behind him, charging toward the man who is pressing his crotch to your ass. Maybe he hears Taehyung say something like ‘here he goes’ to Hoseok, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the panicked look in your eyes when the man brings his greasy face close to your neck, squirming in his hold.
Nails digging into the man’s neck, Jungkook’s arm is outstretched as he shoves him away from you.
“What the fu-“
Immediately, you watch the man scurry away, not even bothering to look at Jungkook, knowing that he must’ve used one of his new tricks to scare him. He wraps his cold hand around your arm, and you try to break out of his grip, but he’s too strong.
“Jungkook!” You shout over the music, but he continues to drag you out of the bar, you know he heard you.
When he pulls you out into the warm night, you yank your hand away, only because he let you, of course.
“What are you doing? I was having fun!”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, “do you have any idea what that man was thinking? He-“
“Oh,” you laugh exasperatedly, arms swinging in the air, “so you’re some fucking mind-reader now? Is that one of your new tricks?!”
You roll your eyes and walk toward the entrance, but he grabs your arm again, and by pure accident one of his nails dig into the skin of your wrist.
“Shit fuck fuck,” he brings your hand up to his lips to lick at the wound, but you pull your hand away.
“Go home. Because you’re spoiling my night.”
With that, you’re smoothing down the hem of your dress and walking back inside the club while Jungkook stands there feeling dejected.
He doesn’t stay out there for long because the breeze makes him hurry to his warm car that’s parked across the club.
As he starts up the engine, he can’t bring himself to drive away, each time he notices someone enter or leave the club, he’s hoping that it’s you.
What if something happens to you? What if you’re in danger and he isn’t there to protect you? What if there’s another creepy guy who forces you into-
Fuck. He isn’t going anywhere. He switches off his engine and turns off his lights. He’ll just wait until he sees you going out of the club with your useless, human friends who are weak in the eyes of danger.
He will wait and stew in the darkness and warmth of his car, picking at the last flecks of dry skin on his palm from his most recent molt.
The pang in his chest goes ignored, like always, these days you’ve been acting a little distant from him. Choosing to spend time with your human friends instead of him, while he has no one except you. Not that he hates only having you as a friend, because he knows that even if he did have other friends, he would still choose you over them. Over anything.
As the distance between the two of you grows, he’s becoming more and more protective of you and dare he say, possessive. Maybe it’s the reptilian side of him? He doesn’t understand his biology himself, but the new tricks he told you about was just a cover.
Because one day, he lost his temper at the grocery store when a guy was hitting on you, and you had pointed out that his eyes had turned blood red. He peeked in a mirror behind one of the refrigerators and was shocked himself, because he had never done or seen that before. He had never seen his mother’s eyes turn red before, it was unnerving, even to him, because you had seen it before him, and he was unprepared. So, he brushed it off as a new trick.
But then, he started to discover more of his tricks, how his spit can act as an aphrodisiac especially when he’s thinking of you instead of the woman under him. He doesn’t even know if that was his venom, because he knew from his mother that he could give what is called a ‘dry bite,’ which is just a regular nip with the teeth, but he didn’t think that it would suddenly be bursting out of him.
How his vision will suddenly become crystal clear, even better than his usual reptilian sight, he could count each strand of hair on your head from a mile away. How his fangs would extend beyond what he recalled.
He was too embarrassed to ask his mother about these changes, so he let them be. But that only makes him feel a little more disappointed in himself, disappointed that these changes might push you away from him. You might think that his animal counterpart is taking full control of his body, he already hates himself for his scales that dot certain patches of skin, maybe he hates his entire being just because he knows that you would never consider being with someone like him, some creature when you’re a precious human.
You associate with him, he’s your best friend, but that’s where it stops. Because he is an animal that cannot help his urges, what’s built in him is something he cannot direct or administer in whatever way he feels like. Some things just happen and he’s afraid that he might lapse into a momentary state of no self-restraint. He doesn’t want that to happen around you.
Maybe this was his fate, that with time, his predatorial nature would drown out his human senses. Maybe it’s different for male snakes.
It’s 1:37AM when he sees you stumble out of the club, he ducks down to hide his presence and zooms in on the guy holding your heels, his arm is around your shoulder as he guides you to his white Mercedes. He’s a cat hybrid, with blonde hair, human features that resemble a feline in every aspect.
Jungkook feels his heart thud in his chest, of course, you’d like the gentle ones if you ever pick a hybrid. That sensation is back, his chest puffs out, bubbling with a feeling akin to anxiety along with the overwhelming urge to attack.
But as he watches the car speed past him, he doesn’t sense any danger, like before with the other man in the club. All he feels is jealousy.
[14:21] You: hey
[16:07] You: heyya
[16:48] You: you busy?
[17:00] You: can I come over pls
[18:33] You: 🥺
[20:02] You: where are youuu
[21:33] You: pick up
[22:15] You: now Im getting worried
[22:39] You: Jungkookie?
