#but also I miss him come baaack

[juniperhillpatient]

I miss Jet 😔

[thanatos-nightshade]

Im so sorry i played Our Life: beginnings and always and not only has it sucker punched me with bittersweet feelings of life and change and relationships but its also thrown me into brain rot hell of it. Im sorry if ocean boy cove floods your feed get it? Its a pun

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired); angst, drama, fluff, smut

Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Word count: 261.3k

Status: Complete

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Inspiration: Stay by Mikky Ekko

A/N: Hiii I am BAAACK! 🫡 This story is finally seeing the light of day after 3 years. I feel a little rusty, especially this being my first new JK series in 1.5 years! But it's also been a bit rough getting back into writing (and in Tumblr) after so long and after the year that was, so there won't be a schedule for chapter releases and I'll probably be a lot slower than usual. I wasn't sure if I was gonna go back to writing but I realized that I've missed interacting with you guys and screaming about stories so I do hope you give this some love. Fair warning that it's a really slow burn and some scenes are reminiscent of k-dramas. There are also sensitive and triggering topics so please proceed with caution!

And lastly, my biggest love and deepest gratitude to @wonwoonlight who's been the sweetest and loveliest person to talk to about everything, including this story. 🫶🏼 I give her credit for her amazing photos of Seoul (check moodboard) and for being the playlist manager. Please send her love as well!💕

Season 1 -> Playlist 🎶: on the way home

Episode 1 (wc: 12k)

Episode 2 (wc: 11.9k)

Episode 3 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 4 (wc: 11.4k)

Episode 5 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 6 (wc: 14.6k)

Episode 7 (wc: 15.4k)

Episode 8 (wc: 17.4k)

Episode 9 (wc: 18.4k)

Episode 10 (wc: 20.6k)

Episode 11 (wc: 23.5k)

Episode 12 (wc: 24.7k)

Episode 13 (wc: 29k)

Episode 14 - End (wc: 32.8k)

Season 2 (??)

[bedoballoons]

hi! i saw requests were open, may i requests albedo, itto and tighnari's significant other coming home after a long time away? maybe some angst to fluff? thank you!

Ive actually wanted to write something like this for so long!! I hope you like it <3 Also so sorry if it's been a long time since you've requested this!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Coming home after awhile~༺}

CW: Slight angst because of missing the reader but fluffy in the end!!

(Includes: Albedo, Itto, and Tighnari!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo stared aimlessly at the wall, a habit he had picked up after you'd left and it wasn't because he was bored or didn't have anything to do, on the contrary, he could busy himself with experiments and alchemy very easily, but without you around...life just seemed dull at certain moments...just like this one. He missed you terribly and you being gone longer than usual was really messing with him, to the point he was starting to worry you might never come back...

"Albeeedooo...immm baaack"

His eyes widened at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat as he turned around, how you'd managed to get through the door without him knowing a mystery that he currently didn't care about, because seeing you after so long filled him with the warmth he'd been missing. "I'm so happy you're back...I missed you so much my love." He grasped your hand gently, lifting it slightly to place a kiss on top, his bright blue eyes looking up at you with pure joy. "I missed you too..." You smiled sweetly at him, his fingers holding you chin as he placed his next kiss on your soft lips...a feeling he simply couldn't live without.

𑁍༄Itto:

Itto crossed his arms, sighing dramatically as his onikabuto lost yet another battle, their normal strength seemingly weak compared to all recent opponents...or perhaps it was him who was off, after all, he didn't have you by his side. Yes he had told you to follow your heart and travel as much as you could and he really did want that for you..., but you were his cheerleader, the love of his life...being without you for so long...he just wasn't the same.

"Ahh come on how about 2 outta 3?" He attempted, doing his best to regain his happy go lucky demeanor as he spoke to the little boy in front of him...who was holding his candy he'd just won for dear life. Just the sight was enough to make you feel right at home...gosh you'd missed him, "Itto...I think he won fair and square. How about you let him take the prize and I'll give you a kiss for participation."

The Oni instantly perked up, his eyes sparkling as soon as they caught sight of you, "I don't know what a participation is but I'll definitely take that kiss over some candy!" He wrapped his big arms around you, lifting you up as he hugged you and making you laugh happily, nothing could put a smile on your face as fast as he could. You connected your lips to his in a loving kiss, pulling away just long enough to kiss his cheek.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari bit his lip, trying his best to focus on his papers even though his tail was swaying furiously back and forth, the though of you returning any second after being gone so long, pestering him to the point he couldn't think of anything else but that beautiful smile he wanted to see so badly...or your perfect voice that his ears kept twitching in attempt to hear. He truthfully didn't think he'd be able to handle even one more day without you with him...

He stood up, leaving his desk behind so he could pace the room for a few moments...then make his way to the front door, his large ears pressed up against it...listening for your footsteps. Just as he was about to give up hope he heard the tip tap of your shoes against the ground, the sound enough to make him throw open the door. His body moving without thinking as he pulled you into him, capturing you in a tight hug before you could even walk into the house.

"Tighnari you're crushing mee" You joked hugging him back as a light blush coated your cheeks, you couldn't believe how quickly he had made your day better, any sad feeling expelled as soon as you saw him. "Sorry but the crushing hug is non-negotiable, after being gone so long this is your punishment." He chuckled, placing soft little kisses all over your face, his last one being a loving kiss on the lips that neither of you could get enough of...

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Enjoy*⁠.⁠✧

[thecoffeelorian]

4/12/2024

Hello again, everyone...

Firstly, I just wanted to say that I think I'm more or less answering my own question from last week, specifically in that I'm hoping to capture all of the moments that canon either didn't think of or else could have included but chose not to, finding other artists and writers who feel as strongly as I do, and then passing all of that missing knowledge onto the ones that want it the most.

For example...I wanted to make sure that Omega and Crosshair weren't secretly (still) chipped, but that moment never came even though Captain Rex himself suggested that everyone not confirmed to be without one was a ticking time bomb.

I wanted to see Omega and Crosshair discuss the loss of Tech onscreen, but even though these two both had a clear relationship with him, that moment never came.

And lastly I want to see CX-2's face to know who he is under that mask...but, tragically, though I'm not the only one who has suspicions, that moment might not come.

This and a growing list of unaddressed content is pretty much the difficulty I've had from the very start of this thing, so...maybe that's my real purpose here. Maybe, alongside a lot of other talented artists and writers, I'm meant to help fill in the blanks for others as well as myself, if only to make the growing list of unresolved issues that this show has had since the beginning not feel so overwhelming any more.

Maybe we were also always meant to start telling our own tales about these mega-corporate creations, and in so doing, change them from some way to rake in more cash and give them more personality, more likes and dislikes, more history, heck, possibly even more life if it means our own lives aren't so isolated and confined to the rules of some CEO in a suit.

So, whether or not we follow their social media accounts, watch their shows, and buy their merchandise...I hope none of us ever stop building our own myths and legends about these heroes. Whatever we do or wherever we go, I hope we don't stop creating.

Now...with that thought in mind, let's get to the weekly picks.

The Bad Batch Fan Art

Omega, Crosshair, and Tech by @doodlingfoolishness

Captain Baja Blast by @evefangirl

CX-2 by @keeradaks

Captain Howzer by @thespianwtch

The Bad Batch Fan Fiction

Consequence by @the-kittylorian-writes

Food Fight by @buckybarnes-and-noble

A Rest by Tanwyn

The Clone Wars Fan Art

Let's go to work by @thassakolti0

Happy Spring by @coline7373

Hardcase by @clone-trooper-cheese

The Clone Wars Fanfiction

Forget Me Not by @jedi-princess-kestis

The Mandalorian Fanart

Paz Vizsla by @gqe-leh

Tales Of The Empire Fanart

Barriss Offee by @raidantra

She's baaack!! by @master-tired

Barriss Offee by @revanknightwoman

And so, in order to support all our writers and artists, please check out the links I included above, like, comment, and reblog as you would with anyone else.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time. Thank you, good morning, and good luck.

No Pressure Tags: @ilovemedia @gun-roswell @theosb0rnway @ci-avmovies14 @called-me-vicky @saphiranishimurashan @themightychipmunk42 @sharpasanaro @ray-rook @serinzatravel-blog @chefobiwankenobi @smw-on-kamino @here-comes-the-moose @trixie2023 @skellymom @talesfrommedinastation @callsign-denmark @melymigo @groguandthebadbatch @ankossss @littlefeatherr @yeehawgeek and anyone else who might be in search of more of the good stuff.

[purpleturtle9000]

Hi I’m baaack I have a question about the reds!! How close are they?? Is there any conflict/confusion bc they’re both trying to eldest sibling everyone? Does little Raph figure out gender things earlier thanks to Red being there? Do they get hugs I hope they both get hugs they’re so wonderful

Have a lovely time of day thank you for all of your turtle posts they get me through the day <3

omg hi! my turtle posts also get me through the day tbh and i am! so glad you like them!

The reds are so close you have no idea. I am soft about them on the daily. Sometimes they argue about who has jurisdiction to scold the blue things but usually they just team up instead.

Okay first of all yes there is confusion with both of them trying to be the eldest sibilng! (Meanwhile Leonardo has been the oldest for a while and is vaguely confused by all this as well. Red died twenty-seven years ago at the age of twenty-eight, and Old Man Blue is trying not to laugh at someone half his age trying to be his big sister. He's also full of emotions and near to crying about it every day.)

Leonardo, Tello, and Angelo are all older than Red, but at least they're all still shorter than her. Can't shake up the family dynamic that much, I say, as if I haven't put them all through a fucking blender. Angelo and Tello call her their big sister anyway, cause they're nice like that. Leonardo near-exclusively calls her 'short stuff' and is closer than he realises to being flung through a wall again.

Ironically, Red herself does not take Raph seriously as a big brother. She knows that he is, for the younger turtles, but she's a decade older and three feet taller than him. She sees him as being just as small as his younger brothers. Raph is not impressed with this, being used to being the biggest and oldest.

He is impressed with how tall and spiky she is! All the boys thought they'd stopped growing, like human kids would have, and seeing everyone taller caused absolute consternation among the young turts. Especially in the case of future Mikey. Nobody will talk about future Mikey being as tall as teen Raph. It's still terrifying.

Despite Red once calling Raph 'little', and the bedlam that ensued, they get along very well! Which is also terrifying for a certain set of self-destructive blue turtles who insist they're totally fine whilst in the middle of a week-long mental breakdown. If one red turtle is scary, two red turtles are even scarier. Red is not above sitting on either Leo if he's doing something stupid.

Red's and Leonardo's definitions of 'something stupid' are very different. Leonardo does not appreciate this. It's the funniest thing Donnie's ever seen.

Apart from their mutual 'I must protect my siblings' prime directive, and the fact that they both punch things as their first plan instead of waiting for anyone else to come up with a better one, there's another big similarity! Red is also missing the same eye as Raph. (I know he's fine in canon but like. did you see the fucking tentacles coming out of his eye socket. he's missing an eye in wify.)

There's a constants-and-variables theme I'm playing at with wify, kinda, about how sometimes the same things happen under different circumstances. Mikey's portals being what saves Leonardo from dying in the future timeline and then dying in the prison dimension. Casey Jr gets a hockey stick from both versions of Casey Sr but only one of those involves her dying. Red lost her eye fighting human survivors and Raph lost his eye being mutated by the Krang.

Raph and Leo, the teen versions, have a lot to unpack about the whole thing. Leo blames himself and can't get over his part in Raph being taken. Raph thinks Leo's afraid of him, because mutant-Krang-Raph hurt him in their fight, and maybe grossed out by the extent of his injuries. Lots of angst incoming with that angle but it's gonna be fine I swear.

Raph and Red, however! Red has tips on adjusting to life with one eye, and has some extremely cool eyepatches that Angelo decorated for them. Raph gets to borrow them whenever he wants and gets his own ones too, which makes him feel a little better about it all. And it helps bridge some of the gap between him and Mikey, because Raph asks Mikey to decorate them for him.

Overall, having Red around helps him adjust and helps with his self-esteem. Not to mention that he sees someone who's managed just fine with one eye for years, and it's a huge reassurance that his life's just changed, not over. The entirety of what happened in the Krang invasion was impossible for him to deal with on his own, he needed some kind of proof that he's going to grow up to be okay after all, and that's exactly what she can give him.

Leonardo has a habit of shooing Raph off to a spa day in the Hidden City, cause holy shit does this teenager need a break. Raph brings Red along! They keep snacking on those cucumber slices that are supposed to go on their faces but nobody's brave enough to tell Red what to do. Or not to do, as the case may be. She greatly enjoys floating around in the heated pool (and creating waves with her tail to surprise-drench Raph).

Red is like nine feet tall, she's the only one who can bear hug him and pick him up off his feet. He loves it so much and there are so many piggyback rides in his future. Even if he's gotta be a little careful not to get lightly stabbed with a shell spike. He does a few times, though, oops. Casey Sr nicknamed Red 'porcupine', that oughta explain it. Donnie and Tello figure out a battle shell for Red so it's safer and they have a great time.

When Red comes out about her gender, everyone is immediately 👀 at Raph because surely he's gonna feel the same way, right? They've already had this discussion with the purples about how Donnie's always been agender but used to be less fussy about pronouns and Tello didn't switch to they/them until their thirties.

Raph has not figured this gender thing out yet. He is in denial. Red finds this totally hilarious. She doesn't say anything in front of the others, cause she doesn't want to embarrass him in front of everyone they know, but they have a talk later where she's like, "Hey did you know that wishing you were a girl for literal years is a sign that you're not a guy?" It seems very obvious to Raph when she says it like that.

(Based on Donnie calling Raph 'Raphaela' that one time, and having to figure out his own Gender Fuckery, I hc that he was unaware that this was a surprise to Raph. Donnie also finds this totally hilarious.)

Also hc that Red's mystic armour got bigger along with her and Raph finds this extremely cool! He also feels completely safe when his big sister is there all armoured up to protect him, and it's not uncommon to catch him napping in armour-Red's lap like a cat. Red will hurt you if you wake him up, you've been warned.

