#I am gripping everyone by the fucking shoulders and staring intently into your eyes

[sunnnfish]

The new tbhk chapter genuinely put a gun to my head and shot me dead

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 6 - Crestfallen~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: The arrival of a few new guests at the hotel ignites tension, prompting doubts about everyone's true intentions. Tempers rise and you're forced to make a decision about your future.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut, actual plot, slow burn, (possibly religious trauma if you squint), and of course 18+

2.5k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 (You're on it!) Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

It’s been two weeks since you spent that single evening with Alastor, and you’ve slept like complete shit every single night since. The first few were expected as your body was still healing but there was no excuse for the days that followed. Other than the desire to be near him.

It didn’t help that you were beginning to get anxious about the new deal, wondering what he could possibly show you that would help expand your power. He made no mention of it over coffee or in passing. But with Extermination Day getting closer you felt the pressure to be better (now that you knew it was possible).

Like clockwork, Alastor walks into your room with the usual two cups of morning coffee, setting yours on the table. This whole ‘domestic’ side of the demon is something I could really get used to. “Glowing as usual my dear.” He says as he kisses your forehead and sits down on the bench at the end of the bed. Odd. No book? No newspaper? He just sits quietly, staring into his mug. His mind seems to be somewhere else this morning.

“Well good morning to you too. What has the mighty Radio Demon frazzled this morning?”

“Hm?” He hums, still not looking up at you. You frown. 

I know what will get his attention.

“That smile of yours doesn’t hide as much as you think it does…” as you speak, you pull yourself on his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck, “…at least not for me,”

A look of pleasant surprise crosses his face at your forwardness and his eyes snap to yours. Finally pulled away from his thoughts. 

Too easy.

“I am far from trying to hide anything darling,” he playfully runs his free hand up your thigh to your hip, resting it with firm grip on your waist, “However, you are correct in assuming my head is a little busier than usual. Charlie just informed me that her father will be making a visit to the hotel today.”

You practically fall out of Alastor’s hold from how fast you jolt up at the news. “I’m sorry…LUCIFER is coming today? You didn’t think that was important information to give me first thing this morning?”

He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “I would have told you eventually.”

Rolling your eyes at his nonchalant attitude, you quickly get dressed and head down to the lobby. Everyone was bustling around the hotel to get it prepared for the King of Hell’s arrival. You track down Charlie to ask what you can do and quickly get busy helping the others.

When Charlie answers the door, you catch a peek of the King for the first time and he’s…much shorter than you expected however still strikingly handsome. He was said to be the most beautiful of the angels before his fall. You are just finishing hanging a banner on the stairway when you overhear Alastor’s voice talking with everyone. Making your way down the stairs you catch the end of an apparently heated conversation.

“- well it’s not very clever!”

“Ha – ha! Fuck you.”

“ALRIGHT!” You and Charlie chime at the same time. She takes Lucifer’s shoulder to pull him towards the rest of the group and you wrap your hand on Alastor’s forearm. “What the fuck is your problem?” you scold. He jerks your hand off his arm without a second glance.

Oh we are going to be pissy today?

“And this is our newest resident but with her progress I feel like she’s bound to be our first successful transfer! She’s got a heart of gold!” Charlie beams at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say extending out a hand for a handshake.

Lucifer takes your hand and pecks your knuckles. “Yes, wonderful to meet you as well.” As he looks up he pauses, and a confused look crosses his face. You share an equally confused look while trying to pry your hand back from him. Charlie regains his attention, “Sooo dad there is so much to see –“ she trails off and you walk over to the bar.

“Trouble in paradise?” Husk pokes. If looks could kill, yours would have buried him another six feet under. Taking the hint, he pours you a double of your usual. You hear him mutter a hasty ‘sorry’ when he hands you the glass.

As you baby your drink some girl barges into the hotel, practically throwing herself onto Alastor. I really wish that didn’t bother me as much as it does. Noticing your face twist in annoyance, Husk leans over the bar to your ear, “It’s just Mimzy. She’s trouble, but not in the way you think. I’ll talk to Al in a bit.” You nod, watching her walk over to chat up Husk and Angel. Irritated by the events of the day so far, you excuse yourself to your room.

Halfway up the stairs to realize you don’t actually want to go sulk in your room, so instead you leisurely wander the halls lost in thought. Why is Alastor wrapped so fucking tight over Lucifer being here? Really showing his true colors.

You blindly make the first turn down the hall and knock heads with Lucifer who swiftly wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. You grasp at his shoulders for balance. “Fuck I’m so so so sorry – I was lost in my thoughts.”

“No no that was all me. I also was lost in my thoughts. Are you alright?” his voice was honey, sweetened even more by his soft smile.  

“Yes, thank you. So sorry again – uhm where are your tour guides?”

“I evaded them to look around for myself. However, I am quite glad to have run into you, literally.” He chuckles at himself. Even his laugh is smooth. No wonder this man corrupted not one but two women with ease.

You wrinkle your brows, “Any reason in particular or…?”

“I just was hit with the strangest feeling when we met, and I wanted to ask. Are you…” his voice drops, “fallen?”

You push him away, realizing you are still holding onto each other. “Oh goodness no, I died and ended up straight here. I joke that I just wasn’t one of God’s favorites, even after living ‘by the book’ as they say.” A nervous laugh bubbles out of you but Lucifer looks more empathetic than amused.

“Charlie was right, if this whole redemption thing is even possible, you’d –“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” You ask quietly. 

He steps closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I just see how bright your soul is –“

“Don’t….say that.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Lucifer was on the verge of tears with how he is looking at you right now. “It must be so painful to be surrounded by such horrible sinners. Redemption would mean –“

“Lucifer please…” you beg with him, feeling your emotions start to take over. Why is he prodding this subject so hard?

“My dear Heaven can make mistakes, even if they’ll never admit it.”

“Enough!” You jerk away from him, causing him to step back in a stunned silence. “It’s ridiculous how the devil himself can see my soul is good yet THEY sent me here without a second thought. My love and my kindness and how I lived righteously on Earth meant NOTHING to them! Heaven didn’t want me so why the fuck would I want to go begging at their gate!?” Your cheeks grow hot as tears begin to pour from your eyes. Why am I crying over this RIGHT NOW?

Lucifer grabs you and pulls you to his chest, turning your tears into full sobs muffled by his coat. You drop to your knees and he kneels with you, tightening his embrace. “I’m sorry,” He breathes, “I understand more than anyone the pain you feel. But I also sense how powerful you’ve become here. Charlie is so lucky to have a friend like you.”

You look up abruptly through bloodshot eyes, taken back by the comment. He laughs at your stunned expression, “I’m Lucifer, THE devil – you really think I wouldn’t know something was up? Don’t worry, I understand the danger if you’re not careful with who you surround yourself -”  

“What did you do to her!?” Alastor’s enraged voice resonates through hotel walls as he rushes over to pull you away from Lucifer. He grabs your arm, yanking you up off your knees. Some timing this guy has.

“Ouch – stop! He didn’t do anything. We ran into each other and just got –“ you try to reason with the increasingly furious demon but it falls on deaf ears. His antlers grow and body starts to stretch over the already smaller body of Lucifer.

“I don’t care if you’re the King of Hell, you touch her again and I’ll take pleasure in ripping those puny arms off your body!”

“Alastor calm down – he was helping me if anything!”

Lucifer stands up, ignoring the threats, but then a realization hits him. He looks at you equally baffled and disgusted. “No….Oh no my dear, you aren’t actually serious, right? All the sinners in Hell and you choose him?” 

“What the fuck does that mean!?” you and Alastor angrily shout in unison.  

Charlie and Vaggie come down the hall to see the tense scene. In classic Charlie fashion, she nervously tries to deescalate the situation, “Oh hey dad! THERE you are! Let’s continue the tour on a different floor, shall we?”

A sudden force hits the hotel, causing the entire building to shake. Looking outside you see several loan shark demons trying to force their way in and yelling for Mimzy. Guess Husk was right about her being trouble. Alastor snaps his head to you, keeping a rigid grip on your arm, “Radio tower. NOW.” he barks. Without waiting for your response, he shrinks into his shadow while the others run down to the lobby.

You walk into the radio tower and look outside in time to watch the last of the sharks being eaten. Maybe that’ll help him blow off some steam from today. Get his shit untwisted enough to actually talk to me. You pace the tower, taking in all the knobs and wires that strewed across the front where he sat every night. Alastor never invited you into his tower and you never felt the need to visit. So why did he ask demand me to come in here instead of his room?

“Feel any better, asshole?” you bite as soon as your ears start to ring.

A chill runs down your spine when he materializes right behind you. “You’d be wise to watch your tone.” He growls threateningly.

You turn to face him, “I’m sorry? My tone? Would you like a reminder of how shitty you’ve been towards me all day? And the whole Lucifer thing, the fuck is your problem with – “ his hand grasps at your throat, holding firm enough to startle you. You look up at him in shock and stare into his glowing red eyes.

“My problem with the King of Hell is none of your concern. However, I quite dislike how easily he got so close to you, my dear. Did you enjoy his hands on you? Did he whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Telling you how wonderful it is that you use your little powers for good?” His words drip with malice as he holds you in place. This was what you always expected from him yet somehow it hurt worse now, after everything you’d gone through together. His last sentence is all you needed to hear to trigger every worry you’ve had since the first deal.

You push yourself away from his grip. Resentment and hurt tightens painfully in your chest. This is it, this is where I need to turn off every emotion I ever thought I've felt for him. You straighten your body and try to speak calmly, “You’re angry because you think he wanted to take me…my power…to use elsewhere, aren’t you? This isn’t about him putting hands on me or you being jealous in that sense, oh noooooo - You thought he was trying to convince me to do his bidding rather than yours, THAT’S why you’re upset isn’t it?”

Static fills the air and he seethes at your words. He moves towards you but you step back out of his reach. You feel his shadow try to grab your legs but you conjure your needles, peppering them across the wood floor to chase it off. “Don’t touch me! It’s true, isn’t it?” Your eyes ignite with anger to hide your tears.

“I believe I made it very clear in the beginning this was about the power but – “ his voice drops and smile fades.  

“What? But WHAT Alastor?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to step towards you again, speaking with a quiet but fierce tone, “Please, I need you to believe me when I say – “

“BELIEVE YOU? Do you hear yourself? This whole ruse of trusting each other, being drawn to each other, wanting to HELP me – it was all for your personal gain! You want nothing from me other than the power I can give you. Well forget it, I told you I wasn’t going to be some PET of yours. Our deals are OVER.” Pulling your hand up, you see the pink and green entwined string that connected you to Alastor. Your chest pangs as it snaps apart, fading into the dust of the tower.

His static cuts out and an eerie stillness falls over the room. In the dim glow of the tower you can only make out his silhouette and red eyes. You stand perfectly still, preparing for him to retaliate, lunge, attack, yell, anything. But he doesn’t. Neither of you move nor speak. After what feels like an hour of silence, Alastor melts into his shadow and disappears out of the room.

You drop to your knees in agony.

Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show.

A wave of pain burns through your body as though your heart was just ripped out of your chest.

Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close.

How could I be so stupid to think we could work together?

Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have.

That he could actually care about me?

Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord.

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone

[stayingstromboli]

ACADEMIC RIVALS- MATTHEW STURNIOLO X FEM READER

TW: KISSING, SWEARING

SUMMARY: Matt and you have always competed against each other, whether it be sport, grades or friends. However will your secret romantic feelings for each other change your relationship or just make you hate each other more?

A/N- Matt and you are 17 and are in high school (I think- I’m British and our school system is different so sorry if I got the wrong school year). Also this is my first time writing seriously so I hope it’s good.

"Matt let me past."

Me and Matt had never really got along. By really I mean at all. Since middle school he strived to make every waking day a misery for me, going out of his way to annoy me. And in return I made sure do the same to him. Tests, assignments, even in terms of popularity. Everything we did we were endlessly competing to try and one up the other, constantly at each other's throats trying to drag the other down. When did this all start? Nobody could remember anymore. It's just how it's always been. And nobody cared to be the one tobe the first to put and end to these antics and 'lose'.

"Matt move the fuck away, go haunt someone else", I spat at the boy, who stood blocking my path, leaning on the lockers in front of me.

My annoyance was very apparent as I eyed him in disgust, his bright blue eyes meeting my stoney grey eyes. The bell had rung, signaling us to go to our next lesson, the sudden flood of students trapping me, pushing me into my locker, making it impossible for me to get around him.

"Make me", Matt sneers, clearly enjoying himself immensely as he saw the frustration growing on my face.

