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hellfirexhoe · 2 years

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Camping | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Prompt from the lovely @wallpapertown ( i did run with it a little but i hope you still enjoy! )

summary: the group goes camping together, but forgetful minds mean close quarters for Eddie and the reader.

warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, smutty smutty smut, buddies sharing a tent, skimpy clothes, slightly pervy!eddie, groping, fingering, p in v unprotected (who brings condoms to a friendly camping trip), once again jonathan does not exist in my writing, your friends definitely know whats going on in the tent. one use of y/n, pegging joke, pet names.

word count 3.1k words

You’d known about the plans for a camping trip for a few weeks, but in classic you fashion, you’d left all your preparation until the last minute, frantically throwing clothing and snacks into your truck. Certain you were packed, you lifted your cooler from your kitchen with ease,

“Shit shit shit, I need ice!” You ran to the freezer and saw the ice trays empty, meaning you’d have to grab ice from a nearby store. You were so focused on grabbing the ice that you failed to notice your tent was still on the kitchen table as you left the house.

In fact, your forgetfulness didn’t dawn on you until about 2 hours later, when you found the spot Robin had suggested. Steve is the first to notice you pulling up and points out the lack of tent in your truck bed,

“I was so focused on grabbing ice for the cooler that I totally forgot my tent.”

“Jesus, we’re not doing well today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Robin forgot her tent too, she was so fixated on marshmallows for s’mores that she blanked on it. Her and Nancy are sharing. Casa’s Harrington and Munson are looking perfect though.” Steve gestures to the only tents that are standing, Nancy trying to help Robin set up her tent. “Uh, I guess I can sleep with Eddie and you can have my tent to yourself?”

Eddie appears behind you, “What’s that about sleeping with me? I’m flattered Steve but I thought this was a friendly camping trip.”

“No idiot, y/n forgot her tent, so I said I’ll share with you and she can have my tent.”

“Or she can stay in my tent? She stays over at mine plenty?” Steve shrugs and turns back to you,

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

You link your arm through Eddie’s, “I think I’ll stick with my sleepover buddy and let you enjoy your tent to yourself.” As you speak you’re interrupted by the sound of canvas ripping and you turn to Robin and Nancy, Robin has forced a tent pole into a part that did not require a pole and has destroyed Nancy’s tent. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose,

“Alright, Robin and Nancy can have my tent. I’ll sleep on the chairs outside.”

Eddie pats him on the back, “You’re a good dude. Alright, come on, you lets get you set up in the freak shack.” Eddie grabs your bag from your truck and leads you over to his tent. You set up your sleeping bag next to his, grateful that he’s got a large enough foam mattress set up so you wont destroy your back on the hard floor.

“Thanks Eds, I hope I’m not ruining any plans you have?”

“Plans? I plan to get high, eat so many s’mores I nearly vomit and then fall asleep to the sounds of nature; mosquitos flying around, sucking Steve dry for sure, bears fuckin’ beside the tent and a babbling brook. Sounds magical.” You both burst out laughing as you step out of the tent,

“Sorry, what was that about sucking me dry?” Steve glances up at you both from where he’s trying to set up a camp fire, this only serves to make you and Eddie laugh more,

