noonesnothing

[akkivee]

ramuda’s first radio was such a game changer man lmao

[cxtori]

Satoru Gojo ✭ Kiss Me Back

wc: basically 5k… it wasn’t meant to be lmao

summary: based off of this thought i posted a while ago

genre: angst, fluff, drunk “confession” but it gets misunderstood, friends to lovers, silly drunk Gojo

warnings: n/a

tori’s note: I finished this fic after having it in my drafts for almost a year. I kinda strayed from how my original prompt went lol. Idk how I feel about the second half of this, I’m not a huge fan of it but y’know, it be what it be. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Gojo doesn’t drink often. In fact, it’s more accurate to say he never drinks. He hates alcohol. The way it tastes, the way it burns, and especially how quickly it affects his system.

He’s always been a lightweight, it only taking a few shots before he was intoxicated. But for some reason, Shoko’s teasing pressure to get him to drink got to him a lot more tonight than usual. 

It was supposed to be only one shot, then just one more. But now, here he is, a couple hours later and 6 shots down, drunk and stumbling, leaning against you for support.

You grunt as you struggle to keep the tall man vertical and walk him down the street to your car. 

“You are amazing, Y/n,” Gojo slurs, wrapping his arm tighter around your neck. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that 3 times already,” you laugh lightly. Gojo trips over his own foot, causing you to stumble and almost fall. Thankfully, you catch yourself and keep the two of you from crashing into the concrete. 

“Jeez, Toru! Are you serious?” You ask, unbelieving that he was so intoxicated that he really couldn’t walk straight. Gojo only moans miserably in response. “We’re almost there,” you sigh.

You knew how much he hated the repercussions of drinking and tried to stop him before it was too late. But he seemed to be feeling a little self-destructive tonight, so your warnings fell on deaf ears, much to your annoyance. Even so, you still felt empathetic enough to take him home yourself, turning down Nanami’s kind offer to do so.

After another block of walking and stumbling, you finally make it to your car, opening the passenger side and awkwardly shuffling around as you try to help Gojo into the seat. It felt like he was purposefully doing everything he could to make this simple task as complicated as possible. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past him. 

You eventually get him and his lanky limbs into the vehicle and hold back a laugh when he groans and dramatically drapes himself over your center console, arms spilling into the driver’s seat. You walk around to the other side of the car, moving his arms carefully before sitting down and pushing him to lean against the window. 

“Okay, tough guy. You still have the water Nanami gave you?” You ask. Gojo clumsily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the water bottle he somehow managed to fit in there. Damn men’s pocket sizes.

“Good, I want it empty by the time I make it to your place,” you state, turning on the car and pulling into the street.

“The whole thing?” Gojo whines. You laugh breathily, finding amusement in his drunk demeanor.

“Yes, the whole thing. Gotta stay hydrated so drink up!” You encourage. 

The white-haired man mutters a complaint as he cracks open the bottle, and you watch dumbfounded as he drains it in seconds. 

“I didn’t mean drink it all at once…” you say. Gojo shrugs and sinks further into his seat. 

You drive in silence for a few minutes, the pale, orange street lights whizzing by and the soft, white noise of the tires rolling on the pavement making the ride a peaceful, comforting experience. At least it would be if Gojo wasn’t staring holes into the side of your face. 

In his drunkenness, he’d somehow managed to misplace his glasses and blindfold, much to your dismay. You adore those brilliant blue eyes, but damn, if they weren’t intimidating as hell when they were staring you down. You do your best to ignore it, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. 

You feel your heart skip a beat when a cold, calloused finger presses gently against your temple before tracing your hairline, sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty,” Gojo whispers, his words barely audible. Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. 

“O-oh, umm… I- th-thank you,” you stutter horribly. Gojo hums softly as though he’s satisfied with your reaction before laughing lightly. His hand leaves your quickly heating face as he turns back to the window, slumping against the cool glass. 

After what couldn’t have possibly even been a minute, you hear the faintest snore come from the man. You poke his arm, expecting some kind of reaction. But nope, he’s out.

You take a deep breath and start blasting the AC. It suddenly feels really stuffy in here.

You soon reach his house and pull into the driveway before parking the car and climbing out. You open the passenger door, being careful to not let Gojo dump out onto the ground. You shake his shoulders, whispering to him that he was home and needed to wake up. After some gentle-turned-vigorous shaking, the man wakes up bleary eyed and a bit confused. 

“Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” You tease, taking his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. He grunts, reluctantly swinging his feet out of the car and onto the ground. The moment he stands, he leans back against the car, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“Shhhhit, why did I do that?” He slurs, the alcohol still screwing with his brain. At least he’s more coherent than 30 minutes ago. 

“Not to be like that, but I did try to stop you,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he groans. His eyes open and meet with yours, but instead of holding the annoyed glare you were expecting, they were soft, appreciative. His typically pale complexion was still dusted pink, though not nearly as flushed as earlier, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile to accompany it. 

He leans against you, his arms snaking around your waist in a loose hug, and his head resting heavily on your shoulder as he sighs. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you thank me when I’ve gotten you inside!” You laugh awkwardly, pushing the large man off of you. 

Gojo pouts, his soft, pink lips protruding in a way that could only be described as borderline sensual. You tear your eyes away from him and link your arm in his to walk him into the house with much less stumbling this time.

You make it inside, Gojo dragging down the hall to his room while you dig in his kitchen cabinets in search of ibuprofen. Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, you grab a glass and fill it with water before making your way to Gojo’s room.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing through the cold, empty hallway. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears and you open the door. 

You step in and your eyes land on a half-naked Gojo sitting on his bed, stopping you in your tracks. He did say to come in, didn’t he?

He looks at you, a questioning expression written on his face. With everything he’s done this evening, it’s beginning to be hard to believe he’s not purposefully trying to fluster you.

You draw in a breath and walk over to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

“Here, for the potential hangover,” you say, handing him the pills and water. He takes it gratefully, downing the meds and water quickly. He sets the glass on the nightstand with a soft thunk, and an odd silence follows after. 

“Well, I’m gonna head home now. G’night, Toru,” you say, turning on your heels and heading to the door. Your hand barely touches the doorknob when Gojo says your name.

“Y/n,” he calls quietly. You stop and turn to him with a questioning hum, but he doesn’t give any response back other than a waving hand, signaling for you to come back to him. You shuffle awkwardly to stand in front of him, confused about what he wants. 

He stands up, his chest almost bumping against yours as he does so. You begin to take a step back, but before you can, his hands are on your waist, holding you in place. You look up at him to ask what he’s doing, but the words get stuck in your throat the moment your eyes meet his.

Those bright, cerulean eyes that were so often hidden from the world, were looking at you with such care and fondness that it made your chest tighten. 

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, his warm, soft lips are pressing tenderly against yours. 

Your tense muscles relax and eyes flutter shut as your lips push back against his. His hands grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him before one lifts the back of your shirt, fingers dragging slowly over your skin. 

You sigh into him, your own hands traveling up his arms, to his neck, eventually finding home in his silky hair. His other hand moves from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss. 

His tongue darts out and sweeps across your lips and the faintest lingering taste of bitter alcohol bites your tastebuds, snapping you back to reality. It’s only then that you remember who you’re kissing, where you are, and how you got there. 

Your eyes fly open and hands move to his chest, pushing him away from you harshly. Gojo loses his balance, landing back into a sitting position on his bed, his once peaceful expression now shocked and confused. 

Your hand covers your mouth, surprised by your own actions. It’s only a second or two that you stay there, staring at each other before you decide that you should definitely leave.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you say, wasting no time in leaving his room and ignoring his calls for you. You jump into your car and start the engine before your door is even closed.

What were you thinking? He’s the drunkest he’s been in ages, how could you let that happen? You curse yourself as you drive home, frustrated that you allowed such a thing when your friend was in such a vulnerable state.

 You make it home and park in the driveway, but you don’t leave. You sit in your car and stare blankly at the steering wheel as the full weight of regret begins to sink in. 

You’ve desperately wanted that man to kiss you for years now. But not like this! Not when he was intoxicated and most likely not thinking straight. You wanted a genuine kiss; one he gave you because he truly wanted to. Not because his drunk-self just wanted attention.

How are you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps after this?

You’ll just have to lie. You’ll tell him that it was just a slip up, that you were caught off guard. That he kissed you and- dammit, you kissed him back! And not only that, you were wrapping your arms around him. You can’t play off your feelings for him when you kissed him like that!

You groan painfully as you open your door and force yourself into your house, trudging your way to your room. You change your clothes and crawl into bed before plugging your phone in. The screen lights up with the red battery, which disappears quickly, revealing a missed call and several texts from Gojo.

I’m sorry Y/n. Can we please talk?

It wasn’t what you think

Y/n?

Hello?

He almost never texts you, let alone several times in a row. But you can’t find it in you to respond. You turn off your phone and stare at your ceiling for what feels like an eternity, the moment replaying in your mind on repeat. 

It wasn’t what you think? What is he assuming you think?

You raise a finger to your mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours as you trace over them. 

It was so warm, so sweet. The way he held you close to him, so strong yet gentle. The way his thumb stroked over your face so tenderly. Maybe… it was real.

No. You can’t allow yourself to believe it was genuine and get your hopes up, you can’t.

You roll over onto your side just as your screen lights up once more. You take a glance at it and find another text from Gojo. 

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.

A new wave of anxiety washes over you when you realize you’ll have to see him tomorrow. You do work at the same school after all. You don’t have a few days to process this or even find a way to respond. 

You wrap tighter into yourself and painful tears fill your eyes, not taking long before they’re streaming down your face and soaking into your pillow. You just want the earth to open and swallow you. 

Your only comfort is in the slim possibility that he was still drunk enough to have a chance of not having clear memories the next day. Maybe he’d wake up, see the messages he’d sent you and not even remember what it was about. 

You know it’s a foolish hope. He wasn’t drunk enough during that kiss to have no recollection of it. Even so, it’s the only thought that calms you down enough to fall asleep. 

Okay, all you have to do is file a couple reports, meet with Ijichi and Nitta, and check in with Shoko on a new corpse. You don’t even have to be on campus the whole day, just do your few tasks and leave. 

You were not going to talk to Gojo today. You’re not sure your heart can handle it right now. You’ve barely even processed what happened last night. It’s like your mind is trying to convince you it was a dream. But the unanswered texts still sitting in your inbox say otherwise. 

You decided you would do your best to avoid the inevitable conversation. You’re sure that when he sees you, he’ll likely confront you about it. But, if you were with others, you knew he’d keep his mouth shut. You can’t hide from him, but you make damn sure he can’t catch you alone.

You know you’ll have to talk about it eventually, just not today. And maybe not tomorrow. Or the day after that.

You take a deep breath as you walk into the school and head for Yaga’s office. You’re not too worried about bumping into Gojo here as he usually avoids this part of the school simply because he’s afraid of running into Yaga and being asked to do something he doesn’t want to. 

You make it there without incident and knock on Yaga’s door before entering. Thankfully, your meeting doesn’t last long as you just have to turn in your reports and give him a quick rundown of your past week’s assignments.

Next was finding Ijichi and Nitta. Which meant going to the more common areas of the school. Which meant risking running into Gojo.

At this point, you were just hoping he decided to go MIA today as he typically did. Or maybe he’d be too hung over to even bother getting out of bed. Whatever the case may be, you just hoped he wouldn’t be behind the door to which you are about to enter.

You turn the doorknob quietly and poke your head in, finding no one but Ijichi sitting at a desk looking over a stack of papers, and you feel relieved. You step inside and Ijichi looks up, a small smile appearing once he sees it’s you.

“Ahh, Y/n. You’re a bit early,” he greets kindly. 

“Haha, yeah. My meeting with Yaga didn’t take as long as expected,” you laugh softly as you walk over to the desk and take a seat across from the man. “Where’s Nitta?”

“She’s currently out with the first years. They were sent to investigate the disturbance you reported a few days ago. Turns out it was just a few Grade 3 curses roaming around.” Ijichi replies.

He shuffles the papers spread out on the desk into a few separate piles before picking up each one, shaking them into neat stacks and paper clipping them together.

“Oh, that’s good to know,” you say with a smile. “So, you said you and Nitta needed something?”

“Oh, yes. We wanted your opinion on-”

“Gooood morning!” A familiar voice calls happily as the door swings open. You hunch over in your chair and glue your eyes to the papers in front of you, not daring to look at the man. You didn’t think you would run into him this soon.

“Oh, goodmorning, Gojo,” Ijichi says.

“Ijichi,” Gojo greets and nods to his co-worker.

He turns to you, your eyes still studying the reports laying in front of you. It was obvious you weren’t reading them though, considering they were upside down to you. “Y/n,” he says quietly.

You still refuse to look at him, mumbling a barely audible “good morning” in return.

Ijichi, sensing some tension, clears his throat and returns to the matter that brought you here in the first place. He only had a few questions, wanting your opinion on which recent cases should be assigned to which students. It wasn’t long before you had fulfilled your need and could leave.

You say your goodbyes, stand from the desk and make your way to the door, still having not spared Gojo, who was leaning against one of the couches, even a glance.

Despite hiding his eyes behind that dark blindfold of his, you could tell he’d been staring at you the whole time. You could practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin. But, just as you expected, he didn’t dare bring up anything about the previous night with Ijichi in the room.

You walk out the door, thankfully leaving Gojo behind it. But you weren’t sure how long he’d stay there. You make your way quickly through the halls as you head towards the morgue. You open the door and step inside, the cold air making your body shake with a chill. 

You walk through, but find no sign of Shoko. Deciding that she must be in the office, you turn and start making your way over, it being just a couple doors down the hall. 

You step outside of the morgue and about jump out of your skin when you’re met with blinding white hair. Gojo. Of course. You should’ve known he would catch up to you. 

You stand there for a moment, him standing in the doorway and therefore blocking your exit. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, not really, only giving him quick glances. It must be so easy for him to make “eye contact” when he doesn’t really have to.

“Can we talk?” He says, his voice taking on an unusually shaky and serious tone, and you suppress a sigh. Any hope you had of him not remembering last night shattered with those three words.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quietly, desperately wanting to avoid the impending conversation. 

“Y/n,” he says, his large hand reaching carefully for your arm. You move quickly, avoiding his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say and push past him, making it through the doorway. You speed walk down the hallway to the morgue office, thankful that it’s just a few doors down. Gojo begins to say something but before he can, you’re knocking on the door, shutting him up quickly.

Shoko opens the door only a moment after you’ve knocked, silently stepping aside to let you in once she sees it’s you. Her neutral expression breaks a bit when she sees who’s behind you.

“Gojo, wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she says, referring to the rough condition he was in last night.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckles. He looks at you as he says this and you feel your face grow warm. Shoko walks over to her desk and shuffles through the various items in search of something.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t had that many drinks in a long time,” She asks curiously.

“I feel great actually. Y/n is a pretty good caretaker,” he says, once again looking over at you. “She’s the reason I’m not hungover.”

Yep, you certainly were. Maybe you should’ve skipped the water and ibuprofen. But that was before what happened. Past you had no idea that future you would be cursing that decision.

“He wasn’t too much trouble was he? Gojo’s always annoying when he’s drunk.” Like he’s not annoying when he isn’t drunk.

“He was fine,” you say plainly, wanting to move on from the topic.

“Fine is one way to put it,” Gojo says, an obnoxiously flirty smirk on his face. What happened to the serious and borderline nervous Gojo you had just a moment ago? Bring him back please.

“Maybe I should’ve let Nanami take you when he’d offered,” you mutter. Shoko turns back around to you, confused by the comments being made.

“Is that really what you would’ve wanted?” Gojo asks. 

“If it means we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, then yes.”

Shoko looks between the two of you, reading the looks on your faces and expertly deciphering that this was not a conversation she needed (or wanted) to be a part of.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shoko mutters as she collects her things and quickly leaves the room, abandoning you in this anxiety-inducing situation. “We can meet later, Y/n.”

“Ah! Wait, Shoko!” You call, but she ignores you and walks out the door. Well, this certainly isn’t what you wanted to happen. Now you had no excuse to leave and apparently didn’t have anyone to have your back. You knew Shoko saw your plea for help in your eyes and she actively ignored it. But, it is Shoko. She always avoids getting involved in things that don’t concern her.

The silence that follows Shoko’s leaving is so incredibly deafening and you hope the ground will open up beneath you. You debate leaving, but you know that Gojo will just follow you. There was no escaping it now. Dammit, and you were so close to getting out without speaking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the desk, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Y/n,” Gojo speaks softly. You refuse to look at him. You can’t. You don’t know what will happen if you do. “Y/n.” He steps closer to you and you sink further into yourself, feeling your throat tighten. “Let me explai-”

“What did you mean?” You close your eyes, finding yourself talking before you can even comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“What?” Gojo says, confused. You sigh, annoyed with yourself now for having said anything.

“Your text. You said it wasn’t what I thought it was. What did you mean?” Gojo looks at you. Well, you assume he’s looking at you. He could be looking at the wall behind you for all you knew.

“I…” Gojo starts but doesn’t finish. He sighs quietly and leans against the chair in front of you. He doesn’t attempt to speak again for a long moment and you begin to wonder if he even plans to. And you’re right, he doesn’t speak. But instead, his hand reaches for the dark blindfold hiding his eyes, and he pulls it down around his neck, his snow white hair falling into his face.

You tear your eyes away as soon as he does, not able to bear even the thought of looking at him directly in those blue irises. Luckily, you’re not tempted to as he keeps his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from your view.