"Oh I fucking will"

I barge past Matt, shoving him out of my way. Or trying to. He grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me back, leaning forward as he did so. His grip was firm leaving no room for me to wriggle away. There were inches between us, forcing me to breathe in the musk of his cologne,  strong and spicy, comforting almost. It took every fibre of my being to keep my breathing steady: Matt cannot know that I find him even remotely attractive. I'd never live it down! I prayed with all of my might that it wasn't obvious from my face or body language that I was flustered, desperately hoping that my face was not a bright shade of beetroot.

Matt stood like that for a good few minutes, studying my face with great intent, absorbing my every detail of my facial expression, which didn't exactly help my paranoia, especially when I saw his lips upturn slightly, clearly finding something amusing. My initial attempt at matching his stare with cold, icy one was a complete failure, his beautiful deep blue eyes drowning out any hatred or disdain behind my glare, so in defeat I fixed my eyes firmly on the floor to hide any fondness towards the boy in front of me. Or rather, I tried to. The success rate, however, was questionable. Each breath he took was hot on my neck, the thought of his smirk, his lips, too appetising, inviting me back in.

Fuck this man. How am I supposed to hate him when every attribute that made him so detestable made him so attractive at the same time. Like one of those villains in films that you're supposed to hate but everyone ends up fangirling over instead. The control. The charisma. The charm. Everything drawing you in. There he is towering over me, pinning me to the lockers physically restraining me and here I am losing all composure. He knows what he's doing and he's enjoying watching it happen, and so I have to focus even harder to not give him that satisfaction of winning.

Finally snapping my attention back to the bigger problem at large, I took my chance while he was preoccupied. My foot smashed down onto his, causing Matt to yelp, in what must've been shock rather than pain- we both know that I certainly don't have enough strength to actually hurt him, just enough to cause a minor inconvenience. I quickly turned on my heels and stalked away down the now isolated corridor, which in itself was quite a worrying sign. I made my escape while I still could, but out of my peripheral I could see Matt, trailing after me like a disease.

I pretty much ran to English, anxiety churning away in my stomach as I wondered how late I even was.

"Theres no point going."

Matt's voice startled me, pulling me back from the mess of worries circling my head.

"Excuse me?"

"English class. Theres no point going. He'll only give you detention. Come with me instead."

"Matthew, why the fuck should I trust you? You're the one who got me into this mess in the first place", I reply sharply, not even turning to acknowledge him as I continued at my fast pace.

"What can you not bear missing one lesson? You're either too scared to miss even one small worthless little lesson or you've truly let your hatred towards me and cloud your better judgment. If we show up we'll just get detention, in which you'll have even more with me. Unless of course that was the pla-"

"Don't flatter yourself. Fine, I'll come with you, but only to avoid the embarrassment of everyone turning to look as we enter."

A disgusting smug smile of self satisfaction was plastered across his face as I followed him back down the hallway, making Matt look extremely punchable. Once we finally made it out of school and into the parking lot I followed him to his car, where he gestured for me to get in.

We were physically too close for me to even try and avoid my romantic feelings for him, not even half a meter between us in the front seats of the car. The smell of his cologne was stronger than ever, his hair fluffy and within arms reach, tempting me. The silver chain around his neck made him look even hotter, dangling over his pale blue hoodie which matched his eyes perfectly. My heart was thumping in my chest as my eyes trailed over the boy next to me, almost skipping a beat when I catch the rosy tint spreading across his cheeks while we looked at each other. I could've sworn I saw him glance at my mouth as he licked his lips. Matt? The same Matt that purposefully trips me up or insult me at every given opportunity or get in my way whenever possible. Surely not. They must've just been dry or something. I know him, he wouldn’t.. He couldn’t… And yet this side of the Matt in front of me was completely foreign to me.

He reached out to plug in the aux cable, his hand brushing past mine as he did, causing a sudden a jolt of electricity between us as our skin touched. My eyes immediately shoot up to meet his gaze at this sudden touch, and I feel myself feel hotter under his steady eye. I sat there goggling at his natural beauty, ensuring to remember the look of golden summer sun streaking across his face, shadows forming under his jawline and cheek bones contouring his face perfectly.

His hands meet his way to my cheeks, cupping them, and I melt further and further into him. He inched closer, his breath gently fanning my face. He was so close I could see every mark, scar and freckle on his face. Before I know it, Matt’s lips are smashed against mine, hard and urgent yet soft at the same time. The kiss is hungry, our lips passionately fighting against each other, desperate to feel more of the other’s touch. His tongue explored my mouth, the taste of him mixing with the taste of my cherry chapstick. His hands trail from my cheeks to wrap my waist, fitting perfectly, as if he was made to be with me.

We continued for a while, together a hot mess as we lent across the gear stick, tired from the strain but too desperate to feel each other’s touch to bear to stop. That was, until we were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the window and the shocked faces of Chris and Nick.

“Do you guys come up for air? God”

Disgust was written all over Nick’s face, his voice dripping in sarcasm, whereas Chris had a bemused smile playing at his lips. The shock of the noise made us separate immediately, jumping back, almost giving me a heart attack.

Matt just gives them the finger as I shrink back in my seat, nuzzling my head in the crook of his shoulder in embarrassment hoping to disappear. One things for sure: neither of his brothers are going to let us forget this. Ever.

[missterious-figure]

(Have this scenario!)

Y/N stared at the young crow that stared intently at them. The baby was staring and barely blinking before she chirped and made grabby hands at them.

“Uhhhh…” Y/N was unsure if they should pick the child up, they knew how aggressive parent birds got when someone was near their babies.

Since Y/N was taking too long, the baby crow (Tia) started getting upset and tearing up. Panicking, Y/N picked up the crow child, who calmed down once she was held and chirped happily.

“I am probably not supposed to be holding you but I am not good dealing with crying kids…” Y/N mumbled as Tia booped their nose and nuzzled them, chirping happily. “Awww, you are kinda cute though…”

Now imagine the peacock triplets’ reactions to seeing this, hehe!

(This is just a little "silly" thing. Enjoy!)

Moon had just seen the whole incident go down from his shadowy hiding place. To think something as beautiful as he could manage to hide at all. He smirked to himself. The harpy himself was thinking of only one thing. You. You were so cute. Even more so when you were flustered in a brilliant pink. Like a beautiful tropical sunset on a warm summer evening...

A creeping figure slinked from the it's hiding spot. Moon was on the move. Or, dare say, hunt. The victim was close. Very close. So close he didn't understand how they didn't notice him. Oh, wait, yes he did. He was just that good at stalking his prey. Any predator would be jealous of his skill. If he himself had been a real predator everyone would be done for.

With a sudden shake of his bell, he announced his presence to the unknowing victim. Almost jumping out of your skin, you whip around with a yelp. A very pathetic sound indeed. You are quick to go silent again. You're face to face with Moon. Close enough to feel his cool breath embrace your skin like a winter wind. After a few seconds of this awkward eye contact, he pulls himself to his full height. You can do nothing but continue to stare, Tia still in your arms, squeaking happily at Moon. He chuckles as you behold his glory.

Without warning, he uses his hand to gently cradle the back of your neck and press you close to his body. Kinda like a weird sideways hug. Your heart is going a million miles a second. And that bastard of a bird can feel it. His red eyes go from your rosy face to the baby harpy. He smiled smugly.

"Guess this is our newly adopted baby now, huh, jewel?"

Oh fuck. Your face is a blaze of embarrassment. Something else, too. You try to pull away from Moon's grip, but his golden glove slithers down your spine. It finds it's way to your hip. His other hand soon follows, running down your torso to parallel it's partner. He of course has to bend down to make this possible. He doesn't mind though. His chin nestles into a comfy spot on your shoulder. Humming, Moon whispers,

"So when will we make our own?"

:) Hehe.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

thinking abt cowboy!reader now after that fic. i imagine him just being all nice and offering to do stuff without being asked and people constantly thinking he's flirting or something of the sorts and he's just like ???? what. im just treatin you right? and then i imagine he is a very horrible/reckless driver ESPECIALLY when they're running down an unsub.

Warnings: minor car accident (no one gets hurt), unsub is not a nice man, mentions of killings (super brief)

A/N: So I got this not too long ago and the words just kind flew out lmao. Also not me tempted to do a series of this because I'm falling in love with his personality aha *cries* ((I feel like the team need to meet this man's parents))

"Allow me," You gave them a smile as you jogged passed Emily and JJ, tilting your head as they walked past. You caught up with them, making sure to get the door ahead of them as well.

You watch as they both sit down, massaging their temples - presumably from stress. Without a second thought, you headed into the breakroom.

"I thought you ladies could use a drink," You give them a smile as you placed a coffee in front of each of them.

"And what about us?" Morgan asked, Spencer crossing his arms next to Derek as they both stared at you.

"If y'all wanted one, you could have asked," You smirked before you made your way back to the break room, emerging with another two cups. "I'm just toying with y'all, I couldn't carry all at once,"

You stood up when JJ and Emily walked into the room, taking your hat off for a moment in greeting. When they reached their seats, you drew the chair out for them.

"Are you flirting?" Emily asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows, reaching up and removing your hat, "What makes y'all think I'm flirting?"

"You're always offering to do things, always holding the doors open, you always bring us coffee-"

"Mama didn't raise a man who overlooks the feelings of a woman-"

"And you say stuff like that-"

Concern flicked across your face, "Am I making y'all uncomfortable?" If they didn't know any better, they would have thought you were nervous, "Because that was never my intent-"

"No, no, not at all," JJ is quick to reassure, "We just wanted to make sure that you weren't flirting,"

"I'm just treatin' y'all right," You reply, "I can tone back if y'all want,"

"That's okay, we just wanted to make sure it was friendly rather than-" Emily's cut off by JJ.

"Flirtatious."

"No, Ma'am," You respond. You made a mental note to try and limit the actions they had listed, not wanting them to feel uncomfortable.

You took a seat as the rest of the team filtered in, ready for a briefing of the case.

Fast forward a few days, the unsub was beginning to speed off down the street in his truck.

"(Y/N), you're driving," Hotch states.

"Hotch, I don't think it's smart to let (Y/N) here drive," Morgan said with a grin.

"Why not?"

"He's... not the best driver," Morgan laughed.

"I am wounded by your harsh words," You responded.

"We don't have time for this," Hotch presses, everyone into the car.

You slide into the car, driver's side. The moment the last door shut, you pressed the gas. "What the fuck?!" Spencer yelps.

"Morgan, I don't say this often, but you were right," Hotch says from the passenger seat.

You roll your eyes at the lot of them and continue to chase the unsub. Until you served (you didn't want to hit a pothole) and swerved into the unsub's car. Your eyes widened as you breaked quickly. You were the first out of the car, helping the unsub out and assessing him for injuries as Morgan clapped handcuffs on him.

"Sorry sir, I didn't actually mean to hit you with my car," You apologise, gripping your hat in your hands.

"Is he for real?" The unsub turned to Hotch in disbelief.

"Sir?"

"I killed seven people, what-"

"And I hit you with a car-"

"Why are you-?"

"What do you mean-?"

"Okay, I'm intervening because this is too painful to watch," Emily chimed, gently taking your shoulder and guiding you away from the unsub.

"I feel bad for hitting him with a car-"

"I know." Emily mumbled, sharing a look with JJ.

[nickybloodhead]

Kinktober day 16: Public

You didn't know how many hours you had been dancing in the club, the alcohol had flowed through your body and you decided to have some fun. Several guys had come up to dance with you but they didn't last more than two songs, that was until a visibly larger body pressed up behind you.

You looked over your shoulder and you swear your knees wobbled for a moment, blue eyes, blonde hair and wolfish grin was what you saw.

"Mind if I join you?" his voice was deep and a little husky, you were dumbfounded by the presence of a man like him. You blinked a couple of times to get out of your trance and smiled flirtatiously at him, giving him an affirmative nod.

He licked his lips looking you up and down, his hands rested on your hips and began to move to the rhythm of the music, your back was completely against to his chest, you could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck.

"I saw you dancing from across the bar" his chin rested on your shoulder as he spoke to you, his grip tightening around you. "You seem like the kind of girl who loves to be the center of attention, but I could be wrong" You giggle softly and turned in his arms to face him.

"Indeed, you are wrong...what was your name?" you spoke almost over his lips, your hands around his shoulders.

"James, and why, may I ask, am I wrong?" he seemed to be following your game as your bodies swayed, brushing against each other in the right places.

"I don't usually do this, I don't party very often" he hums considering your response and moves closer to you, his lips touching your earlobe.

"And yet you're here teasing everyone with that little dress" his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, he squeezed your buttocks and tugged a little on your panties. You moaned in surprise and looked at him in shock at his boldness.