You’re taking the steps up to your apartment sluggishly, wondering why the hell Jungkook isn’t answering your calls or your messages or his front door.
Maybe he’s gone to visit his mother?
That can’t be because he always takes you along with him, you miss the sweet lady and your best friend.
You think about Saturday night, you feel a little guilty for yelling at him. You can’t even remember properly because it all happened so fast, you don’t even remember what you had said to him, whether you had picked on his appearance, you had done that before. You do remember how the scab on your wrist got there, you know how much care he takes to clip his nails and make sure that he doesn’t hurt you. He probably feels embarrassed.
Deciding to visit him again tomorrow, you take a shower and tuck yourself in bed, exhausted from driving up and down to his place all day.
The next morning, at around 10:20AM, you knock on his door, foot tapping on the wooden floor impatiently. You scrunch up your face at the heavy tray of sausages in your hand, the ones he loves so much, the ones that are stuffed with things that you wouldn’t even dare to find out, the ones that cost ten times more than regular sausages.
You’re afraid that he won’t answer again, and your patience is wearing thin. So, you pull out your phone and call him again, balancing his food in your hand along with your bag.
Rapping at his door, you press your ear to the wood and hear his ringtone, a scoff leaving your lips. He’s actually ignoring you!
You kick the door, “I know you’re in there!”
You cut the call and continue to boot the bottom half of his door, “open up asshole! I know you’re in there!”
Hearing a door across the hallway open, you spin around to be met with two droopy eyes.
“Y/N? What’s all the noise for?”
“Oh,” you laugh sheepishly, “hey, Namjoon. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
The sloth hybrid waves a hand dismissively, the other one rubs his eye with the heel of his palm, “it’s okay.”
You thrust your thumb in the direction of the door behind you, “is Jungkook home?”
“Yes. I mean…no,” he shakes his head.
“Well, he’s in there but he said if you ever ask, I should say that he isn’t,” he smiles, dimples denting his cheeks.
You poke your tongue in your cheek, “uh huh,” turning around to glare at the door menacingly.
“Anyway,” your attention is drawn to the sleepy man behind you, “I’ll see you around, Y/N. Can you guys keep it down?”
“Right right. Sorry. You have a good nap.”
He nods and disappears behind the door and right on cue, you hear Jungkook’s door unlock. When you try to push it open with your shoulder, he holds the door open just a crack.
“Open up! Why haven’t you been answering?!”
“I was in the shower!”
“All fucking weekend?!”
He pokes his head through the small opening, “I just showered.”
“So? Let me in!”
“I’m in a towel!”
You roll your eyes, lifting your knee to get a better grip on the tray of sausages in your hand, “I’ve seen you in a fucking towel before. Now would you-“ you glare at him.
He opens the door slowly, it’s not even open completely before you’re barging in and taking off your shoes. You make a beeline for the kitchen and set the heavy tray of sausages down.
“Now you’re supposed to heat-“ you whip your head around to look at him, only for your eyes to bulge out of their sockets, jaw touching the ground.
“Oh thanks,” Jungkook makes his way to the kitchen and inspects the tray of sausages.
“I- I’m- Hmm- You-“
He glances at you, “what?”
You’re trying, desperately, to keep your eyes on his face, but your gaze drops to the smooth expanse of his very large chest and broad shoulders. Wondering how the fuck you missed the fact that Jungkook has been working out all these years.
You notice that more scales dot his skin, the majority of it is on his shoulders, but why are you salivating at the scales that line the sides of his waist, skin-colored throughout. Water trickles down his pecs, his slippery skin makes you follow the stream of water, all the way down to his belly button, throat going dry when you see the strands of hair collected below it and if you dare to go any further, you might-
This is your snake hybrid best friend of over eighteen years, the one who had the front seat in witnessing the most embarrassing moments in your life. A little show of his beefy skin and you’re acting up? No, your pussy is not clenching right now.
His tongue flicks out as he peels the plastic wrap from the tray, you know he does that to smell better.
Your gaze is locked on the way his veins pop out with his movements, wondering how it would feel to have his pretty fingers around your-
“You okay, precious?”
Was his lisp always that hot? The way his tongue sticks out on the last letter, you avert your gaze to the food placed in front of him.
You clear your throat and back away from the kitchen, in the direction of his lounge, “you’re supposed to heat those before you eat them.”
He shrugs, “they’re pretty warm to me.”
“That’s because I was standing out there for almost an hour,” you mumble, knowing that he can probably hear you, but you couldn’t care.
Getting comfortable on the couch, you’re browsing the options of Netflix when he sits down next to you, no clothes, just towel.
He hums, eyes focused on the screen.
“Aren’t you supposed to be like…cold?”
Your breath catches in your throat when he curls into your side, fitting his hands in your jeans pockets, “you’re warm enough.”
