#talking about. like the kind of fight where he’s bouncing around being distracting then he’d like tap the guy on the nose and the guy is

[corrodedcoughin]

thinking about how if Eddie was cornered for a fight he’d probably play to his strengths and try to freak out his attackers by bouncing around like old timey boxers, looking like a kangaroo and punching the air while saying ‘oh you wanna go??? You wanna go??? Well let me tell you! There’s going to be three hits!!! Me hitting you, you hitting the floor and the ambulance hitting 80 when it takes you to the hospital. That’s right. The old left, right, goodnight. The ol’ razzle dazzle!’

And the guys just…leave? Because what is this guy doing? And why is he moving like that?

Eddie munson: 1, bullies: 42. Things are finally looking up.

What Eddie doesn’t know is that Steve Harrington was standing just off to the side and waved the bullies on when he saw it all kick off. Not wanting to interrupt Eddie’s…technique…he did what he could without raising suspicions

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[beskarberry]

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

TAG LIST:

@mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kaermorons @ironbabey @theflightytemptressadventure @emesispo @what-iwish-youknew @misscamptl @t3a-bag @poppunkdee @misscamptl @pandastasia @simpingmess @lilychristine01 @inaturenymph @buttercup--bee @blackd0gdesignuk @tanzthompson @transientblueseraph @jasmincita @sunnnygiiirl123 @beskarboobs @doin-stuff @marvelranger

[vneuns]

HEY!! i’d like to request a karl imagine where the reader is a preschool teacher or works with kids in some way, and the mrbeast is at the school shooting a video and karl sees the reader and is just in awe of her and how she interacts with the kids! then in the comments everyone is talking about how he’s looking at the reader and it starts trending and everything and all the dream smp members tease him about it!!

simpish ways !

ʚ♡ɞ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 > 𝖼𝖼!karl jacobs x gn!reader

ʚ♡ɞ 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 > just a bunch of fluff tbh

ʚ♡ɞ 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 >

ʚ♡ɞ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 > 1.2k

... why did this take so fucking long to write-

Mx. ( is for a non-binary person/gender neutral person -i think- instead of the term Ms. and Mr.

Bruno mars played softly in the background, his voice bouncing around your office, your mind focused on finishing grading your students papers before Karl was finished streaming so you could enjoy dinner together but with how hard it was to understand their messy handwriting you were sure you wouldn’t be done anytime soon.

Teaching was always something you had a passion for, having to take care of your younger siblings at a young age, teaching children how to spell, read, or even how to tie a shoe always brought you so much joy. And you wouldn't trade your job for anything else.

Well if the pay was a little better maybe you’d consider it. The pen in your hand dropped and rolled onto the floor after the stress of trying to understand the words written in front of you became too much. Jordan was one of your favorite students, she was always helping out others and being the bigger person when she got into fights with others.

She had a way of brightening a room whenever she walked into it with her peppy attitude and kind demeanor. However she did struggle with the topic of reading and writing which led to her parents begging for you to help her out a bit after school. So, every Thursday she’d sit with you while you taught her how to sound out her vocabulary words of the week.

“Okay now what is this word?” You quizzed the little girl who had her head turned to the side, her curly pigtails wild around her head. “Mmm… six?” The word was sit, but if you really thought about it you could see how she got six. “Uhh.” You scrunched your nose, moving your arm an inch farther so you could see it as well as her. “Well now quite-.”

Prior to you being able to re-explain how the child in front of you was supposed to sound out the word, you classroom door opened and in walked your brown headed boyfriend paper bag of chick-fil-a in his hands he smiled at you and his eyes widened when he noticed you had company.

Jordan turned to the door smiling wide whilst waving enthusiastically at the boy she had seen on your phones’ lock screen and framed photos littered on your desk and around your preschool classroom.

“Well hello there little one!” He greeted placing the bag of food onto the table out of the way, crouching down he put out his hand that was cluttered with rings for her to shake. “I’m Jordan!” Karl nodded, shaking her hand with exaggerated movements to make her laugh.

“Like the basketball player?”

“Nooooo!” She giggled, shaking her head.

“No? Oooh so like the shoes?”

You bit your lip watching the interaction between your loving boyfriend and student. On multiple occasions Karl had asked to go with you to class, but of course every time you told him no, knowing he’d be too much of a distraction for your kids because he would turn them against you and want him in class all the time. Except you couldn’t blame them, you’d get distracted too if you looked up and saw him on one of his knees helping one of them with a problem.

“And hello to you too Mx. Karl Jacobs.” Kar greeted you getting up from his place crouched on the floor next to Jordan moving behind you as he placed a kiss on your head. “That’s not their name.” Jordan giggled, kicking her feet softly under the table. “It’s not?”

Karl played along reaching over your head to open the bag he had brought. “Nooo, it’s Mx. L/n.”

“Not for long.” He whispered in your ear when he stood back up a box of chicken nuggets in his hand. “Ooh really?”

“N/n you finished yet?” You looked up the tall boy leaned against your doorway his arms crossed over each other as he looked at you with that stupid dopey smile you were smitten for. “Still have some more to grade.” You sighed, running a hand over your face.

“Give em all hundreds or something, come on gonna order takeaway from the Chinese restaurant down the street.”

“Well that’s not how it works but I could use a monster and some food in my system.” Going against your better judgement you knew you’d be there all night if you continued grading on an empty stomach. Plus if you hadn’t gone willingly he would’ve found a way to make you get up.

After an hour of eating, ranting, and gossip you and Karl had moved to a comfortable silence him on his phone and you laid across the couch, your feet on your boyfriend's lap as he messaged them with his free hand. “Oh! Jimmy wanted me to let you know he wants to do a vid at your school so if he embarrassed you while you're teaching you can’t be mad at him.”

Your eyes narrowed to the boy across from you, he giggled under his breath going back to his phone, in one movement your right leg moved up nudging him in the stomach. “Tell Jimmy if he does, I will gladly upload the picture his mom sent me up on twitter.”

“Whe- Where ya goin Kar?” Chris asked jogging after Karl, a cameraman following behind the two. “Gonna go see Yn.” He called turning a corner into the Pre-k and kindergarten section of the elementary school. Karl peeked his head in the slim window on the door trying his hardest not to get caught as he watched you.

The lesson of the day was the difference between day and night. You had walked Karl through the plan a few days prior but this was the first time he had ever seen you teach and he was mesmerized.

“Karl, close your mouth, you’re drooling.” Chris whispered, the camera picking up on it. His friend rolled his eyes, pushing the boy before making his way back to the front of the school where he was supposed to be meeting with the rest of the crew.

The fan plugged in blew softly moving left and right as you sat on Karl's’ lap while his stream began to come to an end, him and the boys just chatting. “So Karl,” Dream started.

“Chat is saying you were simping for a certain someone in a new Mr. Beat video.”

“Yeah your mom.” He joked looking at you hoping you’d laugh or smile, but he ended up getting the exact opposite. Your mama jokes or replying with ‘your mom’ stopped making you laugh after being surrounded by children every day who loved making those types of jokes, and then having to deal with it with your boyfriend and his best friends, started getting tiring after a while.

“God, please don’t start with that.” You groaned, pulling your hoodie over your head tying the strings to make you feel like a hermit crab.

“Karl a simp!? Karl!” Sapnap yelled playfully in disbelief.

“We lost him boys,” Quackity sighed dramatically.

“I’m not a simp! You guys are so extra.” Karl rolled his eyes, his hands sneakily going under the back of your sweater to rub your back knowing your “bed time” was coming up quicker than he thought. “So if I asked you to go get me ice cream you’d say no?”

“Do you want ice cream?” You nodded pouting for emphasis on wanting him to go get your cookies and cream ice cream from the freezer, he moved you to the side slightly as he walked out the room to go get your request.”

“Ohh Karl, him and his simpish ways.”

taglist: @spacenova @heyskeppyalt @inniterhq @basilly @yamturds @dysfunctionalcrab @sleepysoupi @siriushxney @slutshies @tinyegg @ttakinou @charnease @w1lbursu1t

[redrobin-detective]

sleep like the dead

“And now, I, Technus, shall finally have my electronic vengeance on you, ghost child and conquer this puny human world!” Technus shrieked, exiting the portal in a suitably dramatic fashion. The various weapons around the lab shook and trembled from his power and static from his core crackled, raring for a fight with his favorite enemy. Only the Phantom didn’t appear.