Red will also put the fear of pizza supreme into anyone by full-naming them from across the state. She's taller than anyone else and learned how to project her voice like for stage theatre. Raph thinks this is the funniest thing imaginable and regularly gets her to yell Leo's name just to see him run for his life. Red has yet to yell at Raph and they all assume she never will. They do meow back and forth (Casey Jr spent longer than he will admit thinking that they had a cat infestation).

[puddlejumper38]

The Lost Metal notes

I like to keep notes while I'm reading Branderson books, mostly its just me yelling about things. With so many spoilers. Also its a long post and possibly not coherent...

I read the pre-released chapters, so this starts round abouts chapter 19. Again this is just all spoilers. -Trell = Autonomy was actually a spoiler I'd seen. But it makes sense what with Bleeder/Paalm/Lessie shouting about freedom every 5 sec - Return of Duralumin, fantastic: genuinely fantastic, not sarcasm. I like it, it fucks shit up in predictable but dramatic ways. BOOM super allomancy. - of course the evil guys have it, but oh well. - AHHHHHHHHHHH - Death himself !!! - It is MARSH :D - This is earlier than expected - Ah. - Of course Branderson has nerfed him. I knew it. I knew it. He's too powerful otherwise. GOd fucking damn it. - 'its difficult to compound with hemalurgy' says Marsh, compounding with hemalurgy. Well, he'd know I guess. - Listen. Branderson. If you kill Marsh for the third (3rd) time. We will have to have a talk. It won't be polite. - God fucking damn it part 2: we are now losing both Marsh AND VenDell in the same breath. Really? - (just give him atium sazed. hey sazed. give him the atium) - I have more comments but this is supposed to be for the Whole Book..... and I need room left in case Marsh comes back (joking, joking) - I'm fine. - (He still swears using the Lord Ruler's name. Marsh, I love you) - I feel like Moonlight might be Shai, but I'm not sure. I could be missing something really obvious. - I Sincerely hope that the 'three left of the crew' is SAZED, Kelsier and Marsh. I don't like Spook "lets kill the old people with Hemalurgy" Lestibournes. But he did live to be over 100. - Sazed is going to be Discord by the end of this book, isn't he? - To save the world. And everyone's pissed off with his inaction. - 'He will be Discord and they will love him' or similar from HoA has stuck with me. I am waiting. Sooooon. - Damn I forgot I did not like the Ghostbloods. They all have their noses in the air, and not in a fun way like VenDell - Its TenSoon!! Hello there!! - Yeah I figured the set were framing the Senators. - Okaaaay, that thing with the Bands is concerning. What Were They Used For? - Ah yes, Shai. - What was even the point of the Ghostbloods here. They didn't do anything. -Oh Wax just used Hemalurgy. I'm sure of it. Duralumin spike. Don't like that. -Yup. As much as I like Duralumin.... just. Hemalurgy. Y'know? Don't fucking spike yourself. I don't even like the earrings. - They Have Lerasium So Where Is The Atium? How Much Is A Small Amount Anyway? - I'm gearing up to get cranky. I'll put it on hold for now. - Alas, I did not like Wayne and don't care about this development. - I'm so glad Marasi didn't join the Ghostbloods. It suits her better. Its the secrets thing, and I'm glad that was her reason. - Well. At least Sazed said. Not like last time, when it was left a mystery like Branderson had forgotten to mention him. (I don't have to get cranky) - OH! He's baaack. - Hey Marsh what the fuck did that mean? - Hm. So why can he walk around in broad daylight and not get noticed? Would love to find out sometime. - Wax is a mistborn. Does this mean we'll see him again? That epilogue implied we won't. - And, finally, unfortunately Sazed is not Discord. Yet. I'm waiting....

[under1roof36]

Day 71: I'M BAAACK!

I’m back!!! I’m writing this entry from the private jet on our way to LA lol, this the welcome back I deserve lol. But really, it’s good to be back. I needed that time away to process and heal and although I’m not 100% over everything, I’m on the right path and in a much better state of mind in general. I also really missed Aaron and couldn’t stand being away from him for any longer so I needed to come back and finish this out by his side. But it’s so good to see (almost) everyone again. It’s definitiely bittersweet because as happy as I am being back, I still have a few things that I need to get off my chest. I have smoke with Wale after going home and reading his comments on the blog regarding the abortion. I thought he was a close friend but turns out he basically sees me as this horrible person for making the decision that I made, so I definitely plan on confronting that. And then the skank whore Aubrey who I’ve had issues with since the second she came onto this show. I have 0 regret for telling Morgan about Aubrey and Chris, and I also plan on telling her that as well. Words can’t describe how excited I am for this trip to Thailand but I just know these are the things that I need to address before really getting to enjoy myself.

Alyssa

[no-droids]

Be Brave

gif credit @spectroscopes​

Part Nineteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: SMUT, somnophilia helloOooo everyone I am BAAACK, oral sex, face sitting, cockwarming, domestic kink idk if that’s even a thing but it’s in here, mentions of death, canon typical violence, descriptions of hunting an animal, ends on a cliffhanger, this might actually be the longest most descriptive explicit smut I’ve ever written I was left alone for too long send help

A/N: 😏😏😏 hiya yoditos missed yall like hell, thanks for sticking with me in my 100+ day long era of broodiness I swear to god I’m gonna fuckin finish this story if it’s the last thing I do

***

Even after all that excitement and adventure, if there was ever one single moment with Din you’d want branded into your memory forever, it’s this one.

He’s asleep.  And no—not because he passed out quicker than you can snap your fingers and then awoke less than two or three hours later at most, not like he always does.  This time, he falls asleep, and then he stays asleep.

The baby is tucked away in his crib, shields closed and hidden inside the quietest part of the Crest, and you’ve been awake for at least an hour.  You, awake, and Din, asleep.  You could count the times this has happened on one hand, and in other circumstances, you might worry that he’s sick or something.  There were a lot of people in Nariss and he could’ve caught a bug, but then again, he wears a filter over his mouth pretty much all the time, so you wonder how often that actually happens.  No, his body temperature is normal when you lift the back of your hand and fold it along the bend of his neck as he breathes slowly—a few degrees warmer than you, but normal for him.

Is he just that tired?  You blink your eyelashes against the skin of his collarbone, staring at the red and green buttons illuminating through the darkness across from your fluffy, comfortable bed on the floor.  You’ve seen him come back bleeding and still not rest like this.  You thought you slept for a long time; it was one of those nights where you wake up multiple times, smile when you remember where you are and whose body is pressed tight to yours, before passing back out and thanking the Maker that you can continue to sleep.  After days of bells ringing every hour, a city with enormous crowds roaring, parades clanging, and fireworks booming, you’ve returned to the most blissful silence you could’ve ever dreamed.  Hyperspace, Din’s skin pressed against yours, and against all reason, waiting in the darkness for him to wake up.

Your cheek is squished against his chest and instead of holding you like normal, his limbs are completely splayed out on the floor spread eagle and… maybe you didn’t sleep a long time?  What’s more likely?  Your body being okay with operating on less than average naturally or Din finally letting himself relax for far longer than he usually does?  You don’t have a clock handy, but you feel well-rested.  Alert.  Maybe it’s a little of both?

Part of you is antsy to not be the only one awake—it’s so weird—but part of you also wants him to sleep as long as physically possible since he never fucking does it.  You wonder if this has always been in him.  If he was always able to mute his body’s natural need to be active, present and ready, or if this is somehow an unintentional change inspired by your cultivated love of the most basic things in life that most people take for granted.  Sleep in the cool, pitch blackness.  Water, freely used and consumed and enjoyed, not hoarded and traded like precious jewels.  Real food, not… dehydrated chalk bought in the barren markets under a blazing hot sun.  It had enough nutrients and fed you well enough, but caf was once a luxury to you, and fruit was, too.  For him, you think they still are to an extent—necessities are luxuries, but what about luxurious necessities?  Long hot showers, mouthwateringly delicious food, sleeping in… those are completely foreign to him unless you give him a real shove, and this time, you think he made the leap all by himself.

His skin is soft under your cheek though, no matter how harsh of a life he’s lived.  You’re suddenly struck with the realization that he’s experienced this multiple times with you, this is what it’s like.  Tangled in sheets, hearing him breathe slowly while you hold onto him and stare into the darkness, wide awake.  His body is so warm; you fit perfectly next to him and you’d stay here forever if you could.

Except… you’re a bit bored.  Not bored enough to move, obviously, but enough to wish he was awake and interacting.  You must be terrible company if this is how he typically spends his downtime in the mornings, just waiting for you to wake up, and every gentle breath he takes is another moment you consider a way to entertain yourself.

Well.  What does he typically do to entertain himself when you’re asleep?

But then your brain instantly short circuits like it shocked itself with your own train of thought.

Maker.  Your chin lifts slightly and your fingers twitch against his chest out of surprise alone, immediately tense just remembering all the gloriously naughty details.  It’s been around a year and a half since you first met Din, and you think the best mornings you’ve ever had all started out the same exact way.  There’s nothing like blinking your eyes open out of a deep slumber and suddenly realizing that you’re a breath away from an orgasm.  It’s like your mind barely has a second to register the warm tongue slowly moving between your legs before you’re locking down and—

Whew.  No, no you don’t have the audacity to do that, that takes serious fucking backbone, and it’s unsurprising to you that Din established it early on as something he loves doing.  He’s brazen and likes what he likes, no shame.  Courageous enough that part of you thinks he doesn’t even know what the word actually means.  It’s nothing at all to him, and proves to be the greatest challenge in the universe for you.

Oh, but then the longer you think about it, the more appealing the idea becomes.  His body laying out completely naked and relaxed under you, lost in his dreams while you pleasure him.  Could you make it as good as he does?  Could you make it so soft and hot and generous that he doesn’t wake up until the very last second, and by then it’s too late to stop?  It sends a small shiver down your spine.  The first time you gave him a blowjob, Din barely allowed it and complained about wanting to fuck you the entire time.  The next time you were able to do it, it was in public and again, he only just allowed it.  He was still as a statue and tolerated the pleasure you gave him, endured the smooth glide and heat of your mouth, only grabbed you once to make sure you didn’t pull off of him right when he was about to cum so you didn’t make a mess.

This time, if you can manage to make it as sinfully good as he always does, then you’ll finally be able to get him to experience the luxurious things he deserves.  Without complaining about the actions he wants to take instead, without holding tense and on edge the entire time.  Heat ripples through you, deciding that he’s going to enjoy this.  Maybe he’ll start sleeping in more, who knows?

Just testing your luck, you carefully lift your head from Din’s chest, making sure his breathing doesn’t change, and press a whisper-soft kiss to his shoulder.

No response from him.  Is he a light sleeper?  You don’t even know, that’s how often you’re in this scenario.  Will he make a sudden movement when he finally rouses, will his breathing change?  It suddenly occurs to you he could actually be fully awake right now and you wouldn’t have any idea unless he decides to make some indication, but you suppose that thrill could be part of the appeal for him when he does this to you.

Your mouth slowly opens and you let the warmth of your tongue barely brush against his skin.  Still, nothing at all from him.  Completely comatose, the gentle rise and fall of his chest is your only indicator he’s not actually dead right now.

Carefully, you extract yourself from his side in the soft nest of blankets so that your skin isn’t touching his anymore.  It’s a process, but you stay patient and slow.  You don’t use your hands, their only purpose is to prop yourself up, allow you to hover over him without making any physical contact.  All you want him to feel in his dreams is your mouth, soft lips and warm tongue worshipping him, and you’re exceedingly cautious with your movements in order to make that happen.

With every kiss you press to his skin, you think about how much you adore him.  Every slow lick along the curve of his muscles is a thought, a hope for him, a brand of your love on his body.  In response, Din’s breathing almost seems to go even slower under you, melting into the soft blankets.  He isn’t excited by your gentle caresses, not any more than someone would be excited to be home.  Instead, it speaks to peace.  Bone-deep tranquility in the quiet, never more relaxed than he is when the Crest is moving safely through hyperspace, he’s wearing no armor, his son is sleeping peacefully, and you’re resting in the silent darkness next to him.

You make your way downwards, taking all the time in the world with it.  The sheets cover his naked waist and you’re careful about lifting them, even more careful in slipping your body underneath.  Your tongue trails gently down the ridge of Din’s hip, your lips brush the very top of his thigh.  Even in the pitch black, you can tell his cock is already beginning to find more of a shape in response to your mouth.  Your lips are barely a feather against him, never lingering in one place too long, making sure to keep your touches teasing and perfectly elusive.  He’ll never be able to predict you in his dreams, you’re gone before his slumbering thoughts can manage to figure it out.

The whole time, you move closer and closer to the object of your desire.  When you can’t hold off any longer, you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock, opening your mouth to flutter your tongue under the curved flesh.

Din’s thigh barely twitches in his sleep, and you feel him continue to grow thicker.  He’s so soft here, his skin is like silk, and for a long moment, you just use your breath to warm him.  You slowly drag your parted lips down the length of him, a mere ghost of a touch, and it seems counterintuitive how quickly he’s getting hard for almost nothing at all.  When you reach the base, your tongue peeks out to trail a thin little line all the way back up, and you do that at least twice more.  Barely there, barely anything, but he continues to swell nonetheless under your whispering touches and it’s filling your body with all sorts of debased desires.

Whenever you thought about Din doing this to you before, it was always blush-inducing, something that warmed your cheeks and made you smile bashfully.  A kink your future husband has, nothing more and certainly not anything less.  Now, while you’re experiencing it from the other side, the intimacy is making you incredibly hot and achy between your legs.  Imagining him being as careful with you as you’re being with him, picturing him under the blankets just like this but carefully dipping his tongue into your slit instead, pressing slow kisses to your clit and listening for your breathing to shift.  He’s almost always up front and full speed ahead when you’re there to react to him, and it somehow only strikes you right now that he can be extraordinarily patient and attentive when he wants to be.

After a few more open-mouthed kisses along his deliciously hard length, you pull back to press another soft kiss to the tip—but this time his cock jumps against your lips so hard that you feel it graze your front teeth for a second, and you freeze.

No teeth.  No teeth.  You don’t even want something as firm and tactile as your hands to touch him, and teeth are even more likely to rouse him.  Even though Din has given you plenty of indication to say that he likes a little discomfort with his comfort—he likes jerking off dry, he likes biting, leaving marks and fucking you so good that you can’t stand afterwards—you want it to be all comfort.  You want to give him the luxuries he doesn’t think he deserves and you’ll wait an eternity to get that to happen.