You should be accustomed to his cuddles and habits by now, yet here you are, a hot, squirming mess as you push him away from you, fist making contact with his chilled shoulder.
“I think you should, uhm, put on some clothes,” you scratch your temple, focusing on the remote in your hands.
You see him nod in your periphery, “okay,” your breath hitches when you feel him lick the skin under your ear.
“I’ll be back.”
As you watch him disappear down the hall, you take a moment to calm your racing heart. That is another habit you know that you should be used to by now, but why did your stomach flutter. Your hand reaches up to wipe the wet spot under your ear, cheeks heating.
His apartment is always so warm, it only makes you even more nervous for whatever reason.
After a few minutes, he returns fully clothed, black hoodie and shorts on, dragging his fluffy blanket behind him.
He drapes it over your backs, an arm secure around your shoulder as he settles in next to you.
“What are we watching?”
You realize that you’ve been daydreaming instead of picking a movie.
“Oh, uhm,” you scroll through the options.
Jungkook can sense that you’re uneasy, your heart is thundering in your chest, and he wonders if he’s making you uncomfortable. He knows that you don’t mind sharing your warmth with him, and he made sure to check that he looks…normal after he changed, so why are your hands trembling?
He taps your arm with the hand that’s around your shoulder, you look up at him but not quite in his eyes, oh no, he hopes this isn’t another episode, he thought he had it under control after struggling all weekend, beating his dick raw with thoughts of you, how your laughter plagued his mind. All he could think of was how much he wants to call you his.
“Is something wrong?” His voice is timid, like he doesn’t want to scare you away, because he really doesn’t.
You swallow, shaking your head and going back to staring at his TV screen.
“You know I can sense when something is up, right?”
Of course, how could you forget that. You wonder if he can sense the way a shiver runs down your spine each time his chest makes contact with your back.
“Yeah. I’m good. Just…looking for a movie.”
Jungkook isn’t having it and he pulls the blanket off your bodies, begrudgingly moving away from your heat.
You glance at him, “what?”
“Y/N,” he grabs your hand, warm fingers intertwined with his icy cold ones, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you all weekend. I wasn’t feeling…well.”
“You could’ve told me. I was worried.”
He nods, eyes flitting to the screen, “I’m sorry.”
Heart clenching at the way his mouth curves into a frown, you tug on his hand and pull him into your embrace, letting him rest his head in the crook of your neck. You’re lucky he can’t see your face, you can feel it heating up, especially when he places his cool palm on your thigh, enjoying your warmth, while you try to calm yourself as he continues to rub.
Jungkook’s tongue flicks out once, twice and the third time, he cannot be mistaken, he can smell it on you. It can’t be himself because he knows what he smells like, but this is a sweet, musky smell that radiates off you. His own heart thunders in his chest.
Experimentally, he presses his fingers into your thigh and when his tongue darts out, the scent is amplified, a new scent. He can feel the blood rushing down, panting as he looks up at you.
You can sense that he’s staring at you, so you glance at him, only for your gazes to lock, lips a few inches apart. His eyes seem to lure you in, like he’s hypnotizing you.
“Jungkook…” You whisper breathlessly, gaze flickering down to his lips.
When his tongue pokes out, you wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you, but you see him lean toward you and your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as you wait for the sweetness of his mouth to meet yours.
Your eyes fly open when you feel him move away, watching him stand up and scratch the back of his head. The terrible feeling of being out of place hits you full force and you let the remote fall on the couch next to you.
It was your imagination, why would Jungkook want to kiss you out of the blue?
You cuddle all the time and here you are, taking advantage of his hybrid instincts. All you feel is bitterness and disgust for your actions.
The silence makes you spring up from the couch abruptly, you pick your bag up off the coffee table and walk past him, only for you to be rooted to the spot by the grip he has on your hand.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just-“
“Don’t,” you grab his arm and pull your hand out of his grip, seeing him shiver when your fingers graze his scales, “don’t make it more awkward than it already is.”
And for the second time, he watches you go, unable to ignore the pang in his chest any longer.
Jungkook wants to feel your lips on his, terribly. It’s all he can think about after he saw the way your face relaxed as you leaned in, pretty eyelashes fluttering, luscious pout only a breath away, but he ruined it. Because he’s afraid, afraid that once he has a taste, he’s going to lose control, and he doesn’t think he can hold himself back any longer if he were to even be in the same room as you.
A major part of him is sad that you didn’t even message or call him all week after what happened last week Tuesday. But the more sensible part of him is at ease, he wouldn’t have to be on edge in your presence. But he does miss you, he misses your warmth and your smile, how you would trace his features with your index finger, telling him how lucky you are to have a friend like him.
As the memories flood his mind, the urge to claim you as his intensifies and he hates that he’s some predator, hates the fact that all his life, he’s been trying to protect you from danger, when he’s the biggest threat all along. And there’s only one way to protect you from himself, no matter how painful it might be.