“I remember everything from last night,” the man says finally. You feel your heart sink. You knew he remembered, but for some reason, hearing him say so only made your anxiety worsen. “You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye last night,” he says with a mild, teasing tone, though it was made with minimal effort, the tension in the room making it hard to joke playfully.

Your arms tighten around you and your throat burns, your eyes remaining focused on everything but him. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be leaving in such a hurry either,” you say, risking your voice breaking into tears. Gojo chuckles.

“I thought you’d stay for a bit longer after the way you were kissing me,” He jokes, and this time it has his usual lightheartedness to it. Despite that, you feel your blood run hot through your body and for a moment you forget that you’re avoiding looking at him. Your eyes whip over to see him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Wha- you kissed me!” You whisper yell, afraid that someone outside may hear you. You can’t believe him. HE made a move on YOU, and yet he wants to talk about the way you were kissing HIM?

“Buuut, you kissed me back!” He says accusingly but airily. You close your mouth at this. He’s right, you did. And this is just what you were afraid of, him realizing that you kissing him back meant you actually enjoyed it if only a little. You couldn’t hide it.

“And I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You turn your gaze away just in time to miss the way Gojo’s face twitches and his smile drops. Before you can’t stop yourself, you continue to speak, the coil in your throat snapping and the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me to begin with. But please, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I know you were drunk and it was a mistake just… Please, don’t tell me that.” 

The silence that follows your statement is so quiet that you can hear Gojo’s uneven breaths alongside your own. You feel the urge to run, to walk out the doors and never turn back. To find a hole somewhere to bury yourself in, never to resurface.

“You think I made a mistake?” Gojo’s words barely reach your ears, his voice so soft you almost have to strain to hear it. He looks at you, completely dejected. “Even if I did feel that way, do you think I’d come here to mock you for it? Do you think I’d be that cruel?” The hurt in his voice is so obvious that you can feel it yourself.

“I… I don’t know.” Truthfully, you did know. You knew he wouldn’t do something like that. He may be annoying, but he’s not cruel. It was out of your own fear of the outcome that you were avoiding this conversation. But then, two words in his statement stand out to you. 

Even if. 

Meaning even if it was a mistake. Meaning he didn’t think it was?

The tears welling in your eyes begin to fall when you dare to look up at him, his own already on you. But you don’t look away this time.

“Would you have kissed me if you were sober?” You ask quietly. Gojo’s shoulders slump and his face grows longer at your words. He takes a cautious step towards you, testing to see if you’ll back away. And you don’t.

“Y/n, I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. He takes another step forward, this time reaching out a hand to place on your arm, and you don’t pull away.

“That’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t what you thought. I knew you figured it was an alcohol-influenced choice. And while the alcohol admittedly may have had something to do with it, that wasn’t why I did it.” Your vision blurs as you begin to cry, your tears feeling like rivers of fire as they flow down your cheeks.

“I did it because I wanted to, Y/n,” he admits. He lifts a hand to your face, wiping your tears as he strokes your cheek with his knuckles.  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. And one I don’t regret.”

You close your eyes, not being able to see with them open anyway. His other hand moves from your arm to swipe at your tears, both hands now cupping your face tenderly.

“I don’t know what to say,�� you mumble. You raise your hands to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your thumbs stroking over the back of his hands. You open your eyes, your vision clear enough to see him looking at you fondly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His soft lips that, in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking about all morning.

Your gaze must have lingered on his mouth for a moment too long as his smile widens. He comes closer to you, his head towering over yours and his hands guide your face to continue looking at him.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. But.” He leans his face to yours, his warm breath against your lips. “I would like to kiss you again. And I hope you won’t run away this time.” His voice lilts in that familiar, teasing tone and your heart twists.

“I won’t,” you say with a breathless laugh. 

His large hands continue to hold your head as he moves forward, wasting no time in putting his lips against yours in a passionate but tender kiss.

And this time, you let yourself kiss him back.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

[kiddiewrites]

First Post

Sooooo this is the first fanfic I write, the current obsession is Call of Duty. Have I ever played the game?? No. Am I gonna play the game? Yes, I've downloaded the mobile version :D. Do the characters match their game personality? Probably not, the only source I have of them are other fanfics and edits I saw on tiktok JAJAJAJA.

Angst, T.F.141 x reader, Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, HURT, bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, bit of a sad ending, drunk confessions, overheard conversations, PAAAAAAAIIIIN (maybe I’m just projecting Enlgish is my second language so please be kind xd

PART 2

∞ Command me to be well ∞

“There is no sweeter innocence, than our gentle sin”

In all honesty, you weren’t supposed to be there. You should’ve been in the med bay, you should’ve been filing reports on the last mission and updating medical records.

You’ve been assigned to Task Force 141 as their base doctor, having no experience in the field you remained back in HQ until they came back from deployment. You quickly realized they didn’t fully trust you as a doctor, whether it was due to your civilian background or a misjudgement of your abilities, you never knew and frankly you didn’t want to. You tried not to be a bother, you knew their job was hard as it was, so you tried a friendlier approach, making sure to try and interact with them if even at a minimum. 

Instead, you were faced with a hard cold truth, one that you hoped had vanished with a few friendlier words in your direction… you weren’t wanted.

Time seemed to move slower as the last few minutes replayed in your mind. 

The guys were sharing a much needed drink after a rather difficult mission. Letting the façade fall down for a bit, the whiskey loosening tongues and bringing to the surface feelings that could no longer be held down.

You were walking down the hallway that led to Price’s office, a bit of a pep to your walk and a container of baked goods in one hand and the files that needed his signature on the other. You knew they’d be a bit peckish after their mission so you thought ahead and brought some pastries that you knew they liked, even though Simon always said that those were more sugar than bread. In an instant the door to the Captain's office was at reach so you balanced the files over the container. 

-She’s jus so fecking annoying, y’know ?-

You stopped right when you were about to knock on the door, hand midair. 

-I ge’ tha’ we’re suppose to get along seein tha shes the fecking doctor- 

What?  Your breathing stopped and your body shivered

-Bu’ I jus can’t seem to tolerate’ er- the voices seemed a bit muffled by the closed door but still the volume was loud enough for you to hear… Listening as you stood there frozen, wishing that you couldn’t. 

-C’mon Johnny, she can be a bi’ annoying, sure.- Ouch 

-Bu’ she does ‘er job properly and at the end o’ the day, tha’s why she’s ‘ere fo’. - 

Kyle seemed to try and reason with him but even his own voice sounded strained. 

The beating of your heart going wild with every second that passed, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. They couldn’t refer to you right? Maybe, maybe it was someone else on their mission…

-Y/N does a good job, lads.- That’s the captain’s voice… Fuck…

-I get tha’, is jus… she keeps sticking t’ us like feckin glue everywhere we go- Oh no…

The tears were freely flowing now, not wanting to believe what you were hearing, sure you weren’t the most serious person but you never thought that would be a problem, specially after everything you’ve done with and for them. 

-Maybe you’ should stop inviting ‘er everywhere with us then- 

-Is no’ like I want to, Lt.  Bu’ she jus… pops ‘ere everytime I try and talk to all o’ you .- 

“Maybe I should go… But… my legs are not moving” 

-S’ your fault for flirting wi’ er when she came roun’ the firs time- Kyle was annoyed, months of interaction helping you to recognize the tone in their voices.

-Y’kno tha’ he does tha’ to everyone.- Simon sounded so sincere that you couldn’t help to feel stupid, as if you were just a joke. Another one of the bunch… 

-Lads, c’mon… She’s jus’ doin her job- Price was tired and he could already feel a headache starting to form in the back of his head.

-She’s a nice girl, ‘sides you kno’ tha’ i couldn’ stop Laswell for saddling ‘er with us- 

That was it, you never thought that they didn’t want you. They were a bit standoff-ish in the first few weeks or so but that was because they didn't know you… right? They were a tight-knit group, it was perfectly natural to not trust an outsider with their health, right? 

They became friendlier in the last weeks, actually letting you patch them up rather than doing it themselves when you weren’t in the med bay. The first one that apparently seemed friendly to you was Johnny, making you blush with his flirtatious ways but at least making you glad that he was starting to open up a bit, Kyle and Price being a bit on the quiet side but at least no longer just completely silent while you fixed them up and Simon… well he was still not talking to you or acknowledging you.

Knowing that all of your efforts were for nothing made you feel useless, it had nothing to do with your job, you knew you were good otherwise you wouldn’t have been assigned to the 141. 

So with a deep breath and a new goal in mind,  you turned away and left files in one hand and a slightly crushed box of pastries.

“In the madness and soil, of that sad earthly scene”

You didn’t sleep a wink since that moment, pouring yourself over the medical files that needed your approval for final submission.

You were so deep in thought, that you didn’t hear the knocks at your door, only looking up when you heard a cough to get your attention. 

There stood your captain, looking very tired and you already could see the headache seeping into his usual calm demeanor. 

The urge to offer him a tea cup or a mild remedy for his head crossed your mind, he looked really tired but after what you heard last night you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

- Is there something you needed, captain?- your voice came out a little bit tired and sharper than usual, something that didn’t went unnoticed by the captain

-Yeah, kid. The reports from the last mission, do you have’ em?- He narrowed his eyes a bit at you, as if trying to figure out what happened. 

-Sure, let me get them for you- you stood up and moved to the cabinet next to your desk, there you took them off next to where the box of pastries remained intact and went ahead to give the to  the captain. 

- Here, all of the medical procedures and recent injuries are already stated. All they need is your approval so your medical history can be updated in due course- 

You handed him the files and turned to look at him, his face was a mix of confusion and slight annoyance. This side of you was new to him and he didn’t quite like it, where once you were all smiles and cheerful disposition now stood a sad look and a blank face, as if the very sunshine was taken from you. 

-Is everything all righ’, kid?- he found himself asking, you sighed loudly and headed back to your desk.

-Don’t worry about me, captain. Is just a rough patch, that’s all- You sat down and started to go over the files laid out before you.

-Alrigh’, if you need anything…- he watched you for a few seconds and then turned away and left.

A sour mood was felt across the base and from the interaction each of them had with you over the course of the week … there was definitely something wrong. 

Johnny tried flirting with you, but instead of being all giggles and blushing mess you just looked at him with a tight lip smile and continued as if he never talked to you, even when Kyle came in to your office for a quick fix up of his most recent stitches you remained completely silent, only talking to give him instructions on how to take care of his injuries and when to take his pain meds. Price’s office was a bit quieter than usual, without your usual self trying to warm up to him with an equally warm cup of tea or coffee in hand to help him through his headaches, even Simon felt the shift in your behavior, when crossing in the hallways or the break room being greeted with nothing more than a call of his rank and quickly leaving. 

The boys went into the cafeteria that same week and were surprised to see that while to the other soldiers you were still friendly and smiley, to them you were nonchalant and seemed almost way too professional. And that was upsetting everyone, so when you finished your lunch and went back to your office, files and coffee in hand they all decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't even finished entering your office when the four men burst in right behind you. You turned around with a scared look and a squeak of surprise at the sudden intrusion, the coffee almost falling from your grip and the files clutched to your chest. The boys all looked at you with a mix of annoyance and betrayal and you felt small, very very small. 

-What the hell is wrong with you?- your voice was a bit raised from the fright you were still recovering from, as you walked to your desk to leave the files and the coffee, Johnny spoke up. 

-Us? Wha’ e’ ‘ell is wrong wit you?- You turned around with a very deep frown etched into your face. 

-What are you talking about? You’re the ones that burst into my office like a pack of wild animals.- A very annoyed Johnny stepped right up until he was face to face with you. 

-Johnny calm down, mate.- Gaz’s voice was heard over Johnny’s loud breathing. 

-No, no’ until she’s told us jus’ wha’ in the living fuck is wrong- His voice was dangerously low, and it was fucking terrifying. 

-First of, back the fuck off, sargeant. I may be just a bloody fucking nuisance but i’m a doctor and I will break every bone in your body while naming them- A surprised look flashed through everyone’s faces, you’ve never talked to them like that before, and when Johnny didn’t seem to back off, you pushed with all your might and managed to make him to stumble back a bit. 

At that moment Ghost approached him and held him before he could fall, but the look he gave you, was right down murderous. A chill ran down your spine and your instincts screamed at you to run but your legs didn’t seem to work. Price at seeing the angry look on both of your faces quickly stood in front of everyone and yelled at both of you to cut it out. 

-Y/LN, you’ll apologize this instant or you’ll be subject to a reprimand for assaulting a ranking officer.- Price knew at the moment those words left his lips… he’d fucked up. 

-Excuse me?- You turned to look at him, furious. The nerve of these men…

-You think that you can burst into my office, to then demand an answer for which I do not know the fucking question to and THEN reprimand me for protecting myself against a man that got way into my personal space?- 

Your voice was raised, you were very very pissed off and the boys knew it, they knew they weren’t the best when it came to you, almost neglecting your care due to years and years of trust issues. They knew it wasn’t fair to you, but still when the only ones taking care of them were themselves, they just couldn’t trust you completely.

- I have tried SO hard to have you guys to trust me, GOD KNOWS I’VE TRIED and you won’t let me.- You felt the tears well up in the corners of your eyes and the faces of shock in the squad just made you feel worse. 

You hated yourself for crying, but the anger in you, the betrayal and the sadness were all out there now, so might as well just tell them everything. 

-I know I’m pathetic to you, I know that you think I’m… how you put it, Sergeant MacTavish?- At the mention of his name he looked up at you - “so fucking annoying”, I think was the term used.- His eyes widened, he knew exactly what you were talking about and the others seemed to remember the conversation they had a few days prior. 

-You’ eard o’r conversation?- Gaz seemed a bit angry and confused, how the hell could you have heard them if you weren’t supposed to be in the building. 

-Yes… I know it was wrong… I needed the captain’s signature on all of your files so your medical records could be updated..- The realization dawned on the captain, that’s why you were so down the next day… You heard everything. 

- But… I guess it was ultimately for the best- Your voice a whisper as you looked at them. 

-If you’re that unsatisfied with my care, I’ll ask the brass for a transfer.- The determined look on your face was like a slap in their faces, you were really going to leave them. They needed to fix this but neither of them said anything, you took a deep breath and left the office, leaving the four men standing dumbfounded in your office.

“What in the actual fuck just happened?” a thought, accompanied with the memory of utter anger and sadness in your face that will hunt the squad for the rest of their lives. 

They needed to fix it… soon. 

“Only then I am human, only then I am clean”

SOOOOOOO this was my first piece, i'm really sorry if it’s not the best so please forgive me jajaja.

If you liked it please like and reblog, I would like to keep writing and knowing you like it will make me very happy.

Jejejeje feedback is appreciated <3

[girlsdads]

maxiel; post-silverstone quali hurt/comfort, mild sexual content, ~900k

Steam is already curling out from under the bathroom door by the time Max returns to the suite. They’d ridden together that morning, but he’d left his debrief and found his motorhome empty. Some poor VCARB hospitality worker had been faced with Max’s frustrated disappointment upon hearing Daniel had already called a car. Another thing to hate about this year. Max can count on one hand the times Daniel’s made it out of Q2. It makes him want to run every other car off the track next time—he’d gladly take one million penalties if it meant Daniel got to sail right through.

He shimmies out of his jacket, drapes it over the back of one of the starkly modern chairs arranged in a stupid little seating area near the door. Rainwater drips onto the cushion, oddly satisfying. He thinks about Daniel in the hot, hot shower, washing the chill from his bones. Max himself doesn’t mind the weather much, but he could rip the clouds from the sky with how the rain makes Daniel shiver and shrink.

Max sheds his shirt next, tossing it onto the still unmade bed. Kicks his shoes off, hops from one foot to the other peeling his jeans down his legs. He’s naked by the time he enters the bathroom, the humid air heavy on his skin. He can see Daniel’s lovely silhouette through the steam, the strong lines of his back down to the gentle curve of his soft hips. He’s got his forearms pressed to the wall, head ducked and resting on his clasped hands. He doesn’t startle when Max opens the glass door and steps in behind him.

Inside the spacious stall the air feels thicker, almost suffocating. Daniel’s curls are flat to his forehead and his skin is flushed pink. He’s been in here for a long time already, Max can tell.

“Daniel,” Max touches the flat of his palm softly to the small of Daniel’s back. He is so warm. It takes everything in Max not to plaster himself to Daniel and shove them both against the shower wall, to feel him everywhere. But Daniel has been in here for too long and his sensitive skin will be getting pruny.

Max opens his mouth to say as much, but Daniel cuts him off. “None of it was my fucking fault, today.” His voice is practically a hiss.

“They put you out into traffic,” Max says calmly, his thumb rubbing small circles into one of the dimples at the base of Daniel’s spine. Max had been coming around toward the pitlane when his radio had chirped with Daniel is out now, Max. Max had of course seen Daniel pull onto the track, had seen the traffic there in front of him. Had tried to push Daniel forward with the sheer will of his own mind, as if his devotion alone could overcome shitty mechanics and shittier strategy.

“If it was me fucking up—I could handle that, y’know,” Daniel laughs, one of his honking ones, but it’s humorless. “They want me to prove myself? When they don’t give me a fucking fighting chance?”

Daniel suddenly whips around to face Max, his big round eyes a bit red like he’s been crying but a bit wild like he’s ready to put his fist through a wall. Max can’t help the way his cock starts to thicken a little between his legs.

“I dunno if I can do another year with this team, Maxy,” he says after a moment, his gaze flicking from holding Max’s to cast down at the tiled floor. The resigned admission is swallowed by the thick swirl of steam surrounding them.