“Relax Harrington, I meant the mosquitoes. Our sexual chemistry isn’t coming to a head just yet. I’m more of a slow burn man myself.” It’s already starting to get dark but finally, sparks fly and the campfire is lit, Robin comes running over, hands full of treats, gleefully grinning as her and Nancy start setting up s’mores and passing them around.

~~~

A couple of hours pass and you’ve all got a nice contact high from Eddie and are now getting sleepy. Robin and Nancy go to bed first, with you and Eddie sloping off to his tent shortly after,

“Alright Steve, I don’t want to feel you climbing into my sleeping bag with me at 3am.” Eddie nudges Steve who is pulling blankets over himself and nods at him,

“I can’t promise anything, not if I hear ‘bears fuckin’ beside the tents’.” Eddie pulls his shirt off once you’re both in the tent and starts undoing his jeans, you look away, his habit of undressing in front of you never really seemed to bother you until you had realized, with a certain degree of horror, that you had caught feelings for one of your best friends. Now, you had to look away, afraid he’d catch you ogling and be creeped out.

“Alright, I’m decent now, you prude.” Eddie is in his sleeping bag, leaning on one elbow and watching you intently. “You gonna get ready for bed or what?”

“Turn around pervert. No free shows.” Eddie rolls over, back turned to you as you unzip your bag you silently curse yourself. You’d thrown in clothes not really paying much attention, and since you’d thought you’d be alone you had just grabbed the first pyjama set you found.

Unfortunately this meant you were now faced with the prospect of sleeping in either the jeans and t shirt you’d been in all day, and would definitely guarantee a shitty night’s sleep. Or you could wear the black lacy, almost see through shorts and matching tank top you had grabbed in your haste. You weigh up your options and look over your shoulder, confirming Eddie is still facing away from you.

As long as I stay in my sleeping bag, zipped up tight, he won’t know what I’m wearing. You reason with yourself as you quickly undress and put the skimpy pyjamas on. You wriggle into your sleeping bag and zip yourself in,

Eddie rolls back around unprompted,

“Well hello there, come here often?” You snort,

“Can’t say I do, what I wanna know is how we’ve been friends for so long and I never pegged you for someone who liked camping, or even owned a tent.”

“Well first of all darling, you’ve never pegged me, not even once. And second of all, Wayne and I used to go when I was younger, when my dad went to prison for the first time. Said it’d be good to get me out of the trailer. I forgot how nice it actually is to just be outside, listening to the world, breathing in that camp fire smell.”

Your cheeks feel hot from Eddie’s nickname, and you feel guilty at all the sordid thoughts running through your mind while your friend is opening up to you. Fortunately, Eddie is saved from hearing you make a bad joke by a strange, animal noise from outside. You hear a chair fall and assume Steve has hopped up so quickly he’s knocked his chair over.

“Uhhhh Rob, Nance? Do you guys think I could squeeze in? Pretty sure I just heard a bear.” You hear grumbling and a zipper being undone as Steve joins their tent.

“Shit do you really think he heard a bear, Eddie?” You shuffle closer to him, in an almost wormlike fashion since you’re sealed in your sleeping bag. Eddie chokes back a laugh and wraps an arm around you,

“Well, I’d keep you safe if there was, but between you and me... that was a deer, not a bear.” You snuggle into Eddie’s arm, enjoying the bonus warmth radiating off of him.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Well, get in my sleeping bag then, I’ll keep you warm. No funny business though, I’m a honest man.”

“No, its fine, this is fine.” You tap Eddie’s arm that’s around you,

Eddie huffs as he presses a hand to your face, “Nope, you’re freezing, you’re getting your ass in this sleeping bag with me even if I have to unzip you and pull you in myself.”

“Okay, okay. Just... look away for a second?” Eddie places a hand over his eyes and shifts back so there’s room for you in his sleeping bag. You climb in, trying not to let the fabric of your pyjamas touch his skin, you fail miserably at this due to the fact that a single man sleeping bag is not designed for two people.

“Jesus christ, what are you wearing right now?”

“Just some pyjamas...”

“Bull. ‘just some pyjamas’“ Eddie mimics your voice as he turns up the brightness on the lantern and whistles when he is able to see your clothes. “Did you think this camping trip was code for orgy or something?”

“No, I just wasn’t paying attention when I was packing.”

“How come you never wear stuff like this when you sleep over at mine?”

“Well first off, imagine poor Wayne if he bumped into me wearing this while I was just trying to go to the bathroom. And second, its not really appropriate clothing to wear when you’re sleeping in your best friend’s bed.” Eddie wanted to disagree, while he loved you in his over sized shirts and your long pyjama bottoms he couldn’t help but want you in this when you next stayed over. Absentmindedly he starts tracing the patterns in the lace around your hip,

“What are you doing?”

“ ‘s pretty. Do you want me to stop?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, leaning back onto him, feeling his warm chest touch your cold back.

“You’re freezing, silly girl.” Eddie chastises you gently, wrapping his arms around you, you try to wriggle away a little when you feel your butt touch his crotch but he’s having none of it, “You’re not getting hypothermia on my watch. Just sit still and warm up.” You both stay like this for a while, Eddie pretending the whole situation isn’t making him hard as a rock and you pretending you can’t feel his erection pressing into your ass. Eddie shifts slightly to ease a small cramp in his leg and accidentally rubs his cock across your clothed ass, and a small moan escapes your lips. You quickly clamp your jaw shut and pray he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile Eddie, who definitely did hear you has a grin like a cheshire cat,

“You okay there?”

“Mhm.”

“Then what was that little moan I heard?” Eddie whispers into your ear, “You’re wearing this skimpy little outfit, pressed up against me, and now you’re moaning? Must be trying to start something, or drive me crazy.” Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire,

“Eddie, I...”

“Relax. I’m not blind you know. I do see the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. I just wish you could see that I’m looking at you the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, dumbass,” Eddie pauses to kiss your cheek, “I like you too. And I’m here if you want to do something about it. Or we can pretend that everything’s fine and we’re just best friends. But at some point one of us will get hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either, but then that leaves us with one option.”

You roll over to face him,

“You want this? I mean you want to be with me?”

“God help me I really do.” Eddie’s hands are stroking your face, his big brown eyes are soft as they look into your eyes, before his gaze drops to your lips and he leans in slowly, giving you time and room to back away, you close the distance quickly, pressing your lips to his, he gasps into the kiss and his hands travel down to your waist, pressing your body flush against his. Your hands grab Eddie’s and bringing them up to your chest, you place them on your breasts and he pulls away from the kiss,

“Okay you must really be trying to drive me crazy.” Eddie starts kissing and biting your neck as he plays with your breasts over your shirt. Keen to return the favor you start palming him through his underwear,

“Baby.” Eddie speaks between kisses, “How far do you want to go right now, bearing in mind our friends are literally meters away and tents are not known for their soundproofing?”

You pull away from him and scoot to the tent’s entrance, peeking out through a small hole you’ve unzipped, the tent next to yours is dark, they’ve turned their lantern off and you can’t hear any voices.

“I think they’re asleep Eds...” Eddie kneels beside you and peers out, listening intently. Without warning, you turn his head to yours and pull him in for a kiss before pushing him down to lay on his back, “So I think we can do whatever feels right.” You rock your hips on his bulge, unsubtly getting your point across. Eddie nods and his hands come to your shorts and a loud tearing sound follows,

“Eddie!” You gasp as he rips your clothes from you,

“What?” He asks nonchalantly, kissing your neck as your top suffers a similar fate, “Not my fault these are so fragile.” Eddie rolls you over so he’s on top of you and runs his hands over your body, almost possessively,

“Liking what you see?”

“Its better than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.”

“Dream about me often Eds?”

“Only every night.” He returns to kissing your neck, as his left hand tangles in your hair his right hand is tracing a path further down your body until his cupping your bare pussy, “Can I please play with you?” He’s almost pleading with his tone,

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” Eddie smirks and slowly runs his finger over your clit, hissing as he feels how soaking you are, tracing an almost painfully slow pattern until his fingers are just ghosting over your entrance, “I bet you feel incredible inside.” Eddie whispers in your ear, continuing to tease you with his fingers, waiting for you to ask him nicely.

“Why don’t you find out?” Eddie laughs,

“Nope. You’ve got to be a polite little lady about it and ask me.”

“Please?”

“Please what?”

“Eddie please please please touch me.”

“I am touching you?” He pretends to be confused for a moment before he slips his middle finger into you, making you gasp, “Only because you look so pretty when you beg.” He kisses you again, muffling the moans coming from your mouth. He feels you tightening up and adds another finger, stretching your pussy out more, and making you whine as he starts curling his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot mercilessly while his thumb traces circles around your clit.

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie you’re going to make me cum.”

“Good. I want to watch your face while you cum all over your best friend’s fingers.” He says with a wicked grin, his fingers working relentlessly until the knot that’s formed in your stomach is untied and Eddie’s having to clamp his hand down on your mouth to muffle the filthy sounds coming out of it as your orgasm wracks through your body, your pussy clenching around on his fingers, your thighs and butt twitching of their own accord.

Once you’ve calmed down Eddie takes his hand off of your mouth and slowly removes his fingers from you, admiring the strings of your arousal on them, before slowly and deliberately sucking each of his fingers clean.

“Well I was right about two things.” There’s a smug edge to his voice,

“And what would those be?” Your voice is still shaky,

“One, that you would feel fucking incredible inside. And two, that you would make the filthiest sounds when you cum. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about both things.” Eddie admits, shamelessly. “There’s only one more thing I’m still pondering.”

“And what would that be.”

“How fucking incredible you would feel around my cock. Am I allowed to find out tonight?”

You nod, eager for more, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“You sure? We don’t have to. I don’t have any condoms with me so it would be, raw you know.”

“No condoms?”

“No, I was under the impression this was a friends-only camping trip and didn’t want to seem like I was hoping for a group sex in the woods kind of weekend. So, we do not have to have sex tonight if you want us to use protection.”

“There’s a pharmacy somewhere around here right?”

Eddie shrugs, “Must be, why?”

“Because I’m going to need the morning-after pill tomorrow.” Eddie catches your drift immediately and starts easing his underwear down, he presses the tip of his cock at your entrance,

“If you need me to stop or change your mind please just say okay? I wont be mad, I promise.”

“Eddie, please just fuck me already.” Eddie chuckles and slowly slips himself into you, biting his bottom lip to hold back a loud groan as he feels your silken walls stretching around him. You have to hold back a similar noise, though you choose to bite down on his shoulder to hold your own noise back. Once he’s got you full to the brim with his cock he looks down at you,

“Ready?” You nod and Eddie starts pulling back slightly before slamming back into you, keeping the rhythm slow and deep, you’re panting and trying to hold back so many erotic sounds,

“Baby, you’re taking this so well, and you’re doing so good at being nice and quiet for me.” Eddie kisses you, letting you moan into his mouth as he continues his pace, the depth of his thrusts making your back arch off the mattress. Eddie has to break the kiss to catch his breath so quickly covers your mouth while your eyes roll back slightly.

“Good fucking girl,” Eddie praises you non-stop while he’s fucking you, his words coming out in quick whispers as he holds back his own moans while you’re tightening around him,

“Eddie ‘m getting close,” You pant, “You need to do something so I’m not loud.” Eddie has picked up his pace now, slipping in and out faster and harder than before, relishing as you struggle to stay quiet. He’s getting close too, he’s barely hanging on but desperate to feel you finish around him. Your pussy is getting so tight he almost has to stop fucking you and your breathing is getting erratic as the warm glow that started in your lower stomach is spreading, pleasure completely wiping your brain of any logical thought, or any consideration to the current situation, so that when you do finish around Eddie, its with a loud scream of his name, which makes Eddie finish inside you with a similar cry of your name.

Eddie crashes down beside you, completely spent, sweat running down his body,

“Well we tried to be quiet? That’s got to earn us some points right?” He’s still breathless as he speaks.

“No, they’re going to be hell when we have breakfast tomorrow Eddie.��

#eddie munson #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #munson-trashcan #eddie munson friends to lovers #smutty saturday

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖

mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)

niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗

ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.

(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)

sleepover saturday

uncharted territory

(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)

gif by @aceofwhump

Then you are a Mandalorian no more.

Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.

Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.

The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.

His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.

Where will he go?

You are a Mandalorian no more.