But while Jungkook struggles with his own daunting thoughts, you’re clutching your phone close to your chest, debating on whether or not you should call him.
Your pride wants you to never see him again, he turned you down. But the soft spot you have for him pressures you to put everything aside and reach out to him, because he’s your best friend and the more you think about it, for your best friend to suddenly pull a move on you, like what you had done, can be overwhelming.
You think of the way he refused to meet your eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets for comfort. What you did was the opposite, you put him in an uncomfortable situation and then got angry at him for not reciprocating your sudden attraction toward him.
You’ve heard tons of stories, of hybrids and their owners, and how they’re adopted for the sole purpose of pleasure. It disgusts you and you think of the stunned look on Jungkook’s face, and how you crossed the line.
It makes you bury your face in your pillow, fists pressing into the plush blankets, it’s sickening. And you have no idea how to come back from this because you miss Jungkook and you love him, more than you realize.
Jungkook hates it, he hates the saying, “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” because what the fuck is that?
If you’re staying away from someone, it’s for a valid reason, but due to the fact that you’re apart from them, you want to be in their presence, you yearn for every atom of their being and it’s upsetting.
He needs to stay away from you, for your own good, his condition is worsening as the days go by. And along with that, he wants you, even more with each second that passes by.
Every little thing sets him off, and he refuses to look at himself in the mirror.
He can hear someone outside of his front door, so he listens, and opens it when he gets the familiar scent from his neighbor.
“Jungkook! You haven’t been checking your mail,” he’s looking down at the stack of envelopes near his feet, “so I thought I’d check on you!”
He chuckles, “So- Woahhh!”
Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, “what do you want?”
Namjoon has lived near Jungkook long enough to know that he isn’t a threat, but Jungkook finds himself hesitating before he lets the sloth hybrid in.
“You look sick. Are you eating?”
Jungkook shrugs, “yeah.”
“You know you’re still human, right? You need to eat.”
“For fuck’s sake! I know that, now what do you want?!”
Jungkook watches the older man’s eyebrows shoot up, “I already told you I came to check up on you! You invited me in!”
Jungkook sighs and sits down on the couch next to him, the cold that wafted in when he opened the door makes him shiver. He tugs the lapels of his jacket and holds it close to his body.
“I haven’t seen Y/N around. She usually knows what to do when you’re sick.”
Jungkook shakes his head, “she hasn’t been calling.”
“Did something happen between the two of you? She seemed very angry the last time I saw her.”
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in his direction and Namjoon waves his arms around, “I’m just kidding. But I can sense something is off with you.”
Jungkook wets his lips, stuffing his hands in his sleeves. Maybe Namjoon would know what his changes could mean, he does have hybrid friends who are also predators.
“I just- haven’t been feeling good around her lately.”
Jungkook nods, “I just, hate to see her with anyone else and I hate it when she’s out of my sight. Like every time I’m with her, I just want- Fuck-“ he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “it’s so hard to explain.”
“You just want…fuck?”
“What?” Jungkook lifts his head to look at the tall man who slaps his knee, laughing at his own joke.
He adjusts his glasses, “you solved it yourself. You want to mate with her.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it but the energy in this room-“ he gestures to Jungkook’s hunched figure “-is telling me all I need to know. I’m not all human, just like you. You’re forgetting that.”
“Wait,” Jungkook shuts his eyes, “what do you mean I need to mate with her? All the woman I sleep with are hybrids, like me. Like you.”
“So?” Namjoon folds his arms, “that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I am so confused.”
“Look,” Namjoon reaches over to hold Jungkook’s shoulder, then removes it as soon as he feels the cold seeping through the thick material, “I might be wrong. But from what I can recall, you and Y/N know each other since you were little kids. Maybe you’ve become a little territorial over her and now you’re acting up. It’s gone too long, you’re with each other almost all the time. You want to seal the deal.”
“Seal the deal?”
“Yes, anyway-“ Namjoon pats his thighs and heads for the door “-I’m gonna leave before you bite my head off…I thought it might be rude to leave in the middle of the conversation but shit. You’re scaring me.”
With an overdramatic shiver, he leaves the apartment as Jungkook rushes to the bathroom, almost slipping on the tiles when he stares at his reflection.
Ruby pupils widening, blinking at him, fangs protruding.
Today’s the day that you decide; fuck it.
You’ve known Jungkook for a long, long time and nothing can ever come between the two of you, not even your pride or embarrassment.
So, you knock on his front door and wait, going through the apology you practiced a thousand times.
When he opens the door, your mouth hangs open, it’s like your eyes are being blessed by his ethereal features for the first time. You resist the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.
“Come in,” he pulls you inside his apartment by your elbow, “it’s cold.”
You linger at the doorway, like it’s the first time you’re visiting him. A different smell reaches your nose, but before you can place the scent, he’s ushering you into the lounge.
You sit next to him on the couch, a safe distance away. It’s too late to dismiss everything that happened because the silence sits heavy, and you both know that there’s something to discuss.