"Oh, don't put that expression on your pretty face, you've let others rub against you, this is nothing" You blush a little embarrassed but you don't try to stop him, you dig your nails into his shoulders and look around to make sure that no one sees. His fingers run along the seam of your panties and push them aside, you feel a sudden rush of air against the velvety skin of your pussy, your body trembles in reaction.

He turns you around again, pressing his bulge against your ass. They continue moving slowly to the music, but he does it only to hide his intentions from the rest of the people.

He pulls your dress up your thighs, runs a finger along your slit, teasing your sensitive spot. You gasp and close your eyes, almost forgetting where you are.

"You're wet just thinking about being seen being touched like an easy slut, aren't you?" you wiggle your hips to seek a little friction against him, at this point you don't give a shit who sees you. You put your hand on his erection and squeeze a little, managing to make James grunt against your hair.

"Is there a problem? Because according to me, you're enjoying it James" the alcohol and adrenaline make you bold as you massage his hard cock, his fingers stopping their touches on your wetness. You frown but before you protest at the lack of attention, the sliding of his length in the middle of your folds has you moaning unintentionally, that attract a couple of glances that sneer or whistle at the show they're putting on.

You glance sideways at him and catch the smug smile adorning his lips, he moves back and forth, causing his cock to rub against your clit, you moan again at the stimulation as you try to cling to his forearms to keep yourself grounded.

You rest your head against his chest, bite your lip as you feel his fingers patting your swollen pussy, stare into his eyes in pure ecstasy. He grits his teeth and hisses, his cock hooking into your hole on every back and forth, you're leaking around him and he's not even fucking you properly.

A few murmurs bring you out of your bubble, the people around are still dancing but most watch you being stimulated, some guys rub their crotches over their clothes and some girls press their fingers over their sweet spots.

"See what you're doing? Making everyone around you horny, I'm sure when you squirt on my cock, you're going to make more than one of them wet their pants" Each word is punctuated with an especially hard caress on your clit, you squeeze your thighs creating a tighter channel for his throbbing cock to slide into.

The lustful gazes plus James' delicious touches are almost too much to bear, so you end up cumming with a high pitched scream that is masked by the loud music of the club, you go completely limp in his arms while he stains your folds with his semen.

You sigh, your mind a little blurred by the intensity of it all, you only feel how gentle hands fix your clothes and practically carry you to the bathroom of the place, when you manage to focus you see the blond who has just made a scene with you in the middle of a place full of people.

"All in order cutie, I didn't go too far?" his voice left out the smug tone, he seems genuinely concerned about your well being as he helps clean your inner thighs, you move in to kiss him which he gladly accepts.

"I'm perfect, although I think we should get out of here before they call the police for public indecency" you chuckle as does he who nods in agreement.

Uh, this was spicy

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 1 - Post #9: The Interrogation

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 3.2K (of 25K total in Volume 1)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

______________________________________________

IX. “Nito,” you emerge at the top of the ladder, holding the kid aloft, and call into the cockpit with the sweetest voice imaginable. “Will you keep an eye on the kiddo for me?”

“While you tend to our dear captain?” The Ardennian asks over his shoulder. “Tell him I’m not taking orders until I get paid.”

“It’s not an order, Nito,” you groan impatiently. “I’m asking you for help.” 

He leaps into the vestibule like the swing of a pendulum and snatches up the child between his lower limbs. “Ok, little man. You wanna learn how to install an R3 processor?”

“Can there at least be a truce until everyone’s properly rested?” You mutter into your palms. There is, frankly, an excess of testosterone on this ship. The kids included.

“Fine. But come back up here when you’re done, ok?” Nito whines. “I’m gonna have to sit here the whole flight to make sure we don’t die of radiation poisoning.”

“Of course! I will happily support you in that endeavor.”

“Radiation is the silent killer, Thuli,” he says, deadpan. “Bring some cards with you.”

Climbing down the ladder, you head back for the sleeping compartment. “Oh shit! Sorry, Mando.” 

Your cheeks flush spectacularly when you step through a gap in the drop cloth curtain and walk in on him, releasing the clasp of his belt. Unconcerned, he tugs the leather from his waist, drawing the bandolier over his helmet and tossing it onto your bed. 

“Oh. I, um, need to–”

No longer capable of formulating complete sentences, you merely point to the first aid cabinet mounted to the wall behind him.

Stepping around his immense form, you climb into the compartment on your hands and knees, rooting around to gather some surgical supplies. Where the fuck are your tweezers? Brilliant. If Nito took them... 

You close the cabinet door and see something looming into your peripheral vision. Mando leans forward into the compartment, both elbows propped against the door frame. Resting his weight on his good leg, his hips tilt, stretching his already lengthy torso.

How is it possible to exude this much sex appeal without an inch of him uncovered? 

Poised on your knees, you’re eye to eye now. Or rather, helmet to visor. The sleeping compartment is barely wider than the expanse of his shoulders, trapping you inside. Your heartbeat quickens, breath catching in your throat as you stare into that jet-black void, hoping there’s a chance he might abandon self-control and force you back onto the bed roll.

“Why do you always do that?” he asks, oblivious as always.

“Hmmm?” You’re still fantasizing about him crawling into the compartment on top of you and wrapping your thighs around his waist.

“Touch your visor every time your hand passes your face.” 

“Oh,” you say, a little dumbstruck, doing your best to ignore him while stuffing some extra gauze under your arm. “Fidgety, I guess.” 

In all honesty, you’re checking the tint settings for the millionth time to make sure he can’t see you leering at him. Which, thank the Gods! Because after sitting down on your heels to step out of the compartment, Mando reaches in to help you back on your feet. You misjudge the momentum, landing with about a hair’s breadth between you, and he would otherwise definitely notice that your pupils have dilated to the size of druggats. 

“Thanks,” you hear yourself whisper as the Mandalorian slowly releases his grip on your arms. His helmet tilts down, watching your face intently. Somehow, you always forget how tall he is. 

“You’re bleeding.” He says, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheek.

“Am I?” reaching a hand up to your face.

Probably from fighting off that Cathar. You hadn’t noticed the pain during your scuffle over the rifle. Taking off a glove, you drag your knuckle across the cut to wipe away the blood and grit. There’s a brief throb of heat when the skin fuses back together under your fingertips.

“Just like that.” He sounds astonished, watching until all that remained was a slightly raised scar on your cheek where the tear in flesh had been. That, too, would fade and, by tomorrow, be gone. 

“Just like that,” you repeat, bemused. It’s odd. He always seemed so in awe of your abilities for someone who didn’t want you to use them. “Well…I’ll, uh…let you get undressed.” 

Nodding, Mando kneels down to remove his boot. When he hesitates, you realize he’s looking up at you, staring at him.

“Right!” Cheeks achieving an even deeper shade of red, you awkwardly yank the curtain closed around him. 

Compelled to do something with your hands, you start clearing up the mess from Nito’s dismembered astromech project. You really should work on manifesting some of that dark cosmic energy because here you are, picking up after the kids like you are some kind of fucking nursemaid.

Debating what Dathomiri robes you would wear in your new life as a Nightsister, you straighten up and nearly jump out of your skin when you sense the Mandalorian standing right behind you. 

“Erenada, Mando! You scared me.” And it is genuinely frightening that he can move that stealthily.

“It’s a small ship.” 

His gruff reply is rough through the modulator, causing the hairs along your scalp to tingle. Gods help you, but his voice is sexy, too! 

While it doesn't count as much of an apology, he’s right about the Crest. As a patrol craft, the ship is basically a cockpit attached to a cargo hold. Thankfully, the carbonite rack has been moved, so you’re no longer confronted with a gallery of faces frozen in terror whenever you need to use the privy. 

Collecting your wits for the task ahead, you take a deep breath, turning around to face him. And instantly let out another burst of laughter, placing a hand over your mouth to smother the sound.

“What?” he asks, perplexed.

“It's just...always interesting to see what you decide to take off versus leave on.” 

It was hard to tell if the choice had more or less to do with modesty than the hassle of getting his leg out of that flight suit. It only started with the chest plate. Under that was the leather studded vest. Then there was another layer under that, with armored sleeves to attach his pauldrons. 

All this had to be removed before he actually reached the zipper. At one point, you made a count and guessed that he wore at least three or four layers over every part of his body. 

Well, except for…there.

With most of the armor removed, he stood, left leg bare from waist to foot, a latticework of scars glimmering against his golden skin. He holds one of the blankets from your bed, cinched tight around his waist. Shamelessly, you bury your face into the wool that night, hoping to catch a whiff of Mando’s junk now that you know he doesn’t wear anything under his flight suit. 

Yup, just slutty, slutty, slut, slut.

This might be the first time you’ve ever seen his toes. Wonder what that’s about? How does he decide what parts of him are too particular to reveal—or, was it only his face?

“Got to be careful. I'll run out of pants if you keep tearing them off.”

Whaaaaa—? Any hint of innuendo just hangs there between you, and you have to wonder how much of his meaning goes unseen from behind that Beskar.

“Um, fair enough,” you say stupidly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “I guess—let’s get started.” 

Requisitioning Nito’s workbench as an exam table, you position it against the side of the hull and pat the cold metal surface to beckon him over. “Hopefully, I won’t have to amputate.” 

The Mandalorian rolls his fingers into a leather fist before cracking each knuckle in turn. Striding across the cargo bay in strained silence, he crouches down astride the bench, the view plate squarely focused on your face. 

“My favorite patient,” and you wink at him jovially. Eventually, he’s going to break under your relentless onslaught of charisma. 

Alright! Time to focus. Because this next part is where all your respectful professionalism gets tested. 

“I’ll start with the bandages.” 

Unwrapping the blanket from his waist, you ease it back, eyes passing over the dark pubic hair that you somehow, always inadvertently reveal. It trailed down past his navel, growing thick and coarse as it spread to his groin. His cock is only just concealed beneath the inseam of his flight suit.

Focus, focus, focus…

You concentrate on the cold snipping sound of the scissors. Carefully tugging away the old bandages, you expose the weeping, mangled stitches. “Pffft. Next time, I should order you to bed rest,” you say with a frustrated sigh. 

“Order me?” Fortunately, he sounds more amused than insulted.

“New Republic Workplace Safety Standards for Interstellar Travel state that a medical officer may supersede the chain of command whenever the captain’s health is at stake.”

That serene confidence you exude when slipping into ‘competent medical professional’ still comes as a shock, given what a fuck-up you are most of the time.

“Told you this–nnngh,” he growls through clenched teeth. You can’t be sure whether it’s a reaction to your coy defiance or the sting from the antiseptic spray. “This is not a crew. And I don’t remember giving you a rank, officer.” 

“Universal law of the galaxy,” you reply, washing clotted blood from the dark hairs along his thick, ropey thigh. “Saving the captain’s life earns you a promotion.”

For the second time that night, the Mandalorian lets out a huff of laughter. One of these days, you'll elicit a hearty chuckle from this man, and he won’t know himself. 

Before long, a comfortable silence sets in while he watches you clean the wound. The stiffness you used to feel under his gaze is softening. Amazing, how much has changed in the last few days. 

“Could you force me to follow orders?” he asks suddenly. 

The challenge in his words, spoken in that low baritone, catches you by surprise, stirring something deep in your belly. The sensation drags lower, an ache building between your thighs. 

“Confined you to bed with my dark powers?" You arch an eyebrow. "Why go to all that trouble, when—” 

You have to shake your head to clear out the smut. There is no way he intended that as a come-on. “I…um, suppose I could have put you into a coma until you healed. But, no. I can’t compel you to do anything against your will, Mandalorian.”

Like, convince you to fuck me! Nope. Stop that. It takes a moment to recover from the surging thrill of arousal. 

“Don’t worry,” you say brightly. “We’ll do this the old-fashioned way. It turns out that a city devoted to gladiatorial combat is a thriving market for medical supplies. I’ll remove the stitches, slap on some Synthskin, and in a day or so, you should fully recover.” Despite the torn sutures, the gash remained clean, and the Bacta prevented infection. “Assuming you can avoid any more brawling.”

“Brawling?” he huffs again. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but very nearly. 

Ugh. Why did one, not quite a laugh from Mando, feel worth a thousand coming from anyone else? 

You tell yourself it'll be a relief to end these intimate check-ins and changing bandages. It's far past time to reestablish some distance and tone down the flirting with your boss.

Sure, it excites you to think you might be the only person in the galaxy who knows that the Mandalorian has an outie belly button. But that’s exactly the problem, isn't it? Winking at him from across a bar table is one thing. The unspoken status quo starts to feel a little too fragile when you’re in this kind of proximity to his abs. 

“I’ve applied some topical analgesic, but this will still pinch.” You flash him your most dazzling smile while holding up your second-best pair of tweezers in one hand, surgical scissors in the other.

“So, what’s going to be our topic of distraction? Shall I have you list all the planets in the Otechi system?”