Max chokes on the lump of panic that suddenly rises in his throat, the lingering dread that Daniel would not bother with him if he were no longer racing. The insidious little voice in his head that wishes Checo would just… disappear, so Daniel can have back the seat that has always been his.

Before Max’s brain can continue its spiral, Daniel chuckles, shakes his head, smiles tiredly but genuinely. His wrinkled fingertips come up to caress Max’s jaw in a way that makes Max want to melt into his skin.

“I’m expecting the full WAG experience, once I’m sacked.” He grins.

“You will of course be racing next year, Daniel.” Max is sure of this, as sure as he is of his own career. Though it is delicious to imagine a future where he could publicly pamper Daniel to his heart’s content.

“Mmm, you sound so sure of that, baby.” Daniel’s words are a rasp in his ear, breath hot on the wet skin there. “Wish everyone believed in me as much as you and I do.”

Max hears himself hiccup a gasp as Daniel’s teeth scrape over his earlobe at the same moment his hand wraps around where Max is fully hard, now. The raised wrinkles on Daniel’s fingertips feel like needlepoints against him. It makes him tremble.

“Just me, Daniel, and you—just us together—please,” Max pants as Daniel speeds his hand up, slipping the foreskin up and down and up and down. “Fuck everyone else.”

“Yeah, Maxy,” Daniel whispers, almost reverent, as Max spills over his fist. “Fuck everyone else.”

[cindol]

Just Tojo, sukuna and y/n being a unofficial relationship throughout their school years.

Fushiguro toji x black coded fem reader x Ryomen sukuna

In elementary it was of course cute how wherever sukuna went toji and y/n followed, both admiring the cute short pink haired young boy with Pokémon limited edition cards and the cool fake sticker he had on his arm. All of their parents found it adorable how the two would hang onto Sukuna’s arms and be by his side in any photos.

Come middle school and y/n branched out to feminine things and got her group of girlfriends, she found it so icky when people tried to ship her with the two boys. Whenever she came to cheer sukuna and toji on at soccer games she cringed when the popular boy satoru made teasing remarks.”you cheering your boyfriendsssss on y/n?” It made her cringe and make a exaggerating gagging sound while sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes.

In high school there was a slight shift, a big shift actually. With developing bodies, especially y/n’s body and fashion sense developing and the two boys being well.. boys at the end of the day small feelings would arise. When they were hanging around in y/n’s decorated room and she spun around to show them a new pink dress she was sporting to the mall it took everything in toji to respond with a controlled response out his nasty new mouth, he kept quiet for a bit making y/n roll her eyes.”wouldn’t hurt for my two best friends to gimme a damn review of the dress y’know!” Sukuna rolled his eyes a bit at toji, it’s not like he was shaming since he wasn’t any better but he gave him a ‘keep it together dumbass’ look. He responded for toji and him,”you look ethereal y/n, don’t look a mess for once! Who knew ya could pull it off.” His compliment always came with a joking jab.

The two were over protective without noticing it too. Toji knew how his teammates on the school football team could be such pigs when it came to women and even spreading a rumor about a girl. Any type of,”you and sukuna be running a two man or what?” Line he shuts down. He knows y/n isn’t like that and wouldn’t even wanna be perceived like that. He groans when he first hears that and gives the teammate who said that a death stare as a way to say,”watch your damn mouth”

Everyone in their friend group could sense sometimes a tension between the 3 also. If y/n was out with one of the boys sometimes a innocent employee would ask if they were a couple y/n’s eyes would bulge while toji shakes his head chuckling. “Oh no no me and him aren’t— I would never sorry!” Y/n gets caught on her words a bit, it’s amusing to toji.

When it comes to men they’re protective too also. Anytime she’s speaking about one of their teammates in a lovesick manner they don’t break it to her easy, well sukuna does harshly.”don’t fuck with em, assholes with big egos.” It makes y/n giggle a little.”you have experience with guys like that kuna?” She flicks her wrist a bit too, it was no secret to toji or y/n that sukuna was a bit on the fruity side, but honestly who wasn’t in highschool? Sukuna just gives her the finger sighing.”just don’t date em, you’ll be sadly disappointed with a signed football in your hand at the end.”

Come college the three were even more cozy with one another without realizing it. Getting lucky and sharing a dorm gave them the freedom to be as comfortable with each other as they already were. The three slept together in Sukuna’s bed a lot, to much of his sukuna’s dismay. He always groans when he has Toji’s muscular figure hugging him by one side and y/n hugging him tighter but does he complain? Hell no. He wouldn’t admit it but he liked the warm comfort of the two overgrown babies.

Y/n acted much like a care taker to the boys sometimes. Based on a conversation she had with toji about him barely taking the time to eat and sukuna not even bothering to eat because of all the fast food restaurants he hates around his job she took it into her own hands to always cook for the all three of them. Before they even head out she sucks her teeth at him.”aht aht! Not having my friends pass out doing sweaty ass work, take the lunches.” Sukuna looked forward to it, she cooked to his taste never making a sloppy burger or fried food while she cooked the sloppiest for toji, he always says he would burn and sweat it off anyways.

At college parties she always had them dressing up making people looking forward to the trip. On Halloween sukuna dressing as a ketchup bottle and toji as a mustard bottle while y/n was a hotdog. On thanksgiving sukuna would be a turkey while y/n and toji are pilgrims. On Christmas y/n was a reindeer while sukuna and toji were elves. And even on Easter they all would dress as Easter bunnies. Nobody ever knew how y/n got these overgrown men to dress up.

[urhoneycombwitch]

wanna make you feel better

based on this anon 💞

cw: allusions to/discussions about bad sex, Eddie fools around with someone who’s got a sort-of partner, R experiences light post-sex dissociation, mutual pining

wc: 1.3k

 __

It takes a few minutes for your limbs to unwind, to come back into your body after sex- and in those few minutes, Adam has already hastily dressed, kissed you quick and chaste on the forehead, and left your bedroom with a casual “see ya” tossed over his retreating shoulder.

Fuzzily, from your staring-at-the-ceiling vantage point, you hear the front door of your apartment close. Then some quiet voices in the hall- first the familiar low tones of Eddie, followed by a higher-pitched lilt of… Mary? Margot?- and the front door shuts again.

You sigh, long and deep, wiggling your fingers and toes back to life. As if moving through molasses you push yourself to sit up, then to gather your clothes strewn around the floor- underwear first, one leg at a time. Secondhand t-shirt that hits your knees, the band logo nearing a total fade from all the wash cycles Eddie had put it through before it ended up in your laundry.

A knock at your door, and Eddie peeks around the frame, dark curls frizzing and cartoonishly tall in the back- “Hey. You want Oreos or Bugles this time?”

“Uhm.” You pause halfway to putting on your second sock, trying to blink through the brain fog and connect with your stomach, which quickly sours in response- “Neither, I think. Maybe some water.”

Eddie’s rings click against the wood of the doorframe as he taps in acknowledgement. When he turns to leave for the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of bare torso, grey sweatpants slung around bony, boxer-less hips.

Slut, you think, fondly, pulling on your soft sock the rest of the way and padding out into the living room.

The record player in the corner is calling your name, so you kneel to flip through the milk carton stuffed full of yours and Eddie’s combined collection.

“Nothing maudlin,” Eddie calls from the attached kitchen, cabinets banging shut in punctuation. “We have a strict No Wallowing After Bad Sex rule in this house and we’re goddamn sticking to it.”

“Apartment,” you amend, ignoring his instruction and pulling Blue from its sheath. “And wallowing can be therapeutic, y’know.”

With the drop of a needle, Joni Mitchell starts crooning about traveling a lonely road, and Eddie sighs, long and deep, a mirror of yours from earlier.

There’s a clinking of porcelain on glass, and you turn to watch as Eddie sets out bowls of snacks and tall glasses of water- one of them iced the way you like- onto the coffee table.

“Eat up. The midday meal of champs- or losers, depending on your preference.” He collapses with a dramatic huff against the couch, then leans over to dig around in the bowl of Bugles.

I wanna be strong, I wanna laugh along, I wanna belong to the living…

You crawl the short distance it takes to settle your back against the couch, side pressed into Eddie’s leg. There’s an acidic taste at the back of your throat, a mixture of Adam’s release and your own sickened stomach in a nauseating combination; you sip at the cold water, attempting to wash the taste away.

“Here. Doctor’s orders.” Eddie’s hand comes into view- each finger topped with a curved chip.

A giggle works its way out as you tilt your head to pull a Bugle off his finger with your teeth, crunching into the familiar corn flavor- it certainly works to get the lingering taste of shame out of your mouth.

“Don’t get used to seeing Margaret around, by the way- sounds like she’s gonna patch things up with her boyfriend.” Eddie’s hand draws back, a subsequent crunching noise before he speaks around a mouthful of chips- “I know you’ll miss all those scintillating hallway conversations.”

You snort, unsure if he’s referring to the fact that you’ve snooped via ear-pressed-to-door whenever they used to argue, or the handful of times that you and Margaret have politely and coolly interacted due to the one-bathroom setup.

“Well, good for her.” Unable to keep the irritation out of your voice (on Eddie’s behalf, since you’re such good friends and it’s hard to see him treated this way, not because you’re jealous), you dig into the snack bowl, fishing for an Oreo. “Hope Margaret and her weirdo on-and-off again boyfriend with that pedo mustache are very happy together.”

Eddie laughs, a melodic, genuine one that has him doubling over to bump playfully into your side. “Goddammit. That Ed Rooney-looking motherfucker…”

The bite of Oreo goes down smooth and sweet; you lick at the crumbs left behind on your thumb before saying, “And, lucky for our bathroom usage, Adam won’t be around anymore either.”

Eddie groans. “I think that guy uses more hair product than me and Harrington combined, and that’s saying something.”

He seems pleased when you chuckle, taking the warmth of his body previously pressed into your side away as he settles back into the couch. “What was wrong with this one, couldn’t get your rocks off with Ol’ Mister Hairspray?”

“Got my rocks off just fine, thank you very much,” you say, faux-primly, focusing your attention on the glass of water in front of you.

Condensation slips down the side. Your voice gains a gravelly tone that feels dangerously close to preceding tears when you say,  “I just… every time we hook up, I end up feeling lonelier than ever afterwards. And I’m kinda sick of it.”

Do you see, do you see, do you see how you hurt me, baby? So I hurt you too, then we both get so blue…

Eddie’s warm palm (not the one covered in Bugle crumbs) comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb digging gently but firm into the tense muscle at the nape of your neck. A hum purrs from your throat, eyes shutting involuntarily as he manages to zero in on the spot that needs the most care.

 “C’mere,” Eddie says, softly, hand sliding off and away as you unfold your limbs to stand. Once you’re sharing the couch cushion, he goes to pull you in closer but stops when he sees you bite back a smile- “What?”

“Your hair is… insane. In the back. If you haven’t noticed- wait!”

Eddie’s hand freezes halfway to his head with your alert, and you knock it out of the air, chastising- “Gonna have a head full of Bugle crumbs. Let me.”

“Bugle Head. New band name, I call it.” Eddie’s eyes are half-lidded, reminiscent of a cat getting groomed as you smooth down the out-of-place strands, hands cradling the back of his skull briefly before you pull away.

“Didn’t even bother looking in the mirror after going at it like rabbits with your not-girlfriend?” You accentuate your tease with a solid finger-poke to his bare ribs.

Eddie’s hands drop to your waist, pinch just-shy of mean against your hips. “Watch it, pot. And this kettle’s not fucking like a rabbit… more like a semi-interested turtle. With a semi-”

He gets shoved, for that comment, but drops down flat on the couch a bit too easily, pulling you with him.

With your ear pressed to Eddie’s chest, you can hear the whooshing of his blood, the steady thump of it against your cheek. He slips an arm around your lower back while yours encircle his torso, his sweatpantsed-legs twining with your bare ones.

“Why do we keep sleeping with such losers?” you muse aloud, breath unconsciously stalling to match Eddie’s much slower rhythm.

“Dunno.” His hand strokes down the length of your back, likely covering you in snack crumbs, but you find you don’t really mind right now. “Glad I have you to commiserate with, though. They say not all who wander are lost…”

You frown against the smooth skin below your cheek, sensing a trap. “…is that a Tolkein reference?”

“Nope. Shakespeare. Hamlet, if I recall correctly.”

He lets you laugh into his chest, squeezing gently at the soft flesh of your upper arm, like he’s trying to hold on to you and the moment at the same time.

You settle, again, breaths joining again. Joni croons on.

Wanna write you a love letter, I wanna make you feel better, I wanna make you feel free…

[lxstfathier]

Hi could you please do sex pollen with bass or Alejandro Vargas or both with an inexperienced female reader please

Anon? anon who is bass?? i couldn’t figure out who you meant so, here it is, i did it with ale ;)

Flowers

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, sex pollen, squirting, age-gap, another fic of Ale taking our virginity cuz we love that shit!

A/N: i actually loved writing this lol, it was fun. you know english is not my first language, so there might be some errors, but i hope y’all like it 💗

You don’t remember exactly what happened. The mission went wrong, and you followed colonel Vargas into the woods, trying to scape from enemy fire, accidentally running into some bushes full of strange colorful flowers that you had never seen before. Then it all went blurry.

Now, two hours later, you’re on base again, feeling really weird. Your whole body is sensitive, as if it has been set on fire, heavy breaths escape your lips and a thin layer of sweat starts to appear on your skin. How are you supposed to deal with it? you don’t even know what is going on, but you try your best to stay quiet while a nurse examines all your vital signs.

“You’re fine” she says after making sure that you don’t have anything that could possibly affect your health. “But it seems that you’re under the influence of some… natural aphrodisiac. So i’d suggest you to, y’know, relieve all that sexual energy, it will make you feel way better.”

Natural aphrodisiac? oh, so now you finally understand why your poor pussy is so wet, clenching around nothing and practically begging to be fucked. It makes sense. However, you don’t have a problem with masturbating a few times until the effects wear off. So you thank her, and then make your way out of the medical bay, walking straight to your own room.

But you didn’t expected to run into you colonel again. Those flowers should have affected him the same way as you, that’s for sure, what is he doing in the hallway? he should be inside his room, doing god knows what to help himself with that issue.

“Sargento” Alejandro calls you, forcing you to stop dead on your tracks, even though both of you are not in the mood for talking. “What did the nurse told you?”

“She said i’m fine. It’s just the effects of a natural aphrodisiac what’s making me feel so weird.” you answer, smiling at him, trying to play it cool. “Why? do you have the same?.”

“Si” he nods, but you don’t hear the rest, all of your concentration is now looking at his pretty brown eyes, his lips, his stubbly jaw, his broad shoulders, his strong arms in that tight shirt, and that obvious bulge inside his cargo pants.

He’s always been a good looking man, you won’t deny it, but right now? he’s fucking sexy, radiating a strong masculine essence that makes your knees go weak and the heat in your belly grow more intense. Almost as if you were a bitch in heat.

All of your shyness is gone, and before you know it, you’re grabbing his hand to guide him into your room, not even caring that he’s way older than you, a colonel who is supposed to be your superior. The arousal clouds your mind, not being able to think about anything else than getting pounded by him all night until you can’t remember your own name.

And Alejandro knows he shouldn’t be so eager to fuck his sergeant, but how can he tell you no when you look so pretty and so damn needy?

Once you’re both inside, with the door locked and the lights on, he pins you to the wall, kissing you passionately as his big hands roam your clothed body. Something new to you, considering the fact that you had never been touched by a man before this.

Should you tell him that he’s about to be the your first sexual experience? maybe, but you don’t wanna ruin the mood, so you just let go, feeling your tongues dancing with each other, running your hands over his strong chest.

But, as much as you’d love to keep kissing, the heat caused by the aphrodisiac is now unbearable, forcing both of you to pull apart and take your clothes off. And it could be part of the effect of those annoying flowers, but when you finally see his muscles, his tan skin covered in sweat, and that big veiny cock springing free, your mouth waters and your pussy throbs, clearly enjoying the view.

“Like what you see, mi amor?” he asks teasingly, and you just nod. “Cause i really do, who would have known my sergeant had such a pretty body? huh?”.

Now that Alejandro sees you all exposed for him, admiring every detail of your being, he’s sure that you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever met. If he had known what was he missing on, he would have pushed you into those bushes way earlier.

You don’t really know what to do next, you’re flustered and too inexperienced, so when he notices your hesitance, he gently guides you to the bed, telling you to lay on your back and relax.

Alejandro kisses your neck, and then slowly goes down to your tits, playing with your nipples between his teeth. It’s almost like a torture, you want more than that, involuntarily bucking your hips to get at least a little friction, anything.

“Just fuck me already, please” you beg in a high pitched voice, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Such a needy little whore” Alejandro says, mocking your pathetic cries. But you don’t care, even less when he drops to his knees, prying your legs apart to have a good look at your perfect pussy before devouring it like a starving man.

He licks and bites at your slick folds, savoring the sweet taste, dives his tongue into your hole and goes up to your clit, sucking hard. It feels really nice, better than any of those times where you played with yourself at night, and it’s not long until you’re moaning, feeling that familiar knot in your lower belly while tugging at his dark hair.

You cum easily, arching your back off the bed, almost crushing his head between your trembling legs. But that doesn’t stop him, he keeps eating you sloppily until you ride out that first orgasm.

When you come down from the high, Alejandro is already on top of you, holding your legs on his shoulders, guiding his cock to your tiny wet hole. And, without a warning, he slides inside on a singular hard thrust, making you scream at the new sensation.