The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.

His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.

Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—

“Mando?”

Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.

“Sweets?”

You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.

Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.

Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.

Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.

Other times, he just wanted to see you.

You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.

Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.

“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”

He just shrugged.

“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”

Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”

“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”

The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.

When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.

And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.

“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”

“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”

You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”

“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”

He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”

He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.

And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.

“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”

“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”

“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”

You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.

He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”

You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”

He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.

“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.

You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.

The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.

He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.

Or nothing.

Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”

The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.

At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.

He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”

Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.

Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside.

He heard you gasp.

He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.

Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.

His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”

He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.

He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.

He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.

Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.

Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.

He wanted to taste you.

He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.

You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”

He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.

“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”

Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”

Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.

“I like it rough.”

It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.

Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”

Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.

He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.

There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.

But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.

The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.

He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.

Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.

“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”

You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”

He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.

But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.

When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.

It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.

He never meant to get so attached to you.

Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.

He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.

“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”

Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.

He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.

He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.

And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”

“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”

Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.

“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”

The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.

Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.

“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.

“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”

He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.

There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.

There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.

You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room.

He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.

You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”

“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”

He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.

“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

And he’d answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”

There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.

“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.

You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.

He could taste you easily now.

The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing.

“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”

Din just nods.

“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it — the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”

It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.

What does that mean?

Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.

“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.

Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”

Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”

Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”

“I did.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”

“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”

“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.

You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”

“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”

“Sorry.”

“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.

“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.

All he can feel is you.

You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”

“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”

“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.

Din wakes to the sound of running water.

He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.

But more importantly: you.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.

His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.

The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.

He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.

Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.

The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”

Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”

He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”

Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”

A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.

“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”

So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.

To your bed.

His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”

Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.

“I’m out of practice.”

Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”

“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”

“You were a child.”

“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”

“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.

The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.

He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.

Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.

It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”

Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.

Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.

“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”

You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.

It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.

You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.

With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.

“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.

Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.

It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.

“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—

Freezes.

He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”

“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”

Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”

“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.

He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.

“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”

Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.

You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.

“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.

“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.

“I missed you.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”

Din wakes alone in your bed again.

He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.

He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know Peli Motto?”

Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”

You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”

“You’re joking.”

“Swear on my hangar.”

Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”

“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”

Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”

You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”

“I didn’t—”

“Din.”

“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”

“Where is the Razor Crest?”

He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.

Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”

“It’s a long story.”

You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin headcanon #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian headcanon #the mandalorian fanfiction

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thosefuzzywordfeelings · 23 days

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slutty saturday: tongue kissing with gator/season 4 steve/baron?

oooh okay nonnie, how about all three? 🤭

content warnings: penetration (yum) 😌✨

Gator:

you’re in the backseat of his SUV. parked a little ways away from the gas station and it’s late at night. you’re almost folded up against the window, gator is pressed on top of you, one hand behind your head and the other gripping your outer thigh tightly. the kisses were needy, his phone ringing with questions and insults from his father, he was needed somewhere in 10 minutes. but not as much as he was needed right now. your tongue rode along his bottom lip with a kiss, as he pulled back with a smirk. ‘yeah?’ he’d mumble lowly as you nod, his mouth capturing yours again as his tongue slid against your lip too. the next kiss was messier, tongues rolling over each other ruthlessly, met with moans from the both of you as your hands gripped at his shoulders tightly. his hips grind down against yours, the camouflage pants straining with his need. “please, need you Gator, fuck the fucking job.” contemplation crossed his face as he thought about taking you on the backseat of his car. but all the blood was rushing through his cock and his mind was only focused on your breathy gasps at each roll of his hips against yours. ‘fuck it.’ he groaned, unbuckling his pants. as he reached in to palm at himself, his phone buzzed. his dad yelled at him to get a move on and he’d sit up in defeat, shuffling his hips slightly to try and tame the hardness that had grown. “this doesn’t end here, sweetheart.”

(i’m ovulating at this already but onwards we go)

Season 4! Steve:

I’m imagining lunch break. You’d taken him some sandwiches and sodas, smiling at him as you walked through the door of Family Video. As the bell rung, he slid round the side of the checkout, calling out to Robin that he was going on lunch as his arm came round your waist and his lips pressed to your temple. But as per usual, food barely got touched as he pressed your back against the door to the break room. Reaching down behind your hips, he’d lock the door before gripping your ass and pulling your lower half against his. Your mouths couldn’t get enough of each other. Desperate hands trailing along the inside of his work vest, underneath his stripy polo shirt and gripping at the skin of his waist as you pull him closer. Steve’s needy fingertips trail through the back of your hair, tugging lightly as the other works at unbuttoning your pants. It’s not long before he’s laid you out on the break room desk, deep inside you with his jeans around his ankles. You sit up as best you can, arms around his shoulders for stability as he fucks the both of you to oblivion. Dipping his head down to meet your mouth again, he mumbles an ‘open up’ to which you let your tongue hang out over your bottom lip. Steve lets his tongue roll over yours, as both tips flick against each other hungrily. It stays that way, until the pulsation of each other’s highs brings your mouths together to silence each other, aware of customers outside the break room. Even once you were dressed, couple of sips of soda and a satisfied kiss goodbye to Steve, he let his tongue slip in your mouth at the door of Family Video, as a reminder that once his shift was up, you’d get it again.

(i’m fucking squealing by the way, if you see my thighs clenching no you don’t)

Baron:

“Now what’re you doin’?” Baron says softly as you climb onto his lap. Y’all would be sat on his bedroom floor eating some spare Moon Pies but his silly doe eyes kept distracting you. They’d stay staring up at you as you sat down against his hips, blinking a couple times as he felt the weight and warmth of you against him. “Just wanna kiss you, Baron.” You’d whisper, stroking his hair behind his freshly-tinged pink ears. “Oh yeah? I just wanna kiss you too. All the time actually, in the morning, in the afternoon -“ His sweet rambling would be cut short as you pressed your lips to his softly, cupping either side of his face as you felt him melt into you. After a few minutes of sweet nose nudges and gentle kisses, his hands would grip your hips a little tighter and you’d feel why right underneath your lap. “What do you need, angel?” You’d whisper against his lips, smiling as his breath hitches. “Use your words for me.” You’d whisper again, kissing his bottom lip and biting down on it carefully. “Need you, want you.” He’d eventually reply, his hips bucking only slightly up into yours. After some awkward shuffling and positioning, you’d eventually be sat right on his cock, feeling it bottom out inside you as you stilled and adjusted to him. His pretty eyes would be wide as they looked up at you, his mouth open and drying out as he too, let himself adapt to the feeling of you around him. As if by instinct, your tongue darted out against his lips, wetting them for him before kissing him deeply. Fingers winding in his hair as you tugged it, moans spilling from his mouth into yours. “Give me your tongue, honey and I’ll move.” You bargained as he more than willingly massaged your tongue with his, eyes threatening to open only for a moment just so he could see your furrowed brows as you both kissed heavily. Complying with your bargain, you’d grind your hips on top of his, pulling his hands to your waist as he got the hint and pulled you down on him deeper. He’d use that as a signal from then on, squeezing your waist and sliding his tongue along your lip just to let you know what he, Baron, needs.

(thank you for the ask, i appreciate you 😮‍💨)

#gator tillman smut #gator tillman x you #gator tillman #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #baron #baron smut #baron marmalade #marmalade #slutty saturday #asks

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

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listen. i know everyone thinks eddie gets bitches left and right (and maybe he does) but i still love the idea of him being kind of easily skiddish/flustered when someone he really really likes starts coming onto him, dont even get me started on if theyre actually gonna get it on

STOP BC I LOVE THIS!! sin saturday <3

warnings || smut!!, shy!eddie, virgin!eddie, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ only

“C-Can I?”

It seems such an innocent question, but everything about the situation was far from it. Eddie had you propped up on a coffee stained pillow and dirty band practice blanket on the floor of his van.

The air smelled of cigarettes and weed—the pungent smell flowing through and sticking to your clothes that were long gone on the floor.

His brown eyes looked at you so lovingly—so passionately as if the burning question that left off of his lips was making him go stir crazy.

And he was, because of you. You were on the floor of his van—body glistening beneath the rays of the moon. You looked so ethereal as his hands dug onto the surface of your hips.

“Yeah, Eds, please.” It was the begging that made him twitch. The begging—the please—that made him devour each and every sense of you.

He couldn’t help but kiss you so soft and feverishly as his teeth and tongue clashed against you. He whimpered against your lips at your sly hands unbuckling his jeans. “Shit—you’re so beautiful.”

And oh, you were. You were so beautiful that he’s sure he wanted this moment tattooed under his eyelids. He moaned when your hands gently caress his member—the thick veins and public hair rubbing against your wrist.

“W-wait—stop, I—I wanna be inside you, baby—please—” He chokes on nothing as your thumb swiped the tip of his cock. You smile, though, watching his shy movements and skittish smile.

You let him line himself up to you, his own eyes watching his cock split you open so slowly. You’re gripping his forearms right—nails digging into the surface of his skin. “Eddie, baby—shit—”

He was big. Really big. And yet, he didn’t even know. Nothing and no one to ever compare or share things to. He didn’t know that you weren’t sure he could even fit, definitely not until your moans continue to fill the van walls.

“Eddie, f-fuck, your cock, it’s so big, oh, eddie—” you’re cut off short by the thrust he gives. It was slow and easy, yet astonishing he hasn’t cum yet. Your wet, sticky walls are painted into his memory. Your slick that runs down to his balls will be cherished to no end.

“F-fuck, you’re grippin’ me, sweetheart. I-I-look at you. Fuckin’ beautiful with my cock inside you, yeah?”

He starts to understand a rhythm, his hips grinding straight into your pussy. His head never could choose where to look—your blissed face or your fucked out hole.

“Sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good, so good. You-you—”

You gasp as you feel the thick ropes of his salty cum fill you up to the brim. He came fast and hard—moaning your name as if it was the only thing he could ever think about.

Shit, he didn’t mean to cum so early. He didn’t mean to cum until you’ve at least cum once. But, he couldn’t help himself. All he wanted was to feel you over and over and over again.

His cum still seemed endless though—your gummy walls puncturing everything inside of him. “Yeah, Eds, baby, cum in me. Yeah, that’s it, baby. S-shit you feel so good—”

He looks at you with a frown, though, still breathless from his ecstasy. “You didn’t cum.”

He wanted you to cum, to let yourself seek pleasure. He wanted his cock to rut into you until you’re both fucked out. He wanted you to cum on his cock so many times, he’s lost count.

Eddie Munson, the freak and the virgin that didn’t get any action, wanted to practically live in your pussy.

He lets the statement sit in the air, and you were truly not bothered by it much. Most guys didn’t let you cum, anyway. And for Eddie? For Eddie, you’d do anything in the world to make sure he’s happy.

“No, but that’s okay. I can—” Your mouth clamps shut at Eddie spreading your legs apart—rings cold against your skin.

“Is it okay? Can I eat you out? F-fuck, I can see my cum dripping—please—I need to lick it, please, baby—please—”

“Yes, Eds, baby, please, wanna see you eat my pussy.”

Eddie may have been spent for about an hour, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to devour you for the rest of the night.

#sin saturday༊*·˚#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #smut #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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geminijade · 3 months

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Excuse Me, Sir. Is This Seat Taken? 🥵🔥

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luminoustarlight · 5 months

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Imagine a forced marriage to emperor Vader (in a universe where he didn’t get barbecued)

You’re a princess and your planet has been destroyed by the Empire & you’re a spoil of war. Palpatine gifts you to Anakin and he marries you somewhat hesitantly assuming you’re an unwilling participant, until you get to your chambers and he takes off his helmet and you can’t believe you luck: it’s love at first sight.

He’s like wtf is wrong with you?? you’ve literally been kidnapped, you should not be this happy. But you think he’s so hot that you can’t help yourself and you ride him all night while he’s kinda unamused and all “really, another round? Fine if you want, hop on.”

anakin being unamused through the whole thing is soooooooo hot because he’s just letting you use his dick for your own good. and the degrading would be HIGH.

“you’re really a little whore, aren’t you? forced to marry a man you don’t even know and your pussy is soaked.”

anakin won’t even show that you’re making him feel good either. he won’t look at you, he won’t moan, hell he might even hop on a data pad and ignore the fact that you’re bouncing on his cock, hands pressed on his firm chest and begging for him to give you any kind of attention at all.

“please, sir. look at me, please. touch me. i need it.”

but he gives you no satisfaction until he cums in you, making a snide comment about breeding you for the empire.

🍒 sin saturday

#anakin skywalker smut #darth vader smut #sin saturday on luminoustarlight #sin saturday drabbles #bunnylovesani #mae’s mail 💌

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imaginesxthevamps · 2 years

Text

It's smut Saturday!

Like I said in a previous ask I took a little break on writing after my holidays. That means I missed last smut saturday. :( I'll post some smut requests today! :))

You can also still send in some smut requests for today or for next week!! (will depend on how far I get today)😌

#the vamps #brad simpson #bradley simpson #bradley will simpson #connor ball #tristan evans #james mcvey #smut saturday #brad simpson smut #sari blogs #sari writes

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crepe-of-wrath · 1 year

Text

Shouta's Scarf Smut Saturday

technically a bit early this week, but.....

notes/summary/warnings: 18+, fem reader; binding cloth usage; Reader has thoughts that can be typical of someone who grew up in a sex-negative environment; Reader has never had a really powerful orgasm before; fic is centered on Reader's needs/pleasure; Reader is about to learn fighting villains isn't the only area where Shouta is S+ in terms of technique

(ahhhhhh, hot dark-haired scarf daddy why aren't you real? 😭😭😭) Of course Shouta wasn't bothered by your deficiency...

...because he didn't see it as a deficiency. When you had first explained how you just didn't orgasm that hard no matter what, he had actually scoffed when you suggested that maybe you just weren't wired that way. Your mouth had fallen open when he pushed you into your mattress, climbed on top of you, and said in a low voice right next to your ear, "That is bullshit put in your head by whatever ass took advantage of your naïveté and inexperience with your own body, and thinks he's too good-looking or endowed or whatever to have to develop technique."

He then declared that he was going to prove that it was quite possible to wring Peak Orgasm out of you and spent the rest of that night gently touching and testing your body with his fingers and his tongue (and--only a few times because he knew you were still a little embarrassed about toys--a vibrator). You felt a little selfish, because Shouta absolutely insisted that you let him be in control, try some different positions and angles with him, and tell him what felt best. You had been a little shy about some of the positions, as you knew that more than a few adults you looked up to would have something to say about a girl who got on all fours for a man, but Shouta had been patient and coaxing as ever.

When he was done with his...research, he was clearly quite aroused. You had begged him to let you take care of him, to let you do something, but he had refused you:

"You're such a sweet angel. But I make it a rule to never come first."

Oh. **

Two days later, as the grey light of an overcast afternoon softly shone into Shouta's apartment while rain gently tapped against the windows, your lover led you by the hand into the bedroom. His oddly ornate bed--a giant four poster passed down from a fondly-remembered ancestor--was stacked with a bunch of pillows of varying heights.

"The pillows are to help support you," he explained. "Make it easier for me to touch the places that seem to please you most."

You nodded, mostly excited, but still a little embarrassed by what your parents or, heaven forbid, your grandmother, rest her soul, would say if they saw you doing something so nakedly focused on pleasure. Shouta seemed to have no such hang-ups, and he helped you lean back on the pillows while giving you a deep kiss.

You had been replaying the sensations of Shouta's explorations from a couple of days ago over and over in your head, so you were already quite excited, and it did not take much preparation on his part before you were begging him to fill you up. The positioning of things was, well, it wasn't what you had ever been taught to do during sex, but goodness if Shouta wasn't right about it making it easier to feel amazing. At first, he was cautious, confirming his strategy, ensuring he was using the best technique. On his fourth or fifth press, your eyes flew open in disbelief and your pussy clenched because he found what he was looking for, a heretofore hidden part of you that, when he grazed against it with his cock and fingers, sent shivers through your body and made you feel a heat you thought someone like you was never meant to feel.

You were trying to hold yourself at the right angle because the pillows were flattening and giving way thanks to Shouta's increasingly powerful thrusts. Your thighs were quaking and your legs kicked up a little bit. You felt as though you were losing control of your hips as they darted about, almost shying away from the pressure and the extraordinary sensation you felt every time the ridges of his cock dragged over that secret spot he had discovered. You jerked about like this for a few more seconds, no release on the horizon, when Shouta stopped himself. You swallowed hard. Was he upset with you? Sick of trying to figure your stupid body out?

He gently stroked your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. "You need to keep still," he whispered. "Let me keep on hitting that spot just right, and you're going to feel as good as you deserve to feel."

"Shouta," you said in a small voice. "I can feel it building and it's so much, and my body feels frozen in place trying to stay in the right position so I can't let go." Your brain was trying to take in how high and breathy your voice was, but your mouth continued on without it.

"I'm also--I'm maybe afraid of losing control of myself? I don't know--it's so overwhelming."

Shouta came over onto his side and pulled you into his chest, rubbing your neck and back. "It's OK, angel, you're doing so good and we're almost there. I think I've got our solution. Hold on."

He reappeared seconds later with both his regular capture weapon and the back-up. Your blush did not go unnoticed, but he merely smiled gently at you and hummed as though he was filing things away in some corner of his mind for another time.

Honestly, you thought to yourself as Shouta whipped the binding cloths around the room, he should have taken The Spider as a hero name.

The results of his handiwork were soon clear to you: he'd anchored a hammock-like thing to those giant bedposts of his. Your face felt as though it had ignited when you realized that no, it really wasn't a hammock. It was a sling. A sex sling.

Shouta was almost irritatingly blasé and matter-of-fact about this, acting as though it was the most normal thing. "Between this, the pillows underneath, and me holding onto you," he said, as he spread a soft blanket over the contraption, "I think you should feel safe and supported enough to finally uncork yourself."

You let yourself settle back into the sling, and its resistance and support did actually make you feel more secure. Drawing on some inexhaustible source of energy, Shouta devoted himself to warming you up again, this time focusing on kissing and sucking on your nipples while his fingers played at your entrance. You were dimly aware that the way his hair tickled against your breasts was extremely stimulating, more than you could ever remember. There was still a little bit of a stretch when he seated himself inside you again, but it wasn't long before he was once again thrusting at just the right place, his cock dragging over the same spot as before.