“Hmmm,” his satisfied humming makes the modulator crackle. “Erenada...” 

“What did you say?” Your fingers, usually so adept at pulling loose the silk threading, suddenly become clumsy. 

“Erenada,” he repeats. “Every man–or woman–swears in their native tongue. Erenada is Hapan. It means—”

“Obviously, I know what it means.” Blessed Mother. She who has no equal. It was the honorific for the Empress of Hapes, revered as a living goddess. Though coming out of your mouth, it's usually intended as blasphemy. “You’re very proud of yourself for figuring that out.” 

“Imagine my confusion since everyone on Dorumaa told me you’re Miraluka.” 

You raise both eyebrows and smirk, reminding yourself to breathe slowly through your nose so he won’t catch you panicking. “Are you referring to the first time I saved your life, Mando? Honestly, I should be a lieutenant by now. You almost bled out in my kitchen.”

“That’s what Ingtar told me—that you're a Miralukan healer.” His tone is not accusatory, and you don’t feel threatened, but the shift in conversation doesn’t feel like simple, friendly curiosity, either. “So, did you lie to Ingtar? Or did he lie to me?”

“Are those the only options?” You laugh nervously and shrug in what you hope is a convincingly innocent gesture. “Ingtar made an assumption. Guess that explains why he was always so protective. Did you know he once shot a man defending my honor?”

You're avoiding the subject, and Mando knows it. 

“I mean, okay, I do have great tits. Didn't change the fact there was no way to reattach that tentacle afterward—” 

Mando raises a hand to stop your babbling. You have this unfortunate habit of talking too much when you panic. Because, at this point, you are definitely panicking. 

“Miralukan healer is a good cover for why you never take off the visor,” he continues. 

Damnit. He's too observant. 

“Mando, I’m sorry if that’s why you hired me—thinking I was Miraluka.” Have you seen something you shouldn’t? Violated his Creed? He never takes off so much as a glove in front of anyone else.

But, why would he be sitting here like this, with so much of his body exposed beneath you, if it was forbidden?

“Hmm, though I can see how Mandalorian and Miralukan would make a perfect match.”

Did you say that out loud? 

“In a patient—um—medical context,” you add in desperate clarification. “Look, Mando, Black Sun needed someone to operate off the books, no questions asked. Forgive me if I didn’t volunteer information about my heritage to a criminal cartel.” 

“That I can understand,” he says roughly. “What I want to know is why you’ve been hiding it from me?” 

Breathe through your nose. Steady, shallow breaths. 

“I’ve been on this ship for months, Mando. Just because you weren't interested in hearing my backstory doesn’t mean I hid it from you.” And the bounty hunter can’t argue with you there—he’s never bothered to ask. 

“I’ve taken an interest,” he says, and his tone made clear that he had no intention of letting this go. 

“Then join us for cards later, and this will feel like a conversation rather than an interrogation.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “So Nito knows you’re from Hapes?” 

“Nito’s never heard of Hapes,” you say coolly, despite the flush of your skin. “I’m surprised you have since we’re about as rare in this part of the galaxy as Mandalorians.”

Then, a thought occurs to you. “Although, the stories about us veer a little more toward the...pornographic?” 

He’d doubtless heard the tales of women captured from across the galaxy by pirates to be bred on Hapes as bed slaves and concubines. 

“Have you been visiting the brothels on Keyorin, Mando?” you tug your brows teasingly. Every pleasure house across the Outer Rim claimed to have a Hapan in their menagerie. It was a favorite topic of discussion around fringer bars and gambling tables.

It’s a stupid ploy to rattle him since you’re pretty sure celibacy is a Creed tenet. Or maybe he did visit brothels? Who's to say what the bounty hunter got up to when he was out on a job? Still, you’ve watched plenty of women proposition the Mandalorian. And he never humored them. He just waited until their hands dropped away, their gazes fell and shifted.  

“Is that where you learned Hapan, Mando? Whispers in the dark?” 

If you thought you could throw him off balance with some lewd sarcasm, he remained dauntless as ever. With one hand, he grabs your arm by the elbow. Hard.

“Mando, what the—”

“You’re clever, but not consistent. When I returned to the ship after the job on Naboo, you’d fallen asleep in the cockpit watching the sunrise. Miraluka can ‘see’ without eyes, but I don’t think that includes horizons. And you sure wink a lot for someone without eyelids.”

Shit! A wave of anxiety surges in your stomach, bile scoring your throat like it might drown you. He’s been chewing on these suspicions for quite some time.

“And speaking of your eyes–”

His other hand moves up towards your face. Reflexively, you grab hold of the visor, nearly stabbing him with the scissors in your haste. 

Letting go of his grip on your arm, he calmly raises both hands in a sign of truce. 

“Okay,” Mando nods, taking your reaction as confirmation. “Always thought your tattoo must be Black Sun. Didn’t recognize the markings before. Never got a good look until a few days ago…”

Trailing off, his helmet turns toward the weapons locker behind you, where he’d spent hours holding you in his arms like a cherished treasure, your bodies tangled together on the cargo bay floor. 

Guess he does remember that part.

Kriffing hell! You are such an idiot for thinking the Bacta haze would just erase the whole thing from his memory. 

What had Tigran said? That life on the run required constant vigilance. It was like something out of a folktale. The moment you forgo caution to be close to him, the Mandalorian catches you out immediately. 

“Where would you have seen—?” You begin before it all slides into place. “Oh, right. Tigran.” 

You hadn’t meant to say that name out loud. Instinctively, you look over your shoulder, terrified that you might actually conjure the mercenary from across the quadrant to emerge from one of the shadows behind you. 

“He’s in the Guild, too, right? I bet all you hunters must know each other.” You force yourself to sound casual, as though saying that name didn’t just turn your blood cold. If Mando knew Tigran Vildar…well, that explained why he was wary of coming under your influence.

“I know him.” 

When it’s clear you’re anxious for more details, he continues impatiently, “We met working a job together. On Telkur Station. They had us clearing out some separatists occupying the hyperlane.”

“The Dark Cloud Uprising was—you were there?”

Hapes was only one planet amidst dozens of systems hidden beyond the Transitory Mists, but they ruled the Cluster with brutal efficiency. The Hapes Consortium quickly thwarted any insurrectionist ambitions—no matter how futile—by annihilating them completely. 

“I see. They brought in a bounty hunter to rescue the hostages, so they could just...massacre everyone else?”

“Something like that,” is Mando's only response.

“Well, I guess as long as the Consortium can rely on Tigran for some extra-judicial killing, he’s welcome to spend the rest of his time freelancing with the Guild.” 

“How do you know Vildar?”

Then you realize, “Wait! Is Tigran your connection to Black Sun? Is that why you were working for Ingtar?”

“Other way around," he snaps. "I asked, how you know Vildar?”

“Like I said, there’s not many Hapans living beyond the Cluster.”  

“And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“The question game, Mando, is intended to keep you distracted while I take out your stitches,” you say, gesturing towards his mangled thigh. “Did you really take off all that armor just to sit here and gossip?”

Shaking his head in irritation, he nonetheless readjusts his seat on the bench and allows you to continue working.

“So,” repositioning the tweezers. “You want to talk about Hapes? Regale me with the propaganda Tigran fed you while you were on the Consortium’s payroll. I’m very interested to hear how they justify our isolation from the rest of the galaxy.” 

“Clients don't owe me an explanation," he says firmly, shifting his back against the hull. "Just payment.”

Yikes! How many people looked over their shoulder when the Mandalorian came to mind? 

Finally, he relents. “What I know is mostly legend. They say that the Hapes Cluster was colonized by Lorell pirates who prized...beautiful women, captured to populate their settlements hidden beyond the Transitory Mists.” 

It takes a minute for you to notice that Mando is a little uncomfortable. After all, here you are, a descendant of those women stolen from across the galaxy to be bred by ruthless profiteers. Was he thinking about how he’d grabbed you moments ago? Ashamed by his own rough entitlement?

“After expelling the raiders, Hapans sealed off their borders. The gravity wells and ion storms surrounding the Cluster are impossible to navigate without a Consortium pathfinder. Even after their treaty with the New Republic–nnngh!”

“Just a few more left,” you lie, feigning concentration.

“That’s all I know,” Mando says. “Never saw anything beyond the station.” 

At first, you tease. “It might have jeopardized some plausible deniability if they had issued you a tourist visa afterward." Then you sigh, looking up from your work to be sure he understands. “They claim the enforced isolation is necessary to preserve our utopian society. But their real concern is that you might discover pathways through the Mists. That you could sell that information to smugglers and break their monopoly.”

“Exactly,” Mando's sudden shift in voice seemed to announce that he had finally arrived at his point. “That's why Hapans aren’t allowed to leave the Cluster. If you know Vildar, then you know he works for the Consortium, hunting down those who do.”

Stay calm. Focus on the task in front of you.

“I’ve helped Vildar catch a few,” Mando presses on. “Bounties are always high.”

“A bounty is a fixed cost compared to all those unpaid tariffs and docking fees,” you grin, heartbeat pounding against your eardrums.   

“Hapes was neutral during the war against the Empire. I’m surprised they let you leave to join the—farrik!”

“Sorry! Last one.” You pulled out that final stitch with more vigor than was strictly necessary, eager to steer the conversation away from how exactly you ended up on this ship, a million parsecs from the Cluster. 

“All done!” you chime in a hollow voice, tugging off the latex gloves. “I’ll prepare the Synthskin, which you can apply yourself if you'd like.” 

You lean back onto your heels to stand up when the Mandalorian wordlessly grips the edge of the bench. He swings his legs around and shifts himself forward, trapping you inside the space between his thighs. They frame the edges of your vision—one clad in gray, the other bare golden skin—as you stare, paralyzed by your own terrified reflection in the black surface of his view plate.

That dull ache between your legs throbs again. You should be scared. Instead, you're so wet it's slicking your thighs.

Despite the surging panic, you rearrange your face to appear merely surprised rather than frightened while the Mandalorian holds himself over you. 

“For someone who isn’t hiding anything, you're very good at dodging my questions.”

Alarm and desire course through you in equal measure, waiting for what comes next. He might pull you into his arms, extend some comfort toward a fellow lost soul crossing the galaxy—or he could throw you roughly to the ground for deceiving him.

And you can’t be sure which you want more.

“You’re a hunter, Mando. What could I possibly hope to hide from you?” 

“Exactly. I’m impressed you’ve kept up the disguise for so long.” 

“I wasn’t–”

“Then take off the visor,” he says in a clipped tone. “Vildar doesn’t wear one.”

“When you look like Tigran, I guess you don’t worry about flaunting it.”

Mando tilts his head suspiciously, “How do you know Vildar?” 

Did you imagine that flicker of jealousy in Mando’s modulated voice? Good. Better he thought sex was the only thing between you and the mercenary, Tigran Vildar. 

“I just meant…he’s like you. Intimidating. Neither of you is worried about being snatched off the streets to be sold to some flesh-peddler or warlord. Though I’m sure a Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin broth—”

“That would never happen." His fierce sincerity cuts through your sarcasm like a blade, leaving you defenseless. "I would never let that happen to you.”

“O-okay, Mando. I’ll take it off.” There isn’t much point in refusing since he’s already seen you without it. So you reach a hand up to your temple. “I just hope the irony of this situation isn’t lost on–” 

You gasp when he grabs hold of your chin, pulling you closer inside the circle of his thighs so forcefully that you have to brace a palm against his knee to stop yourself from falling forward.

His grip is firm, but the tension in his hand is delicate, as though holding something precious. The tip of his forefinger rests just under your jaw. He tilts your head up, then side to side, to catch the ambient light glimmering across the reflective layer of your eyes. 

Could he see their color through the helmet’s view plate? A deep violet sheen, covering both the iris and sclera. Two glowing orbs, their luminescent gleam distinctively marking you as a true Hapan from the Cluster, one raised under the dim light of the nebula.

You’re doing your best not to fidget under his fixed attention, wishing you could shake off this awkwardness and confidently gaze up at him to embody the vision of Hapan beauty the entire galaxy is so fond of mythologizing. But the longer his silence stretches, the deeper your insecurity grows…

“Have you considered that I wear the visor as a courtesy?” You shift tact, trying to sound offended. Maybe you could shame him into backing off the subject. “Glowing eyes tend to make people uncomfortable. Especially humans.”

You knew that much about him, at least—that he was human. This wasn’t intended as a threat but a reminder that you've been observing him, too.

“If you actually worried about making me uncomfortable, you wouldn’t walk around my ship in your underwear.”

The air in your lungs evaporates as though the wind’s been knocked out of you. Your head snaps back out of reach, suddenly very conscious of his fingers on your face. For a second, you wonder if you’ve heard him right.