He’s big, so the sudden stretch is a bit painful, but once you get adjusted to his girth and he starts moving slowly, your pained cries turn into whimpers filled with pleasure.

“F-faster Ale, please, ah- god-“ you moan into his ear, going literally stupid on his cock that you can’t even say a simple sentence.

“Yeah? you want me to destroy this pretty little pussy?”

He starts thrusting harder, pounding your tight heat in the most delicious way, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. It’s good, way too good actually, and you can’t help but writhe under him, digging your nails on the nape of his neck.

Another orgasm is near, you know it, and he can feel it too by the way you’re clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, preciosa, you’re taking me so well” Alejandro growls, one of his large hands going down to find your clit, rubbing it fast in circular motions. “Cum for me again, come on.”

His words, mixed with the stimulation and the way he’s ramming into you, is just what you need to see stars. You come undone once more, feeling the intense pleasure in every inch of your body, moaning so loud that probably the whole base heard.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made” he says, looking at how your sweet juices are coating his abs and pubes. Did you just squirted? hell, that’s new, you didn’t knew you could do that.

Alejandro doesn’t take long to reach his own orgasm, thrusting a few more times until he’s cumming inside, filling that pretty pussy of yours with his thick seed as he bites your neck, letting out an animalistic grunt.

You both stay like that for a minute, too fucked out to move, catching your breath. And you’re feeling better, but the effects are still not gone at all.

“That was amazing” you say, stroking his beard, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Can we do it again?.”

“As many times as you want, preciosa.”

[sepublic]

In hindsight it’s funny how I speculated after S1 about King and Lilith having a friendship because of similarities, not just because that happened for Hooty instead (and he needed it a lot more, it was much more based to do it with Hooty who was also the outlier in the Owl House) but also because.

Remember when King was just being a kid (something established in S2) excited to meet his dad, and then Lilith shut him down unprompted to be bitter about her own mother and project that onto King, who is devastated by the possibility??? And he actually internalizes it, with Lilith dragging him down to her level; It leads four episodes later to King being bitter about his dad and crying and lashing out in loneliness.

Not to mention Lilith just making King feel worse about being a Titan with her discomforting worship, to the point King had to walk away to be alone despite that being a dangerous thing to do; Hell he even trusts Steve because he needs anyone besides Lilith, and Hooty is not accepting criticisms of her as Steve painfully finds out. Poor King had to stand up for himself there.

I love you Lilith but uh jeez imagine if Eda found out she’d have been dead. Because after Luz, her other child needed a bad encounter and unhealthy worship too… At the same time, we saw Lilith begin to get her act together in defending her nephew, because adults should be nice to kids in general, even if they aren’t expected to be parents. King had Lilith and Eda for two months, sneaking off to meet with them when he needed a reprieve from the Collector. Because as much as he grew to enjoy the Collector, it was also a very stressful dynamic for him.

Anyhow this brings me to another point that yeah, I can see how Lilith being a bad influence to King during a volatile recovery period, and how King and Luz shouldn’t be expected to tolerate and support that over their own health (esp with Luz’s own health on the subtle decline), paired with Lilith moving out; She also needed to address her pain from someone who actually owed it to her and had that caretaker responsibility from the start.

I do find it funny/ironic with zero judgment (speaking from my own experience obviously) that a lot of us looked forward to the idea of Lilith as a mom to Amity or others and then it turned out she was just. NOT good with kids a lot of the time, she’s bad even, Lilith’s more of an aunt anyway and it’s like. Fine for her?

Lilith had a lot to work on before she could begin supporting kids, it was not her arc’s priority, a big part of her arc is about needing her own mother to support her, who is an adult but needs it and isn’t judged for that! Lilith's happiness and healing is not contingent on taking care of a kid, which is a worthwhile stance to consider from a feminist lens. And eventually Lilith reaches that point, not necessarily as a parent but definitely a proper mentor for Amity, to bookend Lilith’s growth with a nice achievement; But that’s a nice ending bonus, not a prerequisite.

Plus the thing is that for all this, Lilith is not like… demonized for it. It’s still bad and wrong and she needed to give distance to King. But her road to recovery could be messy and she could be messy and mean about it. But there wasn’t an insistence on reactively punishing Lilith for it, moreso addressing the problem constructively, and sometimes Lilith having better things was synonymous with the kids having the same with her. Kinda like how Camila was pretty harsh and even taking it personally at the end of Yesterday’s Lie, but she also realizes what she did wrong and doesn’t have to be punished, just be supportive.

Support Women’s Wrongs, not just in the literal sense, some flaws are allowed to be passed off as not big enough to address. But also in the sense that women are allowed to be flawed and messy and work on it without needing to be hated or punished, because there’s a difference between others characters feeling that way towards them and the narrative, y’know? Think TOH arguing Restorative Justice instead of Retributive Justice, building people back up instead of tearing them down further.

Kikimora was knowingly complicit in genocide and then manipulated children afterwards, but the new state shouldn’t have the authority to execute, so the worst she gets is community service, and before that Kiki’s still entitled to successful revenge against her abuser. Warden Wrath ran a prison and oversaw inhumane experiments, but still gets to live with his son. Terra and Adrian are terrible people but outside of some minor comeuppance, are allowed to live their own lives.

[starspyder]

𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘕𝘦𝘢𝘵 // 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

Summary: Dean Winchester is a hardened man. While he would love to, he can’t maintain a proper relationship due to his line of work. With how much of a sweetheart you are, Dean finds it almost impossible to keep you at an arm’s distance.

Warnings: implied age gap but it's not fully mentioned (reader is 27, Dean is 40 in this if ur curious), moderate angst, AQUAPHOBIA WARNING (almost-drowning), witches, canon-typical violence, Dean saves you hehe, fluff, lowkey grumpy x sunshine, Dean is in denial and thinks you deserve better than him, self-hatred, guilt on Dean’s part, you’re both into each other but he’s so scared of hurting you, Southern!Reader bc i said so hehehe, Dean is YEARNING

Gif from Pinterest

Word Count: 1462

Dean would never consider himself soft. Sure, he was good with kids, but only because he basically had to raise Sam by himself. Those experiences in his own childhood slipped from his hands like sand in an hourglass, and that little ball of softness went right with it. 

Until one case in Louisiana, when it practically fell right into his arms. 

He and Sam had been there tracking a coven of witches in New Orleans, like something straight out of American Horror Story. Based on the news reports, the victims were all friends or family of one of the suspected witches– likely her initiation into the group, to prove she was worthy. A young girl had gotten caught in the crossfire, simply because she was roommates with one of them, and accidentally led the Winchesters right to the coven. 

He’d seen you right before they began the real hunt, having gone back to your house for a final round of questioning. Truthfully, he’d gone by to flirt his way into checking the house for any hex bags, but your witchy roommate was good about keeping it out of her living space. When he didn’t find anything, he couldn’t seem to deny your offer for a cup of coffee, while you did your best to inquire about the case. 

“Why do you think Rebecca is involved?” You asked, somewhat nervously. 

You sat across from Dean as he sat on the couch, cross-legged in a papasan chair, one hand tapping your thigh nervously and the other holding your floral patterned mug. 

“We’re just trying to rule her out as a suspect, Ma’am. As soon as we do that, the sooner we can get to figuring out what’s been happening around here.” He had reassured you. “Are you sure you haven’t been noticing any irregularities in her routine?” 

“We have each other on some tracking app, just to be safe, y’know? She tells me that she leaves her job at 7:30 every Thursday, which is a fifteen minute drive from here. Rebecca would always tell me when she should be home, just in case anything happened,” You sighed. 

Dean’s eyebrows raised as he waited patiently for you to continue. 

“About three months ago, she just kinda’ stopped doin’ it. She’s been going out a lot more than normal, with a big group of girls– met ‘em at work, she said.” “Do you know where they’ve been going?” 

“Mostly just to clubs around town. I checked one day because she hadn’t been home all night and I was worried. Her last location was some place near Lake Pontchartrain, a few miles deep into the woods. I tried finding it online, but nothing turned up. Rebecca hates being outside, she hates camping and all that stuff, so there’s no reason for her to be there.” 

“Do you happen to have an exact location?” 

Your head shook. “It’s a big area, not a lot of cell towers.” 

Dean leaned forward and took your hand, which had still been tapping against your leg. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Sweetheart.” The next night, a Thursday, Sam and Dean had tracked the coven down to some ritual spot in the middle of the forest. It didn’t take them long, considering that half a mile out, they could hear terrified cries for help. 

They found you, tied to a tree and begging for your life as the witches teased and taunted you– even the girl who you told them you considered your best friend. 

“You know, Y/N, you’re just too sweet sometimes. You even let an entire coven slip under your nose, because you couldn’t think for a second that your best friend would ever hurt you.” Rebecca sneered, kneeling in front of you and tracing the swell of your cheek with a knife.

“Please, Becca, don't hurt me, I won’t tell anyone!” You cried, tugging against the ropes that cut into your wrists. 

Dean was ready to jump out and kill her right then, but Sam’s arm across his chest kept him at bay. For now. “Don’t hurt me! Please, spare me. Killing you is the key to getting everything I’ve ever wanted! You’re the one who kept telling me to do what I wanted for once!” Dean watched as the large bonfire cast an orange glow over your terrified features, and his chest ached that he couldn’t quell that fear. It made him think back to Lisa, how much he cared for her. Only after a week, wasDean absolutely enamored with you. 

It didn’t take long for the brothers to swing into action, killing the witches with surprising ease. They were plenty in number, but their skill couldn’t rival the brothers’ experience. 

As Sam cut your ropes, Dean was chasing after Rebecca as she chanted out a string of Latin. By the time he killed her, the damage had been done and you were writhing on the forest floor, water coming out of your mouth like there was a well in your lungs. 

You collapsed into Dean’s arms, grasping at your throat as your eyes watered, chest heaving through the pain. 

“Find the fucking bag!” Dean yelled, maneuvering you on your knees, face pointed at the ground as you drowned in open air. Sam dropped to the ground, fumbling through piles of leaves and dirt to find the offending item. In the scramble, the hex bag was kicked near the fire, causing Dean to yank his gun out and shoot it, breaking the spell. 

You gasped for breath like a fish out of water as you coughed up the last of the water wheezing and panicking from the fear. “It's okay, you’re safe.” Dean comforted, holding you to his chest as your body was wracked with sobs.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart.” 

When they were leaving town, Dean made one last stop to visit you in the hospital where you were recovering. 

“How are you feelin’, Sweetheart?” He asked, sitting next to your hospital bed. The doctors had decided to keep you for observation for a few days, citing potential damage to your lungs. 

“Like hell,” You said with a grin. “Y’all headin’ off?” 

Dean nodded. “Gotta head back home. Do you have anywhere you’re planning on going once you’re out of this dump?” 

“Not really. I don’t have any family I’m close to, so nobody to couch-surf with. I’m definitely leavin’, though. ‘M not quite sure where I’ll end up.” 

He could hear the tinge of sadness in your voice. He knew what it was like to not have a family, a place to call home. He knew it all too well. 

“Come with us.” 

The rest was history. 

Dean couldn’t help but think back to that day often. How lucky he was to have saved at least one life that day. Your life. 

He often felt dirty. You were a bright young girl, who could’ve had a great future, had you not been caught up in the mess of their lives. Not once did you ever complain, going with the flow and learning what you could to help them. You were so selfless, almost to a fault; you put up with his temper, his yelling, and when he was feeling particularly annoying. You helped clean his wounds when he was hurt, and when he was once sick, you made him tomato and rice soup, that tasted just like what Mary would make when he still held his innocence. 

Dean took his whiskey neat, while you stuck to those same girly cocktails that Sam swore he didn't like.

You were too good to be tarnished by the likes of Dean Winchester. 

Dean would always be an eternally bitter man who was constantly angry at something. He rose early due to incessant nightmares, drinking black coffee at three in the morning to stave off his near constant exhaustion. When those nightmares were about you, as they often were, nowadays, he would poke his head in your bedroom just a few doors down, his heart rate calming at how soft you looked, wrapped up in your blankets and a small light on your desk casting a warm light around the room. 

Your skin would always glow under the light, illuminating your features and the curve of your nose, how your hair fell into your face and how you would let out a wistful sigh every so often. 

You were such a stark contrast to the man who stood in your doorway almost every night. If Dean was marble, you were a flower that could be crushed under it. He was the knife, you were the sacrificial lamb. No matter what universe, Dean would ultimately be your demise, just like everyone else in his life. 

As he would gently close the door, he would take one last look at you and whisper one sentence. 

“You’re too sweet for me.”

[hoeforalbedo]

ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Chapter 1

———————— ♱ ————————

WARNING: PLEASE READ

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

SUMMARY: Everything is normal. I mean it. I swear.

———————— ♱ ————————

You went home feeling at ease and as you laid on your bed, you realized that maybe you should have invested in therapy. Hongjoong isn’t really qualified to be a therapist but he works just fine, plus he’s free.

Hongjoong is an interesting man. A hypocrite. A man so corrupted feels so tantalizing, like the fruit Eve was warned not to eat. The devil, these thoughts, they whisper at you, feeding you delusions of this man. You feel. . . Loved. Is that the right word? Love is a strong word and you just met the man but you just felt a strong connection. Maybe it’s because he gave you that ounce of validation you craved.

“You shouldn’t be going out on your own. Especially not with these serial killings going around,” Hongjoong joined you at the pew. You stare at the huge crucifix above the altar with contempt. You may have really come back at the wrong time. The small quiet town has been experiencing some serial killings. Many say it’s the devil. Others blame you, although it ultimately leads to the devil. Seriously, why can’t they just admit that some fucked up person did it?

You shrug nonchalantly. “We both know, nobody gives a shit about the murders. Plus, I didn’t want to be in that house. All I hear is their constant yapping of God.” You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s always God this and God that. God can suck my dick.”

“Do you resent God?” He asks curiously.

“Yes. Very much,” You scoff. “Isn’t it obvious? You know, after the talk we had at the confessional booth, I did something bad. I prayed to the devil,” You smile.

The man raised a brow, almost leaning towards you. “Did you now?” He asks with amusement laced in his voice.

“I did. I prayed that he would kill that motherfucker.”

“And?” He asks almost excitedly. Why is he feeling this way? He should be scolding you.

“I was watching the news and found out that he died. He was murdered. They also found that he was a predator. I think his other victims may feel some sort of relief that he’s dead,” You chuckle, as if the man’s death was the bare minimum.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment before you speak up. “Although there’s gotta be a catch right? Maybe he wants my soul? Is my soul even that yummy?” Your brows furrow and your lips fall into a pout as you think deeply.

“Now why would you think that?” He chuckles.

“I’ve sinned,” You shrug.

“Sweetheart, I doubt those sins are enough. Hell is full of evil, and I promise they’ve done more than steal a pack of bubblegum,” He jokes.

You look at him offended, “Hey I’ve done stuff! And you’re a weird priest. Shouldn’t you be like ‘demon bad’ instead of indulging me?”

“Well you’re weird for admitting to a priest, but if you ever need an exorcist, you can always call me,” He smirks.

“Y’know, you look much cooler in this outfit,” she hums, admiring how handsome he looks in the typical black outfits priests wear with the white in the middle of his collar. “The robe thing you wore on Sunday made you look short.”

Hongjoong gives a playful glare at you. “Give me five Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers.”

———————————————————————

“Where did you go? Do you not realize how dangerous it is right now? Especially for a woman? Your father’s been throwing a fit, asking where you are.” Your mother drags you in and closes the door.

Despite it being modern times, your mother, along with other women in the town, played into this 1950s wife role. She wears a typical red plaid dress and despite being in the house all day, her hair is done along with wearing heavy makeup. Your mother prided in having red lipstick.

You recalled how comforting she was, humming as she cooked the meals. She never let you go to school without breakfast, saying how “It’s the most important meal of the day.” You’d force yourself to finish the whole plate then went to school despite your parent’s lack of dreams for you.

“I’m a grown adult and I have a scalpel. I’ll be fine,” You groan, tired of always hearing her lectures. “And I was at the church,” You add in hopes that it would shut her up. Satisfied, your mother let go of your arm and you went up the stairs to your room.

The room remained the same after all those years. There’s a desk in the corner and multiple bookshelves, from textbooks and just books of God. You weren’t allowed typical books such as Harry Potter as it apparently promoted witchcraft.

Your queen size bed is against the wall with your nightstand beside it. Across from your bed hangs a silver cross that somehow never rusted along those years. You also have drawers against the other side of the wall. It looks exactly the same way you left it.

You lay down on your bed. You’re tired. Tired of everything. The true punishment is being dragged back into this town. You hate it. It’s the literal epitome of hell. This holy town is hell. It’s embarrassing failing a suicide attempt. You had a letter and everything. It’s just pure humiliation when you’re brought back to the very town you tried to escape.

Thud!

You didn’t realize when you had fallen asleep but the loud sound immediately had you bolting up your bed. The sun has gone down. “Oh fuck!” You hiss, tapping your phone to check the time only to be blinded by it. Dark mode isn’t meant to blind people. It’s 2 am.

You reached over your bedside and turned the lamp on, being blinded once more, as your eyes strain to adjust to the light. When has the room gotten so cold? When your feet touch the floor, you almost didn’t want to stand up as it just felt too icy compared to your warm skin. Every step felt like pricks of ice.

It was the crucifix. The nail that had kept it up had rusted and weakened. You bend over to pick it up then walk back to your bed. The crucifix is placed on the nightstand. Now you can’t sleep. Isn’t this what happens at the start of every horror movie?