“Hmm, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” Technus mused before starting up again. “Pathetic Phantom! You can only hope your miniscule half human strength will be enough to take on my squiggling mess of the tangled wires of terror!” He threw back his head and cackled loudly, waiting for his nemesis to show and the battle to begin. His laughter petered out after a bit and the lab became silent once more.

“Well, now he’s just being rude,” Technus fumed, floating up through the ceiling. “Don’t ignore my threats, child. I know you’re here, I can feel your cold core.” He stopped once he reached the ghost boy’s human lair, hovering a few feet from the bed where his rival was sprawled out, sound asleep.

“Come ghost boy, it’s time for fisticuffs! I have some new moves and some great catchphrases I’m ready to try out on you!” The technology ghost exclaimed in excitement, miming some punches. Phantom didn’t answer, just kept laying there barely moving save for his soft, shallow breaths. Technus watched as his breath fogged with each exhale, his core’s ghost sense but it still didn’t awaken him. “Child? Have you expired?”

He leaned forward and gently poked the boy’s cheek. It was squishy but firm unlike a ghost’s exterior and he could feel the dense bone underneath. Phantom didn’t so much as twitch. Technus drew back his hand, unsure of what to do. He’d surprised the child while he was in bed before but he always woke up and they fell into the usual routine. But now he’d changed the script and if there was something ghosts didn’t like, it was change. He flew back down to the portal and sped into the Ghost Zone at top speed, searching for someone who would be able to help him understand. 

“Wow, baby pop whooped your butt that fast? Either he’s getting better or you’re getting more pathetic, my bet is the latter,” Ember teased as she strummed to herself from a floating rock near her lair.

“The ghost child won’t wake up and fight,” Technus said in a rush. “I went to the human world but no one answered my challenge. I went to his human lair and he was just lying on his bed thing and he wouldn’t move, even when I touched him.”

“That’s not like him, he’s usually more hopped up and ready to fight than a groupie on coke,” Ember frowned, setting aside her guitar. “Well come on, sparky, lets go check the kid out.” 

They developed something of an entourage making their way back to the human portal. A few of the locals had heard that the infamous half ghost child was behaving differently and well, curiosity didn’t stop when the cat was killed. Skulker chuckled menacingly under his breath, Youngblood bounced around the adults. Johnny and Kitty had been going to the real world anyway and decided to tag along. 

“Were his folks or Jazz home?" Johnny asked, riding his cycle slow enough to keep pace with the group. 

“Who?” Technus questioned, “er no, the annoying children always with him were not around for once.”

“Annoying yes but they don’t live- uh occupy the same lair as the brat,” Johnny explained. As a younger ghost who’d held onto his humanity more than some, he had a better grasp of human culture. “His parents, the crazy ghost hunters in the blue and orange jumpsuits. Or his sister, Jazz. She has red hair and is kind of a know it all. They’re his family, they live with him.”

“Oh those weirdos,” Youngblood said wrinkling his nose. “Always loud and shouting about ripping apart ghosts. They’re not even good hunters.”

“Obviously, they haven’t noticed they got a ghost living with ‘em,” Ember added with an eyeroll.

“It’s a very stressful situation, Danny was worried about what they’d do if they found out,” Kitty frowned before sticking her tongue out at Johnny. “Danny’s a good guy, at least he talked to me about things that mattered.”

“Good target practice, you mean,” Skulker declared as they entered through the portal. Instinctively they all looked up to where the ghost boy’s core was humming but sensed no movement. “Alright, I will admit that is weird. Let’s see what the whelp’s up to.”

It was a bit cramped, the five of them crammed into the small room especially when they were keeping their distance from the room’s only living occupant. He had not moved since Technus had last been in here. At their entrance, his breath fogged again and he shivered for a second before settling back down. 

“Well, he’s alive at least,” Johnny shrugged before leaning in close to examine him. “Kid looks wiped though.” He picked up the boy’s bony wrist which had been dangling off the bed, his fingers brushing the floor and held it up before dropping it. His knuckles rapped against the ground but he didn’t stir.

“Johnny, leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep,” Kitty hissed, yanking her boyfriend back by his ear. 

“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad,” Johnny defended. “But, come on, how often are we gonna get a chance like this?”

“Hmm is human sleep that interesting that the ghost child would ignore all of us?” Technus asked, floating over and laying himself down on the bed. He laid there on the bed next to the boy for a few moments. “I do not believe I’m doing this correctly.”

“Nah you gotta close your eyes and go off to dreamland,” Youngblood said, grabbing a sock off the floor and then some papers from the desk and began stacking them on the half ghost’s head. The boy still didn’t react in the slightest. 

“Is dreamland close? Another pocket dimension like the Zone?” Technus, ever the scientist, asked curiously.

“No, you idiot,” Ember sighed before tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Phantom’s chest. “Yow, man that’s weird.”

“What?” Skulker asked, having been mostly content to watch until now. Youngblood had now piled several more items on the ghost boy’s head but he slept on, unawares.

“It’s just,” she scrunched up her face as she looked for the words, “I know what ghost cores feel like and I’ve been around enough humans to know the signs of life but he’s got both at once. His core flares and fades opposite his heart beat. It shouldn’t work but it does, somehow.”

“He is a most curious specimen, I rarely see Plasmius in his human skin so it’s hard to compare,” Skulker commented. “Of course Plasmius I can understand. He acts like a ghost, thinks like one. But the child, he’s certainly a ghost but he’s also decidingly... human.”

“That’s why we should be leaving him alone,” Kitty frowned, plucking Youngblood out of the air and moving him away from the sleeping teen. “If Danny isn’t waking up with all of us causing a racket then clearly he’s exhausted. We bother him enough, let him rest and fight him some other time.”

“But I wanted to fight now,” Technus whined, rolling over on the bed and resting one arm over the ghost boy’s body. “The Phantom surely wants to hear my latest monologue on how I’m the supreme ruler of everything electronic and beeping.”

“I know I don’t,” Youngblood shrugged.

“Me neither,” Johnny scoffed.

“Or me,” Ember muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

“Just let him rest,” Kitty said shooing the others back and gently brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face revealing sallow features and dark marks under his eyes. “It’s hard enough being human much less a ghost on top of that; between fighting us and trying to have a normal life I bet he hardly gets any sleep. The least we can do is give him a break before he breaks.”

“I suppose it’s not sporting to kill a sleeping prey,” Skulker pouted. “And it’ll make his defeat more meaningful if he’s well rested and not uh,” he gestured to the Phantom’s general state of disarray. 

“Better appreciate it,” Ember sulked for a second, kicking away some pajama pants from the floor. “His stupid human life. I’d give anything to sleep again, just for a minute.” 

The ghosts sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, the dead looking enviously and curiously on the silent, sleeping boy, on a world they could only watch but not engage in. The moment was shattered by the front door slamming open.

“DANNO WE’RE HOME AND WE BROUGHT CHINESE!” Resonated through the house. Startled awake, the ghost child leapt out of the bed and hovered about a foot above it for a moment before sinking back down.

“Darn it Dad, I was napping,” Danny grumbled before he opened his eyes and saw several of his ghostly enemies standing awkwardly in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Technus lounging on his bed. “What the-”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Technus tittered happily, leaning into his personal space. “Ready to hear my spiel?” The temperature in the room dropped rapidly as his core ramped up and spilled over into his eyes which were no doubt glowing a fierce green.

“Get out of my room!” He shouted, reaching over to grab his emergency under the bed thermos but a sock falling from his hair into his face distracted him.

“Hey, just stopping by but we were just on our way out, sleep well, Danny sweetie!” Kitty said dragging the whole group through the floor. His core thrummed in agitation until he felt them cross the portal into the Ghost Zone. He sat there for a moment, shaking and panting from the adrenaline rush before he decided he really didn’t want to know. He flopped back onto the bed and reached over on his nightstand for the bottle Jazz had given him the other day.

“The heck is in this stupid sleep aid?”

[lunar-wandering]

reverse reverse

so, i wrote a one shot for my Uno Reverse Card Swap AU- and i’ve decided to put all my oneshots and drabbles for it in one fic on ao3.

...anyways though, boom, heres the fic, bon appetit-

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on Ao3

-

MK tossed the staff as hard as he could, his frustration at his lack of progress seeping into the move. Wukong briefly looked shocked for a split moment (a very rare sight to see), before he ducked down, letting the staff sail over him.