“Are you–?!” you scoff. But, of course, he's always serious. 

Impressive, how quickly he’s turned the tables on you. Now, you’re the one who’s worried about being offensive. Your robe feels too short, the fabric thin and threadbare. Okay, so sometimes you duck out of the sleeping compartment without putting pants on, and some of those times, he has seen you.

Which is maybe–might be–inappropriate. 

“You’re right,” clearing your throat, absolutely mortified. “It’s unprofessional. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it bothered you.”  

“Did you hear me say that?” 

Is he fucking with you? Gods, he is impossible to get a read on. You can’t be sure it’s his intent, but the rising sexual tension is very problematic for your composure. Don’t forget that interrogation is part of his profession.

“Go naked,” he says, taking your chin in his hand again, a bit more forcefully this time. “Just don’t lie to me.” 

“What is it you’re–?”

“Look at me.” The Mandalorian speaks in the same gruff tone he used to intimidate his quarry—a threat of biting steel and cold fury.

It’s hard to maintain control, kneeling on the floor between his thighs, thinking about the strength in his grip, the crushing force of his arms. How hard he could pin you to the ground and fuck you.

You look straight into the opening of his view plate, knowing that he’s glaring right back at you, scrutinizing every flutter, watching each blink and twitch of muscle.

“What do you want from me, Mandalorian?”

“Are you on Vildar’s list, Thulani?” 

Mando hardly ever says your name. It sounded so smooth on his lips despite the distortion of the modulator. How many times have you wondered what it might sound like to hear him gasping it in the dark?

“No,” you reply, summoning as much poise as you can muster.

“I told you not to lie to me.” His fingers squeeze tighter around your jaw, the heel of his hand pressing into your throat. You’re not…not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve never been on the receiving end of his threats before.

“No, Mando, I…” you stammer, feeling your larynx slide against his rigid grip.

“You really think I would hand you over to that monster? Is that why you–”

Your heart clenches, hearing the hurt in his voice. “Is that why I what?”

He doesn’t bother answering.

“Yes. I am wanted by the Consortium, Mando. But I’m not one of Tigran’s targets. We have an…understanding.”

For once, you’re grateful that you can’t see his face. You might not withstand the look of disgust—or worse, pity—while the Mandalorian imagined all the ways you debased yourself to escape Tigran Vildar. 

Let him think you earned your freedom on your back. It was preferable to the truth.   

“Are you worried I’ll give him the kid?” You ask, instantly horrified. “Is that what this is about?”

“What?! No,” he replies immediately, his gloved hand falling from your face. He draws back onto the bench, and suddenly, you feel cold without the heat of his body surrounding you. “I know you would never endanger the Child. But to keep you safe, I need to know what’s coming.” 

“You mean apart from every other mercenary in the galaxy?” A nervous bout of laughter bubbles in your throat. Dammit, Thuli, must you turn everything into a joke... “Mando, I–”

“Does he have some means of tracking you?”

“Tigran? No. Why would he? I mean…they must think I died in the explosion.” 

“And he’s not coming for revenge?” 

Now, that does deserve a laugh. “Wow! Um, no. Trust me, believing I’m dead makes Tigran’s life much easier. He’s not—” you glance up at the cockpit overhead, “He’s not coming for me.” 

It hadn’t occurred to you that amongst the abstracted threat of mercenaries hunting for the kid, there might be a face you’d recognize.

“Some monsters are worse than others, Mando. I think he would spare the Child. If it came to that.”

He pauses. Another agonizing moment spent in breathless silence. 

“Is Vildar why you were on Dorumaa?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, eager to show him how cooperative you can be.  

“How does a Hapan royal, turned Alliance rebel, end up working for Black Sun?”

“Ha! I am no royal,” but there’s a bitterness in your voice the laughter can’t quite hide. “That tattoo? Tigran and I are not part of the Court, Mando. We belong to them.”

If he wanted to see some honest emotion from you, he need only look at the hatred written all over your face. 

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” he says wryly. 

“It’s a long story,” you sigh. 

“I’m sure it is.” Mando tucks his arms across his chest, indomitable. 

“The Rebellion was desperate enough to send a half-trained refugee into the field. Getting a government job with the New Republic wasn’t quite as easy once they realized I'm technically a fugitive. Bureaucracies require a lot of paperwork, Mando. Criminal cartels do not.” 

“And they recruited you?”

“I was in some trouble…and Tigran took me to Dorumaa. The Miralukan disguise, the visor, was for my protection. He asked Ingtar to set me up with a job. Things were going pretty well until you burned down my apartment.”

“You saved us that day,” he says. “And now I know what it cost you.”

There’s the barest hint of apology in his voice—which is about all you get from the Mandalorian. 

“I would do it again.” Despite your best efforts, you choke up a little, saying, “Please believe I would never betray you, Mando.”

“I know. That’s not what this is about, Thulani.” Then he snorts, “Is that even your real name?” 

“Thulandahra,” you say in a small voice. When was the last time someone called you that?

“Thulani ?—not a great disguise.” 

“Because I wasn’t hiding it from you,” fighting the tears pressing against your eyes, “I swear I would have told you everything–I will–but what…what is this about, Mando? Why are you asking me all this now?”  

“You said you were in some kind of trouble.” 

Now, who's dodging questions?

“Do you need my entire life’s story this very minute?” 

“Fugitive.” And you can hear him doing the calculus. “So you found a path through the Transitory Mists to escape?”

Okay, deep breath in. “Yes.”

“Because you stole a pathfinder from the Consortium?”

Aaand, let it out. “Yes.” 

What more would he ask? If you know how much it’s worth? If you’d already sold it?

“Not by yourself,” he muses. “So, the Consortium wants you for stealing a Pathfinder—tech that you can’t even use since you don’t know how to operate a starship.” It wasn’t a question. “Don’t worry, the irony isn’t lost on me.”

And for once, without the visor on, he can truly appreciate the rich theatricality of your eyes rolling up towards the heavens.

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

Read the last post of Volume 1 - Post #10: We'll do it your Way

Go Back to Volume 1 - All posts

[humaforever]

I want to sit on their lap and feed them grapes.

(also Huma, obviously. Harry is talking about Uma)

Obviously their crew is involved, because I love them

______________________________

One lunch. That's all they wanted. One normal lunch.

But alas, Harry would not allow that, so the crew of the Lost Revenge would just have to suffer.

"Look at her Gil" Harry sighed dreamily

Gil glanced up in the direction that Harry was so intently staring at and found that Uma was talking to that Audrey girl. She seemed to be telling a story as she absently indulged on a fruit cup.

"I see her" Gil said, not paying much attention as his main focus was on his food

"Do you? Do you really? Because you don't seem to be admiring her beauty the way you should" Harry said

"I'll leave that to you Harry. Besides, she doesn't look any different than she did when she was sitting with us two minutes ago." Gil said

"It doesn't matter" Harry gripped Gil's arm "She got a new outfit, did ya see that?"

"Yes Harry, I've been with her all day" Gil said

"Do you see how pretty she looks in it!?" Harry said

"Yes Harry" Gil said flatly

Harry sighed as he dramatically laid half of his body on the table "Gods I just want to sit on her lap and feed her those grapes she's eating"

"YOU WANT TO WHAT!?" Jonas suddenly exclaimed, he had been avoiding the conversation before but he could no longer do that

Harry raised his brow at the other boy "You heard me"

"You are sick, you know that?" Jonas said pointing a fork at Harry

"I'll tell you when I find a fuck to give" Harry said

"It's just crazy to me that you would say that when you know there's children around" Bonny shook her head

"Children?" Harry questioned, as far as he was concerned there were no young children in sight

"Desiree, Harry. You know she's just a baby" Bonny said

"Fuck you!" Desiree exclaimed "I'm older than you!"

"Babies aren't allowed to say fuck" Gonzo told Desiree

"Forget the child, he said that right in front of my salad" Jonas said

Gil rolled his eyes "Here we go again with the salad"

"I'm starting to think that Jonas is more romantically involved with this salad than Harry is with Uma" Bonny said

"Not possible " Harry said "No one has ever been more romantically involved with anything or anyone than I am with Uma"

"Gag me with a knife" Gonzo muttered

"My salad is still present!" Jonas cried

"Fuck you and your salad Jonas" Harry said "I'll straddle Uma and feed her your god damn salad"

Jonas gasped

Desiree hit her head against Bonny's shoulder "I think I'm gonna puke"

"Didn't you ever learn about, I don't know, decency, privacy?" Bonny asked Harry

"No, and neither did you so I don't want to hear about it" Harry said

"Everyone around us can hear you Harry" Gil said

"Good, they need to know that I'm Uma's" Harry said

"Trust me, they know" Gonzo said

"I think that message was clear when she pinned you against the wall during the first day of class" Desiree said

Harry smiled widely "That was fun"

"Well, as long as you're having fun" Bonny said dryly

"As long as Uma's having fun" Harry clarified

Jonas chuckled "Man you are down so bad"

"Sounds like a compliment" Harry said "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go feed my girl a grape" he said as he got up and left the table

"At least that's over" Gil said as he watched Harry saddle up next to Uma

There was a moment of silence

"...I wanna feed Uma a grape" Desiree spoke

"Oh God, he's influenced the children!" Bonny cried

Jonas took Desiree's face in his hands "I know your feble young mind doesn't understand yet but this is not the path you want to take! Des we can't deal with another one!"

"Shut up. And get your hands off of me!" Desiree said slapping Jonas' hands

Gil and Gonzo shared an exasperated glance.

Who were they kidding, this crew would never catch a break from themselves.

[skylarstark4826]

The tentative alliance was holding between Wakanda and Talokan. The new normal had settled around both nations. The people were trying to get on with their lives, in spite of their leaders’ seeming hastiness for it all to work. Most of the upper echelon of the Wakandan leadership were vocal about needing the alliance to hold. Okoye was doing her part.

The pattern had been the same for weeks upon weeks, now: Okoye would wait in the Dora Milaje Special Training Room, and Attuma would find her there. They would say nothing as they engaged in intense sparring, followed by quick, messy, equally as intense fucking. They each settled into this routine and welcomed it. It became familiar and expected, though they had kept it a secret.

Aneka of the Midnight Angels was the only person who knew. So if Aneka knew, then so did Ayo. They never said anything to Okoye directly about her hidden relationship, even though she knew they cared for her and her wellbeing. Okoye was speaking with her friends one day, after a diplomatic envoy from Talokanil arrived, when a realization dawned on her.

“Be careful with that one,” Ayo said when the women saw Attuma arrive with his soldiers. “GRIOT has suppressed their powers of mind control in sensitive areas of the Palace, but everyone says he is very strong. So strong that no one actually knows the reach of his power. I know you two have a standing appointment for training. I hope to Bast he is not taking advantage of his powers and using them against you.”

Okoye nodded her head but said nothing in response, though she could not stop thinking about what her friend had said. Was her attraction to Attuma of Talokan a farce? Had he used his mind control powers on her? Was any of what she was beginning to feel for him real? Surely he would not enact such a violation against her. She could not face another humiliation if it proved to be so. Okoye had no way to be sure. She needed a moment to think.

She had suddenly lost the urge to want to do anything with Attuma. However, she still wanted to blow off steam and hit someone, so she sent for a younger Talokanil fighter to join her in the Training Room ahead of her appointment with their military leader.

…

The young warrior was quick and strong. He was skilled in hand-to-hand combat. He and Okoye traded blows for around fifteen minutes before the door of the Training Room opened and an infuriated Attuma entered.

“What is the meaning of this?” Attuma asked as he stepped into the room and saw that Okoye sparring with someone else; someone well below their station; someone who was not him.

The young Talokanil fighter ceased parrying Okoye’s blows and dropped to one knee. Okoye all but rolled her eyes as she stared Attuma down.

“Can you not see we are busy here?” said Okoye.

“Leave,” said Attuma, and his subordinate quickly got to his feet and left the pair standing there. “GRIOT, lock the doors to the Training Room.”

He had heard Okoye say it many a time to afford them both privacy.

“Attuma of Talokan, you have no jurisdiction here,” the AI replied.  

He let out a loud sigh before speaking once more, “Warrior, what is the meaning of this?”

“I am training.”

“Without me and with my underling?”

“Yes,” said Okoye, straightening her stance.

“Why?”

“I owe you no explanations.”

“Did you intend to fuck my underling, too?”

Okoye rolled her eyes as she tried to walk by Attuma. He grabbed her by the arm and stopped her, dragging her back so that she was facing him once more.

“Unhand me!”

“Tell me what your intentions are!”

Okoye used her free arm to swing an elbow in Attuma’s direction. She struck the side of his face, causing his head to dip violently to the side. He kept his grip tight on her as she tried to break free of his hold.