He doesn’t move or react in response to your slip up, and his breathing doesn’t change.  Regardless, you know it’s only becoming more likely as time goes on, so you find the spot you know he likes the most, on the underside just under the head of his cock.  Your mouth stays there, your tongue bathing it gently while your lips find a home along the silky hot curve of his tip.  And then you just keep doing that without ever moving, stopping, speeding up or slowing down.  You do it until he’s swollen and dribbling precum, throbbing and aching for release.  You do it until you feel his muscles start fidgeting, his balls pulling up tight to prepare for it.  Still, you never rush.  You’re as patient as a saint while you pleasure him, but it doesn’t really take that long at all.

When you’re sure he’s inches away from it, you lift up just enough to slide your tongue underneath the head of his cock and ease it into your mouth.

That’s where he leaks now.  Your tongue fits along the curve of him, slowly massaging him with every soft corner of your mouth, and then Din’s breathing finally changes—finally, you hear the rhythmic, lulling inhales and exhales stutter awake.

“Sw—?”  Comes his groggy voice, but then he chokes open-mouthed and shocked as he immediately starts cumming, hard and unexpected and first thing in the morning on your tongue.

Your moan feels good when you finally let it out, a soft noise of relief after holding it in for so long, but Din…  Stars, it’s like he’s still figuring out where he is, and it’s likely the reason he just shakes instead of thrashes somehow, his fingers just clench instead of doing something brash like usual—grabbing you fiercely or slamming his hand against the floor with it.  This time he just shudders and his hips flex up into your mouth, so shocked that it all just comes out through his throat while yours is being filled.  The gasp he takes is pure heat ripping through you—raw, harsh, desperate.  Caught against such soft sheets, helpless and confused with the lingering darkness of sleep.

“Fuuuuuck,” Din groans, long and loud and dragging across broken glass just to get to your ears.  His hands fumble as they blindly reach for you but you’re hidden under the blankets, so all he can do is just twitch and pant brokenly and croak your name while he finishes unloading in your hot mouth.

When he finally stops and you hear his moan turn into a quiet whimper, you settle your head down on his stomach, content to hold him there on your tongue for a little while while he catches his breath.  Din sounds like he just ran a marathon not even thirty seconds after waking up, and you flutter your eyes closed and hum in contentment, settling down to get comfortable.  Even though his muscles are still spasming in the comedown and not providing a stable surface to truly rest on, it’s so much more relaxing than when you did this in the shooting range on Tatooine and you plan on doing it until he tells you that’s enough.

Din stops allowing it so much sooner than you hoped, though.  Maybe it’s because you just couldn’t help yourself and started gently sucking on him the second he stopped trembling.  Whatever the reason, the blanket is suddenly ripped off and your elbow is caught in the darkness.  You don’t want to, but you finally let his soft cock fall out of the heat of your mouth and he doesn’t even allow you to kiss it one last time before you’re being hauled upwards.

Without a word, he flips you on your back and then just flattens himself down on top of you, burying his face into your neck and sighing.

You reach to gently scrape your nails across his back, smiling unseeingly up at the pitch black ceiling when he shudders and lets out a muffled mmf against your skin in appreciation.  Din’s shoulders dwarf you and you take your time dragging your fingernails across the vast spread of them, the subtle dip that leads to his nape.  Nails slowly raking through his curls now, flexing your hand wide to ride the curve of his scalp, pressing your fingers in and working at that tension you know lives there.  This is where the padding of his helmet digs in the most and weighs heaviest; you know, if only because you’ve worn it yourself, it’s right behind his ears and down just a bit—

—there, Din melts fully into you, breathing deep and slow while you touch him, letting your other hand drag up and down his back.  He’s so big and muscular and heavy but you love being squished by him, especially knowing his intense lack of energy and inability to move is specifically because of you.

“Morning,” he finally mumbles into your neck, and you just giggle happily, albeit shallowly and with little support.  It’d be easier to breathe if he just moved off your chest a bit and you’re trying to conserve air at the moment, but you think Din is still so drunk off that orgasm that he takes a few more seconds before realizing.

When he finally eases himself downwards to free your ribcage from his weight, oxygen seeps back into your lungs and it’s good enough.  He’s still all bulk piled on you, sandwiching everything below your stomach between him and the ground, but you can breathe now and he’s at the perfect height to drop his head down to your chest.

Din’s mouth lazily drags down to one of your nipples, and his lips close around it with a low noise.  Oddly enough, it’s so nice that it feels more domestic than overtly sexual.  You relax back down into the blankets and play with his hair while he plays with you, arching your chest to his mouth and humming softly.

“You slept for a really long time,” you whisper down at him, and there’s warmth in your voice that’s never been there for anything else before.  You don’t know what you’d call it, but it carries the endless sunshine you grew up in, the nourishment of the precious water you used to farm for.  “Are you feeling okay?”

Din’s bassy moan rumbles out in deep satisfaction, and he moves to lick one long, slow line between your breasts.  “Mmm,” he breathes against your skin.  “Never better.”

The rough timbre and vehemence in his tone sends a small shiver down your spine, and you shift your shoulders a bit to offer him your other nipple.  He quickly takes it into his mouth, and his soft curls spring while you comb your fingers through them, his fingers dig into your hips when your nails gently scratch his scalp.  It’s blissful.  You’re filled with a deep, aching love for him once more, and your soul is plagued with a generosity for him so bright and brilliant that it’s almost a compulsion inside you.

You want to lock him in the fresher for a good half an hour and force him to take a long, steaming hot shower, and then you want to make him breakfast.

You can’t even fucking cook.  You likely could if you learned, but there’s no kitchen in this ship, and Din would probably break down the door in the shower if you had the audacity to try and barricade him in there.  No, you think you’re just feeling that mushy and doting right now.  He’s such a capable man in every single circumstance, and the fact that he’s allowing you to take care of him is as addicting as it is intoxicating.  You long to give him nice things, feed him and touch him and fill his life with the softest, sweetest pleasures.

You’re completely lost in domestic fantasies, but when Din’s teeth gently close around your nipple and his tongue flicks it at the same time as if to get your attention—then it becomes sexual.

“Settle down,” you breathe out, dragging your palms along his shoulders and beginning to knead the tight muscles there.  Does his back hurt after laying on it like that all night?  You can give him a massage, your hands are so much stronger than they used to be—

“I want to fuck you,” he immediately lifts his mouth to fall back into an all too familiar exchange with you, but the way he’s panting against your skin lessens the threat and it’s more heartwarming than anything else.  “But you already made me cum.”

But Din’s mouth and your arousal is another familiar exchange, and when he goes back to using his tongue and teeth in different ways while laying between your legs, your breathing starts to come a little heavier.  You start to wiggle a bit, fidget and move under him but it’s like his body has welded you to the floor.

“I want to make you food.”  The urge is so strong that you at least need to manifest it out loud before you get too distracted to remember.  “Are you hungry?  What sounds good?”

“Mmm,” Din rumbles once more, and that’s all the warning or answer you get before his arms suddenly tighten to steel and he flips you over on top of him.  There’s a tiny squeak from you while you flail and try to catch yourself in the pitch blackness at the abrupt change in position, and then you’re caught by his arms hooking under your thighs and shoving you upwards.

“Din—?”  You scramble to hold on, not wanting to plant face-first into the metal ground but not really registering where exactly it is in the darkness, either.

“What sounds good?”  He repeats under you, continuing to lead you up along the length of his body.  At one point you feel his shoulders shuffle downwards between your spread knees, and you think that’s the moment it finally registers for you.

Air rushes from your lungs in understanding, suddenly feeling his chin brush against your hip and warm breath fan against your pussy.  You can barely speak right.  “Wait, you w-want me to…?”

“Sit on my face,” he finishes low in his throat for you, finding your wrists in the darkness and tugging them down until you feel his soft locks brushing along your palms.  His large hands close around your fingers and push your knuckles into fists, encouraging you to grab a handful of his hair.  “Use it.  Make yourself cum.”  Din’s head turns to give your thigh a soft kiss, and the massive shudder down your spine makes your whole body erupt in goosebumps.  “It’s yours.”

Fuck, he barely said a handful of words and you’re already soaking wet for him.  Warm hands soothe along the backs of your spread thighs and you don’t realize how tight you’re holding yourself until his fingers dig in and start working at those flexed muscles.  His breath is a hot whisper against your skin, as gentle and elusive as your mouth was on him earlier.  Din’s powerful hands keep massaging your legs and hips and ass, pressing kisses to your twitchy muscles and getting closer to where you want him most.

You think your body doesn’t know whether to tense or relax the second you feel his tongue dip between your folds.  His chin either lifts up or your hips sit down a little more, you can’t really tell because it’s pitch black and all you can concentrate on is him brushing your clit in soft, gentle strokes of his tongue.  A low moan rumbling between your legs gives you even more shivers, and you start combing your fingers through his hair while Din trails his up and down your legs.

“Fuck,” you whisper, subconsciously leaning into his mouth with how much you want it.  The position you’re in feels too dominant to match how needy your voice sounds, but you don’t want to move because then he might stop and you can’t let that happen.  His tongue feels perfect, tracing smooth and practiced arches over top of your clit just the way you like.  It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you feel the beginning of an orgasm start to simmer deep inside you.

But then, as soon as you register the familiar chaotic swirl building down low and your breath catches, it’s like he just… tapers off.

Gradually, Din’s tongue stops being so dexterous.  At first you think you’re just imagining it, imagining that release creep further away the closer you get to it, but no—you let out a pitiful little whine when you realize that he’s moving incredibly slow on purpose.  Still drawing circles around your clit, but then at one point he starts avoiding it.  Instead, he drags his tongue down until it presses along the slope leading to your entrance, and you’re left trembling and confused by the lack of stimulation.

What is he doing?  Is he trying to edge you?  His mouth isn’t tired yet, you know from experience how long it takes until that happens, but he’s slacking.  Lazing under you, barely moving his tongue at all at this point.  You bite your lip, trying not to get frustrated with him.

“Din, please,” you pant instead, begging for that last something that’ll bring you over the edge.  Your body is rigid over him and your fingers flex repeatedly against his scalp without pulling any hair, gentle but tight with tension and so close to it that you whine.  “Please, I want to cum—”

His hand leaves your skin for a second, and then he brings it back to give you ass a loud smack.  You gasp and jerk forward, snapped out of your frantic climb and accidentally tugging his hair when he turns his head against your thigh.

“Use it,” Din growls, and then teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You wince at the unexpected pain and your fingers pull on his hair, but his teeth stay clamped around the sensitive skin and you have to yank to get him to stop.  Fuck, you know that’s gonna bruise, and for just a split second, you feel a spark of anger at him for treating you so carelessly after how gentle and sweet you were with him.  Any marks of his you wear are usually left in the throes of ecstasy, but this just feels provoking and harsh and intentional.  Wanting to stir you up and find the fighter inside you by being just this side of mean, like he did when you first learned how to throw a punch on Naboo.  Refusing to accept your timidness or inaction any longer—if he knows it’s in you, then he’ll force you to be brave.

Your fingers yank on his hair again to pull him into position and Din’s encouraging groan is cut off by your hips dropping down on his mouth.  When he deliberately doesn’t give you his tongue, flames begin to lick at your skin in the absence of his touch.  Not only is he forcing you to do it yourself, he’s also going to make you say it out loud yourself, and a thrill skitters throughout your entire body.

“Open your mouth,” you breathe, heart pounding at the sudden power rush, and everything inside you turns molten hot when Din’s jaw slowly opens and his tongue obediently slides deep into your slit in response.

You lift your hips up and move back until just the tip of it rests against your clit, and then you slowly ease forward and drag your pussy all the way up the length of his tongue.

Din groans again while you lift up and move back once more, doing the exact same thing over again, and then again.  The movement becomes more fluid the more you do it, the pleasure starting to blur into a pure fiery sensation every time you rock your clit along his tongue.  Callused fingers dig into your ass and help you, your hands release his hair so you can plant them above his head and start fucking down into his mouth.  Your body is a rolling tide gradually beginning to rise, breathing speeding up and pleasure mounting until everything finally boils over and you cum just like that, on your knees and the heat of your cunt rocking against his face.

Eventually, the aftershocks die down just enough to feel his arms slide up to hook around your thighs, keeping you steady and held in a firm grip that you’re immediately thankful for.  Your energy is drained and your spine slouches while you recover, panting and buzzing in a post orgasm bliss.

But then of course, Din decides to use that of all moments to start moving his tongue.

Your chin snaps upwards in the darkness and everything in you seizes, but you’re clutched in a devastating grip that keeps you anchored right there to the floor.  His arms are steel iron shackles wrapped around your hips and a tongue that has gotten way too good at learning what you like for you to even keep up.  That firm, perfect rhythm right over your clit, giving you everything you begged for earlier but at the most overwhelming of moments.  No matter how you try to scramble away from the shocks of oversensitivity, he’s able to yank your hips back to sit down exactly where he wants you.

You choke out his name and Din keeps you held there so tightly that your weight is actually shifted backwards at one point, forcing you to reach both hands back and plant them against the floor behind you so you don’t bend wrong.  Your head drops back and your mouth opens silently at the ceiling, expression clenched and lungs gasping while you endure.  He doesn’t let up and you think you must acclimate at some point, because there’s just a split second of warning you get where lightning sparks in your floor muscles and then comes the crash.

Your body contracts so wildly with your second orgasm that you fling forwards and barely catch yourself at the last moment, shaking and moaning through the onslaught.  You nearly rip the blankets under your fists, that’s how hard he makes you cum.  It was good when you were in charge of taking your own pleasure but he’s just shamed you, it’s fucking blinding when he’s in control.  Your shoulder just barely muffles your sob of ecstasy and it takes so much out of you that you’re dead weight on top of him afterwards, not able to move a single muscle.

Somehow, you find yourself tucked against his side once more with your head laying against his chest, just like when you first woke up this morning, and you’re as comfortable as you are confused.  How did you get here?  You don’t really remember Din easing your body down next to him and then scooping one arm around you into this position, but when you squeeze your legs together, your pussy is still throbbing and you’re wet with his mouth.  He holds you silently, and you both bask in the endorphins for a few moments while you catch your breath.