Having missed it's initial target, the staff crashed into the electric panel on the wall, loud enough to grab Mei and Red Son's attention, from where they had been training on their side of the room.

"....Uh." Red Son said, watching how the electric panel sparked and hissed. "That's probably not good."

And then the training room doors slammed closed.

"Ah. That's very not good." The fire demon holstered the water gun he'd been using, walking over to inspect the damage.

"I'm sorry!" MK said, running over and pulling the staff out of the electric panel. Surprisingly enough, he didn't get shocked, instinctively twirling the staff in a circle before sliding it into his pocket. "I'm- I'm really sorry, can you fix it??"

"...If we were on the other side, yes." Red Son poked the panel, pulling his hand back just before a stray spark could hit it. "As of right now...I'd say we're pretty much trapped."

"What if somebody needs Dragonmist or Spitfire though?" Mei asked, "We won't be able to help if we're stuck in here."

"..I'm sure Sandy or my parents could do the job just fine..." Red Son mumbled, barely paying any attention to what Mei was saying, as he turned on the electronic band on his arm, a holographic screen appearing in front of his face. "I think I can get the doors to open again if I can reactivate the system....But with all the changes I had to recently make to prevent a certain few hackers from getting in the system again it might take me a while."

That seemed to be all the incentive that Mei needed, and MK watched in confusion as she took a few steps back.

Said confusion changed to comprehension just seconds before Mei took off, running at the door at full speed.

...And slamming into said door, falling backwards and landing hard on her back. The loud clang made MK cover his ears, and startled Red Son out of his focus.

"You- did you just try to break through the door?" Red Son knelt beside Mei, poking her to check if she was still alive (which she was). "The door that I specifically designed to be unbreakable?"

Mei only groaned in response, accepting MK's help in lifting herself back up into a standing position. As MK steadied her, he looked over her shoulder, noticing how...quiet Wukong had been the whole time.

The Monkey King was just standing there, exactly where MK had left him, in fact, it didn't seem like his mentor had moved at all.

MK lightly tugged on both Red Son and Mei's jackets to draw their attention over to Wukong

Just in time for Wukong to let out a scream of frustration, taking the fake circlet off of his head and throwing it at the wall- karma immediately playing it's hand as the circlet bounced off the wall, flinging back to hit Wukong on the nose, before reverting back to being a strand of hair.

"Fuck." Wukong hissed, staring at the hair that now rested on the floor as though it had personally offended him.

"....Monkey King? Are.....you okay?" MK quietly asked, Red Son and Mei also looking at Wukong in concern.

"I'm fucking fine- Leave me alone!" Wukong glared at them, before turning around and sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his tail swishing back and forth in irritation. MK, Red Son, and Mei shared a worried look.

"...I'll get back to trying to unlock the doors?" Red Son said, "Also Mei, please do not try slamming yourself into the door again. It's not going to work, and I really don't know why you thought that was a good idea in the first place."

"I didn't think it was a good idea, I just thought we might as well try it." Mei shrugged, "I did think it might go faster than just you trying to hack your own system though."

MK tuned out the bickering between his two friends as he focused in on Wukong's back. The Monkey King's fur was all....bristly, standing on end, as though he'd been startled. In between that, his little outburst a few moments ago, how his tail was rapidly swishing from side to side, and the fact he was chewing on his thumbnail, well, MK could only conclude one thing.

Wukong was scared.

As for why he was scared, MK had a few guesses. Most of which pertained to mountains and furnaces.

MK wondered if he should give Wukong some of the advice Macaque had given to him during their last therapy session- but almost instantly dismissed the idea. Wukong would definitely pick up on the fact that MK was quoting Macaque, and the Monkey King simply refused to take any advice the shadow monkey handed out.

MK couldn't just walk over to Wukong and try to distract him either. For one, he had no idea how to even start that kind of conversation, not to mention that Wukong didn't look like he wanted to talk to anyone right now. He couldn't tell Wukong that he knew that the Monkey King was scared either, from what he'd manage to garner about Wukong's personality, that would surely just send Wukong down a path of denial and overcomplicate the whole situation.

Which only left one option. Waiting.

Many people didn't know this, because of how quiet and reserved MK tended to be, but he absolutely hated waiting.

"Hey, Red Son?" MK asked, interrupting Mei and Red Son's petty bickering. "...How long exactly will it take you to hack the doors back open?"

"Uh...." Red Son glances at the holographic numbers hovering over his arm. "...I think the shortest amount of time I could do it would by 15 minutes, at most about 2 hours."

Out of the corner of his eye, MK could see Wukong's back tense, and something tells MK that even 15 minutes would be just a bit too long.

...This was all his fault. If he'd been paying more attention, hadn't gotten so frustrated, they wouldn't even be in this mess.

MK pulled the staff out of his pocket, looking at how it lay small and innocent in his hand. He looked back over at Wukong, who was still resolutely facing away from the rest of them.

He took a step towards the control panel.

"...MK." Mei noted his movement. "MK, what are you doing?"

MK doesn't give a response, the staff extending in his hands.

This was his fault. He's going to fix it.

"Wh- hey, MK, you'll get yourself electrocuted you-" Red Son takes notice of MK's actions a moment too late.

MK shoved the staff into the electrical panel, ignoring the way the electricity made his arms go numb and his nerves tingle. He'd been forced to get used to the sensation a long time ago. Focusing as much as he could, he grabbed hold of the warm power that lay within him, channeling it through the staff and into the control panel.

He didn't stop until he heard the whoosh of the doors opening, and was certain that they would stay open.

He pulled the staff out of the control panel, setting it down as he rolled his shoulders, shaking the tingles out of his arms. He registered Mei and Red Son staring at him in concern, but purposefully ignored it.

A breeze went past him, and suddenly Wukong was standing on the outside of the room, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, wearing an obviously fake smile.

"So uh, MK, the next time you fight me-" (Wukong' refused to actively call it training, instead saying that MK was simply fighting him for real. Since he was actually somewhat teaching MK now, nobody dared to call him out on it.) "Try seeing if you can catch me off guard on Flower Fruit Mountain, yeah? Yep, okay, uh- fuck, I forgot something with the monkeys, should make sure they didn't fucking destroy it, so uh, bye!"

Wukong vanished, leaving behind no trace that he had even been there. MK blinked, processing the Monkey King's parting words.

Did.....did Wukong just invite him to Flower Fruit Mountain for the first time?

[themandylion]

97 & 41 jaytim

Oh wow, this ended up long. /o\

97 (Time Travel) + 41 (First Kiss) + JayTim

He's boosting tires in the Bowery when the thugs find him. Crowd him up against a wall and threaten him with bodily harm for horning in on their territory, even though this part of the city is a free-for-all, with no one reigning supreme. There's three of them to his one, all of them full-grown men with bulging muscles and nasty tempers and Jason knows he's in his final moments, that there's no way he's escaping this. Still, that doesn't mean he's going to go down without a fight. He squares his shoulders, plants his feet, raises the tire iron in his hand, and—

Between one blink and the next, the back-most thug is on the ground, groaning and clutching his crotch. There's a blur of red, and then the next one's down on his knees, the crowbar he was gripping half a block away and the hand that was holding it pinned to the wall by a slim, sharp-edged disk.

Silver flashes through the night, and the final guy collapses in a heap, just sprawled out on the pavement like he's not even human anymore, just a pile of discard clothes over something lumpy and unmoving. Someone lands on his back, light and nimble and impossibly tall. "You okay there, kid?" the new person asks, crouching down so he's at Jason's level and smiling.

"…Batman?" He's only ever seen the Bat from a distance before, but he's heard about the cape and cowl, and this guy has both.

The guy shakes his head. "Nope, not him. I'm his partner, though."

"Robin wears green," Jason feels compelled to point out, because he's definitely seen Robin before, though always on the TV, when the Teen Titans are fighting really scary bad guys elsewhere in the world.

This time, a shadow seems to pass over the man's face, sad and unhappy. "I'm a different kind of Robin. Red Robin. I'm pretty new, it's not surprising you haven't heard of me." He leans back on his heels and glances around at the thugs, frowning. "I've got to tie these guys up and leave them somewhere the GCPD will find them. Do you think you can get home on your own?"

Jason gulps, staring up at him, at the way all that tight leather and spandex hugs his body. Gee whiz. "Yeah, I. I can take care of myself. Thanks!" He surges forward, practically smacking his mouth against Red Robin's cheek, before running off into the night. Maybe not headed home, but to as close as anything gets, these days.