You swayed back and forth in Shouta's little scarf swing and that only added to the friction. The build-up inside you was actually starting to hurt. Tears came to your eyes. Your body just wouldn't release. You tried to squirm away because it was becoming overwhelming again, but the sling and Shouta's hands on your hips kept you more firmly in place this time.

"Just lean back and let go, baby," he murmured into one of your breasts between his kisses. "Let go and come for me."

And then your body started to move, seemingly on its own. You were dimly aware that your hips were now canting up to meet Shouta's thrusts. Once, twice, thrice, and--

Finally, finally, the dam that had kept you on the other side of ecstasy all your life, a dam that had been built up by some unholy combination of your family, your community--really the world at large--simply crumbled in the face of Shouta's skillful and persistent onslaught.

The start of your orgasm was a pulsing sonic boom of a feeling. You were making the most wanton noises, more gulps and gasps rather than screams. There was an occasional high-pitched cry. Your tears were still falling, and you wanted to cry out Shouta's name in thanksgiving, but you couldn't form actual words. You just held onto him, your fogged mind only barely aware and in awe of the way the muscles of his back moved under your hands. He was groaning in pleasure too, although it sounded so distant in your ears...

Then all went silver-grey, like the light outside his window that was fading into twilight.

When your mind finally cleared, you were startled by the realization that it was hard to move. You had read about people feeling boneless after sex and, wow, they actually weren't kidding. It was, in truth, a little scary. You were so vulnerable.

Or, at least you would have been if you weren't nestled against Shouta's chest, cheek resting on one of his shoulders. You loved his shoulders: they weren't cartoonish, just the right amount of broadness and muscle. You started giving them little butterfly kisses.

He gave a deep murmur of approval, and tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

"How do you feel, angel?"

You tried to reach up to put your arms around his neck, but it was just too much.

"Completely drained, but still somehow warm and fuzzy."

"Good," Shouta said, stroking your hair, gently rubbing your shoulders, and attending to you as though he would never tire of it. Eventually, he gently pressed you into his shoulder again and settled against his headboard.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I will keep you safe."

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa mha #aizawa smut #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa imagine #aizawa bhna #bhna smut #scarf smut saturday

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hellfirexhoe · 1 year

Text

The Pool Boy - Eddie Munson x BoredHousewife Reader

@likedovesinthewnd thank you for being the real brains behind this filth <3

Warnings: 18+ content, minors this isn't for you so fuck off, cheating, bored housewife x poolboy trope, oral sex (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v sex

3,278 words

Masterlist

The hot sun beats down on you, lounging in a sun chair, dark sunglasses obscuring your eyes. An open book rests at your thighs, you look as though you are deeply engrossed, but your eyes are elsewhere, shamelessly ogling the pool boy your friend had recently hired. Tall and slender, with long dark curls and a few tattoos dotted about him, honestly, if you looked up pool boy in the dictionary a photo of this guy would be the last thing you’d find. And yet, the way he moves so confidently as he cleans the pool floor, the way his muscles flex and relax under his vest, it all just looks so right.

Eddie, you were told his name was, with a nod of your friend’s head towards the figure by the pool as she handed you an icy margarita in the kitchen.

“Never seen him before.” You comment, sipping at your drink, relishing the coolness of it.

“Yeah, well, he’s cheaper than what the other guys charge and so far hasn’t urinated in my garden, so he’s a winner.” Your friend had joked as you both stepped out to the sun loungers.

She left you alone to fix more drinks, so you had pulled out your book, not comfortable to make conversation with Eddie, nor do you have any idea what you’d even say, ask him his favourite brand of chlorine? Please. You struggle not to bite your lip and give yourself away as you watch droplets of water running down his soft skin, and then as though he can hear your thoughts, Eddie turns around, a devilish smile on his face,

“Whatcha reading?” You snap out of your trance and shake your head slightly, almost disorientated,

“Um, what, sorry?” You squeak out the words as he sets down his net and strolls over to you,

“The book. You’re so engrossed in it I figured it's either a really good book, or you’re straight up reading porn.”

You cough a little, caught off by his brashness and quickly grab for your glass sipping down melted ice, you hold up the book so the cover can be seen while Eddie tries not to laugh, he reads the cover and nods,

“The Shining? Wouldn’t take you for a horror fan, considering how much I make you jump. I’m not that scary am I?” The only jumping you want to be doing right now is jumping his bones, and it seems like he’s flirting with you. You push that thought aside, he’s not flirting, just wants me to hire him.

“No, you’re not scary.” Sexy, perhaps. “Who doesn’t love a good scare?”

“I don’t love a scare.” Your friend re-emerges from the kitchen, sunglasses on her forehead showing pale skin around her eyes where the sun has not hit, she looks pointedly at Eddie and back to the pool. Eddie nods and gets back to work without another word.

“You don’t have to be so rude, he can take a break for a few minutes.”

“I’m paying him to clean my pool, not host a book club in my garden. You want to pay for his conversation? Be my guest.” Your friend grabs her bag off the floor and rummages until she finds a business card, it's fairly plain just a phone number and the words “Munson Landscaping”. You plush the card from your friend’s manicured fingers and settle back with another drink. Careful to not let your gaze wander back to Eddie.

When you get home, it’s late and yet still you’re greeted by an empty house. You’d married young and for money. And now you are left with the distinct feeling that you might be wasting your best years on someone who deep down you share no meaningful connection with. Your parents of course had been delighted, it was a step up in the world for you and meant they could look forward to a comfortable retirement since you were their only child. You wander into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as you stare out of the window to the pool. A woefully immaculate pool. One that definitely does not need a pool boy to attend to it.

Maybe it's the slight buzz that does it, maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis. But you step out into the garden and find the waste bags the gardener would be collecting in the morning. Dumping all of them into the pool would be ridiculous. So you settle for one, the heaviest, mind you. You cast a quick look around and quickly rip the bag open, tossing the contents into your pristine pool. You look over your handiwork as you dispose of the bag.

“Yep. I’m losing it.”

You walk back into the house, shutting the cool night air out and shivering slightly, you’re still only clad in a bathing suit and cover-up. You rummage through your bag and locate the business card you were given earlier this afternoon, you practise speaking a few times, trying to sound casual and not desperate and once your semi-confident you can talk like a person you dial the number, twisting the cord between your fingers as you hear the dialling tone. Your heart sinks into your stomach when an older voice answers,

“Munson Landscaping, Wayne speaking, how can I help you?”

“Oh, uh um hi. Is Eddie available?” You hear a changing of hands and a muttering from the older voice identified as Wayne.

“Eddie speaking.”

“Oh, hi Eddie, this is Miranda’s friend from today.”

“Oh hey, Miranda gave you this number?” You nod, and then remember that’s not how phone conversations work.

“Yes, listen I just got home and I think my gardener’s check might have bounced or something because it looks like he’s dumped a load of garden waste into my pool. I was wondering if you would be free tomorrow to come and sort it out for me?” You hope you sound casual and lighthearted.

Eddie laughs, “So, a quick tip when you’re calling people to do services for you, don’t mention checks bouncing. I’ll be over at 10am tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re a lifesaver, I’ll make sure I have cash for you.” You’re kicking yourself right now, why on earth would you mention a check bouncing? You could have said the wind this evening blew it into your pool.

“Relax sweetheart, it's just a pool. See you.” The line clicks and you lean back against the cool kitchen counter, you swear you can feel your skin sizzle from how hot your whole body feels, all this just from a phone call?

You sleep fitfully that night, your dreams nothing short of vulgar, that leave you waking up multiple times wanting. It’s almost a relief when your alarm finally rings, freeing you from the relentless lewd scenarios your brain is able to come up with. You take a cold shower, trying to calm your mind down, trying to rationalise that you’re not going to fuck the pool boy. You’re not that much of a cliche. You just want to ogle him. Oof. You’re not sure that’s much better. One thing is for sure, you can’t start fights with your husband for visiting strip clubs ever again.

You rummage through your swimwear drawer, throwing bits of fabric over your shoulder until you land on a dark red set you'd bought for your honeymoon, hoping to jump start your husband’s libido. You’d stood at the foot of the bed, striking a pose and your husband’s response had been to peer over his newspaper and inform you it was distasteful and to get changed before returning to his crossword. You doubt Eddie’s reaction would be in even the same realm as your husband’s. You slip into the bathing suit, grabbing the black sheer wrap and wedge sandals you had left on the floor from the previous day.

Eddie is perfectly punctual, knocking on your door as the second hand ticks to 10 and greets you with a disarming smile, the pool vacuum resting over his arm, he looks you up and down before he can help himself and quickly forces his eyes back up to your face, clinging to a veneer of professionalism that is dangerously close to slipping. As you turn around and lead him to the back garden you hear a sharp intake of breath. As expected, an infinitely different reaction than your husband’s. You unlock the back door and gesture to the pool, filthy now from the garden waste being left in overnight.

“Damn, I’d get a new gardener. You clearly pissed them off.” Eddie whistles as he takes in the damage that your “gardener” caused. Eddie gets to work straight away, pulling his sweatshirt off over his head and giving you a glimpse of more of his skin. You head inside the house and return shortly with glasses of lemonade, you gesture to Eddie, indicating which one is his and he gives you a thumbs up in thanks.

You settle yourself into a sun lounger, this time determined to read more than 3 pages of your book in between glances at Eddie. You can’t just sit here staring. Eddie is a quick worker, you look up from your book after 20 minutes and find he’s almost cleared the branches and leaves. Maybe I should have used all the bags… The thought enters your head before you can stop it and you force yourself to look back at the book, certain your knuckles are white from the grip you have on the pages. You refuse to allow yourself to look back up at Eddie, not even when you hear him approaching and taking a seat on the sun lounger opposite you and chugging his lemonade.

“Okay, honesty hour. Did you dump all this into the pool so you’d have a reason to call me?”

You still don’t look up, “Really, why on earth would I do that?”

“I don’t know but either you made this mess or your gardener has an expensive taste.” You look up at him quizzically and immediately your eyes settle on a glittering bracelet that Eddie is dangling in front of you, reflexively you grab for it and give yourself away. There’s no way you could lie about this being the gardener’s based on the way your magpie hands grabbed at the shiny object.

“Wanted to see me again that badly huh?” Eddie smirks as you reattach the bracelet to your wrist, then as quickly as he came over he strolls back to the pool, continuing to work, the smirk never leaving his face as he continues skimming, the gentle laps of water against the side of the pool the only sound that breaks the silence between you two. You decide to ignore it, turning your attention to your book, a resolve that lasts for all of 30 seconds before you’re staring at Eddie again, watching the way his body moves, eyeing that tattoos that peak out from his vest, while you try to work out the shapes your questions are answered when he pulls the vest top over his head and wipes his forehead with it before throwing it to the side. You blindly reach out for your glass but the condensation makes the glass slip out of your hand and shatter on the ground. You curse loudly and Eddie looks up at the sound,

“You okay?”

You nod, “Fine, just clumsy. I’ll grab a pan for this.” You head to the kitchen and are followed by Eddie, insisting he can help. You grab the pan from the cupboard and start slightly when you see Eddie immediately behind you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He all but purrs at you, stepping into your space, but slowly, giving you an opportunity to push him away. You don’t, you step towards him and before you can register what’s happening your lips are locked in a searing kiss, Eddie pushes you against the counter, pinning you between it and him, meaning you can feel his cock as it hardens through his thin shorts, you gasp for air as he pulls away,

“Is this okay?” He asks, cheeks flushed and breathless, you nod, pushing him away just enough so that you can slip down to your knees. Screw it. Fuck the thought of being a cliche, you banish all those thoughts from your mind, this is something that you both want and need from each other.

You pull his shorts down slowly, and can’t help but lick your lips as you take in his length. He's bigger than your husband, not just in length but in girth too. You run your tongue up the underside of his dick, eliciting a deep groan from him, you might be rusty but you haven’t completely forgotten how to give good head. You take his tip slowly, barely sucking but enough to have Eddie gripping the counter behind him for dear life, you work your way up, gradually taking more and more of his length until his tip is nudging the back of your throat, you use your hand to squeeze and stroke along the length that you know you can’t take,