You’re still slightly dazed, but your body feels so fucking good and pleased that you blurt it out without thinking.  “When can I look at you, Din?”

You think he’s just as surprised as you are by the unexpected… helplessness in the way you say it.  Phrasing it like that in a strangely powerless tone, as if he’s the one standing in your way and preventing it.

“Why does it sound like you’re whining?”  He turns his head to ask you flat out, and even though there’s no malice behind his words, they’re so blunt and forthright that you immediately bury your face in his neck to snort an embarrassed laugh in agreement.  It did sound like that and you’re really not proud.

“You’re right,” you admit, feeling his palm beginning to drift up and down your back.  It immediately relaxes you and soothes every worry or anxiety.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“I already told you before.”  His voice suddenly sounds deeper.  Not the pitch necessarily, but the actual depth of it.  Almost contemplative, in a sense.  Saying it to you as if he’s now just a little further away than he physically feels while holding you.  “Look whenever you want.”

You know this.  What you don’t know is if your lingering inability to decide on a moment is a testament to your natural aversion to taking charge in important situations or if it’s just because of his tone whenever he talks to you about it.  There’s a sudden quietness that his voice tends to take on, a reserved silence that sits deeper than his normal preference for not speaking that makes you wonder if you still don’t know some very crucial detail he isn’t sharing.  He said Mandalorians look at each other when they agree to spend the rest of their lives together, but is that it?  If so, you can’t imagine life would change all that much beyond being able to look him in the eyes whenever you’re alone with him.  You’d still be here on the ship to raise the kid while he hunts for quarries, you’d still spend blissful nights wrapped in his arms, the only thing that would be different is that you could have the lights on.  You could take his helmet off every single time he comes back from a hunt and give him a long, soft kiss in the privacy of the hull, fluorescents bright and blaring along the bone structure you only know by touch.

You’re quiet for a while, but Din’s voice comes through the darkness when it’s clear you don’t know what to say.

“Do you need to…”  You don’t have any fucking clue what he’s trying to ask, but the quiet unsure way he says it is endearing all on its own.  “Do you have anybody you… need to tell first?”

It immediately strikes you as odd—when he found you on Arvala-7, you didn’t need to say any goodbyes before hightailing it off that barren wasteland and you don’t ever remember him once mentioning the complete lack of people you told.  Why would he ask that, you wonder?  But then, you suddenly realize he’s likely only saying that because he’s just as clueless as you are about what you seem to be waiting for.

“Are you asking me if I have a family, Din?”  You tilt your chin up to kiss him slowly, even though your lips want to pull into a smile at the sentiment.  “A mother you need to impress?  A father you need to ask for permission?”

His head drops against the blanketed floor with an already overwhelmed thump and groan.  “If they exist, they’re going to despise me.”

And you allow yourself to consider it for just a single second, not trying to hide your blinding grin in the darkness.  What a disaster that would be—a story all its own, watching him introduce himself to your parents with a gruff silence and awkward stance.  He’s only charming to you, it’s a fact you’re well aware of every single time you’ve seen him interact with anyone else.  Karga, Peli—he’s… abrasive and stoic with them, short and the furthest thing from sweet.  You can’t even imagine what it would look like if he actually cared about anyone else’s approval, much less tried to gain it.

Still, you can’t help but tease him.  “Despise you?  What makes you say that?”

“Because I took their little girl away from them,” Din purrs in response, riding his hand down the curve of your hip without moving his head off the floor.  “And I do terrible things to her in the dark.”

Shit, if he keeps talking like that, terrible things will be the only things you do in the dark, and you know neither one of you is physically prepared to go again.  Instead, you smile and admit the truth.

“They don’t exist,” you tell him, dragging a finger along his chest as it moves.  “Not anymore.  I’m all yours to steal away, no one will challenge your honor.”

Din shifts slightly, just enough to imply he’s lifting an arm back to prop his head up and look at you.

“Kuiil was all you had?”  He whispers after a moment, reaching a careful hand forward to play with your hair.

“Pretty much,” you whisper back, resting your chin on his chest.  This isn’t something you necessarily enjoy talking about, but when he’s the one asking, you suppose it’s easy to share.  “Some neighbors here or there that I took turns staying with, but Kuiil… taught me everything I know.  Helped raise me, and then let me hang around and bother him after I was old enough to be on my own.  It took a village, but he was always my favorite.”

“Is that why you’re so good with electronics?”  Din asks thoughtfully, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb.  “I never knew that much about him, except that he was a great mechanic, and a… selfless man.  A good person.  I really liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, more wistful at his memory than sad.  Din doesn’t like a vast majority of people, but if anyone deserves the mantle, it should be Kuiil.  “Big scary Mandalorian in the middle of the desert with fifty guns strapped to him, Kuiil still probably would’ve given you the shirt off his back if you said you could use it.  He helped me keep the farm going after my parents died.  I think… he was my best friend.”

It’s a few moments before Din speaks, but when he does, his voice is barely there.  Hidden in the darkness almost as much as his face is, but informing you of everything you need to know just by his tone.  “My parents died, too.”

Your heart automatically goes out to him, even though it’s currently pressed tight against his without any fabric obstructing it.  Din doesn’t sound particularly sad, but maybe… resigned, and you can relate to the feeling.  It must’ve happened so long ago that it’s just a fact at this point, nothing particularly painful or groundbreaking, not anymore.

Your voice is soft with understanding.  “And then you were raised by the Mandalorians?”

He nods an affirmative in the pitch black, but you can only tell through the way his muscles subtly move under you.

“Did you ever have a family with them?”  You ask, not wanting to press too hard on painful memories but also not wanting him to think you’re disinterested in hearing about his past.  He almost never shares it, you need to tread lightly whenever he decides to.  “A clan you joined before creating your own?”

“No,” he answers calmly, but there’s something gentle and somber in his tone that you’ve never heard before.  Lost in his memories.  “I was too old for that when they found me, I was sent to the militia for training the first week I was there.”

Well that… doesn’t sound good.  They sent an orphan to train with an army a week after his family died?  Even if he was a teenager or young adult at the time, far older than your measly eight years when you lost your parents, that’s just… unfathomably cruel.

And then all of a sudden, things start clicking into place even without having any further details.  Just knowing that simple, two sentence fact about him explains so fucking much, it’s insane.  The preference for solitude, the militaristic attitude and gruff exterior, the sandpaper grit he approaches his entire life with, it makes so much sense now.  If you had no generous neighbors or community to rely on when things fell apart, you’d probably be hardened to stone, too.

Instead, you’re… tenderhearted.  Where he’s fearless and quiet and rough around the edges, you’re curious and dreamy and emotionally empathetic.  How easily could the roles have been reversed given the circumstances, you wonder?  Could you have ever survived an existence like his before you met him?  Something tells you that you’d probably die first, left behind somewhere or taken by your loneliness.  You hated your childhood—you still can’t think about that horrid, lonely desert without shuddering, but… you suppose there are far worse things to endure in life than how you were forced to survive, and the man holding very still underneath you waiting for your response is testament enough to that.

“A clan of foundlings, then,” you muse softly, settling the conversation there.  He’s shared more than enough, more than you’d ever have the tenacity to ask.

“This is The Way,” Din murmurs quietly at the ceiling in response, and it might be another half hour or so just like that before you both finally drag yourselves out of bed.  You should be arriving at your destination soon to retrieve the fifth quarry, and neither of you have forgotten about the deal you both made before you spent a week outrunning him. 

***

For as much keeping secrets has always been somewhat of a precedent for Din, you’re starting to realize he’s really not all that great at it.

Or maybe you’re just getting lightyears better at reading him, feeling the subtle shifts in his energy and figuring out exactly what he’s thinking just by listening to his footsteps pace around behind you.  Your clothing is being balled up and thrown into a spare bag, he’s accumulating all measley credits he can find stashed around the hull and throwing them in there too, and you’re standing still in the middle of the hull while he can’t stop moving.  Crossing in front of you, behind you, finding things to add to the bag that he’d never take for just himself.  Extra rations, extra supplies—he even walks over and yanks open the emergency kit, rummaging around and grabbing an E-bacta shot.  Though, he wavers slightly on it, looking down at the syringe balanced in his glove for a bit longer than necessary before adding it to the stash.

You know exactly what’s going through his head, it’s almost entertaining.  Almost, being the key word.  If you weren’t feeling so empathetic, you might find the constant restlessness a bit disconcerting, but as it is… your heart is very warm and heavy in a strange way.  Part of the reason you haven’t said anything is because you’re wondering if he’s actually going to follow through here, or if he’s going to say something to you.  Is he going to speak up?

From the tightness in his shoulders and the low angle of his helmet as he walks, you’re guessing not.

“Hey,” you finally murmur, giving him a soft smile while you cuddle the kid a little closer to your chest.  “I know.  It’s alright.”

“Know what?”  He asks distractedly, walking over to the armory and opening it.  He begins strapping extra ammunition to his body—knives, vibroblades, bullets, fitting guns in places you never even considered before, and it’s endearing enough to make you smile softly.

“I know you’re trying to figure out if you should tell me the truth or not,” you respond, shrugging a shoulder and looking down at your feet when he slows to a stop.

“The truth about what?”  Din asks, cautious and slow.

“That you found me way before midnight that last day on Sanctuary II,” you say as you study the floor, your voice coming out melodic and sweet and maybe just the smallest bit sad.  “Days before then, probably, but you let me have an adventure when you didn’t have to.  You really don’t want us coming with you to grab this quarry, but you also don’t want to tell me I lost.  It’s alright.  I know.”

Though… you’d still love to go with him.  You’ve been studying the quarry’s identity whenever you can, memorizing his face and name and the vague background the Guild has on him.  Oshua Ryler, twenty year old human male, missing for two months, no criminal record, last seen on Anoth.  The puck was commissioned by his twin sister Thia, ten thousand credit reward if found alive, zero if brought back dead.

It’s a complete shot in the dark for a very small return, but you were so excited about being useful that you had absorbed every bit of information you could about him.  Din never said a damn thing to you about it, his voice sounded light and unbothered whenever he addressed you and at first, you thought he wasn’t unhappy to have the company.

But then you caught sight of his hunched shoulders and his worried pacing.  The rigid movements and the way his hands never stopped fidgeting.  Always moving, sleeping and eating less the closer you got to Anoth, not speaking the amount you normally inspire in him.

If that didn’t make you go all gooey and soft with understanding, then the way he was clearly trying to hide it from you sure did.  He’d only stand there and look visibly conflicted when you weren’t paying attention, he’d only allow his composure to slip whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

Even now, when you finally glance up at him, Din is holding very still like he’s just a big metal canteen filled with uncertainty.  It melts you instantly, makes you fold without even looking to see if you have a winning hand.  He knows how much it means to you that you’re not stuck in one spot for days on end again.  And… you also know much it means to him that you and his son stay here, far away from the danger that seems to follow him around like the cape clipped to his shoulders.

“Be safe,” you finally lift your chin to tell him, showing him your most heartfelt smile.  “I’ll be here when you get back.”

And then he’s instantly rushing forward and crowding you, pressing his body up against yours and squeezing you tight.  You nearly stumble backwards at the unexpected ambush and have just enough sense to save the baby at the very last second from being squished.

“Thank you,” he whispers next to your ear and stars, you have never been crushed like this.  Not emotionally—literally, physically, you think your back actually pops under the strain of his arms and you can’t decide if you need to get away to prevent your spine breaking or if it’s the greatest feeling in the universe.

When you’re finally released from the death grip, it takes you a moment to recover and you do so with gentle gloves cupping your jaw, a beskar helmet lingering so close to your face that you’re sure he’s behind the visor looking at you like you painted the sky.  Hell, you probably would’ve conceded a long time ago if you knew this was the kind of relief that would flood through his soul—it’s palpable, you can feel it roll through him under the armor.  You can’t help but feel a little disappointed for choosing to stay behind like normal, but without you and the kid tagging along, he’ll probably be much quicker and more efficient with grabbing this throwaway puck.

Still.  You point to the e-comm strapped to his wrist, and the matching one on yours.  “Midnight check-in?”

His thumbs brush the line of your cheekbones as if you're made of glass, transparent and fragile and cherished after being completely compacted and crumpled with gratitude.  “If I can.”

That’s the best you’re going to get, and right now, you think you’re so dumb in love with this man that it’s more than enough for your dreamy little heart.

***

“Well, little goblin!”  It’s done.  It’s finally done, after months of work, and you’re proud enough to fucking beam.  “How do I look?”

It’s been barely a few hours since Din left, and you spin around and lift your arms like a ship, glancing down at your figure with glee.  Din’s old armor lays against you like it was created for you specifically, but that’s just a manifestation of your attention to detail.  You slaved over this in all your free time not spent sparring or practicing your shots—dissolving all the paint and rust, reshaping the metal with Peli��s forge, rewiring the magnetics box to make sure it would stick to the underplates without falling off—and now it’s fucking perfect.  It’s missing gloves and boots and one of the pauldrons for your shoulders, and of course, a helmet obviously, but a chest piece and two thigh braces and one pauldron actually looks kinda fucking cool.  Less invasive, less heavy, arguably more feminine.  Even though you’ve got nothing besides your dark, drab clothing underneath it, you still think you look… badass.

Badass.

Two gigantic black eyes blink thoughtfully at you, causing you to frown at the lack of immediate happiness from him.  Come on, is nobody thrilled to see your character growth?  Din was silently torn up by your childlike drive to adventure and the kid is now apparently unimpressed by the productivity you’ve engaged with during the waiting periods, so what gives?  Are you missing something?  Are you the problem?

No, of course not.  It’s like this metal strapped to your body refuses to let you think that way any longer.  You’re not the problem, but you can be, it whispers to you.

Though, while you’re peacocking around in front of the ship in the new digs and hyping yourself up, the baby just spins around and walks away from you.

“Hey, where are you going?”  You call out to his tiny little back, popping your hands on your hips.  When you don’t get a gurgled response, you sigh and follow him back up the ramp, clanking.  Clanking, you’re making that sound.  You like to imagine that this is almost how pretty ladies in big cities feel when they wear high heels for the first time and get to listen to the clack.  Ooh, it’s powerful, a reminder of your upgraded wardrobe every step you take, and you fucking love it.