———————————————————————

“How unfortunate! Absolutely vile,” Your mother exclaims as she reads the newspaper. Who reads the newspaper these days? Your father answers with a grunt.

“Remember Betty? The sweet lady who taught Bible study back in the days? She had been murdered last night! That poor woman,” Your mother sighs, shaking her head then folding the newspaper.

“This is why you have to keep praying or else the devil will take you next,” Your mother lectures.

“That will be the day,” You groan, despising the sound of her squealing voice.

“That’s not how you talk in my house,” Your father yells.

“Then I’ll gladly see myself out,” You smile and get up from your seat, not wanting to finish your breakfast anymore. You hurriedly put your shoes on then ran out the door without lending an ear to the berating screams of your parents.

A walk. You needed a walk. You allowed your feet to take you wherever it wanted and suddenly you found yourself in the woods, where you used to run to, when you were younger. In the middle of the forest, there would be a huge tree, bigger than the rest. The forest seems to be circling it.

“What is a young lady like you doing here?” A woman asks, making your heart skip a beat. Her hair is gray and her skin is wrinkled. Her body is hunched over but despite all that, you can make out her beauty peeking through her age.

“Where did you come from?” You freak out.

“You know, this tree held special meaning,” She absolutely ignores your question.

“That’s nice,” You mumble, not really wanting to hear a history lesson.

“This was where the witches of the town were burnt. This area harbors a lot of pain and turmoil, begging to be avenged,” She smiles wistfully.

“Witches?” You perk up. That’s new. You know about witches after leaving the town. The topic always piqued your interest.

“Oh yes. Oakheart used to be a coven of witches, that is until the Evangelist came and forced us to turn to their God. Others who refused were burned here. My family were ones who played along with the Evangelist but we never forgot,” The woman tells her story.

“Interesting, so like we worshiped Satan?” You asked, not meaning to sound ignorant at all.

The woman chuckles but doesn’t take offense to your words. “The town worshiped more than just Satan. Lilith, Lucifer, The Princes of Hell, Hekate, Athena, Thor, Loki, and so many more deities. It was a coven where people worshiped who they wanted and nobody judged,” The lady explains. “It seems that a deity may have taken interest in you. You have to help them!”

“Huh?” You’re taken aback.

“Help them! Help them! You have to help them!” The woman starts screaming all of a sudden, grabbing onto your arms.

“What is wrong with you!” You wince, pulling away and running off, her screams becoming distant. You kept running and running, occasionally stumbling on rocks. “Stupid rocks,” you curse under your breath.

You didn’t know where you were going. It was all the same looking trees. When you started questioning your location, you eventually found a clearing.

“Thank god!” You let out a sigh of relief. Before you is the church. You never knew the forest was behind the church, only because the forest is so big.

“Y/N,” A voice suddenly makes you jump. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

You clutch your chest to catch your breath. You look up and it’s none other than Pastor Hongjoong. “Yeah I’m fine. I’m fine,” You breathe heavily.

“What were you doing in there?” He looks at the vast forest.

“It’s my favorite place,” You manage to catch your breath.

“You need water?” He offers.

“Yes. Please.”

You follow Hongjoong into the church, going through hallways that the usual parishioners never go into. You could definitely get lost, the place looking like a maze. The walls are the same off-white with occasional paintings of either Mary or Jesus. The overall lighting is dingy and just shabby. There are a few lightbulbs that would blink on and off. It’s almost as if the church doesn’t have enough funding for a proper electrician. With the amount of donation they receive, they should.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong calls.

“Yes?” You turn 90 degrees to come face to face with the statue of Holy Mary.

“Over here,” He calls from the room right next to you.

“Coming,” You answer but you can’t seem to stop looking at the statue. Something feels off, and as you look closely, you realize why. It’s crying. You wipe the tears or water or whatever liquid it was on the statue's face before following Hongjoong in.

“Welcome to my office,” He smiles, handing you a water bottle and telling you to sit on the small couch. “I promise you it’s not usually this messy.”

You look around. His desk is clean however the counter next to his fridge is littered with empty bottles of water, food wrappings, containers, and many more. There are also crumbs of food in front of the fridge. Besides that, it’s pretty clean.

“Oh what’s with that box over there?” You ask curiously, looking at the box with crucifixes, statues, and holy books.

“Well you know how I just started here. I was going to put that around and decorate the place but I never had the chance. You’d never expect that priest could get so busy,” He chuckles. “So? How have you been?” He asks, leaning against his desk.

You shrug, “Same old. I really can’t handle my parents and I really hate this town. Maybe once I get myself sorted out, I’m going back to New York and invest in some therapy.”

“That would be good, but hey I don’t mind being your unofficial therapist,” He gives a lopsided smile.

“I need some professional help too, Pastor Hongjoong,” You chuckle.

“Hongjoong. Please just call me Hongjoong.”

“Got it.”

“So, from what I heard you are a neurosurgeon. A good one?” He asks.

“A very good one. I have very skilled hands,” You smirk, realizing how sexual it came out to be. Curse you and your dirty mind. You’re almost like a teenager, except you gained free access to the internet in your 20s.

“Oh really?” He raised a brow and crossed his arms in amusement.

“Yup. Many would personally ask for me since my hands work amazingly,” You play along. “But seriously I love my job a lot. I want to go back.” You sigh, feeling a sense of sadness. Your parents never really care how successful you are. You have a nice high rise apartment, your name is known, and yet not a single ounce of ‘I’m proud of you.’ “Anyways, what about you? What are you doing here in Oakheart? You could have gone anywhere else so why here- And be honest! I spilled my whole trauma to you!”

Hongjoong laughs, “Okay, okay. I was an exorcist. Well an exorcist in training. Not anymore!” He sighs, sitting next to you.

“What happened?”

“We had to exorcize a demon from a child. The poor child. He was a victim of child trafficking. Of course the Vatican had to determine if it was just mental health problems, but you can’t really blame mental health when the kid is literally flying. Well he was just too weak and well he died during the exorcism,” He rubs his face with his hands.

You put a hand on his back, offering him some sympathy.

“Well in a way I think the demon gave him the justice he deserved. The demon gave him the strength to, uh, to have the power to kill the people responsible for the crime ring. And I believe he never wanted to be saved. When the demon wasn’t speaking, he would beg to die, to give him the permission to commit suicide. I felt his pain. It was very painful,” His voice broke.

You rub circles on his back.

“So yeah, I was traumatized,” He chuckles. “Maybe I should also invest in therapy, too. The Vatican doesn’t really offer those. I know that demons are meant to be all bad but it angers me that the demon did what God couldn’t. Isn’t that weird? A priest questioning God?”

“Want me to be honest?” You ask in which you earn a nod. “That is so fucking weird.”

Hongjoong chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s kinda too late to change careers. I’m already a fucking priest, excuse my language. You need a degree for that. You need a degree to talk about God,” He laughs. “But I agree. This town sucks. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.”

“Well now I feel guilty leaving you here,” You huff.

“You got space for me?” He jokes.

“Oh honey, I got plenty, and money ain’t a problem either,” You smirk.

“Oh, we’re skipping to pet names now, huh?” He teases.

“Oh I didn’t mean-“ Your cheeks flush pink.

“I'm just messing with you. It’s cute.”

“Omg stop flirting!” You whine.

“Sorry, baby,” He chuckles.

“I'm leaving,” You stand up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. . .” He looks at you guiltily.

“No no, you’re all good. I'm just playing with you. I just get flustered easily. You know, being raised like a holy child of Jesus and all.” You trail off, admiring his perfectly sculpted face.

Hongjoong stands up and takes heavy steps towards you until he’s towering over you. “Well aren’t you a bad girl, playing with a priest like that,” His voice low and seducing.

“I tend to play dangerously. It’s more thrilling that way,” She shrugs.

“You know, Jesus was quite the ladies man,” He hums, lips curling into a devious smirk.

“Where are you getting at?”

“It means,” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then lifts your chin with his hand. “Even holy men can’t take their eyes off of pretty women, and I’m no exception. May I?” He asks your permission to kiss like a gentleman.

“Yes,” Your stomach flutters as your lips press against another. You kissed with need and desperation, pressing against him. You’ve kissed before. You’ve kissed many, but this kiss tastes sweet and satisfying, perhaps because of how wrong and sinful it is.

Your breathing is ragged as you part from him, yet it seems like depriving him of your kiss would kill him. He captures your lips once more, like a hungry predator, and as he does so, he steps back until he feels his heel backing into the sofa. He sits down, his lips staying on yours like a magnet, and you eagerly climb onto his lap. Your hands ran up his solid chest slowly before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Hongjoong’s burning from the sweltering heat, although unsure if it’s from the kiss or from the sin he’s about to commit. He now understands how Eve was so easy to convince.

“So pretty,” He mumbles as left warm kisses against your jaw and down your neck.

“Joong,” You whisper, tilting your head back. He hums and bit down the side of your neck, not too hard but just enough to leave a mark.

“You taste so good,” He practically moans, indulging in the taste of sin. You reek of sin and it’s all the more sweeter and fulfilling. Hongjoong’s drunk off of it as he’s grinding his hard cock up against your clothed pussy. He’s a desperate man. “You’re so good to me, Y/N,” He whines.

“Oh God, Joong!” You moan profanities.

“He’s not here, darling,” He chuckles. “Can I have you? Please, I need you.”

You nod, “Please Joong.”

He shifts you both so that you’re laying below him. “You look so pretty below me,” He says, admiring how vulnerable and hot you look underneath him. “Can I?” He asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Yes,” You answer. You wanted it. You want it this time.

You arch your back to help him pull your shirt over your head.

“Cute,” He chuckles, looking at your cute pink bra.

“Don’t judge me,” You huff.

“Not at all,” He smiles as he fumbles with the hooks of your bra to reveal your perfect tits. “Fuck,” He groans, feeling his cock constrict from his boxers. He kisses down your sternum as he squeezes your breasts. His fingers brush against your budding nipples.

“Hongjoong,” You hiss, needing to feel his touch.

He clicks his tongue and frowns in disapprovement. “Don’t rush a starving man.”

You complain, “And don’t tease me- fuck!” Your back arches up as his lips wrap around your bud. He is quick to shut you up with a harsh suck. “Hongjoong,” You gasp, tugging on his hair. Your eyes flutter close as you revel in the way his tongue circles your nipple.

It feels so good when suddenly it doesn't. You try to push away that foreboding feeling, images flashing through your mind. Why is it that whenever you start feeling so good, your mind seems to be punishing you. You open your eyes in hopes you don’t vividly see the scene in your head but right over Hongjoong’s shoulder is a cross nailed to the wall. That’s when it hits you that you’re about to fuck a man of God.

Honjoong notices how stiff you got so suddenly and looks up at you with worry. “Hey are you okay?” He asks, immediately getting off of you.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just, sorry,” You wince as you notice how you’re half naked. You immediately sat up, grabbed your bra, and put it on. “Sorry it’s just I suddenly remembered-“

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault,” He says, taking your shirt and putting it over your head. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, I’m not gonna force you.

“It’s just, I do want it. But that stupid man,” you kick the couch in frustration.

“No, I get it. Maybe it’s still too soon and you’re not ready for anything yet.”

“Thank you Hongjoong. Thanks for understanding,” You smile softly.

“No need to thank me. It’s the bare minimum.”

“I typically don’t try to fuck priests,” You crack a joke.

“Well I don’t typically try to fuck parishioners either,” He chuckles. “I get we just met but you’re a really sweet woman and I was hoping maybe I can get to know you more. Perhaps a date?”

“I would say yes Hongjoong but I don’t plan on staying in this town,” You say apologetically. “I might go insane here. Sorry, I just don’t want to get your hopes up,” You force a smile.

“I get it. This town is hell but at least indulge me?” He asks. “Just a date, nothing else.”

You sigh in defeat, falling into temptation so quickly. You do want this date. “Fine. Just one date.”

“Got it. I’ll make it worthwhile,” He smiles.

“Stop being so cute. It’s tempting me to go on more,” You joke.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t know what you mean.”

You chuckle as you fiddle your fingers. “So uh, I think I should go home. It’s gonna get dark soon and I don’t want to be on the murder list.”

“Ah yes, do you need anything before you go?” He asks.

“No, I'm good.”

“Actually let me drive you home. It's dangerous walking alone and for my sake, I’d rather see with my own eyes that you get home safe.”

You wanted to refuse but he’s right. The murderer hasn’t been caught and there wouldn’t be a date at all if you were to be dead. “Fine.”

“Oh- and,” He shuffles through a box that’s placed in the corner of his office. He takes out a black shawl and wraps it around your neck to act as a scarf. “As much as I want you to show off my marks, I don’t think you’d want anyone to see that.”

“Oh my god you’re actually so sweet. Take me home already or I might cry. Wait a damn second, you can drive?!”

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Surprise villain au oneshot

———

It had only been about three months since he took the little fox kit he found on some rich folk’s porch under his wing and Sonic had already heard the little guy apologize to him more times than he could count.

Most of the time it was for no reason, like if the kit dropped something and Sonic looked back at him. Just little things that required no apology but he always got one anyway. The hedgehog always waved it off, telling him that there was nothing he needed to apologize for.

Sometimes, however, it was due to how Sonic himself responded to him.

Sonic tended to experience pretty extreme mood swings, going from practically bouncing off the walls to the bottom of the barrel to being ready to kill someone who looked at him wrong all before a moment's notice. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be pleasant to be around one second and then suddenly snapping at anyone who breathed too loudly the next.

He knew it happened, he just didn’t know what to do about it. It was like he was stuck and could only watch himself slowly fall apart.

And worst of all, he’d begun to snap at Tails.

He didn’t mean to — he didn’t want to scare the little guy away, not when this was the first friend he’d ever had and they’d just started getting closer — but he couldn’t stop himself.

Sometimes the kit’s crime was asking a question at the wrong time or simply talking to him. It’s not like he ever knew when Sonic would suddenly get mad at him, the little guy was just trying to communicate with his new friend and was being punished for it.

Everytime it happened, the fox would get quiet and walk a few steps behind him. He’d only speak when spoken to until something got him excited the next day.

But he never left, he always stayed somewhere behind him and was still there in the morning.

It was a cycle.

They were walking down the street during the later hours of the evening, trying to think of somewhere to settle that night. Today was slow, Sonic usually got their money by pickpocketing off random people and he hadn’t been able to find anyone with more than $5 on them. It’s like all the richer mobians stayed inside today or people were starting to realize that money was being stolen and got smart.

Don’t get him wrong, $5 was great and he’d take it but deep down, some part of him was still used to the lavishness of Eggman’s bases…

They’d made it near the outskirts of Station Square. There’d been nowhere in the city for them to sleep with all the anti-homeless shit they’d been putting up. Spikes on benches, blocking off alleyways, the works. Sometimes, he considered just getting the two of them arrested so they could sleep in the juvenile detention center for the night or two.

But then they’d be separated and Tails could be sent back to his so-called parents.

He didn’t understand why they even bothered to file a missing person report and hung up fliers, they obviously didn’t care about the kid like he did. If they had been good parents, then Sonic wouldn’t have found the kit sitting on a porch in the rain, saying that his parents had kicked him out of the house for the night.

If they didn’t want to take care of their own kid, fine. He’d do it for them.

As they made it to the train station, Sonic put his hands on his hips and hummed. He looked back, “Hey, kid. What do you say we camp out in the Mystic Ruins tonight? Y’know, sleep under the stars and all…that…” His words trailed off as he looked at the kit.

He was holding one of the missing person posters.

Now, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was the kid in the flier unless you squinted and maybe turned the paper on its side. It was a terrible picture and the description said nothing about his twin tails. As long as the kid kept his hood on, he was in the clear.

But that wasn’t the problem.

An indescribable fear gutted him, dread opening up a pit in his stomach as his breath hitched. It was irrational, he knew it was irrational, but that didn't change anything.

“Why do you have that?” He asked

Tails blinked at him and looked back down at the paper, “Oh, uh- I found it yesterday. I meant to throw it away earlier but I forgot-“ The kit tried to explain before Sonic cut him off.

His body moved on autopilot as he snatched the flier right out of the kid’s hand, completely missing the way the kid flinched. Sonic’s gaze narrowed, glaring down at the wide blue eyes now full of fear staring up at him. He looked down at the flier again and ripped it into four pieces with an annoyed tsk.

“Forgot to throw it out, huh? You sure you weren’t just planning on going back to your folks and leaving me in the dust?” He practically spat out.

Tails’ eyes got wider and his breath hitched before he frantically shook his head, tears building in his eyes as they squeezed shut. “No! No, I wasn’t!” He cried out, “Honest!”

Sonic stared at the kit as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his paws to stop any tears from falling in public. Self awareness suddenly barreled into him full force as he remembered that they were, in fact, surrounded by people. He could feel their eyes on him.

He anxiously clenched his fists and turned around, “Good...” he simply said, “Let’s get going.”

The kid nodded and scurried behind him, still willing to follow him.

The train ride was quiet. It was pretty late so that wasn’t too surprising. Sonic looked out the window behind him, watching as the city lights faded into deep greens as they approached their destination.

Instead of leaning against his shoulder as he usually did, Tails sat a little bit away from him, namesakes curled around his legs as he stared at the floor. His ears were down, resting against the back of his head. His eyes were covered by his hood, Sonic could only see the small frown on his muzzle.

He sighed. He could only imagine what his little outburst looked to random people walking by. A thirteen year old scolding a six year old for holding a piece of paper. What a great look.

It’s not like anyone did anything about it anyway. No one ever did anything about it.

“I’m sorry.” The kit mumbled.