“I just wanted to say,” you begin, fists clenched, “I’m sorry for coming on to you the other day.”
“Coming on to me?”
You lift your eyes at his tone, watching him laugh, exposing his pearly whites to you.
“You didn’t come on to me, precious. In fact,” he scoots a little closer to you, you look up at him a little wide-eyed, “you pushed me to…”
“To what?” You poke, wondering why he’s blushing.
“To tell you how I feel.”
“How you feel?”
He nods, slotting his thighs between yours as he turns his body to face you. When your gazes lock, you realize just how much you missed him, and how much you missed about your relationship all these years.
“I- to put it simply- love you, Y/N. All my life I’ve loved you,” your breath hitches at his confession, heart leaping to your throat, “but,” he grabs your hand, thumb rubbing your knuckles, “I’m afraid.”
Your voice is just above a whisper, like any sudden movement or noise from you would break the tenderness of this moment.
“Afraid that I might hurt you.”
“You have never, ever hurt me, Jungkook.”
“No…not like that. I’m afraid that I might hurt you.”
You shake your head, palms reaching up to cup his cheeks, warming them with your thumbs, “you won’t hurt me.”
He places his hands over yours, “how do you know that?”
His eyes swirl with worry and sadness, and you want to replace it with what you love seeing the most on him.
“I don’t,” you smile, “but all I know, is that I love you too. And even if you do hurt me, I’ll forgive you.”
He tilts his head and kisses your palm.
“Only if I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” you add with a giggle.
He joins in your laughter and wraps an arm around your waist, pressing his forehead to yours and flicking his tongue against the tip of your nose.
“Does this mean that you’re mine now?”
“I’m not sure,” you smooth your hands up his arms to his shoulders, loving the way he trembles under your touch, “do you want me to be yours?”
His breath tickles your lips before his tongue darts out to wet your flesh, panting when he hoists you up on his lap.
“You have no fucking idea.”
The first touch of his lips on yours makes you feel like you’ve finally found a missing piece you never knew you lost, moving over yours gently, raking his fingers through your hair as he presses you closer to his cool body, a perfect contrast to the heat that’s bubbling inside of you with each press of his lips.
You sneak your hands up his hoodie and nothing could prepare you for his first lick inside your mouth, you’re moaning, back arching as your fingers dig into his pecs.
He hums, slotting his thigh between your legs and pressing you down by your hips.
“Jungkook,” you throw your head back, rocking back and forth on his thigh as you let him control your hips, enjoying the friction his thigh provides on your clit.
You bury your face in his neck, mouthing up his neck, hearing him sigh in satisfaction when your lips brush over the scaly skin under his ear.
You feel him bury his hands in your jeans pockets, squeezing your ass through the denim material. Whining, you lift your head up to look at him, telling him that it isn’t enough.
“Come on, precious,” he lifts you up by your ass and carries you down the hall. His natural accent makes your pussy throb in need.
Before you can reach his room, you attach your lips to his, tugging at his dark strands of hair and swirling your tongue around his, pressing your hips against him when you feel a glob of his spit enter your mouth, lips slick with his saliva.
He pulls away from you and you look up at him, “what?”
“Nothing,” he grins.
You kiss him sloppily, feeling your hole clench uncontrollably, “please.”
He sets you down on the floor and tugs off your jeans and panties in one go, you spread your legs open for his touch, shivering when his cool fingers part your folds.
“So sweet,” his tongue darts out rapidly to lick your arousal off his fingers.
Body tingling in need, you grip his hair and pull him up, he holds your thighs and wraps them around his waist again, pressing you against the wall.
“I need you,” eyes on his, nails pressing into his scalp.
His hand slithers down your body, “let me-“
“No,” you push your hips forward, staining his hoodie with your juices, “need you now.”
Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been attracted to him, without you knowing it, but you feel the desire for him fizzing through you. You’ve never been this desperate to have anyone before.
He suckles on your bottom lip, holding you up with one hand. You feel him reach between your bodies, pulling out his cock and-
You pull away from him with a loud smack, gasping when you catch sight of his…cocks.
“Jungkook,” you whisper, eyes flitting up to see the shit eating grin on his face.
You can’t tear your eyes away from the red tips, leaking and swollen, veins branching out on each one. You find yourself licking your lips.
“Shhh,” he presses his mouth to yours, hand stroking one of his girthy cocks, “you want me?”
You nod, getting a better grip on his shoulders.
“You can have whatever you want, precious,” with a snap of his hips, he eases into you, your eyes shut, mouth open in a silent moan as your walls burn with each inch, stretching over his cock.
When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he places his index finger under your chin.
“You okay, precious?”
“Mhmmm,” you grind your hips against his, asking him to move.
He adjusts his hold on your ass and draws his hips back, you cry out when he pushes back into you, feeling his other cock press into your thigh, gasps of his name leaving your lips, nails dragging across his shoulders.