You get why Din never wanted to take his off.  When the armor is comfortable and fits your body, it feels… right.  Correct.  Meant to be.  An extension of yourself that you could almost forget about if it wasn’t weighing you down.  It’s safe and concealing, protecting your body in a way that makes you want to keep it on if only for peace of mind, regardless of external threats.

Eventually, you find the kid next to the bed, hauling your backpack out from the corner of the hull.  It’s three times his size and four times his weight, but he continues heave-hoing across the floor until it’s far enough away from the wall to open the contents.

“What’s up, bug?”  You ask, plopping down next to him with a rattling clink clank clonk.  You can get used to this, holy shit.  “You hungry?  No fresh meat in there, sorry to disappoint.  We can go look for something outside?”

You make a gesture of putting your hand to your open mouth a few times and then touch your tummy, something you’ve started doing to signify the word food to him.  The kid ignores you completely, but he also seems stumped at the concept of a zipper, so you open it for him and watch him dig around in an attempt to satisfy both of your curiosities.  Soon, two little green three-fingered hands tug out a light piece of fabric.  He drags it over to you and pushes the clothing into your lap, and you study it with raised eyebrows.  Your robe from the festival in Nariss?  This is what he wants?

“Do you want me to wear this?”  You ask out loud, considering.  It’s got two pieces, the hooded tunic and the pants, and it might go well with the armor.  The robe was literally made from scratch for you but you never really considered putting it on again, thinking of it more as a costume full of good memories than an everyday wear kinda thing, but it might be a good idea just to see.

A few minutes later, and, well.  This kid is a fucking genius.  For donning a drab brown sack around his body at all times, he makes one hell of a stylist.

You look… like you finally belong at Din’s side, almost.  His equal—wait, no, pfft, definitely not equal, but a counterpart of sorts.  A sidekick?  Are you giving off sidekick vibes, is that what this is?  The opalescent fabric shielding your body has no bloodstains or wear and tear the way his clothing does, the armor laying on top of it has no char marks or dents from enemy blasters, but you look like you’re at least in the right place now.  An untried soldier, perhaps, or one that’s been sheltered and never had to pay any real dues.

Since you’re already in this deep, you figure you might as well complete the package.  There’s an extra holster you find in the Crest’s armory and an ammo belt that slings across your chest.  It’s a bit big on you and the fancy gas canisters for your blaster weigh it down more than the regular ones Din uses, but it works.  From what you can see in the reflection of the Crest’s fuselage, you’re thrilled with the final result and this time the kid is beaming, too.

He climbs up your thigh and you scoop him up, chuckling at the way he plops against the armor and snuggles up against it.  Usually he sits on one of your hips, but this time you cradle him in a forearm just because the metal is too clunky to navigate.

“Guess who I am, goose.”  You give one of his cheeks a tiny little poke, and the boy giggles.  “Who am I?”

He looks perfectly at home cuddling up to solid steel, just as comfortable as he is when he’s falling asleep in Din’s lap.  It makes you acutely aware of just how small he is, how fragile and helpless.  While you’re looking down and admiring him, you see the kid bring one tiny little hand up to his mouth a few times, and then reach down to touch his tummy while he blinks up at you.

Ah, so he is hungry.  You suspected as much, one meal keeps his tiny tummy full for awhile but it’s been a few days since he gobbled down some poor live animal.  He’s entirely capable of catching and consuming it himself, which is a relief on your behalf, but it was pretty horrendous to witness the first couple go arounds.

“Alright, squirt,” you huff, clanging down the ramp and not bothering to close it behind you since you don’t plan on being too long.  Maker, the sound is so sexy, it sits deep in your bones and makes you stand up a bit straighter, lift your chin a little higher.  “Let’s see if we can find you something.”

Apparently not much happens on Anoth.  The terrain is rocky and the population is abysmally low, which isn’t all that ideal.  A local town or marketplace may give you something to do, but you suppose there’s an upside to boredom.  The Crest continues to be pristine and you’ve now cultivated a new set of armor out of crumpled scrap that used to be gathering dust in a forgotten storage compartment.  Even though there isn’t any real information about the level of crime on this planet—which typically means it’s not notable enough to be a concern—you feel safer like this as you begin trekking around slate grey boulders in search of a small animal.  Your blaster slung around your hip, the light fabric rippling in the breeze, and silver metal clinging to your body.

Wait.  You reach up to lift your hood over your head and pull the mask up over your nose, and now.  Yes, this is the feeling.  Your breath puffs against the fabric and your boots scrape across pebbles and rough cliffs, and the baby seems so content in your arm that he’s actually quiet the entire time.  You search for a good twenty minutes in easy silence, but this planet seems… barren.  No crawling critters outside for the baby to chase down and catch, no rivers running nearby to grab a fish from, and no markets or people to be seen.

There is, however, a large flock of birds flying overhead and a perfectly good blaster on your hip.  Better than good actually, magnificent and crafted for your hand specifically.  There’s also a hungry baby looking longingly up at the sky, and you give him approximately thirty seconds to use his sorcery to pluck one of them out of thin air and levitate it down towards his greedy green hands.

When it doesn’t happen, you lift your blaster with one hand and cradle the kid with the other, squinting one eye shut while you take aim.

Breathe in, breathe out.  Fire.

Without any ceremony at all, the plasma beam hits and one of the birds plummets to the ground, dead long before it even reaches impact.

You… truthfully, there isn’t a single part of you that actually thought you’d make contact the very first shot, which might be why you suddenly feel shocked and a bit nauseated by your actions.  You didn’t even think—you saw a living thing and then you killed it because the baby in your arms was hungry, no consideration beyond it.  It makes logical sense to any rational person, yes, but it doesn’t make sense for you, and it’s fucking you up because it didn’t fuck you up the way it should’ve.  You allowed the instant power rush to make you careless and brash, and the sound of it hitting the ground slices through the armor clinging to your body.

You remove your hood and pull down your mask while approaching the dead animal with a frown, trying your best to not feel like a terrible person for shooting it.  It’s like as soon as your face is revealed and you’re staring down at it, the guilt starts digging claws into your stomach, shame rolling off you in waves.  This little bird did nothing to you, it didn’t deserve to die, but then the baby climbs out of your grip and drops to the ground with a happy little coo.  He waddles up and grabs the corpse without blinking, and then downs the entire thing in one bite, feathers and all.

“Oh.”  Your face twists up with disgust, but you’re also strangely relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to be the one to touch it and that it’s completely gone now.  Out of sight, out of mind.  You don’t like dead things and regardless of the armor you’re wearing, you really don’t like being the reason they’re dead.  Or handling them when they’re dead.  Or looking at them when they’re dead.  But if it’s to feed the baby, then you suppose the creature has served a greater purpose than it ever would have alive, and there’s an entire flock of them continuing to fly and sing unbothered above your head.  At least the end was swift and painless for this animal, and you much prefer that over witnessing it being swallowed alive by the deceptively tiny chomper at your feet.

You think you’re still working to process what you just did when the speaker in your ear flicks on.

“Sweet girl—” Din’s voice suddenly crackles through the comm, sounding out of breath and… scared.  “—to get out, they’re coming for the kid, you have to get—”

“Mando?”  You reach a hand up to the earpiece, trying to hear him.  He’s breaking in and out, but for the first time since you’ve known him, it sounds like there’s true terror in his voice.  He’s speaking so fast, fitting so many words into such a small space when he normally doesn’t talk much at all.  “Slow down, I can’t understand you—”

“Run!”  He roars through the earpiece.  “You can’t let them take him!  Get to Nevarro—Karga will—”

Screeches of blasters quickly fill the comm and drown his voice out before he can say anything else, and you try calling out to him again but get no response.  You stare down at your wrist in shock and when the communicator cuts out completely, you’re left standing with the baby at your feet in dead silence.

There’s about five full seconds of nothing before you grab the kid off the ground, turn around and sprint like hell back to the Crest.

Your mind blares panic as you run, Din’s voice repeating in your thoughts over and over again.  They’re coming for the kid, you can’t let them take him, you have to get out.  What does that mean?  Who is coming for the kid?  Whoever they are, it’s enough to make him scream at you to retreat to Nevarro, sending a life or death rush of adrenaline through your veins, pumping your legs forward as fast as you can.

Fuck, you traveled so far away from the Crest, you were so lost in your head while wearing this armor that you put your family in danger.  The metal makes too much noise while you run, like it’s just not meant for it.  Not meant to be worn by someone sprinting so fast for safety, it’s meant to protect someone standing still and confronting the threat that’s chasing them.  The large rocks scattered around the landscape require you to serpentine your way through them, never slowing and never stopping.  Get to the Crest, get to Nevarro, don’t let them take the kid.

It takes an eternity but as soon as you see the ship parked in the distance, you spot a small group of stormtroopers walking up the open ramp.

Stormtroopers?

You halt in your tracks so fast that you skid forward on the rocky ground and nearly fall, not quite believing your eyes.  What the fuck are they doing here?  At first you think you’re just imagining your worst nightmare coming to life—the Empire never made its way out to Arvala-7 but you’ve heard more than enough stories from Kuiil to know what you can handle and what you need to run from.  You’ve never seen a stormtrooper in real life before, but you know what the armor looks like.  You recognize the white plastic they strap to themselves, the cheap regulation blasters they carry and how they’re notorious for not being able to use it, but they represent a much larger threat than any single one of them individually and you’re woefully unprepared to face it.

You spin around and duck behind an enormous boulder before they can spot you, shoulders pressed tight to the rock and baby clutched to your chest as you sink down to the ground.  Your heartbeat slams in synchrony to the footsteps of the troopers moving up the Crest, and your arms are wrapped so tightly around the kid that he has to use his arms to shove at your rigid hold in order to be released.

“What do I do?”  You whisper to him when he finally looks up at you, staring into his large black eyes as if he’ll choose now of all moments to speak coherent words in full sentences.  “What do I do?”

The wrinkles are purely for aesthetic purposes, there’s no sage advice to be found from them.  You feel like you’re having an anxiety attack and might actually die before ever making it out of here.  Your breaths are all wrong—you try to close your eyes and do everything you can to breathe the way Din told you, inhaling quietly through your nose and letting it out through your mouth, but you can’t.  You can’t get enough oxygen, you’re so scared that your lungs are trembling and they’re making it impossible to stay silent.  Tears flood your eyes and you hunker down, body freezing and crumpling under the terror.  You know you need to run, but you can’t seem to move a single muscle and your only means of escape is being boarded and captured right now.

You’re doomed.  You’re being confronted by certain death from dozens of meters away and it’s so much scarier when it doesn’t sneak up on you.  One of the last things Din said was that they’re looking for the kid, and while you have no clue what the Empire could possibly want with this child, there isn’t a single doubt in your mind of what will happen to you if they get to him.  You’re going to die if you don’t find some way to escape with the baby.  You know it, and Din knows it.  You could hear the pain ripping through his vocal chords when he screamed at you to run.  He could be dead right this second but you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t think—

Three fingers slowly land on your cheek.

You blink at the baby in front of you, the unexpected touch of him enough to hit a reset on your fumbling and leave you stunned with zero thoughts.  Feeling his tiny hand brush against the tears wetting your skin for a moment.

Except, then all he does is use your face to prop himself up and start climbing.  You automatically grimace and scrunch an eye shut to protect yourself from his claws, but then he reaches one arm behind your head with a small gurgle.

Slowly, the fabric of your hood is tugged upwards, with a few pieces of your hair caught in his grip and being yanked on at the same time.  Though it’s difficult for him and a bit painful for you, the baby finally manages to pull your hood over your head, and then he sits back in your arms and clutches the mask hanging loosely around your neck with both hands.  It stretches up over the bridge of your nose while you hold him, and he blinks gently back at you as your face is covered once more.

Your breathing starts out puffing rapidly against the fabric, until you feel it gradually begin to slow.  The darkness of his irises bore into you, searching and deep.  There’s something hidden there, you realize, something enlightening and it’s revealing itself to you through him.

All of a sudden, your soul is filled with a majestic bravery so vast and deep that you want to take out your blaster.  Your fingers start to itch for it, continuing to stare into his enormous eyes and hearing the chatter and boot stomps of stormtroopers boarding your ship behind you.  They’re probably kicking apart the blankets you sleep on, opening the fresher door and climbing the ladder into the cockpit, looking at the carbonite plaques and snooping around the armory.  Invading your sacred home to search for this special, spectacular little boy.  The sound of their vocal modulators grate sharp against your skin, the clatter of their cheap armor is like knives stabbing your senses.  The kid’s eyes are enormous and hypnotic as he stares calmly at you and waits, and you hear the roar of terror in Din’s voice over the comm as if he’s screaming at you right this second.  What do you do?  What do you do?

You’ve killed to protect this little boy in your arms once before.  Now you’re going to do it all over again.

Your body begins to thrum with some kind of foreign energy and with every single slow lungful of air, you feel yourself begin to… go.  You start losing feeling in your arms and legs, the mask and armor clinging to your body churns fire in the pit of your stomach, your heart thunders in your chest but it’s inconsequential and secondary.  All you can see are two eyes blinking back at you.  Depending on you.  So large and emotive that you can almost hear him speaking to you through them.

Be brave, they tell you.  Stand up, they say.

Without a single word, you rise and tuck him hard against your side, feeling his tiny fingers clutch to the draping white tunic so you can position your arm to shield him best instead of holding him.  Your shoulders lift back and your chin raises while you spin around, and the kid dutifully hangs on tight.  He knows what’s about to happen and hunkers down behind your elbow without needing any direction.  In your mind, nothing else exists besides Din, you, and this child.  Every single fear and anxiety, every single emotion and thought is wiped completely, and you’re left with absolutely nothing all besides your family’s immediate survival, and the repeated, furious reminder of how much of a mistake the Empire made in picking a fight with Clan Djarin.

Your feet move forward, walking out from behind the boulder.  They’re nearly silent even as they start gradually speeding up across the ground, quiet and steady while you approach.  Your hand already has your blaster in it and it raises as soon as you spot a flash of the white enemy armor.  There’s a hard frown behind your mask when you flick off the safety, and it only deepens the second you pull the trigger and start shooting.