“You’re good.” Is what Sonic should’ve said, because it was true. He was all good, he didn’t do anything wrong.

But instead Sonic just hummed, unable to bring himself to speak. He didn’t know if it was embarrassment or if part of him was still unreasonably mad at the kid. He felt his heart break all the same when he saw the kit make himself smaller.

The kid didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of this. If Sonic knew what was good for him, he would’ve dropped him off somewhere with nice people who didn’t randomly snap at him and push him away only to love bomb him a day later.

Tails didn’t deserve any of it and yet Sonic couldn’t let him go. He didn’t want to be alone, the thought terrified him.

Eventually, they made camp near a cliff overseeing the ocean in the Mystic Ruins. The stars were shining overhead and the waves crashed against the shore beneath them. The wind rustled the trees and danced with their little campfire that lit up their faces.

Neither had said a word to each other since the train station, but that was normal.

Sonic looked at Tails out of the corner of his eye. The little kid just sat there, his blue eyes were still downcast as the fire’s warm glow reflected off of them. While his ears weren’t pressed against the back of his head anymore, they were still wilted, not quite standing up to full height.

The hedgehog sighed before looking back at the campfire, “You…you weren’t lying back there, were you?” He asked, “About not leaving…you weren’t just saying what I wanted to hear, right?”

Tails shook his head, “I wasn’t lying”

Sonic stayed quiet for a moment and just watched the fire dance, listening to each crackle as his words from earlier echoed in his head.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“It’s okay, Sonic.”

Soon they would go to sleep and wake up the next morning. Everything would go back to how it was. Sonic would spoil the kit as an attempt at an apology and they'd be fine until the next time he lost his temper. Maybe it would take a few days, maybe a few weeks, maybe even a whole month, but it would happen again and the cycle would repeat.

That was their normal.

[nhlclover]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: your relationship hits a rocky patch and a fight tests your love.

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of alcohol

note: based on 'just give me a reason' by p!nk. wrote this between the hours of 1 and 5 am, peak night owl behaviour. also I left the ending up for interpretation so you can imagine your own :)

word count: 2.0k

Right from the moment you met, Quinn had your heart.

With your mothers having been teammates once upon a time they decided to reunite. You were invited to the Hughes’s home and introduced to Ellen’s sons; Quinn, Jack, and Luke. You were drawn to the eldest Hughes boy immediately. Quinn was different than his brothers. While Jack and Luke were quite rambunctious, Quinn was reserved. His darker features attracted you quickly.

You guys connected that day, exchanging numbers. Quinn asked you on a date not a while later and the two of you began dating not long after that. The pair of you worked well together, your odds and ends balancing together.

You let yourself be vulnerable with Quinn. He saw the parts of you that weren’t all that pretty, the parts of you that you’d always desperately wished could be fixed. But with every touch, he fixed them.

It was your mom that warned you about being in a relationship with someone with such a profession, something she knew from first-hand experience. A profession that requires late nights, weeks out of town, and endless dedication. You assured her, and in turn, yourself, that you knew what you were getting into. You knew what dating Quinn meant, and you were willing to sacrifice a lot for him.

You had yourself convinced that it was fine. That you were okay with the “system” you and Quinn had set up.

When it began to change between the two of you, neither of you was sure of it. It was gradual and took a minute for both of you to see, but when you did it was painstakingly obvious. Empty sheets now lay between you, cold. Quinn’s loving words were now few and far between. Deep and meaningful conversations were replaced by the painfully dull small talk you’d had a million times.

Quinn’s practices began to run late as he worked on perfecting his game, followed by time at the gym spent becoming more agile and lean. Plans for date nights fizzled out, and boy's nights became more of a priority for him.

It was now painfully obvious what had happened. Somewhere along the way, hockey had become his main priority. It sits far above you. Somewhere along the way, hockey became less of his passion and more of a soul-sucking, energy-consuming task that leaves the stressed and unhappy version of Quinn behind for you to deal with. Something you can no longer withstand.

It was starting to take effect on you now and your friends noticed. It didn’t take much convincing for you to send your boyfriend a quick text while he was at a game letting him know you’d gone out for the night. You left no indication of when you’d be home because truly you didn’t know, nor did you have a plan.

Out at a downtown Vancouver bar, one you knew Quinn and his teammates would never step foot in following a game, you spilled all your repressed emotions out to your friends. You told them every detail. You weren’t sure whether you wanted advice or not but you got some anyways.

“Listen, none of these boys know you’re taken and I’m sure any one of them would be happy to take you to the men's bathroom and give you what you’ve been needing.” Your friend Alicia says.

“Absolutely not, do not cheat on him.” Your other friend Georgia says. “I think you guys just need to talk it out. I don’t think this is the end of you guys. Y’know… you’re not broken just bent.”

You contemplate Georgia’s words the rest of the night, your first drink coincidentally becoming your last. You spend the rest of the night listening to your friends' woes, babysitting them as they got drunker and drunker.

It was well past three when you sent them on their way and headed back to yours and Quinn’s.

You shoved your key in the lock, attempting to unlock an already open lock. He had left it unlocked, not knowing when you would come home. Quinn, trying to stay awake until he knew you were home safe, had only just drifted off to sleep on the couch. He jolted awake at the sound of your keys jingling around.

Eventually, you discover that the lock was already open, cursing when you enter the home. Quinn watches you take off your heeled boots, cursing once more when you roll your ankle after stumbling out of your shoes.

Quinn glances at the clock on the wall which reads quarter to four in the morning. He rubs his eyes, gets up from the couch and comes to the hall. You stay oblivious to your boyfriend, tossing your keys in the dish, and shrugging off your leather jacket onto the floor. You suddenly spot Quinn in your dark living room, leaning against the back of a lounge chair.

“Christ, Quinn. You scared me.” You say, setting your purse down on the table in the front hall.

“Where the hell were you?” He asks, his tired voice scratching your ears. You can sense the anger in his voice, but you’re slightly confused as to why.

“I was at the bar… with the girls… you knew that, Quinn.” You say, your voice coming out slightly condescending.

“Yeah, but the bars close at 3 in Vancouver.” He says, pointing to the clock. “It’s almost 4 in the goddamn morning, y/n.”

“We went out after, walked around.” You tell him. That was true. You and your friends, after getting kicked out of the bar at closing time, went walking in downtown Vancouver, before finding a park and sitting down in the play structure to vent about your problems.

Quinn groans, rubbing his face. His exhaustion is noticeable in his dark circles and drooping eyes.

“Quinn you could’ve checked my location, it’s still on for you.” You tell him.

“That’s not the point, y/n!” He exclaims. “You didn’t call, you didn't text… nothing! I didn’t know if you were safe or not or when you were gonna come home.”

A pang of guilt washes over you. You could only imagine the roles being reversed, not knowing where he was and whether or not you were going to get to sleep next to him that night or not.

“Y/n, I’ve been up all night waiting for you. And I have practice tomorrow.” He says.

The guilt that was just there washes away as he says those words. “God, enough with the fucking hockey.” You groan, walking into the bedroom.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Quinn asks, following you down the hall.

You begin to change out of your ‘going out outfit’, discarding your skirt and flimsy top to the floor. Under any other circumstance, Quinn would love to see you like this. But the anger was clouding over any other emotion he would possibly be feeling right now.

“It’s always about hockey with you Quinn!” You shout slipping into sweat shorts and a t-shirt, purposefully not putting on one of the many ones you stole from Quinn. “That’s your main fucking priority.”

“Well yeah, it’s kind of my job.” He says.

Before you can counter him, he speaks again. “You know what, I’m too fucking tired and you’re too fucking drunk for us to be arguing right now.” He says, heading over to his side of the bed.

“I am not fucking drunk.” You hiss.

“You’ve been out at a bar for the past six hours, y/n.” Quinn reminds you.

“I wasn’t drinking the whole time, dick.” You say. “I need a drink.”

You head out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. You can hear Quinns’ bare feet padding on the wooden floor, hot on your trail. “Are you serious?” He asks. You ignore him, going into your liquor cabinet, and pulling out a bottle of white wine.

“Is this a game to you?” Quinn asks, leaning on the counter.

You pause from unscrewing the cap and look up at your boyfriend. “No Quinn it’s quite the fucking opposite, I’m sick of playing fucking games.” You say.

Quinns’ brows furrow together, not understanding what you mean. Your pent-up rage, the rage that had been forming over the past few months, now was finally bubbling to the surface. It makes it hard for words to form, your little squeaks coming out with no words as you search for the right ones.

“You don’t love me anymore.” You finally manage out.

Quinns’ expression is even more confused now, but now contains a note of hurt. “What are you talking about y/n?” He asks softly. “Of course I still love you.”

Quinn reaches out for your hands but you pull away. “Quinn…when you’re not at practice or a game, you’re out with the boys. I actually cannot remember the last time we had a proper date. And- and when’s the last time you called me dreamgirl?” You ask, mentioning the pet name he would call you. “And I don’t want to break up-”

“Woah, who said anything about breaking up?” Quinn interrupts, stepping towards you.

“Quinn I feel like I’m living with a stranger!” You shout, your hands flying up. “When’s the last time you held me? Hm? When’s the last time you came home after a roadie and instantly scooped me up, carrying me to the bed? I mean, fuck, when was the last time you kissed me? And I mean really kissed me and not the sorry excuses of a peck you give me before you leave me again?”

This renders Quinn speechless as he actually tries to remember the last time you two were intimate. His teeth are grinding together, his chest going up and down with every heavy breath he takes.

“I just can’t do this anymore.” You tell him softly.

“Then tell me what you want.” He responds, matching your tone. “Do you want this to end?”

“No, god no, I already said I don’t—”

“Then what do you want, y/n?” Quinn asks, his anger reappearing. “Because I am trying so fucking hard right now. With everything! With hockey, the entire fate of the fucking franchise is on my shoulders right now. So please, tell me what it is that you want.”

“I want my boyfriend back!” You scream. Tears spill over your waterline. They stain streaks on your cheeks, landing on the hardwood beneath your feet. You step over to Quinn, standing right in front of him. He doesn’t back down like you expect him to. “I want to feel loved by the person that’s supposed to love me.”

You’re jabbing at his chest, and looking into his eyes, you notice tears beginning to form.

“I want to come home and know that you’re happy to see me. That I am a source of joy. I don’t want to have to worry about it being awkward between the two of us.” You continue, now pounding your fists on Quinns’ chest. He takes every hit allowing your anger to spill out. “I just want you to love me, that’s all I want. All I fucking want is to be loved. Please just…”

Your words melt in sobs, Quinn gripping your hands and pulling you into his chest. He holds you tightly, sobs wracking your entire body. You grip onto Quinns’ t-shirt, holding yourself steady as your knees threaten to give way. He keeps you steady, placing soft kisses on the top of your head.

The sun now started to raise on the two of you. The morning sun paints the sky a pale orange, a stark contrast to the energy within the walls of your home.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 38 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hey guys big tigger warning on this chapter! Please be very aware, I do not want anyone to feel triggered or uncomfortable by my writing. I write a lot of things from my own experience, and it does sound weird to say but writing this chapter helped me express a lot of feelings I didn't know I had. If you do not want to read this chapter I totally understand, I have tried to make the graphic scene less so. I hope anyone who has ever experienced SA or worse has been able to heal. Love you all truly, if you want to talk about anything my messages are always open, I am so happy to chat!!

TW- R*pe, SA, Violence, talks of assault, (please let me know if I missed any).

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92 @lucyfromtheoldhouse @blueberry-ovaries anyone else please let me know.

The man had dragged me into the jeep, the cold barrel of the gun pressed into my side. The replacements didn’t get to me in time, I watched them stand over Grant’s body as the soldier pulled away from the scene. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to muffle my sobs, the man kept the gun pressed into my side. 

I glanced over to him, the purple smudges under his eyes from when Don had struck him in the face. He drove erratically swerving from side to side on the road. I gripped the side of the car, nervous that I was going to fly out the side. I thought about hurling myself from the vehicle, but the thought of being crushed under the wheels and then losing the ability to get away made bile rise in my throat. 

“What do you want?” I yelled over the whip of the wind. 

The man looked towards me, the glare in his eyes made my chest clench, he looked as if he wanted to kill me. He raised his gun, I bit my lip regretting my words, squeezing my eyelids shut, I didn’t want him to be the last face I saw. The butt of the gun smashed down into my cheek, I yelped out in pain reaching up to cradle my now throbbing face. I flinched away from the man trying to crawl into the farthest reaches of the car. But it was no use, I was trapped. 

With every passing second we were getting further away from the base, if we kept going any longer I wouldn’t be able to find my way back. 

“I killed him.” The man uttered, I cautiously set my eyes back on the driver. “Your fucking boyfriend, I killed him. He got what he deserved y’know, no one fucking hits me and gets away with it.” 

My eyes widened, he thought Grant was Don. I didn’t point out the fact that he had actually gotten the wrong man. I didn’t need to give him incentive to go back to base and hurt anymore people. 

I sat as still as humanly possible, hoping that my silence would make me invisible. My hyperventilating made me feel faint. I dragged in deep breaths trying to stop the shake in my hands, but it was no use. The adrenaline that surged through my veins had me set on edge like a live wire.         

The jeep slowed, my eyes frantically searched the surrounding area. I didn’t know where I was anymore. My brain had blacked out the drive we had taken, time had lost all meaning. I didn’t know how long I had been in the car, or if we had turned along the way. 

But there didn’t seem to be anything of note for him to be stopping. So why were we? 

Unfortunately my question had been answered all too quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the man surging towards me, my arms came up to protect my face, but his hungry hands latched onto me. 

“No, please.” I uttered terrified. But it was no use the man tugged me down, until I was laying flat against the car seat.  

He hovered above me a sickening slimy grin shone in the dark. He eyed me like a wolf eyed its prey, I was a piece of meat and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. 

“You’re so pretty.” He muttered into my ear. By this point I was gasping for air, nothing was making its way into my lungs. My eyes burned, the places his filthy hands touched felt like acid on my skin.  

I swallowed, his gun was on the dash. I could reach out and grab it. But what if I wasn’t quick enough, or he won it off me before I could even shoot. I didn’t know where I was, if he shot me and left me out here I was surely going to die. But I didn’t want to be unconscious, not around him, I wanted to know my fate, even if it was dreadful. I couldn’t have the unknown, I didn’t want to wonder what he had done to my dead body. 

His hand clamped around my chin forcing me to look him in the eye. I felt vomit rising in my mouth. His greasy hair hung down limp and lifeless as his bloodshot eyes roamed my body. I squirmed under him as he straddled my waist. 

There was no way of getting out of this. If I wanted to live I would have to endure what was going to come. 

His fingers dug into the open wound on my cheek, a cry of pain crawled from my throat. 

“I said, you look so pretty.” The drunk man’s lips brushed my skin with every word. 

Tears streamed down the sides of my face and into my ears muffling my surroundings. I choked back sobs. My body was pinned under his, my arms by my sides. I was stuck, his body weight didn’t even give me wiggle room. 

He flashed me a wicked smile as he pulled back, his eyes were pitch black, the sound of his lips curling up around his teeth had me shaking. 

“Thank you.” I uttered, my voice breaking. 

I love you Don, please forgive me.

“Relax Emily. We’re just going to have some fun.” The man’s voice was hoarse and croaky, his breath smelt of stale liquor.

My name in his mouth made me want to scream, but we were so far away from anyone no one would hear my pleas for help.  

His hands found the tops of my thighs dragging me down further so I lay more flat in the passenger seat. My heart hammered into my chest, so hard that it physically hurt. 

The sound of his zip sliding down the track filled the silence of the night. It wasn’t long till his hands found mine, I felt his fingers brush down my crotch. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. I had fallen asleep on Don’s chest, I would wake up back in the room, the sound of the men’s voices would fill my senses along with the warm fire. 

But reality hit me like a tonne of bricks as the man yanked my pants down exposing me to the cold night. 

I know what I must do.

The man’s hot breath fanned across my face, making my eyes water more than they already were. 

He pulled down my pants, to just above my knees. I forced myself to relax, I knew it would be more painful if I resisted. 

I heard him grunt, the sound of my clothes ripping deafened my surroundings. I looked up to the night sky, just past his head. Thousands of tiny flickering lights filled the black void. This wasn’t my body anymore, the stars were my home. I felt myself floating up towards the sky, high above the scatter of thin clouds and into the atmosphere. 

He forced himself into me, dragging me back down to earth. I plummeted back into my body, jolting in pain and gasping for air that never gave me the satisfaction of filling my lungs. 

I focussed back on the sky, trying to not hear his moans and grunts. 

The dark void of the night pulled me up again. So high I could see all of Austria. The lake shone in the pale moonlight, the thick forest was like a black hole pulling all of the light into its vacuum. The mountains stood like tall giants against the night, looking like they were watching over the small town, its yellow flickering lights glowed warm.    

My body was a tiny spec down below, in a vacant street hidden in the trees. That body wasn’t mine, that wasn’t me down there being violated, I was up here in the heavens so far away from earth it was nothing but a crumb. 

But I could still hear her, even from so far away. I could hear her stifling sobs and her ragged breath that misted in the cold night air. I could see the shimmer of tears sliding down her cheeks and into her hair that haloed around her head. I could see her blood stained hands curled into fists as she lay perfectly still.  

The man hovered above her, the muscles of his back tensing, then shaking with release. I could see him pull back, leaving the young girl bare and lifeless as she stared up at me. Her cold eyes held no life, they glazed over not present with reality. 