---

Two weeks later, Batman catches him boosting tires on Crime Alley. A week later, he's going home with the man. Jason asks about Red Robin and gets a confused, clueless look, which is strange. With everything else happening, he forgets about the man in the black cowl with the silver staff, but he still finds himself drawn to that one particular shade of red.

---

He forgets until the memory is jarred out of the deepest depths years later on the other side of the multiverse, when he's bound to a chair and staring down the barrel of gun. A gun held by another Batman, a different Bruce. One who did all the things he thought he wanted his Bruce to do, only to end up a broken man as a result. Jason tries to explain himself and his presence, but it's hard to when he keeps seeing that suit in the case over this Batman's shoulder.

They reach an understanding, a kind of peace. Both of them, finally, for the first time in ages. This other Bruce offers him the suit, and Jason doesn't think twice before putting it on. He's traveled across the multiverse, seen places where dead people live again, where evil people are good and vice versa. It's not too far a stretch to believe that somehow, he's going become his own childhood hero.

When he finishes pulling on the last piece, Bruce looks on him with pride and announces, "Red Robin lives!"

"Red…?" Jason murmurs, more than a little startled. It's been so long, he'd nearly forgotten the name, but it fits, it makes sense. Finally, he's back on the right path, back to being someone the boy he once was could be proud of. Will be proud of, when their paths cross again, which he's sure they will.

---

The other Batman dies.

---

They get back, finally done traveling across the multiverse, fleeing across Apokolips, running from plagues and maybes and might-have-beens. Donna and Rayner return to wherever they call home, and Jason... He thought he finally found himself when he put on the cowl and became Red Robin, but with everything that happened after that moment, all the contrition he gained has been too long stewing in a half-broken heart. He isn't sure who rescued him when he was a kid, but it wasn't him, and it wasn't the long-dead Jason of another world. Maybe it was no one at all, and he made it all up and convinced himself it was real.

He runs back to Gotham, strips off the cape and cowl, the bandoliers and leather. Throws it all in the trash and goes to knock some heads and blow off some steam, anything to escape from what the rest of the Justice League brought with them—a sob story and a broken, days-old body.

---

The suit disappears from the can where he threw it, and he thinks good riddance to bad rubbish, but the person who's wearing it now doesn't understand the significance, the legacy. Doesn't know what it symbolizes, a last chance at redemption, a final loss of innocence.

The new kid distracts him, muddies the water and still Jason doesn't see it, doesn't realize what's happening. Even when the kid takes the cowl, adds it to his green-free suit, he doesn't see it.

Jason's too busy fighting, too busy screaming, raging, being angry at himself and the world to realize how things are swirling tighter and tighter, closing in, twining together, weaving themselves in an intricate, impossible mesh that's new and old and always existing all at the same time. The three of them—him and Dick and the new kid—push and shove and fight and scream and grieve in their own ways, trying to figure out who they're going to be now, what the world is without Bruce.

He ignores overtures of friendship, leaves the kid broken and bleeding out and thinks nothing of it, still too busy hurting and too busy denying he hurts.

Thinks nothing of Robin back on the streets in red and green and black and yellow, a different boy, an actual child.

---

Bruce comes back, but he's just as stubborn as always, and Jason burned the last of his bridges while the old man was playing possum. There's nothing left for him to do but lurk in the shadows and grit his teeth and watch Drake bounce around the city in a costume that isn't his, telling himself he doesn't care, that it doesn't rub him the wrong way.

Doesn't actually realize what's happening until one day he's watching as Drake races across the city, ready to step in and stop him if he dares to cross into Red Hood's territory when suddenly—

There's no one. The roof's empty, not a soul in sight.

He swings over, investigates. There's a strange acrid smell in the air along with the faintest traces of sweat and exhaustion, but there's no clue to where he's gone, no hint. Minutes pass and the sky is getting darker as evening turns into night. Just when he's given up, Drake reappears, but still, unmoving. One hand grasping his staff while the other touches his cheek and he stares into nothing, dazed and unfocused.

His attention snaps up, and Jason is too startled to move, still standing there in the middle of the roof, the two of them locked in place.

"Holy fuck." He can't. This isn't—

He's tried to kill Drake multiple times over the years. They've barely had a conversation that hasn't ended with Jason drawing a knife or a gun, and more often than not he comes out on top. Leaves the guy knowing that he's alive at Jason's mercy.

But now he's standing there, finally grown into the Red Robin suit and name, filling it in all the right places, all the right ways, grasping a staff that Jason somehow failed to recognize until this exact moment.

"I never—" He never thought to make the connection, always assumed it had to be someone else, some one huge. Big enough to match the larger-than-life figure that dominated a half-forgotten memory.

"Huh." Red Robin collapses his staff, clips it his belt. "Random time blip? I didn't even realize."

Which would explain it. Of course he didn't realize—no way would he have helped that other, younger Jason if he'd known who it was. Why save a boy who's going to grow up to become a monster bent on destroying him over and over again. "Sorry," Jason says, startled, confused, unable to wrap his head around it all as he stumbles backwards, tries to do what he always does when he's confronted with too much, too fast—run.

Red Robin—Drake—tilts his head to the side and then does something completely unexpected. He shoves back the cowl and studies Jason with cool, clear eyes. "I have a feeling this has been a weird night for both of us. You could stick around. We could figure this out together."

So help him, Jason hesitates. "Time travel is pretty weird."

"I was thinking more being kissed by my childhood crush. But yeah, that too."

"Your… what?"

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I think it's time we finally talked. Maybe without the death threats this time?"

Gulping, Jason takes that hand in his.

It's not much, but. It's a start.

(The Fanfic Trope MASH-UP is still open for asks!)

[lydias--stiles]

“The simple act of being in love with you is enough for me.”

jiara | post-s2 | pining idiots | title: quote by Pacey from Dawson's Creek

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

“Kie.”

“Hm?” The girl’s mop of curls obscured her face as she mumbled out some vowels, clearly still buzzed from the night before. An amused smile ticked up his lips and slapped her calf again. She sighed. “What?”

“Leggo,” he pushed, “we gotta get to Pope’s place.”

“Why?”

Even if everyone else would deny it, JJ swore Kie was as bad as he was: slow and fucking lethargic before eleven in the morning. Sure, she had better grades in school, but he wasn’t gonna give her more credit than that. Speaking of, “Helping him with that new scholarship, remember?”

The girl groaned and rolled over to face him, droopy eyes cracking open to scowl at him. She slept where he used to crash whenever his dad’s place became too much, but since the old man fucked off to Yucatán, he found peace in the quiet walls and cracked windows. Regardless, it was weird seeing her sprawled on this mattress, the boy almost able to envision himself beside her. A dangerous fantasy to linger on, so he pushed it aside and kept on trucking.

“C’mon, Kie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered and sat upright. “How did you even get in the Château?”

JJ grinned and snagged a key chain from his shorts. “Spare key. Duh.”

She rolled her eyes, uttering, “John B’s stupid,” and then pushed him out the guest room, telling him she’d get ready. His mouth opened to make the joke if he couldn’t stay and watch, but the door slammed in his face and that was that.

Having a crush on Kiara was the freakiest thing ever. First of all, JJ and emotions didn’t mesh well — it only led to trouble, a perfect example being his dad and him with the most fucked up dynamic to boot. He preferred to not even think about the man, though one glance in the mirror often betrayed his mind and brought a rush of memories to the forefront, whether it was a shiner against his eye, or the fact that he resembled his father when he was young.

So yeah, he didn’t like anything ‘love’ related. It was stupid. It was more reckless than buying a jacuzzi or trying to steal a golden cross from a boat with dozens of armed men. Friendship, however, was easy. He told the Pogues just that: they were ‘it’ for him, he’d go through fire for them, through hell and fucking back.

But he didn’t think he’d actually die for them, which almost happened when he tried saving Kie on the Coastal Venture — to which she ended up saving him. (A vision illuminated by a golden sun, hovering over him. He’d never forget it.)

While he inspected the contents of the fridge, embarrassingly filled with only beer, eggs, milk and junk food, the door creaked open and revealed a dressed and less-wrecked Kiara. His gaze flicked up and down her frame, quick, and then averted it back to the fridge.

“You got no food, man.”

She chuckled. “I know. It’s not exactly The Wreck type of food…”

“You haven’t gone back?”