[raibebe]

Day 7: Double Penetration in Two Holes

Genre: smut Words: 1635 Prompt: boyfriend Jaemin x female reader x boyfriend Jeno

Warnings: double penetration, unsafe sex, anal sex, oral (m), porn worthy dirty talk, Nomin kissing

A/N: Polyamorous Nomin is baaack! No, I will never stop with this but this is also to blame on @ncteaxhoe (a recurring theme) This also completes the first week... Damn...

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“I want you so fucking bad, you have no idea,” Jeno groaned against your lips, his fingers roaming your figure as he pressed you against the door as soon as you had pulled him inside the apartment. “I think I have an idea,” you chuckled before catching his lips in a messy kiss, hiking one of your legs around his hip to feel his arousal press against your core, making both of you let out twin moans. “Get this off,” Jeno all but growled, pulling the fabric of your shirt over your head whilst you pawed at the buttons of his to jank it open.

Suddenly, the bright light of the overhead lamp of the hallway flooded your vision white, blinding you for a second. “Oh, what do we have here?” Jaemin’s amused voice cut through the silence. Looking over Jeno’s shoulder you could see him leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom door, arms crossed over his naked chest and hair mussed like he had already been sleeping. “Too excited to even come join me?” “Thought you were already asleep,” you sighed, tilting your head back to give Jeno more room to mouth at your neck. “So you were just going to fuck on the couch?” “I- I don’t think we would have made it,” you stuttered, fingers digging into Jeno’s shoulders. “Jaemin I love you but I’ve been hard since the moment we got into the cab, I’m going insane,” Jeno whined, finally separating his lips from your bruised skin. “Public indecency, I see,” the other just chuckled, “And I thought I was supposed to be the exhibitionist.” “Jaemin,” Jeno all but growled, his grip on your waist turning bruising. “At least get her to a bed first, have some manners.”

How you had ended up naked and on your knees on the mattress of your bedroom, was a mystery to you. It had all happened in a blur of limbs and teasing words from Jaemin who didn’t miss his chance to comment on how Jeno’s precum had stained his boxers before pulling them off of his hips. “If you’re going to make me wait as well, I’ll go and jerk off in the shower,” said boyfriend groaned, stroking his impressive length in front of your face while Jaemin rummaged through your nightstand to look for the new bottle of lube that he swore he put in there. “I would never,” you moaned before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock to get a taste of his skin, already addicted to him for such a long time. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, lacing one of his hands into your hair, to make you bob your head up and down his length just how he liked it.

Too preoccupied with the feeling of Jeno’s girth filling your mouth, you didn’t even notice that Jaemin had climbed back onto the bed behind you before you felt his lubed-up fingers gently massage your rim, causing you to choke on Jeno’s cock. “Didn’t mean to startle you, princess,” Jaemin just chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to the dimples of your back, “Relax for me.” Taking a deep breath, you nodded, letting your mind drift to sweet nothingness as you took Jeno’s cock back into your mouth and let Jaemin stretch you for what was to come.

“How do you want her, Jeno?” Jaemin asked once he deemed you stretched enough, scissoring three of his fingers inside you. “I couldn’t care less, Jaem,” he groaned as you forced yourself down on his length, the tip breaching your throat before you had to pull off again, instead stroking his spit-slicked length tightly. “Will you fuck my ass, Jeno? Please?” You slurred, looking up at him from beneath your clumped together lashes while mouthing at the underside of his cock. “Is that what our princess wants?” Jaemin asked instead of Jeno who just moaned loudly. “Please,” you begged. “You sure you can take it, baby?” Jeno asked, grabbing the base of his cock tightly to starve off his orgasm for just a little while longer. “Promise,” you whined, arching into Jaemin’s touch when he fucked his fingers deep inside you again before he left you gaping around nothing. “Shit, this is so fucking hot,” he groaned, fucking his fingers inside one last time before he shuffled back to lie down next to you, “Come here, princess.”

Smiling, you slowly straddled your boyfriend before leaning down to kiss him way too sweetly for the situation you were currently in, taking your time to lick the mint of his toothpaste from his breath. “Someone is getting impatient, princess,” Jaemin whispered against your lips and only then did you notice the slick sounds of Jeno coating his cock in a liberate amount of lube, “And I can’t wait to be inside you either.” “So much for going to sleep early today,” you chuckled, carefully lifting yourself so Jaemin could guide his cock to your core. “I can’t let the two of you have all the fun alone,” he just grinned, slapping the head of his cock against your wet folds. “So wet just from Jaemin playing with your ass,” Jeno mused from behind you, gripping onto your hip with his clean hand to help you lower yourself onto Jaemin’s cock. “Fuck,” both of you cursed when your hips were flush with his. “Feels so good,” you sighed, slowly circling your hips to get used to the sudden stretch.

“It’s gonna be even better, if you lean forward for me, doll,” Jeno whispered, gently pressing down between your shoulder blades to bend you over until your stretched rim was exposed to him. “Relax,” was all the warning you got before the fat head of his cock breached your hole, the slide eased by all the lube both Jaemin and Jeno had been using but like always, it still stung and you couldn’t help tensing up which made Jeno curse gutturally. “Baby,” he panted, gritting his teeth together, “Jaem-” “You have to relax if you want Jeno to fuck your tight little ass, princess,” Jaemin cooed, slowly grinding his cock up inside you to distract you from the pain that would soon turn into pleasure. “I want him to fuck me so bad, Nana,” you whined, “But his cock is just so big.” “Yeah? Is he too big for you?” “No, I can take him,” you hiccuped, feeling how Jeno slowly moved his hips in small thrusts, the friction against your rim driving you absolutely insane as he fucked himself deeper and deeper with each thrust until he was finally able to fully bury himself in your ass with a guttural groan. “She’s so fucking tight, Jaem,” he cursed, finding his boyfriend’s dark eyes over your shoulder, “Sucking me right in.” “Then we better fuck her good,” he chuckled, experimentally fucking up into you harshly to rip a surprised moan from your throat, “If we don’t get another noise complaint by the end of this, I’ll be disappointed.”

“Fuck me, Jen, please,” you moaned, still overwhelmed by just how full you felt, stuffed with cock to the brim. You didn’t need to tell him twice. Once he got the okay from you, he snapped his hips harshly, pulling almost all the way out to ram himself back into your tight heat, the excess lube squelching obscenely. “Louder, baby,” Jaemin chuckled from beneath you, “I can barely hear you.” With a devilish grin on his lips, he finally started matching Jeno’s pace to fuck up into your core, the doubled sensation making your head spin.

“Feels so good,” you slurred between moans and whimpers. “Yeah? You like getting stuffed like this?” You could only nod and mewl, not even registering which one of your boyfriends had spoken to you, too overwhelmed by the feelings of their cocks moving inside you. “God, I love it when she gets absolutely cockdumb,” one of them teased, accentuating his words by a harsh thrust that had you seeing stars. “I wanna cum. Please. I wanna cum so bad,” you hiccuped, hands uselessly clawing at Jaemin’s chest beneath you. “Then cum, baby. Cum on our cocks,” Jeno growled into your ear from behind, “I’ll fill you up so good.” “Please, I want it, please, please, please,” you sobbed, tears clouding your vision as you felt the knot in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. “So close, please.”

“Shit, baby, you’re squeezing us so tightly.” “Fuck. I’ll-” Jaemin didn’t get to finish his sentence, interrupting himself with a deep groan from somewhere deep in his chest as his orgasm crashed over him, fucking his cum into you harshly before he buried himself to the hilt, grinding his hips to ride out his orgasm. Feeling his hot cum filling you up, was exactly what you needed to cum as well, a garbled mess of your boyfriend’s names falling from your lips as your legs shook with the force of your orgasm, body collapsing onto Jaemin’s sweat chest. You barely registered Jeno fucking into you a couple of more times before he quickly pulled out to jerk himself to completion, shooting his cum all over your ass before he buried himself in your tight heat again, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m not letting you two go out alone ever again,” Jaemin chuckled after a while, stroking his sweaty bangs from his forehead. “Can’t say I’m mad about the outcome,” Jeno laughed, slowly easing his softening cock from your body before he fell down next to his boyfriend. “I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” you whined while the two shared a languid kiss, tongues moving together almost sluggishly. “Then I’ll just carry you everywhere,” Jeno promised, pressing his lips to your forehead, “Starting with the shower.”

[lucilucialu]

teen wolf movie post credit scene:

"i'm baaack!" liam walks into his apartment carrying a duffle bag and a small plastic bag "i stopped by the store and bought you those disgusting cookies you love so much". he puts the bag on the kitchen counter and gets the food out "i don't get why you like them tho, they smell like cat food". getting no response, he leaves the kitchen and goes to his bedroom

"hey, where are you? please tell me you're not-" there's a large dog lying on the bed "oh c'mon! seriously? how many times do i have to tell you not..." the animal, that was previously sleeping, growls at him "...to get on the bed- did you just growl at me?" the dog just ignores him "ok, get out of here. im gonna throw away your cookies i swear-"

liam ends up pushing the animal off the bed bc it refuses to move. he groans when he sees all the short black hairs on the white comforter. "oh you fucking stupid dog" he tries to get the hair out of the bed "you always do this. i don't understand why you always do this" he can hear the animal moving around the room behind him while he complains. "are you seriously gonna make me buy one of those pet hair remover brushes? is that what you want?"

suddenly there are two strong arms wrapping around him from behind and someone snuggling against his neck and hiding a smile on his shoulder and kissing the back of his head and "i want you to shut up"

liam sighs and stops what he was doing. "and i want you to get off me" but he's not that mad anymore. how could he?

"i thought you liked me naked and behind you?" "no-" "oh, right. you prefer to be behind me" "i prefer you to not be anywhere near me when you just were a dog like two minutes ago"

theo just hugs him tighter

"and even less if you're naked" "you know, i wish you could stop calling me a dog. it's a coyote" "it's a dog. a dumb dog leaving hair all over our bed. also you stink, go get a shower"

theo grabs liam's upper arms and turns him around so they are facing each other. he puts his hands on liam's shoulders, one of them traveling up his neck and cupping his jaw. "shower with me?" "no" but he stills put his arms around theo

"i haven't seen you in months. i missed you" he starts caressing liam's face with his thumb and wow theo remembers all of his manipulative tactics perfectly. "and i missed you. so much" liam leans closer so their foreheads touch "so so so much. like. you have no idea" theo snorts and the sound is so simple and stupid and fuck he really missed him "which is why im gonna make dinner for us while you take a shower. lydia taught me this pasta recipe... you're gonna love it" "fine, pup" "i can't believe i missed hearing that" "you love it"

theo drops his arms and starts walking to the bathroom but liam grabs his wrist before he can get too far and just

just looks at theo and stays there holding his hand and "i'm serious, theo. i missed you so fucking much. i don't ever wanna do this again if you're not coming with me. and i don't care if i sound needy or whatever". theo smiles and uses his hold on liam's hand to pull him close and kisses him, soft and sweet and slow. he kisses liam for the first time in what feels like an eternity

liam gives him one last kiss before pulling away, but not too far, arms around each other, liam loving the feeling of theo's warm naked skin. he looks so dumb and in love and theo loves it him. "hi" "welcome back, by the way. and thanks for the cookies" "i love you" "i know. i love you too. tell me everything about your little adventure?" "i will, during dinner. i promise"

[yeet-san]

your post ab asmo listening to rock made me think of this [ur absolutely correct btw, i can feel asmo rocking out to metal covers of pop songs in my BONES] but imagine,.,..levi listening to artists like doja cat and megan thee stallion bc it boosts his confidence,,.,babey.,. (also, i love all your hcs!! they're so cute waaa)

ASDBASD THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE IS A MASTERPIECE. UR A GENIUS ANON! ASKJDKASLDJ And also TYSM <33 I'm happy that people are enjoying stuff I make <333

I just imagine something like this:

*muffled sounds of Cognac Queen by Megan thee stallion*

Lucifer: ugh... *yelling* ASMO TURN THE MUSIC DOWN!

Asmo coming back to HOL after a party: I'm baaack! Who missed me? ♥

Lucifer: Wait... *goes upstairs* *stops in front of Levi's room* *can clearly hear the music*

Meanwhile, Levi just vibing: HE KNOW I ONLY WANNA! COME OVER PUT IT ON HIM! I GOT THAT WOAH NA-NA-NA! HE DRINK THAT SHIT LIKE WATER~

Lucifer: *Slowly walks away*

[beautifulhigh]

Ringsy link masterpost

Thought it was time this post got an update with more details and clear links.

So you want to know where to watch Ringsy with English subtitles?

First of all, someone better organised than me has created a spreadsheet with episode summaries and references to video names from the following links. It's a good resource to have!

START HERE

1. This is the pre-Ringsy stuff on VK, setting up characters and relationship and the early stuff.  Worth watching for Ringo coming to terms with his bisexuality and the history between Easy and Ringo. There are playlists for a number of different aspects of their relationship:

Ringsy 2012 / 2013 Ringo's coming out as bisexual The death of Ringo's parents Ringsy 2014 Ringo & Aaron Kira moves to Milan Ringsy 2015 / 2016 / 2017 Ringo & Valentin

Don't expect much in the way of hints and teases that Ringo and Easy will end up together - simply because there won't be any. For a lot of this Easy isn't out himself so there are a fair few girlfriends for him!

Ringo & Valentin is the start of what I would loosely term as the Ringsy storyline as Ringo falls for the ultimate straight guy which breaks his heart, and Easy gets involved (and really not in a good way!) and that then leads on to...

FOLLOW ON WITH

2. This is early Ringsy stuff on VK, how we start the “Enemies to friends to lovers” trope.  Worth watching for Easy coming out which is the most beautifully done storyline. It starts with the Ringo/Valentin storyline (hence the RV video naming convention) and are numbered in order.

This has them flirting with the idea of being friends, Ringo actually being a decent human being when it comes to Easy's coming out, and the humanisation of him when he fell in love with someone he couldn't have.

SO YOU WANT THE GOOD STUFF?

3. This is the start of their relationship through to their marriage. There is a gap in the storyline between clips 160 and 161 of a few months. This was when the videos were being posted to Google Drive instead and those links are not valid anymore. The missing storyline includes Tobias' stroke and the whole Leni's father part. I didn't download those and so even I have a gap in my playlist.