“Jesus christ.” Eddie mumbles as you take his length as deep as you dare, until your eyes are misty with tears and then come back up his length, over and over until his cock is coated in your saliva and he’s barely able to speak,

“Sh-shit you need to stop or I’m going to cum right down your throat.” You grant him reprieve, letting his length go with a sordid pop as the tip leaves your mouth. Eddie leans back on the counter for a second, appearing to catch his breath before a devilish smile spreads across his lips,

“Your turn.” and before you can speak he’s pulling you to standing, and lifting you onto the counter with a surprising amount of ease, he’s definitely stronger than he looks.

“This,” he plays with the top of your bathing suit, before unclasping it and throwing it to the floor,

“Is,” now he yanks down the bottoms, leaving you bare on the counter, “So fucking hot.”

“If you like it so much why did you take it off?” You tease him, trying to cover yourself, unsure of why you’re attempting to preserve any modesty.

“Because as sexy as you look in it, you look much better like this.”

Before you can come up with a smart retort his head is between your legs and he’s alternating between sucking on your clit so harshly it makes your hips buck and tracing letters on it with the softest brush of his tongue, it’s maddening sensation that has you racing towards your peak before being slowly brought back down to earth. You whine in frustration and Eddie comes away, kissing at your thighs and rubbing circles into them as though anything other than an orgasm could calm you now.

“Let’s play a game, if you can guess what I’m spelling I’ll let you cum.” You nod, breathing hard, only focused on winning the game so that he’ll stop tormenting you. Eddie’s head dives back in, the tracing of his tongue now going much slower, allowing your head to clear enough to think. The first letter is E - easy enough. Then the second and third letters are the same and form a slow circle around your clit then a quick upwards flick - d.

“Eddie!” you cry out panting, praying to be right, you hear a quiet chuckle before Eddie is eating you like a man starved, shaking his head and moaning against you, your hands become tangled in his hair and your hips start to twitch entirely of their own accord, it's been what feels like an eternity since you last felt this desired, this kind of bliss. Eddie keeps his actions consistent, wrapping his soft lips around your clit and wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you close until he has your whole body in spasm from orgasm.

He wraps his arms around your body as you cling to him, coming down from your high with breathy sighs and unconscious twitches. He helps you down from the counter and holds you steady, waiting until your legs are able to take your weight before his hands leave you,

“Think you can keep going?” A hungry smile forms on his lips as he speaks and you nod, desperate for more. You bend over the counter, sticking out your ass at him and Eddie hesitates for just a moment,

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” You shake your head,

“Just fuck me Eddie.” You’re practically pleading but it's not like you’d need to plead, he’s lining himself up and trying to bite back a moan at the mere sensation of your slick dripping onto the head of his cock. He shivers and slowly slides in, the stretch burns slightly and you make a noise somewhere between pleasure and pain and he stills,

“Everything okay?” You nod and he continues to fill you up, it’s almost a relief when you feel his thighs flush with yours, he pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size before he starts slowly pulling back and setting an almost torturously slow pace, like he has all the time in the world to fuck you and he’s going to relish every single second.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good.” Eddie groans against your shoulder and you can only nod dumbly and moan in response, as your body becomes used to his size he begins to pick up the pace, biting at your shoulder as he pounds into you, every thrust forcing a soft cry of pleasure from your lips. You lean back against him, pressing your back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you to toy with your clit, the dual stimulation making it impossible for you to focus on anything but the euphoria of this moment. Eddie sucks the skin of your neck harshly, you know its going to leave a mark but you don’t care, you cry out for more and then Eddie fucks you harder, nearing his peak, and thats when he makes you do something unexpected. Eddie makes you squirt, creating a mess on the kitchen floor.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Eddie grunts as he reaches his own orgasm, burying himself to the hilt inside you so that you can feel every pulse of his cock as he unloads inside you. Eddie pulls out slowly, as if he resents doing so. You lean forward onto the kitchen counter and try to catch your breath and control the shaking of your thighs, Eddie strokes your back soothingly, whispering words of encouragement to you. You hear cupboards opening near you and then Eddie presents you with a glass of water that you take in shaking hands.

“Fuck.” is the only word you’re able to say. Eddie laughs breathily,

“Right there with you.”

As you recover from your post orgasm haze you suddenly become hyper aware of your nudity and scramble for your cover-up from the floor. Eddie follows suit and grabs his shorts, hiking them up. You throw a kitchen towel over the mess on the floor, cheeks blazing at the sight.

“Well, I’d better get back to the pool.” Eddie bumps your shoulder playfully and then whistles when he gets a look at your neck, “Sorry about that.”

You sneak a peak in the mirror and gasp when you see the darkening love bites left on your skin, those can’t be explained. Then it thrills you a little. How far could you take this?

Eddie taglist: @hellfire-puppet @just-absolutely-feral @fangirling-4-ever @and-claudia @scrumptiouslyangrystarfish @quinndjarin @munsonsgirl71 @likedovesinthewnd @boomhauer @joejoequinnquinn @callmeloverr @dukesmebby

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savorypink · 6 months

Text

portable heater

a game of uno, bad puns and hot chocolate.

smut.

“I want you to know, whatever happens after this,” Alex begins, “I love you. And I’ll always love you. No matter how this ends.”

“Alex, you don’t know how honored I am to have my heart broken by you.”

He examines his deck of cards before pulling one from his hand. “Draw four.”

You look down at his chest, the impromptu table you’ve used throughout the game. You’ve got a weapon in your arsenal, too.

“That’s cute,” you pull your draw four from your deck. “Draw eight.”

“No, no, no.” He sits up, the cards falling onto his hips and the floor underneath him. You bite back a moan from the sudden movement, his tip just tickling your sweet spot. “You can’t do that. Can’t put a draw four on a draw four.”

You attempt to sit straight in his lap, your back threatening to arch. “We’re playing house rules. Whose roof are you under?"

Just to tease, you clench around him, your wetness seemingly never-ending with him buried in you deep. He fits almost too perfectly, every inch hot and snug between your tight walls, the stretch burning deliciously. You could stay like this forever, but Alex can’t.

“Yours,” his voice airy, lust coated in every letter. “Teasing should be against the rules.”

“I’ll ask again: whose roof are you under?” You squeeze once more for good measure, your composure almost faltering as you watch him sink to the floor again, his neck arching, veins prominent as he hisses.

“Yours. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It almost sounds like a plea.

You want to give him what he wants, you do, but you can’t help but be on your highest horse while you’re on his lap. Control looks good on you; keep wearing it. You look down at the scattered cards on the ground, sucking your teeth.

“I should make you clean these up,” your tone commanding, but you quickly flatline, “but I want hot chocolate. Get up.”

He rises slowly, your sweet spot being teased again with his tip. The cards in your hand begin to dent as your grip tightens. His large hands find either side of your legs, preparing to pick you up. You drop the cards and snake your arms around his toned shoulders.

“Ready to get up, cheater?”

“Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.”

With a ‘hup!” he lifts you two off the floor. You clench again, this time for good reason, afraid of losing the heat you’d built up. Alex nearly stumbles on his feet, his hands sure to leave marks on your thighs with his grip.

“You can’t do that and expect me to walk straight.”

You run your hand over the soft fuzz on his head, and you swear he twitches inside you. “M’sorry. Didn’t know the walls were closing in on you.”

Alex doesn’t laugh, but you still hear the rimshot in your head. He begins his descent into the kitchen, “You talk a big game for someone with a cock inside of ‘em.”

You pull back, your fingers tracing over the muscles of his chest, your fingertips “accidentally” grazing his nipple. “Some may even call me… cocky.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his hand comes up to smack your ass. The sting just turns up the building heat in your core. You suppress a moan in his neck, his skin lightly scented with body wash and aftershave.

He pulls open the cupboard with one hand while the other rests underneath you. He grabs the hot chocolate mix and mugs for both of you. Before he can reach for the kettle, you stop him.

“I want mine with milk, please.”

He lets out a sharp breath through his defined nose, his frustration growing more apparent. You love every second of it.

You shudder when the cold air of the refrigerator hits your bare ass, though it does soothe the sting from the smack Alex gave you moments ago. He closes the fridge with his foot, his leg barely reaching the door.

“You should carry me like this all the time. Do housework. Pay bills. Go for a run even.” Your nails lightly scratch the hair on the back of his neck, and goosebumps begin forming on his arms. You feel a familiar twitch in your core again and kiss his flushed cheek. “Just a little longer, baby, okay?”

Alex chuckles, most likely compensating for his shaky handiwork with the milk, some drops missing the mugs completely. “I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me.”

“A lovely way to go out, ain’t it?” You kiss his unmoving lips, pouting at the lack of reaction. “Kiss me, you fool.”

Shuffling to the other side of the kitchen, he places both mugs in the microwave. “Once I start kissing you, I won’t stop.”

You shut the microwave door with your free hand. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. One minute on high.”

His trembling hands press the buttons, sweaty fingerprints staining the numbers. You find it adorable. Once the microwave hums, he plops down on the dining chair. He comes down a little too hard, his tip going past your sweet bits, all while you shout profanities in your head. Your clit just grazes the fabric of his sweatpants, your walls becoming more hot and slippery by the second. Your nails sink into his shoulders as he groans, low and guttural.

“How much longer?” He leaves wet kisses along your neck, desperation in each peck. His hands come underneath your sweater with no destination, just wanting your skin against his own. You clear your throat, your cold hands finding warmth underneath his tank top. He thrusts into you at the contact, and you scratch at his stomach.

“When the hot chocolate is ready.” The words barely make it out of your mouth.

As if on cue, the microwave beeps. You’re annoyed he has to get up again, but you’re pleasantly surprised when Alex finally pecks your lips.

“I fucking hate you right now.” In this context, it’s the kindest thing he’s ever said to you.

You smile before kissing his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips. “Love you too.”

As he gets up, his footing is shakier than before, moving painfully slow, both afraid of dropping you and shooting his load. You hope for the latter. Your legs squeeze his hips in a vice grip, allowing him to use both hands to grab the mugs out of the microwave. He holds the cups mere inches from your ass; you don’t worry about him burning you, but in your mind, the more heat, the merrier.

Sitting the both of you down once more, Alex makes sure to move much slower this time. Coming down with a sigh, he hands you your hot chocolate, his smile condescending. The frosty feeling in your hands melts immediately, and you take a sip, the sweet and hot liquid fuzzing your chest. You’re finally warm.

“If you spill any of that…I am going to fuck you into oblivion.”

You smile as you take your next sip. You love him too much to do such a thing. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

#mickey is typing…#alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #two posts in one week. is it crack?#happy saturday to my bald alex supremacists

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petals2fish · 1 month

Text

Smutty Saturday

Read on A03 (Note: Rated E for a Reason!!)

Dani looked up as Dimitri hovered over her. His black eyes were filled with lust as he pushed his finger into the cotton of her underwear, feeling how wet she was for his–

"Lily!"

Suppressing a frustrated groan, Lily tore herself away from her book. Today was supposed to be her day to blissfully immerse herself in a romance novel while savoring a cup of steaming tea in the corner of the common room. Just as she was getting into her latest read, "Charms of Change," someone had the audacity to interrupt her. She was just reaching the climactic moment where the main character was about to confess her love to the wizard who saved her life. But now, her cherished Smutty Saturday was threatened by the sudden appearance of Penny the Pain.

Penny's real name was Penelope Pander, a second-year who fancied herself as head girl material. Lily was fairly certain Penny would vie for the position if she could, but instead, she seemed content to report every minor issue to Lily as if it were her responsibility to fix. No matter how hard Lily tried, she never seemed good enough in Penny's critical eyes.

"No," Lily stated firmly, cutting off Penny before she could speak.

Penny appeared flustered, fumbling nervously with her wand. She knew it was Saturday, as did everyone else. All afternoon, nobody had bothered Lily, choosing instead to direct their inquiries to the currently absent Head Boy. Even Penny knew better than to risk Lily's wrath by disturbing her precious reading time.

Lily barely glanced up from her book as she maintained eye contact with Penny and repeated, "No."

Penny clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. "Please, just hear me out, Lily."

Lily slammed the book shut with a loud snap, so much for finishing.

“I have told you a hundred times, no one is allowed to bother me on Saturday except for my book, my boyfriend, or my best friend." Lily listed the items off with her fingers. "Are you any of those things Penny?”

“No, but—“

“Then figure it out yourself, Penny,” Lily said, reopening her book and crossing her legs to show (as well as she could) that she was done with the conversation.