Suddenly I crashed back down to earth, back into the body that wasn’t mine. I gasped for air, the sensation of my skin prickled and tingeld, I wanted it off, I wanted out again. To not be here staring up at the bright moon that tauntingly hung in the night sky. 

But my suffering wasn’t over, the man’s hands latched around my neck. I wasn’t even present enough to jump at his touch, my eyes bulged as he squeezed, cutting off my oxygen supply. I could feel the blood vessels bursting in my sclera, my temples throbbed from the pressure. I clawed at his hands as my vision started to blur. No, no, no! I needed to be conscious. I bucked against him trying to throw his weight, but the crushing sensation of my windpipe never ceased. His grip was strong. 

So I gave up, my body grew slack and heavy. I let my eyes flutter shut and my head loll back. 

I fought the urge to gulp in air as his hands released from my throat. I didn’t dare breathe until I knew I was safe.        

The man’s weight fell from my body, my eyes clamped shut. I used my other senses to try and figure out what he was doing. I dragged in short shallow breaths as I heard his side door open and the jostle of the jeep as he got out of the car. Gravel crunched under his feet, I could hear him walk away and then closer again. 

I stalled my breathing when the door behind me opened. I let my body tumble out of the car as he cursed wildly under his breath. His hands grasped under my armpits as he dragged me off the road. I could feel the texture of the ground change from small sharp rocks to soft grass. 

He grunted as he tossed me, my body rolling down into the ditch on the side of the road. I kept my body as floppy as possible so that he wouldn't suspect I was still alive.  

I lay face up, my arms thrown to the sides of my body as my legs had tangled with each other. I heard him walk back to the car but not get in. I begged silently for him to leave, but his footsteps arrived back to the edge of the bank again. 

Time stood still as I heard the mechanical cock of the gun. 

Five shots rang out in the silence. 

I was surprised I was able to choke back the scream of pain, I clamped my lips shut and prayed. Prayed that he hadn’t seen the jerk of my body as one of the bullets drove into my shoulder. 

I played dead, lying as still as possible, not knowing if he had left or not due to the ringing in my ears. I counted to 100 ten times before I cracked open my eyes. The jeep wasn’t on the side of the road anymore. 

Whimpering in pain I dragged myself up the bank, staying low to the floor. Tire marks imprinted on the gravel road he had left. I finally let myself break down, sobbing hysterically until my voice grew hoarse and the pounding behind my eyes became unbearable. 

Clutching my shoulder I rose to my feet, I fixed my pants and shirt. I gave a humourless laugh, unsure at why I was trying to make myself look presentable after all I had been through.

Hobbling down the road where we had come, I hoped I wouldn’t bleed out before I found someone.     

Malarkey POV:

       

After losing miserably at poker, I had made my way back to the barracks. I didn’t check on Em, knowing she would be tucked up in bed fast asleep by now. 

I had just drifted off to sleep when a pounding on my door caused me to sit bolt right up in bed. I lazily wandered to the door cursing under my breath at whoever it was making such a racket in the middle of the night. 

Swinging open the door I found Bull, and the rest of Easy company half awake and half dressed flowing through the corridor with urgency. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, peering out from my door.  

“When need to go, grab your things.” Bull ushered me out of the room before I could ask anymore questions. “Replacement shot Grant in the head, Speirs has given orders to track him down.” 

I looked at Bull horror on my face, he gave a grim nod confirming my question. This was real and not a sick joke.  

Tab led the men down the hall giving orders to the men. 

“Hey Lieb, he wants a noncom guarding each roadblock and at least two men watching every road out of town.” Tab strode down the hall.

Bull and I fell into stride behind him. 

“Bull, Malark, you each take a squad and one of these witnesses on a house-to-house search.” Tab explained as we followed. 

“Can we shoot this bastard on sight?” I asked. I was ready to beat the shit out of this no good son of a bitch. How dare he shoot Grant in the head. I was ready for a fight. 

“Try and take him alive.” Tab said. 

“Where’s Grant now?” Bull asked from behind me. 

“They took him to a Kraut hospital to see if they could drum up any good doctors.” Tab replied to Bull. 

We each took off to do our respective tasks. I wanted to be the one who found that fucker. 

Maybe say my hand slipped and accidentally shot him in the leg.

But with all the men we had out searching my group didn’t find him first, just my luck. 

They dragged him back to base, gathering in the main lounge. The same lounge we were all in hours before playing poker and laughing. Now the room made my head spin. By the time my men and I arrived the replacement was barely recognisable. 

Tied to a chair in the middle of the room surrounded by angry men, the soldier took a beating. I watched the man’s head snap back as blood poured from his mouth. Easy men were pissed to say the least, they took charge of the beatings. Their fists collided with the man’s face, each with gruesome crunches, as they beat the ever loving shit out of the fucker.  

I stood and watched, there was no need for me to step in, so I watched from the back of the ground with a sick satisfaction as each punch landed. 

The man’s head hung low, too weak to hold it up on his own accord. He spat on the ground, clearing his mouth of the blood. The man only groaned in pain, he didn’t utter a word otherwise. 

The men cheered with each hit. 

The doors swung open, a stoic Captain Speirs stood in the doorway. Taking in the scene before him. I could see under his calm facade the man was raging like the rest of us. The room fell silent as his footfalls hit the soft rug.  

“This him?” He asked, strolling in.

“That’s him.” Bull confirmed. The soldiers surrounding the man stepped back, letting Speirs have room to stand in front of him. 

The man coughed and gagged on his own blood. The room collectively held their breath, unsure of what Speirs was going to do. 

“Replacement. ‘I’ company.” Bull informed the Captain. 

“Where’s the weapon?” Speirs asked calmly. 

“What weapon?” The man replied in a snide tone. I scoffed, how could this person have so little respect. 

Speirs didn’t hesitate, bringing down the butt of his gun and smashing it into the jaw of the man. The replacement's head whipped to the side as blood sprayed from his mouth. 

“When you talk to an officer you say ‘sir’.” Speirs growled in a menacing tone. 

The man chuckled, hanging his head. “Maybe I left it with that whore, Sir.” 

Silence filled the room for a beat, I could feel the tension becoming thicker. I glanced at Martin who shrugged, sharing the same questioning look as me.  

“What whore?” Speirs spat, picking up the man’s head by his hair, getting into his face. The man only flashed a bloodied grin at him. 

“You know, that girl. The pretty medic. What was her name, ah, that’s right Lane. Emily Lane.” The replacement grinned sadistically. 

The room swirled as the air left my lungs. I felt as if I had been slapped in the face.  

That couldn’t be right. Emily was in bed, she was sleeping. Grant had walked her back to- hadn’t he? Or was she with him when it happened. Disbelief clouded my vision, I felt like I could barf. He was wrong, she was safe in bed. 

My heart was pounding in my ears, surely he had to be mistaken. But he said her name, he knew who she was. 

Martin’s hand clamped on my shoulder as he leaned into my vision. I shook with rage and fear. There was no way this was true. Martin’s gaze fixed with mine, he was mouthing something, or he was saying it, I couldn’t understand it either way. My white knuckles clamped at my sides. I waited for someone to speak. 

“What did you do to Emily?” Speirs snarled, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“She just lay there and took it, like a good little slut.” 

Another blow came from Speirs as he struck him again across the face this time with his fist. I hadn’t realised but I had surged forward, both Bull and Martin held me still. 

“Wait boy, we don’t know it’s true yet.” Bull whispered beside me. 

“What did you do to her?” Ron snapped in the man’s face. As he laughed. 

“I had my way with her and then disposed of the evidence.” 

What did he mean by disposing of the evidence? My skin felt like it was on fire, the only thing I could really hear was my erratic heart rate pounding in my ears. I only saw red. Rage shook my body. 

“I’ll fucking kill you!” I roared, surging forward to get to the man. I was held back though, Johnny had a firm grip around me. I looked around the room, the men all looked horrified and disgusted. Their stares could kill. It was silent, as the man coughed up blood. I hoped he would choke on it. I was still trying to fight Martin’s grip. Why was no one doing anything! 

“Get the replacements in here now!” Speirs demanded. Someone left the room and arrived back with two skinny looking men. 

“Who was with you in the car?” Speirs boomed. The two boys shied away from the furious Captain. 

“Answer me!”

“It was us, Sergeant Grant and-” The replacement stalled looking around the room. 

“Who else, private?” Ron seethed with rage, “Who else?” Speirs' voice echoed around the room. 

“The female medic, she said her name was Em.” 

So it was true.

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

Chapter 39

[court-jobi]

We Have Time

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 4,661

Rating: Teen/Mature (spicy second half) 18+ to be safe, my lovelies

A/N: the helmet comes off, separation anxiety, comfort comfort comfort, oral (fem receiving), hand-holding spicy times, my love language is Mando'a, Mandalorian partnerships are top tier, Soft!Din Djarin

Summary: Your heart is torn in two, where your past life and the one you're living in now come to a crossroads and you need to make a decision. Temporary as it is, the stakes feel higher than ever. You're asked to take part in an incredibly lucrative job-- one that'll bring home the biggest paycheck of your life-- at the expense of six weeks of your time, and away from your life partner for the first time in a year.

Now that you have a home, something to lose... something to miss.

But if there is one man who can make you feel like the only creature in the galaxy he would drop anything for, who would support you and your brilliant mind, who would encourage you to the edge of Wild Space and back-- it is your riduur, Din Djarin.

And your Mandalorian is top knotch at keeping his promises and pleasures to you; will give them to you in equal measure:

--in the light of day, and in bed if you ask...

Read on AO3

"That was quick. Back already?"

You'd stopped under the repulsor grille of the Razor Crest, shuffled about until he wheeled himself out from the underside of the ramp. The moment he saw your face, he sat to attention on his knees. 

"--Cyar'ika?"

"He offered me the job."

"Thirty-five…" He repeated, stunned, "thousand credits?"

"--A week;" Dead serious. "Thirty-five, a week."

Din swayed a moment, elbows to his knees; presently, reevaluating all his life choices. “I sure got into the wrong business, didn’t I.”

“Not to brag or anything,” you gave a dazzling smirk his way, “but your girl is a badass when it comes to making the big bucks~”

"What kind of freighters are these?"

"Really kriffing big ones." You gave a smirk, "This is an investment that's gonna take boss-man to the next level of bacta distribution."

"Damn right. It has to be."

How could you not become a mogul with twenty of these freighters in your fleet?

"How long do they need a mech there?" Din asked next.

"Corbyn said the initial contract request outlined work for 4 weeks.." you tweaked the timeline, "-maybe a more realistic five, depending on the speed of things. If they have to order more parts than expected, it could add a couple day’s labor in the meantime. That's not too uncommon."

Din's helmet bobbed around amazed- the tone flowing through his helmet to show he was impressed, 

"That's a hell of a job. You handle things like that?"

"I've done it before. You fill 'other duties as assigned' to kill time while deliveries show up. Things that need the human touch, y’know? Not droid repairs or anything. He's probably got plenty of odd projects I can wrap for him in the shipyard. Speeders, junkers, old gunships he likes to restore and lease out."

Comically, Din looked around to the Razor Crest- his own old girl  that could use a 'bit of work'.

"If I'd known you could handle fleet tech," he rose to his feet to join you, "I'd have given you the bigger bunkroom from the start. Experience like yours deserves better perks than just any ride-along mechanic. No wonder he wants to lock you in."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic~" You laughed. "I don’t need fuss. I might be in demand right now, but m'not that impressive."

"You are impressive.” Din pressed, “I'm not shocked at all."

His confidence in you never failed to make you beam… though it carried weight this time around. The biggest paycheck of your life is on the chopping block in front of you.

The Mandalorian wrenched the tool against the base of his palm. All teasing aside, the stakes were setting in; you can tell by where he looks off now. He asked the biggest factor:

"...And the start date?"

"Well:" you bit the bullet with a gnaw of your teeth against your cheek, "end of this week." 

Din nodded. Brief. Accepting.

"Think you'll be ready in that quick of a turnaround?" 

You froze– that assumption was a mega leap. You hadn't even gotten that far.

"He– didn't really give me a chance to ask what I'd need to wrap up; he went to catch someone else before they left the hangar. But good grief, Din," you crossed your arms and furrowed your brows to confusion, "I wouldn't have given him an answer even if he asked– I'd never just do something like this without telling you!"

He seemed to straighten at that. Surprised for some reason, that you would think this way when it was all obvious to you.

You caught yourself– no sense in unpacking that to death. Next question.

"How did you leave things then?"

"Said he'd check back in the morning for my decision either way. He recognized the ship, knows where to find me.." you gestured lightly beside you, the booster you stood beneath. 

The tense proposition buzzed around your head. This job looks on flimsi to be the makings of a good deal, a strong as hellfire tick on your winstreak, and one you wouldn't have blinked at six months ago. 

But you knew what that would require: leaving. Both your Mandalorian and the Child. Your beloved boys that roped you in and made you their family.

It's funny, the last time you took a job like the old days, things went completely wrong from the start and ended before it ever got off the ground:

It was only a short time after you'd met, but sparks had already begun to fly between you and this Mandalorian; you'd worked so perfectly together so far. In tandem, each other's missing piece. And what's more, you found yourself enjoying the company, knowing you didn't have to go it alone anymore. That was so refreshing– and unheard of. Like the oddest pairing of hard to soft, a sun-warmed kitten to cold humanized steel, you were drawn into each other's orbit to thrive better than you might have alone. This was a partnership, truly. And you saw a solo job as a way to contribute, pull your weight. 

So you agreed to one that came your way one day, and called it an easy win- he'd drop you off, pick you up, same time next week. You'd felt a little funny leaving him, even then. In this time together, you knew you’d surely miss his company, but denied yourself any true separation anxiety: it’s not like it was earned. How could it be? You'd just met. 

But you'd parted. Gone your separate ways with a rendezvous plan already in the forefront of your mind as you went to meet your ride– 

–when an explosion along the tram you were set to board sent a crowd hurtling towards you. If you hadn’t said a long goodbye like you did, if you’d stalled just two minutes less… you'd have been on that train. 

It was pronounced a cylinder misalignment, diagnostic fluke or something like that– and not intentional. But you didn’t know that at the time. A sudden burst of fuel setting the entire transport dock ablaze had you shook.

You'd turned tail to run straight back towards where the Mando had left you– only to hear your name being shouted from a clouded receiver, encased in a beskar helmet, somehow rising loud and strong over the swarm of panic-ridden pedestrians… 

He was running to you, too. 

Didn't bother making other arrangements for the job call in all the chaos, after that. But given that little scare, you both decided to just cut the losses and try again next time the opportunity presented itself. Bad luck, eh? Next time, for sure.

…That was eight months ago. You ruled out any solo jobs, and so did he.

If only for a short tenure, the op; and this time wasn't unheard of or impossible.. But not only were you rusty, but the timing was horrible. And long.

Din set his tool down, finally rising to come up to you.

“We can talk it through all you like…" he posed to you, "But you’ll need to listen to your gut in the end. What do you think?"

You looked back wildly. He was leaving this huge decision up to you?? Did he seriously think you'd blindly accept?

"What do I think?" You started defensive, then… stopped. 

Considered, and easing up, you sighed. 

You eyed the split in the exhaust somewhere over Din's head, the one on its last leg. 

"I think... it would be enough to fix her." You scanned the Razor Crest, her makeshift patches along the outer shell of the thruster. "-And then some. I know money isn't everything, but.. It's a shit-ton of money, babe. It's... doable." you laughed nervously, thankful Din finally joined your side as you explained the pros.

Doable was an understatement. This was more than agreeable, at this paygrade. You'd be a dikut to turn down even half that price. 

After he brushed them off a bit, his hands came up to hold your cheeks; visor trained on you, unreadable. But you knew better. He was assessing, looking for the hesitation, the test of any doubts.

"You could stop taking pucks for a while," with a small smile, you caught his wrists in return "Skyborn knows you deserve a break. You can rest up for once..."

He made a little sound, stroking your cheek in a gentle show of thanks. You were considering you both in this, which broke you more to think about going separate ways for a while.

You ran through the logistics, too– the loose ends.

"And– I figured you'd be off to find that Jedi anyway, and I know how you get about worlds I haven't been to before. This would be an easy one. Just your average, smoggy, Corellian garage.You've seen one? Then picture it, filled with bubba Rhodians and Keshiris, and that's the home away from home." You joked gently.

There were plenty of benefits to this arrangement and Din nodded curtly to acknowledge them, but a gentle shake of his head showed he was still pondering some things, unseen..   You really wished you'd told him all this inside, where you could read his reaction better. 

The quiet from him was beginning to make you doubt your good reasoning at all. 

"Please say something?" You begged softly.

Only one thing came to mind- by the way he was likely running through the script of his whenever he thought of you, you had a good idea what he’d say. 

His aliit. His creed. Your safety, above all else.

"This Corbyn... Do you trust him?"

It was a loaded question. Trust was rare for him, yet you earned his. But Din couldn't be responsible for you while in the care of someone else, which clearly had him on edge about all this. He’d surely wanna meet the guy before you shipped out. While that thought seemed parental, you understood it- and would expect no less from the man who valued you like the finest of beskar ingots.

You braved a little smile.

"I do. He's a good guy. Bites off more than he can chew but--- but it's the same setup as I did back when he hired me for the baby stuff,” you squeezed his wrists, “It would be safe.”

A careful thumb came to your temple, brushing the beskar steel adorning you. Pushed your hair back in a stylish fashion, it did– but in reality was your beautiful proposal gift. Then Din traced the skin just below it, raking through your hair. The touch ached.