With another slow thrust, he sets a pace, thick cock dragging against your walls, hissing and grunting as the tip presses deep inside of you. Jolting in his hold, you suckle on the skin of his neck, muffling your whimpers when he brushes that sensitive spot inside of you, plunging a little faster, the warmth of your walls accommodating his cold, hard dick, piercing into you.
You feel the knot build in your abdomen, moving your hips with his, clenching around him, coating his length with your arousal. He’s panting, one hand pressed against the wall behind you, hips snapping against yours.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
Feeling his dick twitch against your walls, you wrap your arms around him a little tighter, walls squeezing him in until finally, the pressure snaps, walls quivering around him, dragging him to his own high. With a drawn-out groan, he stills his hips, fingers digging into your ass.
“Fuckkk,” his hips jerk with each spurt of cum, and when his head lolls forward, you meet his gaze, blood red eyes, lust written all over his features.
You shiver when he pulls out of you, feeling his cum seep down your folds. He holds you close to his body as he carries you to his room, setting you down carefully on the bed and peppering kisses and licks all over your neck and face.
He stares down at you, fingers tickling the side of your face to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder.
“Am I dreaming?” He murmurs, no space between your bodies, heart racing in your chest.
You turn your head away, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, smile spreading across your lips.
“I don’t think I am.”
You give him a confused look.
“Even my dreams don’t do justice to your smile.”
Before you can complain about how cheesy that was, he’s covering your mouth with his, lips detaching so he can pull off your shirt along with his hoodie.
He reaches behind you to unhook your bra, the white material joining the rest of your clothes on the floor. His fingers tweak your nipples, tongue flicking into your mouth, spit mixing with his.
When you buck your hips against his, you feel his cock dig into your stomach.
Hastily, he kicks off his pants and boxer briefs, then positions himself between your legs, kissing down your stomach, wetting each spot his lips touch. Your pussy clenches in anticipation, legs spreading, swollen folds being exposed to his hungry gaze, his cum still drips out of you.
“Fuck,” he positions himself on his stomach, eyes glued to yours when his tongue rolls against your clit.
“Ah- Jungkook, fuck,” you’re trembling, hands grasping his sheets beneath you, hips jerking against his face as he laps up your slick. His hand slides up your body, thumb and forefinger tugging at your nipple.
The sensation is nothing like you’ve ever felt before, the way his tongue seems to be everywhere at once. Suckling on your clit, thrusting into your hole, cold to hot, waves of pleasure washing over you.
When you feel his middle finger circle your hole, you comb your fingers through his silky strands of hair. He pulls your clit between his lips at the same time that he adds his index and ringer finger inside of you, a choked moan breaks from your chest.
You’re writhing with each thrust of his fingers, each suckle of your throbbing clit between his lips, you’re extremely close to the edge, gushing around his fingers and when he curls it, the pads of his fingers brushing your sensitive spot, you scream his name, with his teeth grazing your clit.
You can hear him moan along with the squelching sounds of his fingers being plunged inside of you at breakneck speed, eyes opening a bit to see him pressing his hips against the mattress. The sight itself sends you tumbling into your second orgasm, body flushing when he places his lips over your hole, slurping up every drop. His hand lands a harsh smack to your folds, sending sparks up your spine, a string of your slick sticks to his hand. When he does it again, your fingers twist in his hair, humming when his tongue flicks up your clit lightly to soothe the ache.
When he sits up, you notice that his abs are glistening, half-hard cocks coated in his own arousal.
You’re breathless, “did you-“
He presses his full weight onto your body, feeling his stickiness cling to your skin, breaths mingling, “you’re so fucking hot, Y/N. Fuck, can’t believe you let me have you. Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”
Grinning at his words, you place a hand on his shoulder and push him down on his back, kissing and nipping at his collarbones, palm tracing the scales on the side of his waist, you hear him take a shaky breath, fuelling your arousal.
You suckle on every inch on his skin, worshiping his body with each flick of your tongue. The wet muscle dips into his navel and he tenses, hand pressing on your head, pushing you further down his body.
You salivate at the sight of his cocks standing proud and erect, precum dribbling out.
You wrap your hand around one, letting your spit trickle down his length, placing kittenish licks around his head, seeing him rest his head against the pillow, Adam’s apple bobbing when the tip of your tongue grazes his frenulum.
His cock twitches in your hold, “don’t tease.”
Pussy throbbing at his tone, you cover the tip with your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sink down, hearing him hiss, hips lifting of the bed as you pull him out of your mouth, then push him all the way to the back of your throat. You gag, taking a deep breath through your nose then pulling your mouth off his length.
Jungkook thinks he’s going to explode. Your hot mouth sucking on his dick, closing around him, tight throat squeezing him in. He can’t control the moans that escape his lips, fingers pressing into your head. He’s trying so hard not to cum, he loves the way your hot spit feels on his cock and when you wrap your tiny hand around his other cock, pumping him with each bob of your head, he whispers your name, thrusting into your mouth and fist.