“Nope,” she replied, curt, and moved past him to shove a container of sausages aside to grab a bottle of almond milk. Even if she wasn’t with her parents, she still somehow kept up her ‘no dairy’ principles.

Also, Kiara was hella beautiful. He hadn’t let it register when she walked in, but it was true. Her soft-looking, shiny skin, sporting the prettiest smile in all of the OBX, and she was just hot. Especially when she propped herself on the kitchen counter, to which he settled beside her to not look at her legs.

“How many scholarships are there?” she asked. “Like, I’m obviously proud of him, but…”

“He told us last night,” JJ laughed. “You were that fucking high?”

She giggled, “Yeah! You were there, I was just on my ass.” And then, quieter, “And… I don’t know, I guess I’ve been kind of distracted.”

He perked up, surprised. Though the Pogues were family, openly talking about emotions when it wasn’t prompted by anything, remained rare. They were better at talking shit and smoking and napping on boats. Whatever, he took the bait.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s stupid, JJ.”

“Kie, you’re talking to me,” he nudged her shoulder, “throw me a bone here. Is it Pope? You got the hots for our favourite nerd again?”

Taking a sip from the bottle, her brow quirked up as though that was the stupidest thing he ever said, and retorted with, “Why’re you always doing that?”

His hands raised instantly, defensive. “Doing what?”

“You’re always digging, like, when I was with Pope you got all weird.”

“I don’t dig.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. Kie, what’s up?” He kept it moving before she found the core of his problem, and bounced back to the original issue. “Before I start saying shit to Pope.”

She scoffed. “You're full of shit.”

“Oh, Kie,” he drawled with a smirk. “You can do better than that.”

Silence fell. He waited, fiddling with his fingers, and quietly hoped Pope wouldn't be too annoyed when they arrived late — then again, they were begrudgingly coined 'tortoise and tortoise' by the group anyway.

She placed the bottle back in the fridge and sent him a rueful smile, one he often saw her showing Sarah before they went aside and had a private talk. Their eyes locked and she finally spoke.

“Sometimes, I… I miss my parents. And it's like, I don't get how they don't just accept that I'm a Pogue, that I'm friends with you guys, you know? But I still miss them.” She looked down at her feet, crossing at the ankles like a little girl waiting to be reprimanded by the teacher. “I miss my dad's hugs.”

Instantly, his arm swung around her for a gentle side hug, a grateful smile pulling on her lips as she leaned into him. Both knew they should savour a moment like this, as hugging with a twitchy JJ and often irritated Kie happened once every blue moon.

Ignoring the guilty look in her eye — yeah, he didn't understand missing a paternal embrace, rather used to a blow in the stomach or a crude remark, but that didn't mean he lacked empathy — he resisted the urge to encourage her to reconnect with them. Knowing her, she'd just close up and glare at him for the rest of the day.

So no, he wasn't going to ask her. And no, she shouldn't feel guilty. P4L 'til the end, baby.

“Thanks, JJ,” she whispered.

He snickered and pushed her off. “You can't tell the guys I'm becoming soft, dude. Theyʼll give me so much shit for it.”

“They know you're soft,” she teased, “don't even try.”

“I'm tough,” he tried.

“Like Play-Doh.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled and motioned at the kitchen door. “Let's go, Carrera. Before John B and Sarah come back and act all married.”

Now that was fucking annoying. After John B and Sarah faked their death, they got married by a bandana strip and hadn't let that notion go after returning. Sure, there was that small blip when they were fighting the crazy religious chick, but that was old news.

John B made him swear he wouldn't tell a soul, but the guy waxed poetry about Sarah whenever they were drunk and alone. It was hilariously sad. Another man lost to a girl.

(“She wants a beach wedding,” JB sighed a couple nights ago. “Nice, right?”

“I– yeah, I really don't care about this, man.”)

JJ knew that when he got a girlfriend (Kiara unintentionally but also very intentionally crossed his mind), he'd act normal. No mushy shit. No poetry. Definitely no creepy Romeo and Juliet references thrown in as if that shouldn't freak the Pogues out. Their behaviour better not be infectious.

Expectedly, Pope's scowl reached them all the way from the car, Kie and JJ sharing a sheepish look before stepping out.

“Gee, guys,” the boy deadpanned, “thanks for making haste. Really appreciate it.”

JJ's wide grin hoped to salvage it. Slapping his friend on the shoulder, he pushed past him and yelled, “Kie was dead, dude!”

Pope grimaced. “Don't joke about that.”

He watched as Kie stopped beside Pope with an apologetic expression, telling him she overslept and was sorry and that he knew how JJ was — “Always joking.”

His chapped lips pursed, a familiar punch hitting his chest with him then pretending it didn't hurt. She always did this. Even if she claimed she didn't, she always took Pope's side. Relationship or not. JJ knew she didn't owe him her 'side', but it'd be a nice change of pace either way.

Whatever. This wasn't the JJ Pining For Kiara Show. Pope needed their help.

A state-wide scholarship competition gave Pope another shot at winning a huge chunk of money (no gold type of rich though) and getting his ass out of OBX, hopefully launching himself into some fancy college when he revealed to be of Denmark Tanny's lineage. Those hibrow assholes loved a good sob story.

All Pope had to do was score hella high on some test — easy — and impress the panel — not so easy — and he'd be the luckiest Pogue of all.

But that did mean Kie and him had to sit on his creaky bed with a freaky amount of flashcards while a stressed out Pope paced around his room. He was pretty sure the floor was eroding.

Also, he had no fucking clue what any of the flashcards meant. Did Pope's smarts really attracted Kie that much? Was it the brain? Brain over brawl? But where was the fun in that? JJ loved Pope to death, but the guy had to be fully medicated or high before his brain shut off and he acted carefree.

“Pope, do you even know what this all means?” Kie bemoaned, flipping the cards around.

“You got a dictionary somewhere?” added JJ, squinting at the word aberration. It sounded like some weird disease. He showed him the word.

Pope dismissed it. “It means: different from the norm.”

“Dude, why not write that then?”

“Because they want aberration.”

He didn't get it. “No one uses it though.”

“JJ, that's just the way it is,” Pope pressed.

“Guys, stop,” Kiara interrupted. “But honestly Pope, it's so, like, elitist. None of these questions are important to the world, or the well-being of the people.”

“Sorry, Kiara, but unfortunately not everyone cares that much,” he sighed. JJ could tell they were starting to annoy their friend, their tortoise bullshit bleeding through.

Her nose scrunched up, peeved. “Right. Because there's a planet B just waiting to be used by us. Duh.”

“Ooh,” JJ drawled, nudging her arm. “Are there donkeys shitting money?”

Kie laughed. “Yes. All beaches, clean air, no Kooks, and money-shitting donkeys.”

“Nah, I want it to be hella Kooky,” he joked, gesturing wildly. “I want a yacht and tell people someone else does my laundry, or something.”

“You don't even do your laundry anyway,” she bounced back with a roll of the eye. “I know you force John B.”

“He's already playing House with Sarah, might as well wash my underwear, too.”

Oh, man. He could do this all day. Talking shit with Kiara went as smooth as fishing for him. Each time he thought he one-upped her, she threw more on top and kept it going 'til neither knew what the point even was anymore. Sarah dubbed it as 'banter' which he believed was a rich way of saying 'talking smack.'

“I don't believe you even know how to do it,” she challenged.

JJ huffed and crossed his arms. “I can do it.”

A smirk bloomed on her lips as she kept jabbing. “It's kinda cute, how you need John B to be your mom.”

“I don't.”

“You literally said it five seconds ago.”

“Guys,” Pope groaned, followed by an exhausted sigh eerily similar to Heyward. “Can we get back to the flashcards?”

Kie and JJ were too far into their discussion though, jabbing at each other at rapid speed. Then she threw her cards at him and all bets were off. He yelled she should make a goal with her hands, to which he folded up a flashcard and shot it straight between her fingers.

And that was when Pope kicked them out. JJ presumed it was a victory they lasted as long as they did. Kie kept apologising over her shoulder, prompting Pope to ask Cleo for help instead.

For a beat, they were silent stepping out of his place and back into the car. JJ felt a stab of guilt for fucking up Pope's study time, but it was hard to dial his brain to school when his friends surrounded him. Just when he wanted to ask if she felt bad too, she went off about the climate — as usual.