“Warrior,” he said firmly, grabbing her shoulders and holding her in place. “What has gotten into you to encourage this behaviour?”

“You have!” she said, letting her anger and frustration rise from the pit of her stomach. “It is you that has gotten under my skin. Is this even real? Have you been making me look a fool this entire time?”

Attuma narrowed his eyes, confused by Okoye’s words and umbrage.

“Woman,” he said sternly. “Speak plainly, lest I leave this room and extract meaning from your little sparring partner with my fists.”

Attuma saw her eyes well with tears of exasperation and something else. Hurt, maybe? He loosened his grip on her, though he kept his hands in place.

“Okoye,” said Attuma, softly. “What has happened? Tell me what pains you.”

“You do,” she said, scarcely above a whisper.

Attuma let his hands fall to his sides as he stepped back slightly.

“How have I wronged you?”

“This,” she said, gesturing between them. “Is this real?”

Attuma looked confused, but answered all the same.

“We are as real as the blood in our veins,” he proffered, searching her eyes.

“Yes, but are our – are my feelings of attraction to you real?”

Okoye could see the bob of his throat as Attuma swallowed hard.

“I do not understand.”

Okoye sighed and continued to speak.

“This pull I feel towards you,” she said, before crossing her arms over her chest in a self-soothing manner. “Is it because I am genuinely attracted to you, or have you used your siren’s song on me?”

“Woman, I am not a mermaid.”

“But you do have certain abilities.”

“Yes, but I would never use them to deceive you,” said Attuma. “I have never used my gifts to garner a victory.”

“You see me as a victory?” asked Okoye, incredulous. “Spoils of war? A prize to be won?”

“No,” said Attuma sternly. “I see you as my equal. I would never coerce you into wanting to be with me. Where is the challenge in that?”

“I am a challenge to you?”

“Yes,” Attuma admitted. “You are also an enigma to me. I want to know you, Okoye of Wakanda. I want to draw things from you. Those cries of pleasure. That defiant smile. The thoughts from your mind. I want to earn all of those things.”

Okoye listened to what Attuma was saying, and her guard came down.

“I did not rise to my rank by taking things that came easily,” said Attuma. “Everything I have has been a well-fought victory, your time and attentions included. I would not disrespect you, or myself, by using coercion with you. Where is the pleasure in that? Your tenacity is one of the traits that you posses that I find so very appealing. That fight inside of you is what keeps me longing for more. Okoye, this is real.”

Attuma inched forward, placing a careful hand to the side of Okoye’s face and saying, “What we have is so very real.”

Okoye leaned into his touch and let her eyes fall shut.

“I have never fought so hard for anything in my life,” Attuma whispered. “You are all I want. Stubbornly, and unequivocally. Do you still want me?”

Okoye opened her eyes and gave Attuma a soft smile.

“GRIOT,” said Okoye, as she closed the distance between her and her lover. “Lock the doors to the Training Room.”

[samuraiko]

Could you write an orym powder-keg moment

This one came to me all of a sudden, Anon. I hope you like it.

"Waiting for the Spark"

It was late at night at the Spire by Fire, and all of them were absolutely exhausted in both the physical and emotional sense. And yet Orym was unable to sleep. He glanced over at Ashton, who was also still awake.

"Hey, Ash." Orym's voice was soft, unwilling to wake the others.

"Yeah?"

"Can… we talk?"

The earth genasi peered closely at the halfling, then nodded. "Yeah - let's go next door."

They quietly left the room where everyone else was asleep, and stepped into one of the other rooms they'd rented for the night. Ashton sat down on one of the beds, drew one knee up against his chest, and studied Orym.

"So what's on your mind?"

Orym was quiet as he sat down on the other bed, and he stared intently at the floor, unconsciously wringing his hands.

"You look really upset," Ashton observed, leaning forward to get a better look at Orym's face. "What's wrong?"

"I'm… afraid, Ash."

"Of what?"

"Well, to be honest…" Orym swallowed hard and looked up to meet Ashton's gaze directly. "I'm afraid of myself."

Ashton slowly leaned back so he was resting on his elbows. "I'm not sure I follow. I mean, of all of us, you're the most level-headed and calm."

Agitated, Orym got up from the bed and began pacing around the room, his hands clenching spradically into fists.

Very slowly, Ashton stood up from the bed, crossed over to Orym, and knelt down in front of the halfling so they were eye to eye. Then he put his hands on Orym's shoulders.

"Tell me why you're afraid."

"I…" Orym began shaking and tried to move away, but Ashton tightened his grip on his shoulders.

"Tell me why you're afraid, Orym."

Orym was shaking so hard that Ashton imagined he could hear the halfling's teeth rattling in his head, and he tried again to pull away, but this time, Ashton wrapped his arms around Orym and pulled him close.

"Say it."

Orym fought to get away, but his strength was nothing compared to Ashton's, and Ashton held him too tightly to let him wriggle free. The harder he thrashed, the harder Ashton held onto him.

"For fuck's sake, Orym… say it."

"SHE TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, ASH!" The anguished cry burst forth. "It was her, she was the one who took my husband away from me! My beautiful Will… she killed him, she killed Derrig, she killed my compatriots, her and those… those… whatever the hell they were, those grey assassins." Angry tears welled up in his eyes and nearly choked his voice, and he collapsed against Ashton's chest.

"You're certain it was her?" Ashton's voice was deceptively soft, but even as upset as he was, Orym could hear the note of anger in the barbarian's voice.

All Orym could do was nod.

"Say it, Orym. Say why you're afraid of yourself."

"I want to kill her," Orym hissed between gritted teeth, the tears flowing unchecked down his face. "I want her to suffer and DIE for everything she's done, to Imogen, to Laudna, to Fearne-" His voice choked off again.

"To Will? To Derrig? To you?"

"Yes." Ashton almost didn't recognize the wrathful rasp of Orym's voice, but he could believe it after what he'd seen in the halfling's eyes at the Seat of Disdain, just before everything had gone to hell.

"Then we'll fucking kill her." He drew back just enough to look Orym in the eyes. "Don't be afraid of yourself for that. I'm right there with you. No matter what. We'll find her, and we'll fucking kill her. But we'll have to be smart about it." Ashton rested his forehead against Orym's. "And you're the smartest of us. So stay focused. We'll get her."

Orym nodded slowly.

"And for what it's worth… I still don't think you're a powder keg."

Orym looked at Ashton in confusion.

"You don't?"

"Powder kegs don't have any control. You do. Unlike the fucking rest of us." Then Ashton's mouth quirked into a sardonic smile. "That said, when you do decide to cut loose… it's going to be one hell of a show. And I for one am really fucking glad you're on our side."

Very, very slowly, an identical smile curved Orym's mouth.

"Is it safe to let go of you now?"

Orym nodded again, and his smile softened into a much more familiar one. "Thanks, Ash. You're a good soul." Before Ashton could pull away entirely, Orym embraced him hard.

"Go get some sleep. We're gonna fucking need it."

[planetgutz]

i h3art you

✶ content: camgirl reader, mentioned knotted dildo (i swear that's not implying anything :)), blackmail ??, slight virgin kink, cunnilingus, implied nonconsensual photography

✶ pairings: leona x camgirl!reader

you were his rival of sorts, he'd just never admit that to you.

not the best academics-wise, but you were cheerful, personable, and full of other qualities leona himself didn't possess. as he watched you get along with nearly everyone you met, he began to despise your perfect goody-two-shoes nature. there had to be another side to it. no one was just that good and happy 24/7.

imagine the joy leona feels when he stumbles upon a twitter account dedicated to your more nsfw lifestyle. ok yes, ruggie did send him the account like "check out this hot chick she's into some freaky shit" but he immediately knew it was you. you never showed your face but he'd know the sound of your voice anywhere. it's also completely normal to identify a very distinct blemish you have and use that as even more evidence to confirm his suspicions.

two days later, he's dragging you into a dark corner of the school and holding his phone up to you, a clip of you stuffing your cunt with a knotted dildo from your last stream displayed proudly. it's impossible to miss the smug smirk on his face as you gasp and try to snatch the phone from his grasp.

leona holds the phone out of your reach and leans closer to you.

"i won't tell a soul if you can make it worth my while, gorgeous"

you mull it over for a bit. this is probably the most mortifying moment of your life and you've done some embarrassing things in your lifetime. you could assume what he wanted from you, it was almost painstakingly obvious. letting him fuck you would probably be beneficial to you, letting you get the major crush you had on him out of your system. wanting to save the little bit of dignity you had left, you put on a brave face and grab him by the collar.

this actually catches him off guard for a moment as you drag him down to your level. "my room. midnight. don't be late" you release him and walk away, which gradually turns into a speed walk as you can still feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

it's 11:58 and all that confidence you had is quickly fading. you're just about to consider jumping out of your window and booking it across campus when you hear a knock on your door. you take a deep breath, pray to whatever deity is looking out for you, and get up to open the door. leona stares down at you and without a word, brushes past you and plops himself onto your bed.

you stand as far away from him as possible, nervously playing with the end of your tank top. he sighs and gets up, grabbing your wrist and dragging you closer to him, positioning your body between his open legs. "you're so shy now, c'mon don't keep me waiting" you shudder as he lifts up your top and starts to trail kisses down your stomach. okay, this would probably be the best time to tell him.

"ima virgin," you mumble, barely audible.

leona looks up at you. "what did you say?" your grip on his shoulders tighten as you repeat yourself. "i am a virgin aka I've never like actually had sex with another person before" the silence between you two hangs there for a while before he smiles and throws you on the bed, climbing over you.

"that's fine by me, i'll just be the first guy to make you cum until you blackout"

he smirks and roughly presses his lips against yours. you moan into the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. leona breaks the kiss and moves to take off your tank top. he latches onto one of your nipples, sucking harshly, as you move to shimmy out of your already soaked panties. panties discarded, you bury your fingers in his brown locks, bringing his head closer to your chest. "a-ah fuck leona please" he releases your nipple from his mouth with a pop, staring into your eyes intently.

he doesn't say a word and just slides himself down your body. he takes hold of your thighs and holds your legs open, baring your pussy to him. "such a pretty cunt and it's all mine now" almost immediately, he buries his face in your cunt, catching you by surprise. you instinctively go to shut your legs but his grip stops you from doing so. his lips wrap around your clit and you feel one of his fingers enter you. you whine and start to squirm, adjusting to the new feeling. your moans are fueling his actions as he slides a second finger into your cunt, picking up speed.

"fuck! please don't stop, feels so good" your grip on his hair tightens. leona groans and somehow manages to bury his fingers even deeper inside of you. you begin to feel that familiar knot in your stomach and start rocking your hips against his face. he slaps your thigh, making you cry out. "stay still" you comply and he resumes his ministrations. "'m gonna cum p-please let me cum" he says nothing but seems to move almost impossibly faster.

the knot finally uncoils, your back arches and your legs shake around him. he slows as you come down from your high, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit as he pulls away. eyes closed in your blissful state, you don't miss the sound of a camera click. your eyes fly open to see leona holding his phone, a wide smile on his face. "just getting one for my own private collection" he throws his phone to the side and pounces right back on you.

leona got a lot more pictures that night and of course, he made you upload some of them to let all your fans know you were off the market now.

[likeastarstar]

5:09 AM - Hoseok

(A/N: Part of my ITS series and also! for the anon who requested a Hobi drabble based off of Nasty by Ariana Grandeeee!)

Hoseok could be quite assertive when he wanted to be.

When he was drilling a new choreography, when he was shopping for shoes, when he was producing a song. He liked things a certain way and when he saw something he liked, he was vocal about it.

He was the same way with you and you were the same way with him from the moment you met. He noticed your outfit first, liking the way you held yourself in a tight dress in the middle of a crowded club.

He liked every version of you that he had seen- the mysterious one that he met that night, the shy one he woke up to the next morning, the sweet one he got coffee with two days later. He was trying to play it safe with you, knowing you were far too perfect to be careless with- but it was hard when you were sitting in front of him, sending him fuck me eyes across the table with his best friends sitting on either side of you.

Hoseok could barely get a grip- letting out a slow, intentional breath to try and distract himself that you didn't give a shit about anything else but your foot currently pushing up against his thigh incessantly.

You had been doing this to him all day- riling him up, teasing him, smirking when he showed even the slightest bit of weakness. He was trying to be good- this was your first vacation with the boys and he didn't want to be that boyfriend who had to stake his claim over his girlfriend constantly.

Which was exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

You yawned obnoxiously, stretching your arms above your head so that your shirt lifted up enough for him to latch his eyes on the smooth skin of your stomach.