His black eyes were filled with lust as he pushed his finger into the cotton of her underwear, feeling how wet she was for his thick fingers. He whispered her name before he rubbed his thumb against her aching--

“But—“ Penny's high-pitched voice was so annoying.

“No buts.” Lily didn’t even look up from her book as she reiterated, “it’s one day, I only ask for one day, Penny.”

He whispered her name before he rubbed his thumb against her aching clit, making her tremble at the thought of how badly she wanted his fingers in--

“Frankie Barry and Sasha Verbs got stinging nettle all over them and are in the hospital wing until Monday!” Penny blurred out, her stupid voice once again breaking Lily of her focus. “You have to take over their rounds tonight.”

Lily closed her book again, this time even more highly annoyed as she looked directly into Penny's eyes. “Annie Davis is the alternate, Penny, she can do the rounds.”

Penny shook her head quickly, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Lily snapped, “Penny, I made the schedule with the Head Boy, I know who the alternates are for Saturday nights.”

Penny pulled at the wand in her fingertips, “Annie Davis has poisoned nettles too.”

Lily wished she could have resisted her urge to break into a grumpy fury, but she’d never been one to hold back her feelings when her private time was being interrupted. She should have read her bloody book in her room, behind the four-poster curtains. “How the bloody fuck do three of my Saturday prefects have nettle poisoning?!”

Everyone in the common room looked over. Lily didn’t even bother apologizing for her outburst. She stood up, towering over the second year Head Girl wanna-be. This should be James’ problem, not Lily’s, he was the one who handled the weekends.

Penny pushed her glasses up her nose and said matter-of-factly, “Uh, Frankie apparently used the Herbology lab as a prime snogging spot and didn’t know nettles were bad for human skin.”

Lily narrowed her eyes, “that disgusting git.”

Penny looked relieved that Lily’s anger was no longer directed at the room, “I know, the poor girls, imagine finding out your boyfriend is cheating because you both have stinging nettles up your arse.”

Lily took three deep breaths, debating if she ought to go tell Frankie off herself. Or ensure he got a few more stinging nettles up his dick. She was pretty sure she could talk Sirius into a little mischief. James too, if she promised a kiss afterwards.

“You have to take the rounds,” Penny repeated, cutting off Lily’s revenge plot. “McGonagall said so.”

“The Head Boy does weekend covers,” Lily said, “so go bother him.”

“I did.”

“So why are you telling me?” Lily asked, “why aren’t you after the Head Boy?”

Penny flushed, “well, I went to the quidditch pitch to tell him on McGonagall’s orders.”

“And?”

Penny shrugged, “and I was turned away.”

“Blessed,” Lily pressed her fingers to her temples, “please explain why James had the audacity to send you my way?”

“Penny scratched her neck, “erm, well James didn’t send me away.”

“Then who did?”

“James was in the air, so Nigel Babbington sent me to you, and said you’d have to handle it.”

Lily would kill that stupid son of a witch, Nigel Babbington. He hated that James got Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. He said James would never be able to juggle both. He probably sent Penny back in the hopes McGonagall would take Head Boy away from James for skirting his duties and give it to Nigel instead.

“Babbington sent you to me?” Lily confirmed, “not James?”

“Nigel said James was too busy dropping quaffles on passes to worry about Head Duties.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. First Nigel tried to sabotage James, now Penny admitted he was also shit talking James’ form? Lily had never seen a single quaffle slip from James Potter’s fingers in seven years, she doubted she ever would. If the Head boy was good at anything, it was being good at catching things in his hands. it was a wonder he never became seeker, what with his talents.

“Babbington is as big a prick as any.” Lily huffed, tossing her book on her seat to go rescue her boyfriend and talk to the Head Boy.

Convenient that they were both the same person.

“If James can’t do it,” Penny squeaked, “then you have to.”

“Don’t worry about what I have to do, Penny.” Lily said, “I promise the world will not crumble under my watch.”

"Right." Penny tucked her wand into her robes, sounding unconvinced, “ Or…I could do it, I could do rounds.”

“As enticing as that is, Penny,” Lily said as she hiked her skirt up with a roll, “you’re still only in second year, and McGongall would string me up by my hair if she found out that I let you do rounds alone.”

“I’ve been following your solo rounds all year!” Penny argued, “please, Evans?!”

“I—wait.” Lily paused, “you’ve followed me on rounds all year? As in since September?”

“Yeah.”

“Penny!” Lily exclaimed, “you’ve been stalking me?”

“James said if I wanted to be like you, I should watch you at work.” Penny said. "I still think I'm better at rounds than you, though, no offense. You're a little slow."

“ Ach .” Lily pushed back her long red hair, “do me a favor Penny, and please never listen to James again.”

Lily walked away, muttering under her breath. Penny the Pain had the decency not to follow. Lily would have to keep a sharp eye behind her back on rounds. Knowing that Penny had been following her doing head girl duties was scary, even more so since Lily never spotted the second year.

The sun was just barely peeking out of the clouds outside as it set beyond the horizon. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was perfect weather for curling up with a good book. Lily’s book was sitting back on her chair in the common room, alone.

She was just getting to the best part of the book when the guy got the girl. When the clothes started falling off. When the sexual tension was dripping off the page. When she had to curl her toes as she imagined her own boyfriend kissing her heatedly in shadows and doorways. Sometimes, after she finished a particularly good book, she'd go find him for a kiss, or ten.

Now, the only tension Lily had was Nigel Babbington’s audacity to say James needed to focus on quidditch and not complete his Head Duties. That was utter blasphemy, and he knew it, the prick. The deal was that Lily would cover any missed shifts on weekdays, when James had required quidditch practices. On weekends, when quidditch practice was just for fun, James was required to fill into empty spots on the calendar.

She was in such a blind rage that she didn’t even remember making it to the quidditch pitch. All she knew was that she looked up at the air and no one was playing quidditch anymore. It was clear they'd all come down from their posts to shower and socialize before dinner.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Lily muttered, “Penny couldn’t have waited fifteen minutes for them to be done…”

Lily stormed into the stands, underneath which, a long hallway ran and was full of students. There were boys and girls hanging about laughing and gossiping over broomsticks and pumpkin juice. Lily stormed past some of her friends who were sitting in a circle together, barely waving at them despite their welcoming smiles.

"Where are you going?" Mary called in her sing-song voice.

"James." Was all Lily said when she noted Nigel Babbington sticking his tongue down Annika Johnson's throat.

“He’s just gotten off the pitch, Evans!” Sirius Black shouted after her, "Come sit with us!"

“No!” Lily shouted at him, "this can't wait!”

“He’s probably in the sho—“

“It’s a Head emergency!”

She heard them all whisper and Sirius suddenly laughed when Lily didn’t even glance their way. She made her way down the long wooden paneled hall, her heart pounding. The students became fewer, and it was clear everyone was wrapping up to make it to dinner. At the end of the long hallway, the locker rooms were stationed. She’d been in the girls’ room plenty of times to meet her friend Marlene, but she didn’t turn to the right, no, she turned to the left.

There, to the boys’ side.

She pushed through the doorway, blinded in the moment by her rage, not even thinking of knocking.

“James, I’m gonna need you—” She stumbled over her words. “Holy shit.”

Lily stared at him. Her jaw was probably on the floor. James had clearly just gotten out of the shower. His messy black hair was shining, dripping water down his tan neck. The beads of water rolling down his skin caught her eyes and she followed their path down his sides. She stood in her spot, her throat closing up as her boyfriend was displayed in front of her looking like a fucking movie star.

Has he always looked that toned?

She’d really only seen him with his shirt off, and that had been few and far between. The lines on his shoulders made up of muscle rippled as he moved, and she imagined running her fingers down that back. She wondered if she could kiss every long line, every sharp curve, and even imagined what he must taste like. This was better than any fucking book, this was real, and he was hers.

James glanced over his shoulder when the door slammed behind Lily, announcing her presence more loudly than her original outburst. Her eyes at that point were fully gaping at his arse, which was peeking out from low hanging trousers he'd been scooping up his legs. He’d been hiding that arse from her under his school uniform, and Lily felt like it was a crime.

“Lily!” James finished pulling his trousers up, quickly, his fingers stumbling on his zipper.

James' tan skin stretched over his arms. Lily wondered how he was that toned from simply tossing a ball in the air. She imagined he could probably toss her around too, if he wanted. His wire frame glasses were slipping down his nose as James turned to face her, showing off his bare chest. Oh, she loved his chest. He had a line of hair that she could follow right down to the V of his pelvis.

“Hi.” Lily managed to squeak.

James ruffled his wet hair, droplets flying out, “shit, Lily, someone else could’ve been in here!”

The alarms in her head were blaring, telling her that flight was the best response to seeing her boyfriend practically naked. For crying out loud, he’d only seen her upper half without clothes, they hadn’t gotten past second base.

But now she was thinking, ‘we just might get past it.’

James danced on the spot, uncertain from her dead silence. “Hello?” He asked softly, stepping forward to pretend and knock on a door between them. “Anyone home, Evans?”

“Never mind.” She sounded like a talking animal in a Disney movie, her voice was so high pitched.

“What?”

And then, very uncharacteristically of her, Lily ran out the door.

She was well aware that her face was redder than a cherry tomato. Everyone sniggered as she swiftly walked past. She knew that everyone knew exactly why her face was suddenly breaking out in hives.

“That bad, huh?” Sirius called after her. "I tried to warn ya!"

"Not now, Black!" Lily sent him a rude hand gesture as she kept retreating.

If James was following in nothing but his trousers, she was pretty sure she would die from humiliation. Who saw their partner, naked, and ran in the opposite direction? Lily wouldn't be surprised if James broke up with her. She didn't know if he'd believe she ran because she was overwhelmed by how attracted she was to him at that moment.

Luckily, no one followed her back to the castle.

Lily had barely made it past the front entrance hall when none other than Professor McGonagall stopped her with one hand in the air, “I presume you and the Head Boy figured out who was covering shift tonight?”

“I’m doing it.” Lily said quickly, eager to escape before news got out about her waltzing right into the locker room.“I’m covering.”

“Excellent,” McGonagall nodded, “it starts at six, and goes to ten.”

“I’ll just grab some food before starting then,” Lily stepped towards the tables lined with food, “bye!”

She was aware her face was still burning as she swiped a sandwich from the Gryffindor table. She ignored her friends, anyone really, who tried to engage her in conversation. She was worried she might actually die if she admitted walking in on her boyfriend in the shower.

Not that she was ashamed, but she was incredibly turned on. She wished she had taken a few seconds longer to study the arch of his back as it turned into his hips. She should have taken a mental picture of the way his chest hair curled and trailed down to the line of his trousers.

Lily’s footsteps were loud against the stone of the third floor corridor. She paced the halls, only stopping to check behind tapestries for snogging students. Being that it was Saturday, Lily knew the snogging was more apt to happen in Hogsmeade than anything.

Merlin, what she wouldn’t give to be snogging James Potter right now.

She made it to the seventh floor, also known as the most boring floor in existence. The tower was used as storage, mostly old desks and books long forgotten. Only teachers and the head students had the keys, checking it once a night before continuing on. Lily pushed open the door to go into where all the books were being stored, walking to the back of the room just for fun.

“Aren’t you supposed to be finishing your book today? You were so excited yesterday, I actually kind of took offense.”

Normally, Lily would’ve brightened at the sound of his voice echoing into the dark room during rounds. Normally, Lily would jump right into his arms and kiss him gleefully. Normally, she wouldn’t be thinking of doing more than kissing when she caught his hazel eyes flickering under the flames of the wall torches.

James tilted his head inquisitively when Lily didn’t have a sassy comeback about her book. He moved smoothly, like a deer in the forest, barely making a sound. Lily stood frozen in front of a stained glass window near the stack of charms books, her face turning bright red instantly. Lily swallowed thickly when James positioned his body in front of hers.

At least he was fully clothed this time.

“I’m on rounds.” She blurted out, stupidly.

James tucked his fingers under her chin as he acknowledged, “I can see that, love.”

He called her love, he always had, even before they started dating. It still turned her knees to mush. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers softly. Oh fuck, she was kissing him back, losing initiative, losing focus. His kiss warmed her up, undoing the knots on her insides like magic.

Her hands slid up his arms, feeling his body move closer to hers. Lily's mouth opened against his so that she could capture his lower lip, tugging it impatiently, feeling the skin flex under her teeth. James responded to that by deepening the kiss, tasting her with ample amounts of his tongue against hers. His left hand angled her face before it slipped against the back of her neck, holding her in place as they kissed.

Too bad he was fully clothed now.

When James pulled back, Lily's eyes were still closed. She could feel that he hadn’t gone far. His exhaled air washed over her mouth sensually, promising her that he hadn't given up all his kisses yet. It was better than any book she’d ever read, but maybe that was but maybe that was because it was James doing the romancing.