"I didn't think this would ever happen. Didn’t know he docked this far out for fueling anyway,” you absently studied you Mandalorian’s thick cowl from your spot here at chest level. “I haven't had a way to contact Wid in forever. Hell, I know I used to do this all the time before, but… It's just different now.” you sunk into him. Your gut deflated, sadder the more you spoke. “And if all goes well at the next stop, well… the kiddo will be gone too."

That still made you sick to think about. Your voice was catching and you hated it.

"It's just a lot think about, leaving you right now. I don't know what my gut thinks about it." 

Fortunately, he soothed you like no other: at the first sound of distress, he’d slid a steadying hand down to your waist and pulled you close to accept his touch. His forehead met yours.

"Mhi solus tome, mesh’la, bal dar'tome" He spoke softly. "We vow these words for this exact circumstance." 

It meant so much more to you now: one when together, and apart.

"My kind, we grow up with buirkan. Our carers have no formal roles. They are buir. They both share the load, they both meet the needs of their ad, their tribe. That’s what partnership is; I… I ask what you want to do, because I know no other way.” 

Din caressed down to your chin, taking in your fully torn expression. 

“I trust your judgment here, mesh’la. I leave this one to you; you know this kind of work better than I do. If you're comfortable.. and -only- if you're comfortable, and you -want- to do this, you have my support. Always."

You wanted to break at this trust, crush and crumble at his bouying nature. He was handing you the reins as equals, despite the hushed strain he said the words. He could say all the right things, but by no means did he not feel. You knew it wasn't easy– not even for him.

Up the repaired ramp, you caught sight of the child peeking out from the ship’s open door. He called in that funny little chirp– trying to sing again.

You smiled, despite the lurching feeling in your chest shaking you. "Hi, buddy."

He waved and watched his own steps as he hurried down the ramp.

You met his short arms just a step out of Din's hold, and brought the child up to you. He seemed to know something was wrong, because his ears fell back the moment his settled at your chest level where he'd reached up for your face. You shut your eyes at the touch.

"This won't be a forever goodbye." Din soothed you, “You know that, right?” 

Din must be forgetting how poor the reception on Corellia is.

You chimed back, knowing the truth for yourself. "Gotta prepare myself as if it is, though."

"We don't know what we'll find there." Din set a hand to your low back again, unable to keep from you for too long. "The Jedi may not even be in Calodan. We could be back before you know it; and we'd wait here until your work term is done."

The optimistic thought did sound better and helped you swallow. 

"That's fair. Stranger things have happened."

Your Mandalorian. Sweet, sweet Din. Under the hum of the air reserves cycling outside the ship, he cupped the back of your head and leaned against your temple. 

"I know you're torn. But you don't need to worry about us in this. We’re behind whatever you decide."

The child looked to his buir. He reached a bit to his shoulder strap for Din, so you passed him over. That helmet of his hid a lot– but not tone. He clearly didn't like the thought of this either; having to explain to the kid why you’d be gone by the time he wakes up in the morning in a few days. 

So he treated it like any other trip. 

"How bout it, pal," he spoke with a quirk of the helmet to the Child, "Would you be ok with a solo trip for a while? Just like old times."

The munchkin cooed at this, fingers raking over the notches. He seemed happy, if he understood at all. Good thing he’s young, you thought. A peaceful hope, at the very least.

It gave you a happy comfort– for now.

The real churning would hit you when you gave Corbyn your answer. When he gave you the gameplan for the rest of the team he’s hiring, and when he got to meet your very intimidating Mandalorian husband– who he profusely sucked up to when he observed how protective he seemed of you. 

When that last night came and you tucked in the kiddo and realized you'd be packing up for your first real time away from your Mandalorian: your husband. 

…for the first time in over a year.

The Mandalorian brought you to bed in the most tender, gentlest way he ever had that night. In complete darkness, the way he did before he'd shown his face: where your senses would be sharpened and you'd feel everything he did, and take your time doing it. 

Maybe it was a comfort for himself too, out of an old habit to shield himself while next to bare that you didn't seem to mind. Through little noises: elated, pleasurable, heartfelt, tickled sighs and begs, he always found his way across you.

–But he heard the difference between a gasp and a cry. 

At the second you inhale sharply in a clear watery sniff he stopped giving kisses down your ribcage. Where he'd been massaging you with careful, trigger steady hands tucked under your sweater, Din climbed back onto his knees and shifted up to cradle your face with those same warm palms.

"Hey.. I'm right here. What's wrong?" Din asked gently.

You process by his tone that he'd halted altogether–

Hands clawed for his arms to come back around you,

"Nono no, don't stop!"

He thumbed beside your eyes, meeting wetness.

 "Riduur.."

"I'm fine, jus-- just keep going, please." your snivels did little to convince him you were okay. Desperate for him as always, but not out of pure lust anymore.

Above you -practically blind- the Mandalorian tensed. Worried for your heart above all else. Testing light, brushing fingers along your neck and onto your chest, he strove to feel past your flushed, quivering shield. To soothe your skin, but also check your heart rate.

He avoided the suspicious edge in his chest with a calm, doting voice,

"We have time, cyar'ika."

"No, we don’t!-- I--"

There it was.

A kiss graced your crown to still you, then a longer one over your lips. He leaned his forehead to yours, calming you with strokes through your hair until you gathered your true thoughts. Naturally, he'd wait as long as he needed to let you continue, but he didn't need to wait long to hear your whisper. 

"Tell me again this is a good idea…"

Tell me I need to go through with it, or else I'll talk myself out.

You felt lips trailing lower in soft presses, taking all your piqued attention while they went on the hunt for a sweet spot. Din’s unfiltered voice made you shiver with each bit he’d speak against the column of your neck… down and up again.

He whispered, beyond tenderness and into reverence, 

"This isn't going to be forever.” A kiss to your cheek briefly, “You're going to do a great job and you're coming through for a friend. Won’t just help you, but millions in the galaxy who will benefit from the work you’re doing. This is something big, and you're being rewarded for it. This is a good thing." 

You heard the smile in his voice and thanked Ashla -once again- for the Grace given to you to have a man like this in your arms. 

"You're brilliant, riduur.” Din sang your praises, “You're giving up so much. But I'm really proud of you... This isn't too big for us."

You nodded, getting a grip and gaining a controlling breath.

“It’s not too big for us.”

“That’s right.”

"I'm gonna miss this." You touched his cheek, craving this proximity while you had it. 

He leaned into it and kissed the palm when it slid into reach.

"I'm right here."

He is here, and the words warm you through, sending a heat wave that buzzes around your spine when you let yourself believe it.  He's right here, and he is all yours. Would be, too, even if you were jumps away in the stars. 

You were one when together, and you would be one when apart. 

The latter would be tested soon, but that creed? You'd take both truths with you as your own. 

He's right here. 

And he proved it. 

Din's tongue made a few kitten licks as he kissed your wrist next; then down, and down, until he merged both your fingers and pressed where you joined into the space above your head. His order, to stay there, while his left yours to send sparks down your arm on the underside, to tease. 

"You know," Din's adoring tone dripped with doting interest while he resumed mapping out your body.   "Just like with 'love', there's not really one word to say 'im sorry' among our people."

"You can't– say– just 'sorry'?" Your voice still sounded wet at its edges, but your chest clipped with interest. "What do you say when you kriff up, then?"

Din laughed with a rasp, but answered, 

"Depends how big you kriff up. Something small, that's nothing. You'd let it go. No harm done."

–Then Din's hands made a parallel move behind your knees, pulling and pinning them up with a sudden fierceness. 

Talking about a tangent: he’s talking about apologizing, but for what… He'd done nothing wrong, you thought. But you let him speak; he's enlightening you. Surely to distract, but by chik it's working. 

From where he sat, he was fully between your legs and about to bow over you.

"But when I need forgiveness, true forgiveness–" 

You hummed for his answer.

"Ni ceta," Din kissed your sternum. The lips dragged downward in a slow crawl, then nearly growled from the deepest part of him: " 'I kneel.' "

You gasped when his tongue swiped up your core. Every end of your body sang out its pleasure at the touch– his tasting you while on his knees. The heat made you keen. Your sweater didn't stay on for long once he started. 

You shucked out of the rest of your nightclothes as easily as you could, then let your arms fall lax above your head again. He wasn't checking that you were holding onto anything, but you minded where he last left them. When you ground up, he pressed you down. When you moaned, he copied you- right onto your clit. And when you sighed his name, those expert hands massaged you within every inch of his reach. 

By all means, you should be on your knees for him for as good as he felt, how he was treating you… falling only just short of worshipping you without words. 

Your drop was coming, coming, coming, and you were about to completely fall apart by that tongue of his. You told him so, with a quiver to your voice and hands shooting down to stroke along his head between your thighs. 

"Din– Din, Din honey…"

He purred into you with a few rounding nudges of his head. 

"Yes, m'angel," he whispered in the space between you, between his kisses, "Lemme kneel for you. Lemme send you off right t'night– straight to the stars, cyar'ika."

The telltale sign was your quick breaths and baby whimpers, so Din doubled down and tamped his arms down on your waist– until you came, hard.

You cried out of complete pleasure now, your sobs turning into pitiful begs with a dazed smile that betrayed any tear at the edge of your eyes. You tried to push Din's head away entirely, but he didn't let up until he heard the actual words, 

"Please!! Please, n-no more, baby–"

You minded your volume only for the sake of the kiddo outside the door; you didn't want him thinking you were in pain and taking it on himself to investigate (like last time). 

Released and limber, you panted as your adoring husband simply took a hand to your core and rubbed it slow and steady to quivering calmness. He licked his own lips with a satisfied sigh in cleaning himself up. 

"There she is." Din's praises returned, "There's my happy Love…"

"You're–" you wheezed, "youh-what’dya do wrong… that y’needed forgiveness?..”

He nuzzled into your neck, pleasure and prayers coating each of his kisses: to cover you with his love before you go.

“I’m a selfish man,” Din craved the warmth he found there, “Tempted to devour you where you stood, watching you run through those schematics with your boss today… Had to hold myself back by a rancor’s leash. Can only hope-” he nibbled at your ear, “-that this is enough to atone for this covet’s heart.”

Pride flooded you, invigorating. Filling you even more than his words usually did.

“Well fuck,” you sighed again, “You’re forgiven…" 

Din's hands petted you, while he dropped kisses up your body this time, starting to settle. Before he got too far, you halted his ascent by his shoulders, 

"But… you don't hafta leave your knees yet.."

With a warm smile you know would be there, you could only feel in the dark how Din’s loving laugh came with its teasing caress to bless you. To wish you only good memories, good thoughts, the things he promised to give you in droves. The love you so much deserved and what he was all too passionate to give you as he knelt between your legs filled you completely, the tale of which came through his tender reach: pulling your thighs back to him– one hanging clear up to his shoulder.  

Delicious scratches made by his fingers skirted down that leg. ‘Want’ screamed its way through touch. Touch that you would miss so badly… touch you would crave when you laid down alo-

"Liser ni ceta, ner mesh’la? Cin vehtin, gedet'yu gar se ner riduur ru’kir?”

Din’s words sent you shivering– of course, you had no clue what half of those meant. And he knew that. Cheeky. 

But it worked, you know. It always did pull you from your misery– curiosity for this man and everything about him. 

“You’re tryna kill me with that mouth, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “Take my heart right outta my chest before I can even think?”

Din kissed your ankle while he teased the soft, supple core where you were about to join– the ‘last chance’ moment he always gave you. Encased in darkness, your sign of ‘yes’ in lieu of a nod was a wiggle to ‘get a move on’. 

“Have that already, I think. Just as you have mine,” Din slid home and relished your sigh at the intrusion. His own groan sent his breaths reeling at the new closeness.

“Really not fair I–  (ahhh) can only catch l-like– two words outta that..”

Din ground up into you. He’s not really setting a pace yet– just getting comfortable and giving you time.

“You know me. I prefer to show you what I mean anyway, Angel-Eyes.”

God those pet names… You’ll miss them as if you’re missing a limb. How will you manage..-

“Gotta remind you of what’s waiting for you when you come home to me,” Din broke you from your thoughts, “...N’... have something to remember you by.”

Relaxing around him, your eyes fluttered shut. Home– that sounded heavenly. And if you had more of this– a lifetime of it, even– well that sounded worth it to you. 

And that little comment told you everything: he’s going to miss you, too.

You moaned lightly, reaching for his shoulder to pull him down. So, he released your leg to make room, and gave you a full, searing  kiss once he laid flat. Even if your positions were reversed, he couldn’t meld with you any closer. 

“S’this ok?” he whispered.

You whimpered your ‘yes’– a happy one, now. Full. 

So you didn’t bother asking what that string of Mando’a meant– but gave your best guess.

“Then– f’you’re asking to make it last… so I can’t forget…” you begged with hands locking onto his, “then yes. Please, riduur–”

Heart thundering wildly in your chest, you caved when Din leaned in and started kissing your neck so deeply, and so strongly, that you knew you’d have no trouble remembering him for the next several weeks. 

Surely it would pass quickly- life had a way of doing that. All was going to work out. 

He would be here for you– together and apart.

He only broke off from the dampened skin of your neck to bow into the curve of your shoulder– before throwing his entire self into your loving embrace from the power of his hips. He kneels there, just long enough to hear you:

“Make this last for me.”

[cowboycherry]

☆ || pain in my teeth!

summary! // tasm! peter parker x autistic! reader who has some very prominent and unfortunate sensory issues regarding a certain super suit.

inclusions/warnings! // gender of reader is not specified. reader’s sensory issues make their teeth hurt to a point where they have to use a stimulation (in the form of a rubber straw) to make it better, peter feels guilty about it which then causes reader’s empathy sensitivity to spike, reader says i love you and peter says it back, i don’t know how to end a fluffy blurb!! <3 no use of ‘y/n’ but uses of baby, sweetheart (for reader) and pete, petey (for peter) i wrote this based on my personal experiences with autism, so it may not be something that every person experiences!

not proofread! // please let me know if there are any mistakes/things that i should work on! and my inbox is open for any requests, or just a chat!

possession! // all of my work is my own. do not copy, translate, or repost any of my writing.

word count! // 700+

enjoy my lovelies! <3

。 ♡ 。　　♡。　　♡ {peter’s version}

peter honestly wasn’t sure what had happened to get to this point.

about 3 seconds ago you were fine, basking in his spider-man awesomeness and doting on him being the “coolest and best boyfriend ever!” and now you’re making a scrunchy face and uncomfortable noises.

because of his spider senses (but actually because he is the best boyfriend ever and knows what you’re feeling before you can even comprehend it), he jumps into action. as he moves closer to hold you and ask what’s wrong, what had suddenly changed to make you upset, you hold a hand up to stop him.

he frowns slightly, “are you okay? what happened, baby?” you shake your head in response.

“i’ve never felt your suit before.”

he completely stops, confused for a moment as to why that has anything to do with this and then it clicks. the texture.

you’ve always been super irritated by textures: velvet, corduroy, silks, and many many others. while you aren’t quite sure what horrendous type of spandex fabric peter’s blue and red superhero costume was made out of, you know that it hurts. badly.

“just made my teeth hurt really bad, ‘s okay, though. ‘m okay now, pete.” you try to smile widely at him to let him know that it’s fine but you cringe and purse your lips again as you watch him as he removes the suit hurriedly, ridding the thing causing you to not touch him.

“no! i, ugh! i should’ve thought about it and let you feel the suit a little bit first before i hugged you like that, sweetheart, i’m sorry.”

you shake your head fervently, mumbling assurances that it’s fine as you begin to bite onto the silicone straw in your cup to reduce the aching of your teeth. “really it’s fine! it just… threw me off. y’know how i am, pete. but it’s better now! my teeth aren’t even hurting anymore!” they definitely were, but you can’t stand to see him feel so guilty about something that isn’t his fault.

he throws a t-shirt over his head (one that he knows you never have a problem with) and he strides towards the bed. “i still feel bad, though. ‘specially ‘cause i know you well enough to know that they’re still hurting.” he grumbles as he lays next to you, covering his face with a pillow.

you reach behind you, still chewing on your straw, to rub a hand across his stomach. “really ‘s okay, peter! i’ll be fine in a minute. just please don’t feel bad.” your voice sounds a little strained with worry and that makes him feel even worse knowing that he’s affecting your empathy sensitivity as well.

“okay. okay, it’s fine. you’re okay. can i touch you, please?” his voice is dulcet as he whispers to you. you nod, humming in relief when you feel his hands settle on your hips.

your teeth finally rid of their ache after a few more minutes, and you turn to peter with a frown on your face. “no, no baby, why that face?” he pouts, rushing his hands to cover your cheeks and try to rub the frown away.

you mimic his pout, mumbling through his palms, “oou wor ‘sposed to tae me to swang frew da cidy!”

he giggles and removes his hands, “one more time?”

you crack a little smile, still frowning slightly.

“you were supposed to take me to swing through the city, petey! and now you can’t because ‘m sensitive!” you throw yourself dramatically onto the bed with a wail.

“oh.” he pauses for a minute as he turns to face you. “well, we could… go without my suit? like to somewhere where there aren’t many people or we could go at night! or! i could just wear the mask, then you don’t have to touch the whole suit!”

your heart swells at the boy in front of you. he’s so so sweet and you know that he’d do anything for you, and you would do the same for him.

“i think that sounds really nice, peter. i love you, by the way. thanks for always putting up with me.” you snuggle into his warmth, wrapping you fingers into his hair as you kiss little pecks onto his skin.

“yeah, ‘f course, baby.” you can hear his grin through your kisses. “i love you too.”