“It's so dumb how there were no questions about the environment or human rights or, or anything like that! It's all science and lit, like, there's more to life than fucking chemistry formulas!”

“I skipped those cards. Didn't get them.”

“It's so fucked,” she hummed. “And I'm obviously glad that you drove to the Château to wake me up and all—”

“Yeah?”

“—but I really wish those questions would matter. We almost died, JJ!”

“No, shit,” he grumbled, quickly starting to lose his patience with the ranting girl. She didn't even realise what the fuck she was saying anymore — what she did to his heart, skipping like some elemtary school girl on the playground, when she slipped some nice words in.

“Died!” she pressed. “Why even care about stuff like that?”

“Fucks sake, Kie—”

“And I didn't want to say it, but did you see how many flashcards there were? How many trees were cut for that? It's like, hello, Quizlet exists!”

“Kie, shut up!” he yelled.

Her mouth fell slack, gobsmacked, gawking at him like his interruption was a slap in the face.

Gesturing wildly with one hand, he exclaimed, “You know, you can just go on and on and I hear you talking and it's like, yeah, we get it, Mother Earth needs to be saved, we're fucked, you don't gotta repeat it twenty-four seven.”

“What the hell, JJ!”

“You have an opinion about everything! A man gets tired!”

“A man?” She scoffed. “You're not even eighteen.”

“Point is you don't gotta act all preachy all the time.” He turned the corner, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

Kie scowled. “Where is this coming from? I'm not preachy, I'm educating you.”

Now that was just fucking with his head. Incredulous, he exclaimed, “You think I don't listen? Kie, I'm the only one that does. JB is on Planet Sarah all the damn time and Pope only did shit 'cause—"

"That!” she yelled, throwing her hands up with frustration. “That's what I mean! You're doing it again! You dig!”

“What?!”

“Every time you mention Pope and I, you dig. You needle!” Twisting in her seat, his gaze flickered to catch her disgruntled expression. “Why do you do that? It's so… sus.”

JJ laughed. “Sus?”

“You don't ask John B about Sarah.”

“'Cause they're fucking obvious.”

“Still,” she pressed. “Did I do something to piss you off? Is that it? Is it me constantly asking you to recycle and yet — shocker! — you never do?!”

“Fucking God,” he grumbled under his breath.

With frazzled thoughts and shaking hands, adrenaline coursed through him as he swerved to the side of the road and stopped the car. If he fought with Kie any longer to this degree of fuckery, they were gonna crash.

She frowned. “What're you doing?”

“You, Carrera, are driving me insane,” he deadpanned, matter-of-fact. Then he slammed the door open and stepped out, desperate to catch his breath.

In the back of his mind, he had an inkling as to why he was so keyed up. Kiara would call him a Neandethal, but fuck it, here was the truth: Kiara was hot as hell when she argued with him.

Following his lead, she got out, her sneakers stomping against the asphalt. The sun steeped low on the horizon, the light hitting the hood and reflecting onto her face; her curls shifting from dark brown to gold. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so fucked. He almost missed the start of her spiel, too enthralled.

“I'm driving you insane? I'm always getting you out of trouble, because you never think things through! You never see the bigger picture!”

He rolled his eyes. “Bigger picture? The only thing I see, Kie, is you going on about nature. That easy.” And then, before he could stop himself, he spewed out, “And you don't have to do that.”

“What?”

“Getting me out of trouble,” he said, pursing his lips. “That's not your responsibility.”

“Right. Duh. Because after everything we've been through, I can't care about you,” she exclaimed, face twisting up in pure fury. She got in his space, shoving his shoulder, but when he didn't budge, it only seemed to anger her more.

JJ didn't know what was going on anymore. Why was she so mad? Even if she didn't want to admit it, he was telling the truth. Of course all the Pogues had each other's back, but Kiara doted over him more than was necessary. The constant checking of injuries, limiting his day drinking, all that. Like he was some child!

He leaned in and mumbled, “I can take care of myself.”

Kie smirked. “Then do your own laundry.”

It happened naturally. One second he stared at her furious eyes and thought about how much he loved arguing with her despite the bullshit, the next his fingers curled into her hair and pulled her in a fierce kiss.

At first, her hands laid frozen on his shoulders, surprised, but the moment he realised his impulsive decision was a mistake, they slid around his neck and kept him close.

JJ sighed in relief and deepened the kiss he'd been craving ever since they were fourteen and Kie went from gangly to statuesque. Her lips were warm and soft and her hands were soft and she hadn't let go and holy shit — he was kissing Kiara Carrera.

The kiss lessened when her mouth quirked into a smile, their grins pressing flush together, and JJ shivered from delight. Oh, man. He was gone.

“You drive me damn crazy, Kie,” he murmured, voice dropped to an undeniably soft tone.

She bit back her silly grin and whispered, “Good.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried focusing up, but all he could do was stare at her face. A shy hand grabbed hers.

He had to get it out of the way now, or else he'd kick himself later. “I'm… really into you. I'm– oh, fuck, uh–”

“Maybe we can talk about it not on the side of the road?” she suggested, amused.

JJ grinned, elated (What was the word he saw on the flashcards? Exalted!), and kissed her again, because he could.

On the ride back to the Château, he confessed to seeing her in a different light for years, while she couldn't really pinpoint a time or moment, that it just happened. It didn't matter, though he was in utter disbelief that he and Kie were having this conversation. No jokes, no BS, all seriousness. Tomorrow, he'd wake up and it wouldn't be some sick dream. Kie liked him back.

JJ was sure he'd doubt himself or overthink it in the future, but today, he'd bask in the certainty and the major ego boost.

“Okay, but did you ever legit like Pope then?”

A sheepish smile crawled up her cheeks as her gaze averted to the window. “I thought I did. But we have, like, no chemistry, so…” She shook her head. “I was confused.”

“That's okay,” he uttered. He couldn't give her shit for it. Even if he did torture himself with their short-lived relationship, he understood.

How would he react though? John B and Sarah wouldn't care, or Cleo, but Pope? He didn't want one of his brothers hating him. Being iced out by the guy fucking sucked, as it meant he was truly hurt and therefore meant JJ truly fucked up. He couldn't handle disappointing him.

Kie read his mind. “He'll be fine with it.”

“I dunno, man…”

“He will,” she repeated. “We're Pogues. We've all narrowly survived death. And besides…” She turned back to him with a secretive grin. “I think he has a thing for Cleo.”

Whoa. He did not see that coming. His brows shot up to his hairline, mentally kicking himself for being so focused on Kie that he didn't even notice the shift of interest between Pope and Cleo. They made sense, too. Know-it-all's, but well-meaning, and only speaking when needed.

If the idea didn't relief him of worries, he'd be concerned as to why they were all seamlessly coupled up like in some 90s sitcom Big John had on VHS.

“What a player,” he joked.

“Tell me about it.”

They arrived at the house, the Twinkie and Sarah's bike sprawled on the overgrown front lawn. JJ frowned. He had hoped to have some alone time with Kie, not to jump her bones and fulfill a regular dream of his, but to talk. To figure it out. He wanted to do this right. Because after everything, they deserved to have good things, to start on a high note — he deserved it.

Kie noticed it, too. Puckering her lips on contemplation, her gaze trailed from him to the rest of the property, ending on the trusty ol' hammock. She jabbed her thumb at it.

“Let's sit there.”

Normally, they laid on opposite ends on the hammock, if they even shared one to begin with. But now, she pressed herself right beside him and he felt like heaven dropped down on them in the best way possible. He suddenly understood what John B was lamenting about — the company, intimacy, the ease. Nerves rippled through his body like a summer storm, but he figured that was what it cost to lose one's mind over a girl.

He didn't know what to say, so Kiara spoke instead.

“I don't want us, the way we are around each other, to change, you know?” she said. “Like, I don't want you to think you have to act like some mellow ass boyfriend all of a sudden.”

He smirked. “Who said anything about boyfriend?”

“Bye.”

“Hey, wait,” he grinned, latching onto her arm before she pushed herself out. “C'mon, Kie.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I don't do this usually, okay?”

“You think I do?” he asked. His hand softly slid down to wrap around hers, to which she hooked their fingers together. Okay. Wow. It felt so damn nice that it propelled him to say, “I wanna be your boyfriend, Kie.”

The girl smiled and then surprised him by leaning in herself, pressing a gentle kiss on his chapped lips. It was overwhelming having her instigate it, his gut twisting up in excitement like when he was about to backflip from a boat, or cliff dive, or something similar like that.