He's so close to the edge but he bites down on his lip, holding back to relish in the pleasure you’re providing him. One look at your eyes has him twitching in your hold, how innocent you look with his cock in your mouth, so eager to please him.
“So fucking good.”
You swallow around him, keeping him at the back of your throat while you twist your hand around his head, you see him bang his fist on the bed before his nails dig into your scalp, pulling you off his pulsating cock. You let go of his other cock and throw your leg over his torso, positioning his cock near your slit.
In the blink of an eye, you’re under him, hands held above your head, thighs spread far apart.
“Had your fun, hmm?”
You swallow, unable to speak after his sudden movement knocked the air from your lungs, gaze unwavering.
He chuckles, the sound sends a shiver down your spine.
“Now I’m gonna have my fun.”
Still holding your hands above your head, he reaches down with his other hand and slaps your clit with the tip of his dick, thighs shaking beneath him.
Pressing his chest to yours, nipples digging into his muscular chest, he pushes into you, you gasp, his cock buried inside your pussy feels like a new sensation, as if he wasn’t fucking you a few minutes ago.
Your mind is blank, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he starts to pound into you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin the only thing that registers in your mind, and the way his other cock rubs against your thigh.
Your fingers wiggle in his hold, wanting to provide a similar sensation to his neglected cock, but he growls, fucking into you harder, deeper, tears glaze your eyes with how good it feels to have his cock massage your walls. He places his other hand on the side of your face, and you tilt your head to look at it, then back at him.
He smirks. Hand inching closer to your body until finally, his fingers press on either side of your throat, pulsing with each thrust, pussy clenching around him, body sparking with lust.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me in. So fucking tight.”
When he presses deep inside of you and grinds his hips, thumb and fingers pressing into your neck, your mind becomes hazy, thoughts filled the way his length splits you open. When he nips at your soft skin below your ear, you cum, milking his cock as he shoots his load inside of you, thrusts becoming shallow, cock tugging at your ridged walls. You feel full, stuffed and when you glance at your stomach, you notice a slight bulge, he follows your gaze then winks at you, tongue wetting his lips.
You want to cover your face but he’s still keeping your hands in his hold, watching you closely.
He pulls out of you and pumps his other cock, sweat dripping from the wet strands of his hair, your hands fly to your sides when he lets go of your wrists.
Pussy still clenching, you guide the head of his cock to your clit, jolting as you hold the tip of his cock between your folds and move your hips, your slick aiding in the smooth movement of his cock between your lips, spreading you open. He watches with wide eyes, then finally throws his head back and cums all over your stomach, laughing breathlessly when he notices your amused expression.
He lands next to you on the mattress with a soft thump, smiling in a way that you could describe as lovestruck.
“Why didn’t we do that before?”
Your thumb wipes away a bead of sweat from his temple, “you only fuck hybrids.”
“And you only fuck humans.”
Scoffing, you lift your hand to smack his arm, but he grabs it and pulls you into his cold embrace, your ear presses to his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. Your chest feels overcome with warmth and a range of emotions that are still sinking in.
Despite feeling exhausted, you’re wide awake, tracing patterns on his sides.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away.”
“I did,” he kisses the top of your head, “I thought I might lose control.”
You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed “lose control? Baby, you might be half-snake but you’re still human.”
Jungkook tries to hide the blush that paints his cheeks at your nickname. His heartrate picks up when you kiss his dimple, he rambles on.
“You know, with the red eyes and pointy teeth.”
Giggling, you bring your face to his level, hair draping across your shoulders. He pushes the strands away and kisses your shoulder.
His eyes close, tongue flicking out to lick your cupids bow.
When you notice that he’s falling off to sleep, hands tucked between your warm thighs, you call his name, he hums in answer.
“Your eyes were red the whole time.”
Beady eyes fly open, glaring at you while you laugh.
a/n: feedback is appreciated.
taglist: @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon
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Hate fucking with them pt. 2 😈
Pairings: Xiao, Tohma, Kaeya and Albedo [separetely] x Fem!Reader
For heaven's sake, please read this: It contains sexual content, don't read if you're uncomfortable. Every action of the characters are consensual! Don't bother me with anything, please, I already bother myself a lot lmao. Nsfw under the cut.
Author's note: I will check if there's any mistakes later, I will sleep now lol, ignore anything wrong you may see for now. I hope you guys enjoy it, since I wrote this being so tired.
You could have sworn that if Xiao didn't start fucking you right there, you guys would get into a pretty bad fight.
"Tsk, so desperate and pathetic" Xiao bent you against a furniture of yours.
"Always telling me what to do... Always wanting to give the last word... You're ungrateful, you know? I give all my love to you but it wasn't enough for a little bitch like you" The adeptus was pounding into you so quickly you had to hold yourself onto the furniture.