"I'm so tired," You sighed, leaning your head on Namjoon's shoulder and staring at Hoseok with a smile that looked relaxed to everyone else but to your boyfriend's extremely attuned eyes- he knew that you had something up your sleeve.

Hoseok shook his head in disbelief, grabbing ahold of his beer and chugging the rest, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. You maintained heated eye contact as he set his glass down and nudged his chin in the general direction of the room you two were sharing, flicking his eyebrows up at you.

"Let's go- bedtime." He said shortly, standing up quickly.

You didn't move from your spot, the devilish smirk on your lips only worsening when he rounded around the table, waiting patiently for you to follow him. The boys' said their goodnights, completely oblivious to the heat growing in your belly. You waved goodbye and floated towards Hobi, giggling when he pinched your side and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close to him, "You're in for it now."

"What? I was just tired," You whined obnoxiously, laughing even harder when he shoved you sideways playfully, a knowing look on his face.

"You couldn't wait even half an hour until everyone else went to bed?" He mumbled against your lips, a short while later when he had you pinned underneath him with his knee between your legs and his hands holding your wrists above your head.

"I tried," You whined, "I just wanted you."

He smirked, kissing you lazily, making you do most of the work. You pushed your tongue against his, trying to push your body up into his for some sort of friction.

"I've spoilt you," He sighed, releasing one of your hands to drag down your side, covering the skin that had been exposed earlier at the table. A dark thought crossed his mind and you watched as he sat upright, leaning his weight back on his heels. "Go on, convince me. Show me how desperate you are for this."

His eyes flicked down towards his lap, a palm rolling around the bulge in his pants and squeezing- hard. You stifled a moan, biting down on your lip as you watched him palm himself through the thin material, wishing he was naked already.

"You've just been so soft with me this entire day, so gentle," You mumbled, pouting slightly. "Such a gentleman."

"Is that not what you want?" He frowned.

"Usually it is," You said quickly, looking at him with doe eyes, "But tonight..."

"Tonight you wanna do something different?" He smirked, raising his eyebrows.

"Wanna get fucked," You nodded, reaching out towards him.

It was almost too much and yet not enough- the way Hoseok pushes your thighs impossibly close to your chest and slams his hips against you. He's been going for hours- switching positions, hands digging into your skin as he maneuvered you how he saw fit. He hadn't ever touched you like this, hadn't ever had you so selfishly before tonight.

You thanked whatever had come over you tonight, relishing in the consequences of your admission.

Hoseok's eyes stuck on the way your chest bounced with every thrust he made, licking his lips as his hand closed over one of your breasts, palming you carelessly and smirking when you mewled. Your nipples were sensitive, needy for him in an insatiable sort of way you hadn't ever felt before.

The slide of his cock in and out of your soaking pussy felt illegal, molded to the shape of him and dripping with his cum.

"That's it," He grunted, cursing under his breath, "Fuck- you look so good underneath me. Is this what you wanted?"

You nodded vigorously, to overwhelmed to speak at the moment.

"You're gonna have me wasting this entire vacation fucking you, aren't you?" He joked, hips stuttering.

"Please-" You begged, wide eyes staring up at him full of hope. He let out a broken laugh, cut off when he made eye contact with you. He moaned, back rounding sharply and his ears were filled with the noises you couldn't hold back, all desperation and wanting for him and to please him. He couldn't stop himself from barreling towards cumming when you looked at him like that, so vulnerable and soft it made his heart soft and his dick throb.

Hoseok flattened his body against yours, pink lips sucking on your lower lobe, "I'm gonna full you up, okay? Gonna cum so fucking hard in your tight little pussy."

You clenched hard around him, eager to feel him cum one last time. As overstimulated as you felt, you relished in it, wanting to have all of him and more. He spills into you with a low groan, heat spreading from your lower belly to the rest of your body as you felt him twitch inside of you, fire only intensified by your own orgasm.

His breathing regulated, matching the rate of your heart beat as you floated back down to earth.

"That was so fucking good," He panted, taking deep breaths between each word.

You nodded silently, pushing the hair off of your face in some attempt to cool off, "The sun's gonna come up soon- we went at it for awhile, didn't we?"

"Who knew you were such a dirty girl," He teased, his hand caressing your hip lightly.

You shrugged childishly and he grinned, kissing you adoringly. His eyes searched yours, a sudden softness melting his warm chocolate eyes, "My girl."

"Yours," You nodded, smiling back at him contently.

masterlist.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Conference Room

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky gets a surprise when he realises that things that were looked down upon, and people were often disgusted by in his day and age, are wanted in this one.

Warnings | includes smut, blowjob, cum facial, Bucky being an insecure bb, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, one by one disappearing into the maze of the compound. Bucky watched you with tender eyes, slowly following behind, as you headed for the door.

But instead of passing though the threshold, so that you could make your way on route to the kitchen, in order for you prepare yourself a well deserved drink after sitting through the small conference, you closed the door, and pushed down the latch.

The action itself made Bucky stop in his footsteps, and fix you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure why you had locked the two of you in here. Only moments ago you had been on a group call with Fury, and now that he had signed off, all of you had been free to leave.

But that freedom that all the else had fled feebly towards, served a much different price to that for which you specifically had in mind for him. “Sergeant Barnes, I think the two of us need to have a little talk; our ears only.”

Bucky gulped, remaining upon the spot that he was stood in. He racked his mind for reasons that you would want to do this here, and not in one of your bedrooms. It would only make things more difficult for when he left the scene, heartbroken by you cutting him off, and finally pushing him away.

It was inevitable that it would happen somewhen; but it was too early. Things were finally running smoothly, he felt content and happy, and as though he were making a good difference to the world, which is all he ever wanted. However, it appeared that all of that was about to come tumbling down at his feet, in the same very moment.

The two of you hadn’t been dating too long, just short of three months. And during that time, the pair of you had never once gotten obscenely intimate. So in your case, as he viewed it, you really had nothing to lose. But he couldn’t pin point as to why you were dressed in a sly smile, and creeping ever so steadily towards him as though you had a surprise.

“Doll.” He spoke softly, thinking that it would be the last time he had the opportunity to describe you with that pet name. From the way that he addressed you, your expression quickly became more innocent and happy.

As you got closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss upon his material covered chest. “Baby.” You greeted him, moving to his lips next, and pressing a fluid peck upon them.

“What are you doing?” He unsurely asked, his voice cracking in the meanwhile, and his face scrunching up into a confused frown. Your hands rubbed down his chest, and plucked the band of his trousers, over again in a repeated motion.

Sucking your lip into your mouth, you looked up into his sky blue eyes, reading them for any signs of him being affected by your actions. Rather than feeling aroused, it seemed to make him confused, which was not at all your intention.

“You seemed tense Buck.” Your hands raked their way back up to his shoulders, soothing any apparent tightness that were held within his muscles. “I thought maybe... I could help loosen you up.” Fluttering your eyelashes at him, Bucky lightly groaned, rubbing his lips together as he mulled over what the pair of you could possibly get up to in this room.

His hands went down to the button of your jeans, but lightly, you slapped his hands away, doing the same to him, and undoing them. As your fingers toyed with the zip that helped the denim be adjustable to his size, your other palmed him through the blue material. “This is about you James. I want to make you feel good.”

Again, he swallowed his own saliva, he paid the utmost attention to your every movement, completely compelled with how you tossed your hair to the side by simply moving your head. “You want me to suck your cock, I promise I’m good at it.” A giggle erupted from your mouth, and Bucky clasped your chin in the feather light grip of his vibranium hand.

He pulled your lips to his, warming them up before slipping his tongue inside. It had been a long time, though he hated to admit it, since he had done anything even slightly sexual, and a part of him was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

But the other was excited, back in the forties , blowjobs weren’t often digressed. The idea had always appealed to hun, however no dame had ever wished to dirty their knees before him, and take his sufficient length down their throat. It pained him a little, knowing that like most people he had encountered through his life, that they would take from him, but never return it with an ounce of kindness.

He’d perceive it as a dream come true, the woman that owned his entire heart, independently wanting to pleasure him in such ways that were looked down upon in his day. “Are you sure?” He pulled away, desperate for some clarity on the matter.

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, drawing him in for another locked lip session. After a minute or two of tasting his tongue, you trailed your direction down, running down his chin, and then his neck, until you completely dropped to your knees, rutting your hand against his growing cock.

Right then, from that image alone, Bucky swore that he would die. That innocent expression that was entailed upon your face had him mentally cursing, and he couldn’t help but groan to himself in a relaxed manner as you pulled his jeans down to his ankles, leaving only his boxers as the final barrier.

Lightly, you pressed a kiss to where you guessed his tip to be through the cotton, gently running your tongue down the shaft, and lower down to where his balls were stationed. “Y/n, please stop teasing.”

“Tell me Bucky.” Your fingertips cascaded up and down his v line, warming him up to what was to come(pun intended). “Have you ever been sucked off before?” His heart rate picked up, as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“How did you- that punk!” He said in reference to Steve, realising that he must have let the detail slip to you. But he couldn’t be made really, if the captain hadn’t digressed his secret to you, then he may have waited longer to experience the enthralling and dirty, as it had been known to be, engagement.

Without any pressure, you pressed your teeth upon his cock, dragging his attention back towards you. “Now that is no way to talk about your dear friend, I’d say he did you a favour.” He was getting ready to grumble in his Bucky manner, but was hit with your gasp as you suddenly pulled his boxers down, his dick slapping upwards, having your entire focus.

Reaching forward with a hand, you wrapped it around the mid section of his shaft, your palm hardly fitting around his girth. “It’s so big.” You gaped at the sight, moving your hand up and down to gouge a reaction out of the super soldier above you. His head leant back, his eyes screwing shut as he realised just how sensitive he was. He felt like a virgin all over again.

An obscene and loud moan was pulled from his mouth as you ran your tongue up his shaft, humming at the taste of his intimate skin. With the encouragement of his lie noises, you directed his tip towards your lips, rubbing it upon the cushioned flesh, before sinking him halfway in your mouth.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed, reaching down and on instinct entangling his metal hand in your loose hair. As though you were doing nothing, you innocently looked up at him with wide doe eyes., although he could feel you hollowing your cheeks around him, as you began to bob your head.

Only then did he realise how experienced you must have been within this department, for he noticed how you didn’t struggle nor gag the slightest around him, and it appeared that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

One of your hands planted itself on the thickness of his thigh as your other found homage with fondling his balls. His chest rapidly moved as he felt every slither of your tongue around him, and as you pulled slightly back, you began dipping it in the line of his slit.

“Baby, slow down, or I’m going to cum.” With his words heard, you took him out of your mouth, wrapping your hand around his saliva soaked rod, and began pumping him rapidly. For a moment, he swore his head was going to explode as he saw you stick your tongue out, awaiting his load that was soon to be delicious.

“Cum Buck. Want you to cum for me.” It was impossible for him to hold back any longer, and thus, his seed flew over the expanse of your tongue, whilst the rest spurted over one side of your face. “Hmm.” You mumbled, swallowing that of it that you caught, and scooping a swipe into your mouth.

“I swear to god that I’m in love with you.” He spoke breathily as you stood up, both of your faces flushed from the activity. He pulled you in for a few pecks, to which you could do nothing more than stare into his oceanic pools.

“Well that’s encouraging.” You laughed, reaching down and tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and jeans, giving it a loving pat before pulling away. “I love you too Bucky Barnes; always.”

“The conference room though, really?” He asked with a bemused laugh, causing you to shrug. “You’ve got to walk out of here now.” He said, motioning to the mess on your face.

“That is something that I didn’t think of.” You responded, your eyes darting a around the room, until your eyes landed on the box of tissues that Tony had brought in at the start of the meeting. Thank Thor for his cold! “Grab me some paper towels from the corner would you babe?”

He sent you a pleased, and you’d say very satisfied smile, before stepping back, and heading in the direction of the desk, picking a few sheets out of the cube, and walking back to help you clean up. He felt like he at least owed you that much.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

=================================

The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.  

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

 He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she’s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x​ 

PART 4

[poguesholland]

Hey could you write something for Harrison where you really like him but the last person you were with rejected you so your scared to tell him

“Fucking tell him already, Y/N” Tom groaned, cutting you off. He was sick of hearing you talk about Harrison over and over with no intention of acting on your feelings. This had been going on for a year now and all your friends were so done with this.

You let out a laugh, thinking Tom was being sarcastic. “Sure, Of course Tom, great idea” You spoke sarcastically only to look at Tom and realize that he wasn’t joking. Not the slightest bit. “Are you joking? There’s no way I could ever tell him. Not after what happened with Alex” You shook your head, the idea of Harrison ever finding out how you feel almost bringing you nightmares.