He let go of her hand to cup her cheeks, only to whisper, “That's a yes, yeah? Gotta get a yes.”

“Yes, JJ,” she uttered back. “Here's to not fucking this up.”

“Cheers, baby.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—���

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Sugawara Koushi

Requested by the wonderful @lavenderpup sorry it took so long! I took a hiatus for a while, but I hope you still enjoy it! 😊💖

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: Slightest itty bit of hinted NSFW!

How He Shows You Affection Master List - Character Masterlist

He Rubs Your Cheeks Together

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” you told the group, as you hurried up to them, “The trains were running behind schedule!”

“Don’t worry,” Kiyoko assured you, a kind smile on her pretty face, “You’re not the last one to arrive.”

“Is Koushi not here yet?” you asked glancing around the group. This was meant to be a reunion of the third years from the Karasuno volleyball team, but considering Kiyoko was engaged to Tanaka, and Asahi was dating Nishinoya, it had turned into more of a second- and third-years thing.

A familiar pair of arms around your waist answered your question as you were tugged into a firm chest, your boyfriend’s face rubbing up affectionately against yours as he asked teasingly, “Are you gossiping about me already, honey?”

Tanaka, who’d been standing surprisingly quietly next to Kiyoko politely holding her hand looked utterly scandalized at the display of public affection. If he was a sixties housewife he definitely would’ve been clutching at his pearls, though Kiyoko just looked amused and fond.

You’d grown used to how affectionate your boyfriend was, even in public and didn’t even blush nowadays, which always made him whine a bit, claiming he missed the good old days where you got flustered and stuttered every time he did it. However, you knew he didn’t actually mind given the smitten look he gave you every time you melted into his hold instead of stiffening up the way you used to.

His favorite move, and the one he almost always used to greet you was wrapping you into a hug from behind and nuzzling his face against yours, rubbing your cheeks together in a sweet affectionate gesture that never failed to make you melt.

You’d been a little self-conscious about it at first, especially since you’d gotten a lot of scandalized looks like Tanaka’s given Japan’s views on public displays of affection. However, the few times someone had actually said something about it, somehow your boyfriend had talked circles around them, and in the end, you’d get away with it, sometimes even getting fond looks instead.

A good example of this was your landlady, who’d glared and sniffed every time she’d seen the two of you when you’d first moved in. One conversation with Sugawara later and she’d changed her tune, claiming the two of you reminded her of her and her husband back in the day. Now you got fond looks, indulgent smiles and even cookies from time to time. She even went so far as to scold others who looked sideways at the two of you.

It was completely and utterly ridiculous, something you’d commiserated on with the other third years more than once. According to Kiyoko, Sugawara just had one of those faces that let him get away with anything. Given that she also had one of those faces you took her word for it, and for the most part let him do as he pleased, though you did try to stop if it looked like someone was genuinely uncomfortable.

“Koushi,” you scolded lightly, “You’re upsetting your kouhai.”

“Eh, he needs to toughen up some,” Sugawara told you, snickering slightly at Tanaka’s expression, though he did let go of you after one last affectionate rub and instead laced his fingers together with yours offering you an affectionate smile, “Especially if he’s going to do a good job taking care of Shimizu.”

“Suga-senpai!” Tanaka protested as Kiyoko giggled into her hand.

“Koushi, you know Shimizu doesn’t need him to take care of her, if anything it’s going to be her taking care of him,” you teased lightly, making your boyfriend and Kiyoko both laugh brightly.

“Your girlfriend is just as bad as you are,” Tanaka informed your boyfriend, though there was a definite smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I know,” Sugawara said, clear pride in his voice as he pressed an affectionate smacking kiss to your cheek, “Isn’t she just the best?”

“Really Suga, you shouldn’t tease our kouhai so much,” Daichi intervened, though he also looked incredibly amused by the whole exchange.

“Tanaka makes it too easy,” your boyfriend told him with a shrug, “Besides someone’s got to give him a hard time now that Kiyoko’s given in to him, that and none of the other second years are nearly as fun.”

“Speaking of second years, where are Nishinoya and Asahi?” you asked, chiming in to save Tanaka from Sugawara’s ruthless teasing as you finally realized who was missing from the group.

“We’re here!” A familiar voice called, and you turned just in time to see the rather comical sight of Nishinoya tugging Asahi down the street by his hand, practically dragging the larger man behind him, “Sorry we’re late we got distracted!”

“We can see that,” Sugawara stated dryly, his eyes tracing over their clearly rumpled and hastily put together appearances, “Asahi, just what have you been doing with our precious kouhai?”

The long haired third year immediately began to splutter as Nishinoya laughed loudly, clearly unbothered at the implication. The group of you set off together, headed for dinner, all of you laughing and smiling as your boyfriend teased his newest victim, with Sugawara’s fingers laced affectionately with yours, refusing to lose contact for even a second as you went about your night.

He Tells You He Cares

“Have a good day at school, and say hi to your class for me,” you told your boyfriend as you casually straightened his tie, and pressed a quick kiss to his waiting lips.

“I will,” he assured you with a bright smile as he scooped up his suitcase though he paused in the doorway to turn back and tell you, “I love you!”

“I love you too,” you assured him with a soft smile, watching as he walked out the door with a cheerful bounce in his step.

It was a routine that the two of you completed every morning almost without fail, and even when you couldn’t Sugawara always made it a point to tell you he loved you before he left to go anywhere. Even if you were asleep or he thought you were sleeping he’d still press a tender kiss to your forehead or cheek and whisper how much he loved you before walking out the door.

With so many repetitions and routine you’d think the words would lose their meaning, just a ritual part of your day with no thought or true emotion behind them. However, it simply wasn’t true.

You’d asked your boyfriend before why he insisted on saying it so often, you’d been curious, especially since Japanese culture didn’t put a large emphasis on saying the words out loud the way other cultures did.

As a teacher your boyfriend was incredibly articulate and usually able to express himself incredibly well. When you’d asked though he’d seemed to struggle to find the right words. He had gotten very thoughtful, and told you that it was because he wanted to remind both of you that at the end of the day he loved you no matter what was happening in your lives.

You’d been a bit confused about his reasoning at the time, and a little unhappy as well. You could understand maybe needing to remind you that he loved you, he shouldn’t need to remind himself that he loved you right? It just hadn’t made sense, and your boyfriend wasn’t able to properly explain, just insisted that it was important to him. You certainly hadn’t minded, and so figured there wasn’t any harm in it even if you didn’t understand.

You kept that mindset right up until your first fight as a couple after you’d moved in together. Sugawara had headed for the door to leave for a while to clear his head and let both of you calm down. However, he’d paused in the doorway and looked back to tell you he loved you.

It had taken away all the sting of him leaving for a bit, and reminded you that not only did he love you, you loved him too, and at the end of the day that was what mattered most, not whatever petty thing you’d been arguing about. The reminder was enough to help soothe you into a better frame of mind for when he returned. The two of you had been able to resolve your fight calmly and rationally after that, with apologies and ‘I love you’s on both sides.

His words about it being a reminder had clicked for you then, and from that point on you made it a point to tell him you loved him before you left too, something that never failed to make him beam at you, warm and full of affection.

It helped that you’d both promised that if ever there was a day when you didn’t actually mean the words that you wouldn’t say them at all. However you were rather almost certain that day would never come. You couldn’t imagine someone better suited to you than Sugawara who reminded you each and every how very much he loved you, and how much you loved him too.

He Surprises You

The sound of someone knocking at the front door pulled you away from the mindless scrolling you’d been doing on your phone and prompted you to pull yourself up from the couch, confused about who might be interrupting you on your day off. Your normal suspect would’ve been your boyfriend, but not only did he have a key, he was at school much to your mutual disappointment. However the day off had been unexpected, so he hadn’t been able to take a vacation day in advance and was not so irresponsible that he would call in sick when he wasn’t. He loved the kids too much for that.

It turned out you probably should’ve continued to suspect your boyfriend, as he was the culprit behind the interruption, if not the culprit himself. The delivery guy kindly passed you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, just the sight of them bringing a smile to your face as you signed for them, and then brought them into the kitchen where you could admire them.

The bouquet came with a handwritten note that read…

I hope you’re enjoying your day off! When I get home, let’s go on a date okay?