“Why are you on rounds?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.

Lily's head was spinning from his arrival. “Frankie Barry and Sasha Verbs got stinging nettle all over them and are in the hospital wing until Monday.”

“Yeah I caught them having a go at it in the Herbology lab,” James said, “but I thought Annie was the alternate for tonight.”

“James,” Lily opened her eyes to find him watching her very closely, “Annie got stinging nettles too.”

“How did Annie get nettles?” James was so cute when his nose wrinkled up from irritation.

“Probably from that prick Frankie.” Lily huffed, “Penny told me that he was shagging them both.”

“Fucking fifth years,” James rolled his eyes, “they’re nothing but raging hormones.”

“Yah,” Lily pretended to agree as her left hand felt it’s way up his bicep, “raging hormones, the lot of em.”

James noticed her attention waver. A knowing smile overtook his face, showing off the sharp square of his jawbone. Lily wished he wasn’t wearing robes, they did nothing for the figure underneath. And boy, was there a lot hiding underneath. James started kissing her neck, sucking gently at her pulse point so that she leaned into him.

“How did you find me?” She asked him, despite enjoying the way he was marking up her neck.

“Oh, I noticed you were missing from dinner, so I asked around. Penny the Pain ended up telling me that you were supposed to be finding me.” He replied conversationally, nipping at her skin playfully. “I left out the fact that you did find me earlier, but Sirius unfortunately told the entire table what happened two seconds later.”

Lily groaned, letting her head fall back. “No.”

James chuckled as he brushed her hair out of his mouth's way with his fingers, “he finds it hilarious that you saw me naked and ran off without any explanation.”

“Mm sorry.” She mumbled, slurring her words when he blew cool air onto the hickey he'd just undoubtedly made.

James pulled her face to look at him, showing nothing but empathy in his eyes, “bit shocking for the both of us, yeah?”

She nodded miserably, “I should’ve knocked, but I was so mad about Frankie, and Nigel, so I had to come get you."

"I get Frankie, but why Nigel?"

"Because Nigel Babbington thinks you need more practice on a broomstick.” Lily rolled her eyes.

James immediately retracted in horror. “That bastard couldn’t catch a quaffle if it hit him in the face!”

Lily pouted her lower lip and gave him her saddest eyes. “Yeah, obviously that’s what I said!”

“Well, those pricks aside,” James brushed her hair from her face with his thumb, “why don’t you go back to the common room, and I’ll finish your route?"

Lily stood on her tiptoes to angle herself a little taller, “you mean it?”

James softened at her enthusiasm, “of course I mean it, you work your cute little arse off all week so I can play quidditch. You should get time to do what you want to do, too.”

She didn't know how to tell him the only thing she wanted to do was keep touching him in that tower, where it was unlikely anyone would find them.

Lily took both his hands in hers, frowning considerably. “I wish we had an alternate of an alternate, James.”

“To be fair, neither of us predicted Frankie would give both sixth year prefects nettles.” James said, using his body to slowly push the back of her knees right into the window ledge. “Come to think of it, we did the best we could, so really we should both be off the hook here.”

She pushed her fingers through his curls, which were dried despite his earlier wet appearance, “I like the way you think."

"I get my best ideas from you."

"I love you.”

And then she realized what she had said, out loud. Shit, was he going to go into shock? She eyed his frozen features, looking carefully, like he was prey that might flee from her arms. His hazel eyes read her, skimming her face, her hands, her body. Lily sucked in a deep breath of air when he removed any more space between them, his chest pressing up against her white button down.

There was something unspoken and wild when he closed the gap between their lips. She laughed into his sudden flurrying kisses, made up of long strokes of tongue and scraping teeth. James had one hand in her red curls, his other hand pressed against her arse, lifting her onto her tiptoes higher. Higher. She was practically balancing on her black school shoes, her tongue tasting every corner of his all-too-eager mouth.

There was something incredibly hot about the way he was holding her there, something invigorating about the way she could barely keep up with his kissing. His passion spread through the room life a wildfire. She was burning in him, feeling every inch of her body catch sparks that erupted in bolts that streamed from her head to her core. It was always like this when she kissed James Potter, and she didn't want the feeling to ever end.

Lily’s hair was tangled between his fingers while he arched her head to deepen the strokes of his tongue. He tasted like mint toothpaste, or gum, but she couldn’t decide which one as her nails scraped through his dark black hair desperately seeking more friction. She could smell him, only him, the sweet scent of cinnamon and soap. James slid both his hands under her skirt, lifting her into the wide sill of the window, which allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist.

“I love you too,” he finally replied, eliciting a soft sigh from her lips as he spoke inches from her, just in case he wanted to dive back in.

“I'm not saying that just because I like your arse, either." She nipped at his tongue.

James smiled against her mouth, "you like my arse?"

"I loved everything I saw, to be honest."

“Fuck, this is so hot, like a dream.”

She pressed her mouth along his sharp chin, leaving a trail of kisses to his ear where she whispered, “been dreaming of me, have you?”

“I think I’ve got hormones to rival a fifteen year old.” James’ fingers were wound up in her skirt now, holding the fabric tightly as if he might rip it off her. “Especially when I saw you earlier, I mean, when I saw the way you were looking at me.”

Lily’s fingers were unbuttoning his robes, desperately trying to get to the skin she’d seen earlier, “I’m sorry I ran, you’re just way too handsome and I died a little.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t run after you,” he kissed her again before admitting, “I like how you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just saw me naked.”

“I did.” She giggled.

“Damn, you’re right.” He sighed, “I just keep giving you whatever you want.”

Lily pressed her forehead to his gently, “how shall I ever thank you?”

“This is a good start,” he joked, the edges of his eyes wrinkling with humor.

“We could get in trouble if we got caught.” Lily thought the idea only turned her onto him more.

James placed butterfly kisses along her chin between every word of, "we're just snogging."

Lily's hands felt up his shoulders, wishing they were bare, "I wouldn't mind a little more."

His hands slipped under the fabric of her shirt, cupping her breasts over her bra, “something like this?”

Lily turned her head to capture his wicked smirk. She kissed him slowly while his left index finger slid under her bra to play with her peaked nipple. Lily felt tingles between her legs when he touched her like that, and so she kissed him harder, her hands grasping for hold. Even with his kiss, his hands, and his undivided attention, Lily still wanted more.

“Let’s go,” he begged into her mouth, seemingly having the same thoughts as she did. “The lake is bound to be empty this time of night.” He nipped her playfully with his teeth. “This time we’ll both strip down to our underwear.”

“That sounds pretty fun.”

“Rounds only go till ten, and then— holy hell ."

His whole lower body had shifted into hers when she locked her legs around him, using her ankles as shackles. She balanced on the edge of the windowsill, until his right hand started holding one of her legs to his body. Lily felt it as he rolled his hips up and into her. He must’ve liked it too, because his hips jolted a little more roughly on the second go. She dug her nails into his skin, meeting his thrust with one of her own.

"Lily, you’re so needy.”

“I'm needy?" Lily could feel him, and he was getting hard despite all the fabric still separating them.

James softly whined her name and it made her see stars.

“You gonna make it to the lake?” She asked him, loving that he hissed like it was possible he wouldn’t.

“Are you sure you didn’t make this entire nettles thing up, just to get me turned on so much that I'd jump you on rounds?” He teased back, hot breath splashing over her face. “You just wanted to shag me, right?”

“The nettles are true,” Lily said, “but I did not expect me running away from you to garner such a—ah— James .”

He had thrusted and rolled his thumb over one of her nipples at the same time, making her entire face flush from pleasure as she gasped his name. James got a dirty and possessive look at that, repeating the motion so that he could watch her hitch on an inhale, totally overcome by the sensation. She watched with wide eyes as he pushed aside the fabric on her right breast, leaned down, and put his mouth on her skin. When his tongue fell against her peaked skin she felt another flash of heat from below that had her wiggling in place. She was desperate for more friction, more James, more feeling.

“You might’ve run away.” James had left her bra pushed aside when he stood up again, and the cool air elicited a new feeling on her skin. “But before that, you just stood there undressing me with your eyes and as I watched the flush creep up your cheeks…all I wanted to do was get you to look like that while I was ravishing you.”

James was definitely getting whatever he wanted. She was absolutely turned on, more so than she ever had been with him. She knew he wouldn’t go so far as to have sex with her, but she wondered if he wouldn’t mind experimenting a little. They had time, rounds didn't end until ten, and no one would come looking for them.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered when he started kissing up her neck.

James sucked her skin thoughtfully before asking with a husky voice, “touch me where?”

"Where do you want me to touch?"

Lily dropped her legs from around him to give him room to move. He was pushing off his robes, letting the fabric fall to the ground. Lily watched with hungry eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head, making it join his robes on the floor. It was only seconds before he was unzipping his trousers. He already knew the answer to Lily's question. He was just teasing her, and looked pleased by the turn of events as he readjusted her legs around his hips.

"You promise not to run this time?" James kissed her, sweetly, affectionately, only deepening the touch between them by pushing himself into her so that she could feel how hard he was.

"Yes." She hummed happily when he started moving his body into hers in a wholly sexual way.

"Are you sure you want to go further?" He confirmed, "We can stop, whenever you want.”

“Okay," she whispered, "but I don't want to stop right now."

Lily had never touched anyone like she wanted to touch him, and was even disappointed when he stopped moving against her so he could readjust. James shimmied his trousers and underwear down so that they rested on him just as they were when she walked into the locker room: barely hanging on. Her hands unlocked from around his neck as she looked down and prepared to take a daunting step with the boy she loved. He was holding himself, but watching her with expectant eyes, seemingly unsure of how she would respond.

“Show me how,” Lily told him, and James took one of her hands, wrapping it around the base of his cock.

“Just go for it,” James said as her fingertips slid along the length, making him twitch involuntarily.

"What if I suck at it?"

“I'll help.”

Lily felt the thickness of his body, but she was more marveled at how velvety he felt. He hissed when her fingers slid underneath the shaft gently and he bucked forward, making her entire hand wrap around him in gut reaction. His hands grabbed ahold of her waist as if seeking to anchor himself to something, and she didn't mind that it was her.

“Fuck,” he closed his eyes once more when she moved her hand in a pumping motion, “are we sure I’m not dreaming?”

“Not dreaming.” She confirmed before asking, “does it feel good?”

James managed a short laugh, as if she was absurd for even asking. Lily brought her mouth to his and he willingly accepted her kisses as her hand started moving up and down his shaft in slow, unpracticed, motions. James was distracted by her hand, only kissing her absentmindedly, almost like he could not handle thinking about both at once. She felt James quivering, and her hand was starting to feel tired. James rutted into her hand again, ripping his mouth from hers to hiss a long stream of curses. It was clear he wanted more because he was wide eyed, nothing but need dripping from his expression.

“Here,” he said gruffly into her neck, removing her hand from him and placing it on his balls, “touch me here.”

Lily didn’t know what she was doing, but did as he asked. James’ own hand started pumping fast against his cock. Lily watched, enthralled by the sight of her boyfriend coming totally undone before her without any embarrassment. His chest was heaving as he grabbed her hand again, guiding her into the fast paced movements until he was panting for air. She watched and waited as she followed his instructions, eager to see him fall totally apart for her.

“I’m gonna—“ James tried to warn Lily to move her hand, but it was too late.

She’d always wondered what boys were like when she was alone late at night, touching herself, but nothing could’ve prepared her for witnessing it first hand. It was messy, for one, getting all over her legs and skirt. James barely even blinked at it, he was too busy catching his breath. Lily adjusted uneasily, trying and failing to look like the products of her touch didn't bother her.

“Sorry.” James breathed into her skin, and Lily could tell by the curve of his mouth that he was grinning. “Give me a second and then I’ll clean you up.”

“It’s fine.” She kissed the top of his head softly before admitting, “I never did that before.”

James looked up, arching a playful bow, looking rather euphoric. "You've never seduced a boy before?"

Lily pinched him, "you caught me, this was all a ploy to seduce you into finishing rounds with me."

“You could seduce me into a cauldron full of nettles, love,” he said in a loving voice, “especially if you ever touch me like that again.”

"I think next time it's my turn." Lily suggested.

James' jaw dropped. "Can it be next time, now?"

Lily laughed as he kissed her again, marveling at how her Saturday had remained smutty after all, only this time there was nothing fictional about it.

#jily fic #jily fanfiction #lily evans #james potter #jily #jple #Jily smut #smutty Saturday

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