Alex was a guy you had liked last year. You two were the closest anyone could be and naturally, you developed feelings for him. Everyone thought that the feeling was mutual. But when you told Alex how you felt, he shot you down in the worst way possible. He broke you.

“You what?” Alex spits, as you began to feel like he wasn’t too happy about what you were saying. “I, I like you” You repeat, with less confidence this time. Alex shakes his head, raising his eyebrows with a look of frustration displayed on his face. “I can’t fucking believe this” He mumbles under his breath, hands going through his hair. You stand there, not really believing the way he was reacting right now.

“Alex-” You start but he cuts you off, “Just shut up!” He yells at you making you flinch. Alex grabs his stuff and quickly walks towards the door, his shoulder bumping into yours. “Why would you ruin this?” He asks, angry with you for ‘ruining’ your friendship. “You made me think you feel the same way! Don’t act like I’m some crazy bitch who likes you!” You retort. “How could I ever feel the same way about you?” Alex spits, and your heart dropped to the floor and he slammed the door.

“We both know Harrison would never do what Alex did, Y/N, if you don’t tell him I will”. You raise your eyebrows at Tom, believing that there was no way on Earth that what he was saying could be true. “The boys and I are sick and tired of hearing you bitch about how you much you like him, so if you don’t tell Harrison by the end of the week, I will.” Tom deadpanned and you turned as pale as a ghost.

Tom gets up from the table, making you scramble to get up and follow him. “Tom! Tom, you’re- No, you’re joking. Right? Tom, no!” You pleaded and he turned around to face you. A smirk plastered on his face as he saw the fear in your eyes. “Bye, Y/N” Tom leaned on to leave a kiss on your cheek as you froze in place, crossing your hands over each other. You raised the finger at him, only making him laugh.

How could you possibly tell Harrison how you felt? What would you even say? How could you deal with him not feeling the same way? What if it ruined your friendship? What if he laughed at you? But a little part of your brain thought the opposite, what if he felt the same way?

Three days go by and you were yet to say anything to Harrison. Tom and the boys were keeping a close eye on you, giving you a warning look when you two were alone and you left to avoid saying anything. They had been trying their best to make sure that you two were always left alone for as long as possible, in an attempt to give you as many opportunities as they could. But, alas, nothing worked.

“Tom, do you wanna help me get something from the kitchen?” Harry rushed as he quickly got up from the couch. Tom immediately followed, “Yeah! I need-Um, some ice, yeah ice”. Harrison looked at them skeptically and you gave them a death glare. Now it was just you and Harrison on the couch.

Harrison laughed lightly, “What’s up with those two divs?”. You forced a laugh, covering up the anxiousness you were feeling at that moment. “No idea” You raised your eyebrows, but Harrison could tell that you were acting weird. Your hands rub your arms, trying to rid yourself of the nervous goosebumps beginning to appear on your body from the tension between you two.

“Y/N, is everything-” He starts but you shoot up off of the couch. “I need some ice!” You stutter out, rushing to the kitchen only to be met with a glaring Tom and Harry. You walk past them like nothing was wrong but Harry gives you a smack on the head. “Ow! What the fuck, Harry!” You yelp in pain, clutching your head to try to relive it. “Tell him” They both whisper-yell at you before leaving, making you huff.

Every time you almost said something, you could genuinely feel your throat dry up and words would not come out of your mouth. But as those three days went by, you found yourself trying harder and harder to just spit it out.

Harrison didn’t know why you were being so distant lately. You two were always together, always sitting beside each other, always taking naps together, always going everywhere together, but that was not the case anymore.

You rested your head against the couch, sprawling your legs out in front of you. Harrison and you continue watching the movie intently, the popcorn he had made already finished while the movie had another hour to go.

Harrison shifts to find a comfortable position and is unsuccessful, so he turns to lay his head on your lap and put his legs up on the couch. This was how you always watched movies but as soon as Harrison did so, you shot up from your position feeling panicked.

Harrison’s head hits the couch making him groan, reaching a hand up to rub his head. He looks up to say something to you, but you were already long gone and out of sight. Hurt fills Harrison’s chest as he was now sure that something was up with you.

You unlock your door, walking into your shared apartment. Immediately, you take notice that your roommates were nowhere to be seen as you close the door. However, you were proven wrong when you walk into the kitchen to see Harrison, making you jump up. “Shit, Haz! You scared me!” You exclaim, putting a hand over your heart as you laugh. His heart hurt once he heard his nickname leave your mouth, it’s been days since you said his name. It was his favorite sound coming from you.

The laugh on your face quickly falters as Harrison doesn’t respond, not even making the effort to turn around to look at you. You furrow your eyebrows, “Hello?”. No response. You walk around the kitchen counter to stand next to him, but he continues cutting up the vegetables he was cooking. “Harrison?” You call out but he doesn’t even turn to acknowledge your presence.

“Is something wrong? Did I do something?” Your voice quiet as you watch him, not even phased by you talking to him. “Talk to me Haz, please?” You call out again and Harrison drops the knife on the cutting board, huffing in frustration. He turns to face you with an angry look on his face, making you even more confused.

Harrison raises his eyebrows, “So now you want to talk to me? No, I’m sorry, now you feel like talking to me?”. You look at him with confusion, “What? I always want to talk to you. What are you talking about?”. He shakes his head, crossing his arms in disbelief as he looks at you.

“Harrison?” You question him again when you don’t get an answer. “Don’t fucking Harrison me!” He yells in frustration but lowering his voice after he realized, “Just don’t”. Unintentionally, you flinch at his loud voice. You rest your elbow on the kitchen counter, trying to figure out what he was talking about and what got him so mad.

A huff of defeat escapes your lips, “What the hell are you talking about?”. Harrison clenches his jaw and bites the inside of his cheek. “You haven’t talked to me all week, you run away when I enter a room you’re in. As soon as we’re alone, you leave. You can’t even look me in my fucking eye, Y/N! And now you want to talk to me?”.

You immediately shut up, looking anywhere but at Harrison as you feel ashamed of yourself. Harrison moves closer towards you, looking into your eyes as you try to keep your composure, avoiding his eyes. He looks at you for any sign of a response, but shakes his head when he doesn’t get one. “I’m not fucking doing this right now” He mumbles under his breath, walking out of the kitchen.

“Tom told me I have to tell you about my feelings for you before the end of the week, or he will” You sigh, not sure if you even thought that whole sentence through before saying it. Harrison freezes in his place as he tries to register what you just said, there was no way. No, this didn’t make any sense.

He turns around to face you and your eyes meet, your eyes full of fear that this would be the end of your friendship. “I couldn’t talk to you all week. I- Um, I was too nervous to be around you and couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but here we are I guess” You ramble quietly as Harrison stares at you with a dumbfounded look.

“About your feelings for me..” Harrison tries to comprehend and you nod, waiting for any sort of response from him. His silence was killing you. “I didn’t want to do it, after what happened with Alex-” “Alex is a dick” Harrison retorts, his voice sour at the sound of his name. He absolutely hated him, even before he broke your heart. He hated him even more when you were crying into his chest every night about what Alex did.

He didn’t tell you this but as soon as Tom told him what happened, Harrison went to Alex’s apartment. All of Alex’s neighbors could hear Harrison yelling at him as Alex stood there, like a coward, trying not to cry. Harrison knew you would’ve gotten angry if he told you so he kept it to himself, and swore that any guy after that he would keep an eye out on.

You clear your throat, “Yeah- Um, that’s true. I just- I was scared that you would...”. Harrison continue the sentence for you, “I would do the same thing”. You don’t reply, knowing Harrison was hurt from that comment. “Y/N, I am nothing like Alex, okay? You know that, you know me” He speaks quietly, taking a few steps towards you and you nod.

Your hands grip the counter behind your back as you look at the boy in front of you, trying to digest the information you were saying. “Did Tom tell you why you should tell me?” Harrison asks with a bit of realization in his voice, confusing you. “No, Um- He just said I should tell you how I feel”. Harrison nods, a small smile making its way onto his face.

Staring at him blankly, you try to make sense of why he was smiling. You had just ruined your friendship, was he happy? Relieved? Harrison walks closer until his hands grip the counter behind you, only a few centimeters separating the two of you.

“Did Tom tell you that I feel the same way? That I’ve had feelings for you for almost three years now? That seeing you with any other guy broke my heart? That I wanted to kill Alex for what he did to you?” Harrison asks, his voice quiet. Your eyes widen, thinking that this had to be a joke.

Harrison’s hand slides to yours on the counter, holding it gently. “That I had no idea how he could lose such an amazing girl like you? That I thought he was crazy to not appreciate how lucky he was to have you?”. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. His hand slides up your arm, going to cup and caress your face slowly. You felt yourself shiver at his touch, almost like it was electricity.

“W-Why didn’t you-” “Tell you?” ,He continues and you nod, “Just thought that there was no way you felt the same about me”. You straighten your back, your chests now brushing against each other. “I would be crazy not to love you, Haz” You admit, and Harrison’s hand grips your tighter once you said those two words. “Y/N, be very careful with your words okay? I cant-” He shuts his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours as he tried to control himself.

Your fingers slip in between his, resting on the counter as Harrison opened his eyes. “I know” You state quietly, showing that you were being one hundred percent truthful. Harrison quickly leans forwards to push his lips against yours, making your breath get caught in your throat.

His lips move against yours in perfect sync as he moves closer to you, pressing you harder into the counter and his body. The hand on your cheek moves to your waist and grips it tightly, kissing you needily. A hand of yours goes to his chest to steady yourself.

You slow your lips against his before pulling away to catch your breath. Harrison licks his lips as he looks at you, admiring how beautiful you are. “I love you” He speaks up, and you look up at him. A shy smile finds its way to your face as you bring your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “I love you too” You whisper against his lips and feel him smile. You lean in to kiss him before both of you smile into the kiss, breaking it.

Harrison brings you in to hug you tightly, holding you so softly, like you were made of glass. You rest your head in the crook of his neck as you take in his warmth. “Holy shit! Tom what did I tell you! Both of you divs owe me a hundred each!” Paddy yells, startling both of you. You move your head to see Tom, Harry and Paddy looking at the two of you, only making you hide your flushed face once again.

“Finally told him, did you? Wonder who gave you that idea” Tom teases and you whine, making Harrison laugh. He holds you close to him before slightly turning around to face the guys, mouthing an excited ‘yes’ and pumping his fist to the air. You feel Harrison shoo them out of the kitchen, just wanting to be with you.

Harrison’s arms hook under your thighs and lift you up, making a squeal leave your lips. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks towards his bedroom. “No fucking while we’re in the house!” Harry yells making you yell at him, “Harry!”. Harrison only laughs at the two of you and shakes his head, “Only been twenty minutes and you already made a dirty joke, Harry”.

“Ignore him, love” Harrison mumbles against your cheek as you giggle. The nickname makes butterflies appear in your stomach. You were grateful that your friends had pushed you to tell Harrison how you felt. Because what else would you need other than this?

[nctsworld]

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date.   WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ @sehunniepot​ (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀) 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit! 

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance. 

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.  

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls. 

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.  

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes. 

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks. 

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section. 

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.  

“See anything you like?” 

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close. 

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.        

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.” 

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know." 

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this." 

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.  

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.  

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry." 

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming. 

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you." 

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer. 

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it. 

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me?  I'll be back for them.  Thanks!  -Miss Ageist” 

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time? 

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment." 

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is." 

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look. 

“Oh, most definitely.” 

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?” 

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste." 

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records. 

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know." 

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you. 

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.” 

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. 

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny." 

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”  

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear. 

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?” 

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls." 

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role. 

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.  

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?” 

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.” 

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.” 

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier." 

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.” 

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window. 

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store. 

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it. 

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter. 

“Surprised to see you here.” 

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.   

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?” 

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?” 

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast. 

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks. 

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store. 

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.  

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."  

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual. 

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you." 

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you. 

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.       

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.  

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head. 

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.  

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.  

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby." 

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store." 

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise." 

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?” 

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.   

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”  

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless. 

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core. 

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.  

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight." 

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night. 

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare. 

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly. 

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening. 

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail. 

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.           

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole. 

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.   

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel. 

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.  

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.    

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.” 

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?” 

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.” 

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan. 

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—” 

You suck the words out of him. Literally. 

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth. 

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time. 

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom. 

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges. 

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs. 

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure. 

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.    

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches. 

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses. 

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air. 

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.  

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.  

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?” 

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?” 

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.  

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. 

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.  

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?” 

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious). 

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.” 

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly. 

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”  

EPILOGUE 

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk. 

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be. 

No matter, it always feels amazing. 

“Johnny, Johnny—” 

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.” 

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.” 

A silent beat passes. 

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...” 

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment. 

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all.