But this is the kiosk scam, the falling in love, the relationship and fall out, the Vegas interlude. All the highs and lows of their whole relationship, right up to the wedding. With a gap in the middle.

(If anyone has these clips drop me a message. We can try to work something out maybe?)

Update 07/01 - they’re baaack! Thank you so much, @magnoliaringo

AND THEN?

4. Then we move to here for the next part (and thanks to @bolt147 for digging out the link!). This has some overlap as the early clips in the list are pre-wedding, but it goes on through Coco, the baby, and all the way up to Julius' arrival.

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

After that it gets a bit fractured.

For a while, @drea-46 posted clips with English translations by @happyladybug93, covering the storyline of Ringo being arrested and the boys fighting for their family. Drea is still posting clips but the translations have stopped. It’s a scroll back through their blog but they’re there.

@snuggles85nn provided English summaries and commentaries for their episodes, starting with Easy's disappearance in Morocco while Lars was off winning "Summerhouse of the Stars" through to Benedict thinking he was developing schizophrenia. You can find them all under her tag here (reverse chronological order)

@missringsy posts some clips with English translations, usually key and/or cute scenes. Think Ringo being released from prison on his and Easy's wedding anniversary, the boys working their way back to each other.

JANUARY 2023

5. @magnoliaringo managed a couple of new sub videos before life got in the way. You can find them HERE. (Yes, it’s the same link as above but I’ve made things easier for you.)

FEBRUARY 2023

Translations have stopped. @drea-46 is still posting the clips as before but without translations. @missringsy also posts occasional scenes.

From the looks of things the boys are in a bit of a dry spell at the moment, but at least they’re not apart?

Shall pin this post for reference!

Updated 25/06/2023 with the status of the missing videos from VK and current translation provision/schedule.

[dadsbongos]

THID OS WEIRD BUT DO YOU WRITE SMUT FOR ANTAG READER,, IT DOESN'T MATTER WITH WHO (most preferably nagito or hajime after they all healed mentally)

…▄█▀█●

I adore your writing, my eyes were blessed to gaze upon that story

I 🍓 u

ily man :) sorry this took so long i've just been :)

Requested: Hajime Hinata/Antag Reader (she’s baaack) Warnings: pwp but there is build-up, smut written by someone who doesn’t write smut a lot (it’s honestly pretty vanilla sex i’m ngl), abrupt cut to smut, now antag reader is in 2nd person cuz my style changed, one (1) use of (y/n), not that proofread :( Word Count: 1.3 K ~~~

Chiaki was such a kind soul, you can understand why Hajime was so eager to be her friend. You can understand why Hajime was enamored with her, but at the same time - you were envious of that admiration. You wish you could have Hajime’s heart the way she did.

He was so sweet on you and it almost made you feel like you could have a place in his love. You were so cruel to him when you’d met and as peers, you can hardly believe he’s so willing to even be your friend. You know you should feel grateful he’s forgiving enough to be your friend, but you also know you’ll always want more.

To prevent yourself from wanting more, you try to distance yourself. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s at dinner only a week in that it comes to bite you. You’re usually quiet, but this time it’s almost deathly so and everybody at the table notices. No matter what Kazuichi or Nagito says to you, you can only smile and nod without a sound. Hajime worries but he isn’t the type to publicly interrogate you. He’ll ask you later.

He just hopes you’re okay.

Dinner passes and Hajime’s quick to follow you to your room, “Hey, (Y/n)? Can we talk?”

You pause at the doorway to your bedroom, not turning to face the man. It hurts too much. Seeing the face of someone who’d adored Chiaki more than he ever did you. The face of a man you’d held such a one-sided rivalry turned admiration for, for so long. It just hurts.

“What is it, Hajime?”

“You’re distant, are you okay?” he comes forward, reaching out to ghost his fingertips against yours, “I miss you, you know? We’re friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah,” now, he actually takes your hand and squeezes it, “I’m your friend. I care about you. We all do.”

“Hajime… I think that’s the problem.”

“I won’t stop being your friend, I understand you might feel like you don’t deserve it but you do. You really do.”

He’s so dense for someone so smart.

“I don’t mean it like that, Hajime.”

He’s such a pain. But you wouldn’t change him.

“How do you mean it then? Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

Hajime gently tugs you to face him, his brows drawn tight in worry, “What do you want to be?”

“Whatever Chiaki was to you.”

“But you just said you don’t want to be friends.”

That forces you to pause, “I thought you liked her…”

He shakes his head, rubbing his thumb into your hand, “I like you.”

“You do?”

“I do. A lot,” Hajime’s other hand comes up and cups your cheek, softly brushing over a scar from your healing graft, “Do you need me to prove it to you?”

He wants to prove it to you.

He feels the need to.

It started innocently enough with you two simply in your bed. Then his hand went to yours, and you curled into his chest. It turned when you whispered to him your want and he felt both unwilling and incapable of masking his own.

.

.

.

.

.

He’s tapping the head of his cock at your clit while you press open-mouth kisses to his shoulder. He moves to kiss your forehead while going to circle your hole and hisses at the way he feels you clench around him.

“Hajime,” you’re whining when he finally slips inside, your back arching. It feels strange at first to be so full.

“Are you okay?” he huffs out the question. Even when he’s damn near overwhelmed at the feeling of being enveloped by velvety walls, his instinct is to ask about you.

Hajime’s slow as he rocks inch after inch into you. He’s careful. As if you’d break from a mere startle.

As he finally bottoms out, Hajime comes down to rest on his forearms, hanging his head to your shoulder with your name a prayed mantra on his kiss-swollen lips. Your fingers tangle through his hair while his hips gently slide between your thighs. You can feel his hips slap against yours and you can feel his forehead press against your skin and you bring your hands up along his ribs to his back to pull him even closer.

You moan and gasp while he’s only driving his cock deeper, your nails hook to his skin and Hajime pushes himself up to watch your face while he fucks you. His eyes are flickering between your knitting brows and rounding lips to where you two are connecting - like he can’t get enough.

He can’t get enough.

A mewl passes through your lips when Hajime speeds the snapping of his hips into the bowl of yours. It’s like there’s a drug in the way you sigh in pleasure as his cock kisses your cervix. There’s something only serving as a further aphrodisiac when you lock your ankles behind him and draw his pelvis somehow deeper to yours.

His head is tugged back when you pull at his hair while tightening around him. He can feel that you’re close so he’s immediate to push himself upright and bring one hand to your clit, rubbing circles into the bud with his thumb.

One of your hands leaves the red marks at his back to clasp around his wrist, “Ah, fuck, Hajime!”

“Does that feel good?” he’s fighting to keep his eyes open in the throes of pleasure. He needs to see that you’re feeling good.

Your hands claw around his skin as your head falls back, “Yes, yes - God,” you drag Hajime down onto you while his circles on your clit grow tighter and faster.

His name is fast on your lips and he revels in that while you tighten around his cock. His efforts only double in fucking you through your orgasm, your hands clap to his face and force his lips to yours. In your vulnerability, he refuses to disappoint you. He kisses you as if this will be the last time he sees you, he fucks you as if this will be the last memory you ever have of him. He’s desperate to imprint himself into your body’s memory.

He wants this - you and him and the sweat and love and oh, he’s cumming - again. He needs it again.

One hand slams to the headboard while the other comes to cradle your face as he peppers it in kisses, “Fuck,” he huffs between presses of his lips to your skin, “you’re so pretty…”

Your face heats at the words and you barely manage to hold back the urge of covering the scars he so delicately kisses.

The wave of overstimulation begins to fall over you as Hajime twitches once, then twice, then you feel warmth spread as he paints your walls white. You take Hajime’s face in your hands while catching your breath, no words can crawl through you.

You just admire the shaggy brown hair and green eyes that sink themselves into yours.

A hand comes to your hip and gently rubs at your skin, “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

It feels strange at first to be so empty.

He leans over before collapsing beside you into the mattress. He takes a few moments before huffing out that he needs another minute before getting up again.

Your hand comes over to gently rub Hajime’s arm, you catch eye contact with him before smiling, “I can get water… if you want…”

“No,” his own hand reaches out to rest over your stomach and he pulls you to him, “stay, please?”

While Hajime turns to completely face you, you roll to your side to face him as well. You smile at each other.

This is nice.

When there’s nobody to feel you should be better than. It’s just Hajime. That's nice.

Hajime pushes himself up just enough to lean over and kiss your forehead. He pulls you to rest over his chest and traces shapes into your skin. Whatever it is that you two now have can be discussed in the morning and you know you’ll feel safe. You feel safe with Hajime now, now that you’ve known him.

You’re excited to know him more.

[afoolnottoloveu]

Scaredy Cat ☆

Fulfilled prompts: 2) I have a right to be angry! 68) Are you always an ass, or am I just special? 100) Kiss me, asshole.

{Masterlist <3}

Pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

A/N: i am a scaredy cat. based off real life experiences. warning: swearing. very short. dont have a taglist for blurbs rn, shoot me an ask to added to blurbs/all spencer fics, my new series, or everything

Spencer hated you. That was the only explanation.

You were notorious for being the biggest scaredy cat: no scary movies, no haunted houses, nothing of that sort. Though he loved Halloween more than anyone you knew, Spencer was very understanding. But also, he loved to give you a good scare every so often. Even though you were aware you weren’t immune to his jokes, it didn’t prepare you for them anymore than usual.

Your shared apartment was small, which made you think that it would make it harder for him to hide and scare you. Oh, how wrong you were.

Stepping out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around your torso, you turned the corner to head to your room. Eyes glued to your cellphone, you failed to notice the six foot mask wearing pipe cleaner behind you, until he began to moan like a zombie. The sudden noise caused you to drop your phone and scream. You turn around, finding a very amused boyfriend in a very stupid mask.

“Spencer! You prick!” You screech, smacking his chest as he slipped off the mask.

“Oh come on, Y/N, don’t be mad-”

“You know you can’t just scare me like that!” You groan, as you turn around to pick up your phone, being met with a fresh crack on your screen. “Spencer! Look what you did! Now I have a right to be angry!”

With him doubled over in laughter, you took the opportunity to smack his shoulder once more before storming off back into your room.

“Honey, come baaack...” Spencer whines as you shut the door, but you ignore him and change into one of his sweaters and and some sweatshorts. You don’t hear him leave but when you’re finished he’s nowhere in sight. Paranoid, you grabbed one of your bed pillows and creeped down the hallway, ready to beat him with it. 

“Spencerrr...” you called out in a sing-songy voice. Before your foot even lands in front of the bathroom door, he pops out, screaming “Y/N!” with the same mask on. And again, you’re sent flying backwards screeching, hurting your throat a little bit. As soon as you heard him, you swung as hard as you can, hitting his side and sending a flurry of feathers everywhere.

Once again, Spencer laughs at your reaction, even having to sit on the floor to gain a little bit of control of his body. You stand there, and if you were a cartoon, there’d definitely be steam blowing out of your ears right now. It takes him several minutes to gain composure, and you’re still standing there watching him.

Standing up, he immediately grabbed your arms and commented, “Hey, I like this sweater!”

“Are you always an ass, or am I just special?” you fumed.

“Hey, hey darling, no need for that,” he says, very cockily may you add, his hands moving up to rest on your shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your phone, I didn’t mean for that to happen, but breaking some part of your phone is honestly inevitable and I’m trying my very hardest to not say a statistic right now, because now, now that you’re little miss angry, I can ask if I can make it up to you, by making us popcorn and watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and other Tim Burton films until we fall asleep.”

You were still furious with him, but when your eyes met his, you could tell that this movie marathon was his intention all along. He just thought, may as well have some fun beforehand. You fell into his chest and groaned, “I hate you.”

Chuckling an I love you too, he pulled you in for a proper hug. When you were finished, you stared at him--actually, the two of you stared at each other with heart eyes. As much of a prick your boyfriend could be, he was your prick.

“Kiss me, you asshole.”

He chuckled once more before pulling you in, pressing a long, tender kiss against your lips. It was just the right kiss to make all the anger and slight fear still left in your body dissipate.

“Come on, Sally. We have a long night ahead of us, darling,” he replied after the kiss, pulling you into your guys’ living room.

[lonelyreputation]

The Optimist (Baker AU)

A/N: Hi! Hi! Baker!Shawn is here and as soft as ever! My mind is a bit scattered at the moment, but I can promise you it’s throughly edited!! Anyway…How is everyone doing?! I hope you had an enjoyable weekend!! 

Annnnd thank you for 100 followers! I've only returned to writing a couple of months ago, so thank you!!! You all are too kind and sweet :’) I have a lot of things written in my docs that just need some editing––so stay tuuunneed  

THANKS A MILLION for all of your support! Your kind words are music to my ears and really encourage me to write more!! Reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated!! 😌💞🌻 

REQUEST/PROMPT: Night wind carrying the scent of freshly baked bread 

Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST

Warnings: none :) 

Word Count: 3.6K

You leaned your back against the brick wall, resting your head against the cold brick as you looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky.  Seven minutes, I’ll give you seven minutes, your manager had said to you after you begged to have a little bit of a break after you had just finished serving a rude table.

In through your nose––don’t cry–––Out through your mouth.

You hated waiting tables.  You hated having to plaster on a fake smile at every table.  And you hated having to walk with an extra pep in your step when you were on your feet for four hours.  Most people you waited on were generally pleasant, but there would always be a table or two during a shift that would be act absolutely monstrous.

You pinched your eyes shut––don’t cry––as a soft breeze made its way down the little alley way you had escaped to.  You were sure that at least four minutes of your little break had passed and you dreaded having to walk back in with a sickeningly sweet smile on your face.

“Are you alright?”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to the right.  Standing inside the doorway of the building behind yours was a tall boy with curly brown hair.  He was wearing all white, but the apron tied around his front was stained with various shades of tan, and like the swipe of flour he had on his cheek, his apron was also dotted with spurts of flour.  He smelled of burnt sugar.

“Yeah, I’m––“ you sniffled as you brought the sleeve of your forearm to wipe under your nose, “I’m fine!  Don’t worry.” You had put on your well-trained fake smile in front of the boy.