"Xiao!" You moaned, almost reaching your orgasm, but you remembered you were actuallying arguing with him "It's not like you really care for me! You passed four months without visiting me! F-Four months!" You stuttered, your orgasm finally arriving.
"You missed my cock, right, slut? I know you did. You didn't miss me, you missed my cock deep inside of you, uh?" His nails sank in the skin of your hips, making you gasp in pain and pleasure, both mixed.
"Xiao, love, it's too much... Argh!" You panted, trying to calm him down.
"Don't call me love" He spoke harshly, getting his pace slower as you wished, despite the coldness of his voice. "You don't love me, (Name)"
"I do, Xiao. I do love you" A tear streamed your cheek with his words. You cleaned it while Xiao was still thrusting into you.
He saw your tear, even if you had your back towards him. He felt your sadness.
"I'm sorry... Please, forgive me, (Name)" He held you close after he came, your back against his chest.
"Please, never say that I don't love you again"
"I won't treat you like that anymore. But I can't forget how mad you made me. Perhaps we should keep going with this until you're so overstimulated you'll beg me to stop?"
"Really, babe? The silent treatment?" Tohma said, taking your panties to the side and penetrating you.
"Mhm... Tohma! We're in public"
"Nah, people are too busy with the festival, they won't see that we're here behind this boxes"
You had spoke something to him after days?
"Ah, look who finally decided talking to her boyfriend?" He said as he pounded into you, while you were sat on a wood box in a quiet and dark corner of Inazuma City.
Your legs went to his waist to bring him even closer.
"You're lucky I love you, because sometimes you're unbearable, princess" Tohma said, his hand gripping your chin tightly. "Such a moody little one"
" I just said-" You were cut by one hard thrust of his. "Archons..." He used his hand that was holding your chin to close your mouth.
"Don't moan, sweetheart" He said the last word sarcastically. You could tell he was trying his very best to not just be rough with you. It wasn't like his personality. But he wasn't being gentle either. And telling you not to moan? That was quite hard with his stimulation.
"I just said you weren't giving me enough attention... Ah!" You whined, reaching your high, as Tohma came with you.
"I can give you attention all night long if you please, little moody girl. I will punish you for being so mean to your caring boyfriend"
"(Name) you're out of your mind, you know?" Your boyfriend Kaeya said as he fucked you inside his very own office.
"Out of my mind? You're an asshole, Kaeya!" You tried your very best no not moan out loud to not gain unwanted attention.
He gave you a dry and sarcastic laugh.
"I'm what, sweetheart?" His hand was now on your neck, squeezing it slightly.
"An... An asshole" You said when his hand left your neck. "You flirt with anyone out there! It looks like - you held back another moan - you don't even love me"
"Such a needy little bitch you are, you know? You want me all to yourself, uh? Sharing is caring, isn't it?" The Cavalry Captain said while he accelerated his pace.
"K-Kaeya, please, don't stop" You gasped, trying to kiss him on the lips.
"No kissing today, babe. You don't deserve it" He said, his cold fingers teasing your clit. "What would the other Knights of Favonious think about you if they knew you're such a good whore for me, uh?"
"Please master, let me cum" You begged, completely ignoring his question. Your orgasm was so close, but he denied it to you, finishing in your mouth, making you suck him clean afterwards.
"You don't deserve it, (Name). Maybe if you prove to me you're a good girl, I can let you cum when we get home tonight" He spoke, before going back to his paperwork.
You were at his lab in Dragonspine. But you had to ruin his experiment.
What could you do? He didn't leave anything that told you it wasn't finished yet.
"Dear gods, always so damn clumsy. I've been working on this cursed experiment for weeks (Name). Many weeks" The normal calm self of Albedo was completely hidden, he was actually pissed off at you.
"Well, if your lab wasn't a complete mess I would have notice it was unfinished, Albedo" You said his name bitterly.
"How can you say that?"
"Always here at this lab, always leaving me alone to study, always ignoring me because you're thinking about dumb theories... I'm tired" You said, your voice tone showing frustration.
"I can give you what you want now. You want me to fuck you, is that right?" So he did. He bent you over the table of his lab, but instead of using his cock, he used his fingers and tongue until you were a complete mess under him, your legs shaking.
"Bedo... It's too much, I can't take it anymore" You said between gritted teeth after some orgasms.
"Didn't you want attention? I'm giving you way more than that. I'm making it up for the time I wasn't by your side, doll"
After some hours, you were so exhausted you could barely move any longer.
"Are you finally satisfied? If not, we can go way longer than this" Albedo said while he cuddled you on a chair, caressing your hair, but you were fast asleep against his body.
He smiled lovingly. Deep inside, he knew he took you for granted sometimes and he would give his best to be a better partner for you.
Albedo made sure you'd sleep warmly at his lab, while he watched you, forgetting about his experiments for once.
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