He wrung out the white towel he held between his hands, he didn’t look convinced, “I tried walking back in, but then I thought you were gonna cry so I came back out.”

An awkward silence filled the air around you as you continued to study him.  He looked unsure of himself.  He seemed as if he wanted to help, but had no idea as to how to help you.  

“You work at The Optimist?” You recalled the name of the bakery that was located behind the restaurant you worked at.

He nodded his head with a genuine smile, “Yeah––I’m Shawn, by the way,” he took a few steps forward, crossing over from the bakery’s domain of the alley way onto the restaurant’s side and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

Scrunching up your eyebrows you hesitantly reached your hand out to connect with his.  He looked to be around your age, early twenty’s, and you didn’t know the last time you had shaken hands with someone your age when introduced.

Shawn dropped your hand, “And you work at The Sunflower?” 

You grimaced and Shawn took notice; his smile dropping into one of a sympathy.  You were about to introduce yourself, but one of your fellow waitresses skidded out the back door with wild eyes.  

“Y/n,” she sounded like she was relieved to have found you, but her tone was urgent and her eyes held terror, “You were supposed to be back two minutes ago, Diane is going insane looking for you.”

At the warning your friend gave you, your eyes doubled in size as you quickly tightened your pony tail––that no doubt had tiny strands flying about that didn’t make it into the hair tie––and bid the baker a quick farewell, “It was nice talking to you, Shawn.”

“Nice meeting you, Y/n.”

You didn’t get to see him as you quickly rounded the corner and rushed back inside before your manager, Diane, laid into you for taking a longer than necessary break.  

•••

Two days later, you found yourself back in the alley way.  And this time instead of begging for a break, you were allowed a whole hour to yourself since you were working a double shift.  You spent the first thirty minutes eating a dinner you brought for yourself, the next fifteen minutes sitting and staring at a wall, and then something in the back of your mind kept nagging you to head to the alley way.

The alley way smelled sweeter than the last time you were here.  The back door to The Optimist bakery was propped open and you were able to smell the aroma coming from inside.  You took a deep breath, hypnotized by the scent of yeast, and let it out only to take another deep breath in.

The smell was stronger than before, hot baked bread must’ve come right out of the oven, you thought.  It reminded you of your grandmother’s house where she was constantly baking loaves sourdough; warmth, comfort, and full of love. 

You caught a whiff of rosemary and closed your eyes in satisfaction.  Whatever bread they were baking in there was full of herbs that flowed out into the street.  If Heaven was on Earth, it would be in this alley way; just you savoring your time alone as the smell of bread breezed out into the night.

“Y/n?”

You opened your eyes to see Shawn standing in the doorway, wearing a concerned face much like the one he wore two days prior when you first met.

“Shawn, hey,” You greeted him with a genuine smile.

He returned his smile as his eyes lit up; he noticed your mood was considerably better than when you first met, “How are you?”

“Really good,” he tilted his head and squinted his eyes at you silently asking you if that was a real honest answer.  You let out a sigh and rubbed your hands over your eyes, “Kinda tired, I’m working a double today but I’m on a break now.”

“You seem better than a few nights ago,” he picked his next words carefully, “Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t want to bore you–––“

Shawn shook his head with a soft smile.  He sat down on the curb and patted the spot next to him for you, “Tell me all about it.”

You crossed over from the restaurant side to the bakery and sat close to your new friend.  You were only sitting about an inch away and you were able to catch a sniff of the sweet smell of the bakery from his apron, “Just some people being rude, it happens a lot so I’m used to it, but like when they start to question my capabilities? And talk about me when I’m serving their food as if I’m not there?” You sniffled as the memory of the dad of the family made a passing comment to his kids how if you don’t have any aspirations in life, you’ll end up like her replayed over and over.

“Hey,” Shawn curled an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close to his side, “Some people are jerks, it sucks, but you’re a better person than they are,” his hands started to rub up and down your arm in a comforting manner, “Because it would never even cross your mind to disrespect someone right in front of you, and that says a lot about your character.”

You took a chance and leaned your head on his shoulder, “I think everyone should have to wait tables at some point in their life,” you sniffled out a laugh.

“That,” Shawn agreed with you, “or work in retail.”

You let out another laugh in agreement and the two of you stayed snuggled up next to each other.  Shawn continued to rub a comforting hand along your arm, pulling you closer into his side, and it was almost as if your head fit into his shoulder like a puzzle piece.  Shawn knocked your knees together which caused you to let out a giggle and a small smile.

“What time are you done?” He questioned.

You scrunched up your eyebrows and bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about his question, “Around eleven or eleven thirty? Depending what time the last table leaves and we have everything stocked up for the morning shift,” you lifted your head off his shoulder, already missing the close contact with him, looking into his eyes, “Why?”

He wore mischievous smirk, “Do you want a loaf of bread?”

“What?”

Shawn leaned his head back as he laughed at your confused face; eyebrows tightly pulled together with your eyes slightly widened.  He squeezed your shoulder tight, “I uh––I get a free loaf every shift, and I––Do you want it?”

“You don’t want it?” You questioned him, not knowing why any twenty-something year old would pass up the opportunity of free food, “You don’t have like a family to feed or anything?”

He shook his head, a long curl falling covered in flour fell out of place and dropped in front of his forehead, “I’m twenty-one, so I don’t have a family––or anyone––to share a loaf of bread with.”

He tacked on that he didn’t have anyone in a rushed tone, almost scared that if he didn’t get that part in, you would assume that there was someone else he would rather share his bread with.

“What bread did you just make?” If he was offering up his shift loaf of bread, you desperately wanted it to be the sweet herbal bread you had the pleasure of smelling all through out the night.

Shawn nodded his head with a smile, “Focaccia,” he said it as if he was reminiscing his favorite memory, “I’ll have a loaf of that out at eleven thirty.”

Before you could say anything else, your phone alarm rang, notifying you that you had to get back to work.  You let out a soft groan and rested your head back on Shawn’s shoulder, eyes closed, “I don’t wanna go baaack.”

“C’mon working girl,” he squeezed your shoulder one last time before pushing off the curb and reaching a hand out to you, “The sooner you’re back at work the sooner you can get your bread.”

You reached out and took his hand; it felt different than when you first connected hands in a handshake when you first met.  His fingers curled around your hand with care, his calloused hands from kneading dough were surprisingly comforting, and they were warm.

“I expect to be given nothing less than the absolute best loaf.” You held onto his hand for a bit longer before dropping it and walking over to your side of the alley.

Shawn let out a hearty laugh, “They’re all the best loaf,” he shot you a wink, “because I bake them all.”

You felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks, but decided not to face Shawn; you didn’t want him to know the affect he had on you at only your second conversation.  You shouted a see you later tonight over your shoulder and walked back into work with not so much of a fake smile, an actual pep in your step, and a little bit of flour on your uniform shirt.

When your shift was over, you raced back down to the alley way, quickly saying your goodbyes to the kitchen staff, busboys, and fellow waiters.  You were out the back door in no time and were met with the sight of Shawn holding, what you assumed to be the focaccia bread, wrapped in brown paper tied together with twine.

He handed the loaf of bread to you as the two of you made small conversation, him offering to walk you to your car.  Wanting to spend as much time with him, you accepted his offer, as he asked you questions about your day.  Unfortunately the walk to your car wasn’t very far, so the conversation was cut short, but Shawn promised to have another loaf of bread for you tomorrow night.

Once you were in your car and saw Shawn walking in the direction from where you had just come from––I swear my car is parked around yours, let me walk you, it’s no big deal––you rolled your eyes at his blatant lie and placed the bread in your passenger seat.  But what you hadn’t noticed before was a little message written on the brown paper with black sharpie.

Let’s get this bread! Haha, but really, I made this loaf extra special just for you :)

•••

Every other night you had worked for the next few weeks ended in the alley way with Shawn delivering you a loaf of bread and walking you to your car at night.  You had come back to your apartment with loaves of rye, ciabatta, baguettes, and even a Portuguese sweet bread.  With every loaf of bread you brought home, your roommate raised an eyebrow, her interest peaking with your new fascination for carbohydrates.

It was your day off, and while you normally spent it lounging about or going for a walk, you decided to pay a visit to Shawn at The Optimist.  While you normally would avoid the area where you work on your days off, you found yourself excited to be there for once. 

You parked your car in front of the bakery and flipped down the mirror to make sure you had nothing in your teeth before walking in.  Once you were out of your car and locked the doors, you threw your keys into your canvas tote bag and walked toward the navy blue front doors.

With each step, your heart rate began to increase.  You told yourself to calm down, that it was only Shawn, but for some reason that only made you even more nervous.  Nervous, but excited to see him.

A little bell chimed when you walked in and a voice as sweet as the pastry selection smelled, greeted you, “Welcome to The Optimist!”  She looked to be about seventeen; her uniform had her name stitched in cursive on the left side of her black collared shirt, Amelia, “What can I get started for you?”

“Is uh––Is Shawn here?” It didn’t hit you until you were up at the counter that Shawn might also have the day off.

She seemed skeptical to give you any information about an employee, which was fair, working as a waitress you’ve had people come and ask if a specific person was working.  And it was company policy to not give that information out.

You didn’t know if it helped your case, but you started explaining how you knew him, “I work at the restaurant behind you guys and I’ve struck up a friendship with him and I wanted to see if he was at work–––“

“Oh,” Amelia’s eyes widened as a smile blew up on her face, “You’re the girl he brings bread to.”

You felt your cheeks get hot, “Uh…Yeah, it’s nice that he––“

“He’s so sweet!” Amelia gushed as she rested her elbows on the glass counter top and folded her hands together to rest her chin on top of them, daydreaming off into the distance, “He stays so late to buy you a loaf of bread and give it you.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t really have to––Wait,” You tilted your head, “He stays late?”

Amelia nodded her head, “Way late.  Like sometimes I wonder if he just doesn’t want to go back to where he lives––But his roommate has come in every now and then and he seems really nice so––“

“What time do you guys close?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Eight or nine?  Our store front closes at eight but then we have to clean and that usually takes us until around nine––“

“Is he here?”

“Shawn?” Amelia asked as if he hadn’t been your topic of discussion.  You nodded your head slowly, “Yeah, he’s just in the back.  I’ll go grab him!”  

Amelia skipped away and called out Shawn’s name in a sing-song voice, “You have a visitor!” 

You were only waiting at the counter for a few minutes before Shawn and Amelia came out from a back room.  You instantly smiled when you saw flour dusting on the tips of Shawn’s curls.

“Y/n, hi––Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

You picked at a loose piece of skin by your thumb, second guessing yourself if this was actually a good idea, “Yeah, it’s my day off and uh––I didn’t really have anything to do.”

Shawn let out a chuckle, “No, no…I’m glad you’re here,” his smile was infectious. He brought his hands around his back to untie his apron, “I’m gonna take like a ten minute break, is that alright, Amelia?”

He ducked his head to lift the strap of the apron above his head and hung it on a hook by the door the two of them had just come from.  Amelia started to ramble again, nervous that Shawn was going to go off far, but he quickly reassured the teenager that he was only going to be sitting at one of the little tables in the bakery.

Amelia seemed calmer and Shawn grabbed two paper cups, filled them with black drip coffee, and rounded the counter to you.  He handed you one of the cups of coffee as you followed him to one of the small circle tables in a little alcove that granted you some privacy.

It was the first time you and Shawn were hanging out not in the alley way and while it was nice to see him not in the middle of the night, it felt a bit out of place.  But you enjoyed the way the sun shinned through the windows and hit his face on all the right angles.  You even noticed a little scar on his cheek.

“Amelia likes to…Talk,” Shawn started off, “But she’s really sweet, real nice girl.”

You nodded your head and let out a laugh.  Her liking to talk was the understatement of the century, “She seems nice,” you took a sip of coffee, “But she also let me in on some details.”

“Did she?” Shawn smirked as he leaned back on his chair, setting his cup of coffee down on the white table.  When he crossed his arms over his chest, you looked down briefly to see how large his biceps really were; it seemed as if his white shirt was constricting his flexed muscles.  He seemed almost too muscular to be a baker.

You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance, “Yeah, like how you stay late?” Shawn’s smirk dropped, “And how you pay for the loaf of bread?” You waited to see if he would interject and say how she was lying, but he stayed quiet, “Why?”

Shawn shrugged as he avoided your gaze and looked out the window, “Dunno.”  You brought your foot up to his shin and gave it a small tap, edging him to say something else, “You seemed so…sad that first night and I wish I did something more so when I saw you the second time, the only thing I could offer you was a loaf of bread.”

Your heart melted at him expressing his want to cheer you up.  But little did he know, he offered you more than a loaf of bread that night.  He offered you an ear to listen to, then the next time he offered his shoulder, and now he offered you a friendship.  The loaf of bread was nice, but the non-physical possessions Shawn offered meant more to you than fancy bread.

“But staying nearly three hours or more after your shift has ended?” You picked at the top lip of your coffee cup, the white paper spiraling a little, “You could’ve been asleep, Lord knows how exhausted you must feel after working.”

You were waiting for another answer from him and you weren’t going to talk until he offered something––other than a loaf of bread––up.  He finally shrugged and reconnected his eyes with yours, “I like seeing you.”

It felt as if the sweet smells of the bakery infiltrated your body.  You felt warm, like hot bread that was just pulled straight out from the oven.  You felt comfort, like how the smell of sourdough bread reminded you of your childhood.  And you felt something else; not quite love, but more of an adoration for the baker sitting across from you.

“You could’ve just said that,” You said as Shawn twirled his foot around yours under the table.  A sheepish smile made its way onto your face, “I like seeing you too.”

Shawn’s smile shined brighter than the sun through the window, “That’s…Cool.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying your hardest to conceal the laugh that wanted to escape, but you also wanted to hide your growing smile.  All you seemed to do was smile around him.

“How about…” Shawn started speaking but his words trailed off as he looked at you.  His smile brightened when he saw your rosy cheeks, “How about I make dinner for you? I’m no chef, but I can cook a mean pasta.”

You let out a fake gasp of surprise,  “You mean you’re not a cook?!”

Shawn tsked himself, “Just a baker, sweetheart.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach; sweetheart.  You wouldn’t mind if he called you that a million more times.

“But this time,” you gave him a pointed look, “I’m buying the bread.”