Love,

Koushi

You smiled a little helplessly at the familiar writing, realizing your boyfriend must’ve stopped by the shop personally to pick something out and leave a note for you to read. Your heart felt close to overflowing with affection for him as you snapped a quick picture of your flowers and sent him a quick text to thank him and that it was a definite yes to date night.

Your boyfriend had always been a thoughtful person, but sometimes it still caught you by surprise just how thoughtful he truly was. Sugawara liked to surprise people, and he’d told you once that sweet surprises were the best kind. Looking at your flowers you couldn’t help but agree with him.

He was always doing things like this for you, sending your favorite flowers, making you a cute lunch, buying something small that had reminded him of you and bringing it home as a gift. It never failed to make you feel soft, especially since it proved that he was always thinking of you. You loved it, though you’d told him more than once he was spoiling you.

Sugawara had just shrugged at the accusation and sent you one of his beaming smiles, the kind that never failed to make your heart flip over in your chest, and told you, you deserved to be spoiled. It made you want to spoil him too, the look on his face always worth it when you took time out of your day to make or buy something for him.

With that in mind you quietly began to plan a surprise or two of your own, your previously rather boring, if productive day brightening as you daydreamed about the things you’d like to do for your sweet boyfriend, coming up with several interesting ideas. Time practically flew by, and before you knew it, it was getting close to the time school was letting out.

Carefully you snagged one of the pretty blooms from the bouquet you’d been sent, and tucked it behind your ear, grabbing your things as you practically danced out the door. Sugawara was right after all, pleasant surprises were the best, and you were going to start by picking him up from school. You couldn’t wait to get started on all your ideas, hoping you could make Sugawara feel just as loved as he always did for you.

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[ppersonna]

the sheriff - knj | m

↳ summary- you’ve always had a soft spot for Kim Namjoon, the local sheriff.  seems like he’s had one for you, too.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

↳ word count- 6.8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE I...)

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), cowboy dirty talk, unprotected sex, aftercare, namjoon is a whole gentleman, we love to see it, period-typical gender roles, sex in a saloon, severe overuse of the word Darlin, artistic liberties on language used in the old west lol

↳ a/n- hello! welcome to my first (not so) drabble for Bangtan Rodeo!  this was requested by my angel dani @minloop​ who requested “ Howdy partner, Namjoon + saloon + sheriff 🤠” i hope you enjoy it love!  thank you to my soulmate @mindays​ for the amazing banner omg i c ry every time i look at it.  and thank you to @hobiance​ for making up this fun game, and for @mindays​ for beta-reading it!!  i also wanna shoutout my crew @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @taetaewonderland​ @kookiesjoonies​ who i would never write again if it werent for their constant hype.  I LOVE YOU ALLLLLL. 

What had started out as a pleasant ride through town on your father’s horse, Bang, turned into an absolute nightmare.

The horse had gotten spooked by some unknown creature, and reared up high, before taking off at a break-neck pace. Your screams were drowned out by the thunderous beat of the stallion’s hooves and the wind rushing by as the horse ran erratically out of the town and into the wilderness.

“Help!” You screamed, hoping someone would hear you. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you clung to the reins, skirt billowing behind you.

Bang the horse reared up again in a clearing, and this time it was no match for your delicate strength. You slid off the horse and landed hard on your back with an ‘oof’ before your vision went black.

“Hey, you hear me? Little lady?”

The voice wakes you, and you blink a few times. Sitting up, you wince at the stabbing pain that radiates through your body and hiss.

“Hey now, be careful,” the gentle voice speaks again. “Don’t get up too fast. Here, lay back down.”

Something soft touches the back of your head and you realize the kind stranger must have balled up some clothing for you to rest on.

The sun is still high in the sky and your vision is slowly coming back to normal, when you focus on the face of your savior—before nearly passing out again.

It’s the town Sheriff, Kim Namjoon. The very man you’ve harbored a secret crush on for years.  

You’ve watched him become a deputy and work his way up the ranks. He was a gentleman, and the bravest man in town. He battled some of the fiercest bank robbers and thieves in the county and always came back victorious. He was prime husband material.

That is, if you had ever spoken a more than a single word to him.

He’d work for your father on your ranch often, helping with mending fences or shoeing horses. He’d sit at your dinner table and graciously eat the soup, dumplings and pie you’d make special for him and thank you with a tip of his hat—then be off, back to saving the town, before you could even build up the courage to tell him ‘good evening’.

“How you feelin’?” He asks tenderly, cupping your cheek and pushing your mused hair behind your ear as best as he could.

It’s hard to speak—equal parts in pain from the fall and stunned from the beautiful man staring you down.

“H-hurts,” you whisper, licking your lips.

Namjoon’s eyes follow where your tongue trails over your chapped lips and swallows hard.

“I bet. You took quite the fall there.”

You close your eyes, remembering the terrifying moment you fell off. The horse had been so frightened, so ablaze...

Suddenly, you remember your father’s prize stallion. He had likely run off while you laid unconscious in the dirt.

“Oh, no!” Your eyes fly open. “Bang!”  You try to sit up, but Namjoon shushes you and gently guides you back down.

“He’s all right, miss.  He’s eating an apple, as happy as can be.”

“Oh, praise the lord,” you sigh. “Papa would tan my hide.”

Namjoon chuckles and nods.  

“Brave of you to take that beast out for a ride. You think you can sit up?”

You nod, and with his strong, gorgeous hands assisting you, you sit up straight.

He offers you the waterskin in his hands. “Here, have some water. You’ll need it for that headache.”  

“What headache—owww,” you groan as the sudden pounding in your head echoes the pounding of the horses’ hooves galloping out of town. Namjoon chuckles and pats down your hair—picking out dirt and leaves.

“Once you feel back to sorts, I’ll wrangle Bang up to my horse so you can ride with me, and I’ll take you home.”

The water from the skin is cool and you sigh as it coats your dry throat, eyes closing in bliss.  Namjoon keeps his eyes on you for a moment, watching the way you drink.  He nearly groans as a bit falls from your lips, trails your neck and down onto your pretty chest. It slips past your clothes, where his eyes can no longer follow it, and he shakes himself back to propriety.  

“Thank you,” you speak as you swallow the water and hand back the skin. “I needed that.”

Namjoon nods solemnly, tucking the skin back to his holster belt before standing up.

“You stay there and rest while I get Bang tied up, alright?”

You’re hopeless to deny any request from the handsome sheriff, and you’re nodding your assent before you try to fight back on feeling better.

Instead, you watch as the tall man stands and strides over to Bang, cooing gently at the enormous beast and patting his nose for a moment to calm any lingering nerves the horse may have.

Your mind wanders and you suddenly envision a future with the sheriff—watching him tend to your horses while you cook dinner and mind the children. You imagine him herding you into your bedroom and pushing you deep into your featherbed, dripping cock aching to slide into your warmth as he whispers how much he loves you into your ear.

You’re only snapped out of your fantasy when the man of your dreams approaches once more, a bridled horse at his side as he slips the reins through his own horse’s saddle to guide him back to town.

“You all right there, little lady? You looked a little dazed.”

Your cheeks heat and you nod, quickly trying to dispel the embarrassment.

He sticks his hand out and you watch as your small hand fits in perfectly to his grip, and he tugs you up with ease; the momentum of the pull has you being pulled directly into his chest.

“T-thank you,” you murmur breathlessly. The sheriff stares down at you, eyes fixed on your own before they glance at your lips as if it’s his last wish to press his own there.

He’s silent for a moment as he holds you against his chest, then rights himself and backs away.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Glad to help.”

Namjoon lifts you onto his own horse and your heart stutters at the feel of his hands gripping your waist. It’s warm where he touches and you wonder what his hands would feel like touching you everywhere. You imagine his hands would feel like a dying campfire on your bare skin, deceivingly scorching hot.

He saddles up behind you and wraps his arms around you, gripping the reins as he clicks his tongue at his horse to start a slow trot back towards town.

The gentle trot of the horse makes your chest heave and fall, bouncing with each step the horse takes. Namjoon glances down and can see the way your breasts jiggle and bites his tongue.  You look enchanting—dirty skirt and ripped blouse from the fall. Namjoon only wishes he had been the one to dirty you and rip your clothes. His cock hardens against his will and he prays to god you don’t feel his arousal poking you in the back and prays he can get you to town before you realize and slap him into the next county.

And you definitely notice.

Your cheeks heat to hotter than the summer sun and you swallow hard to dispel some ache in your chest. Your core suddenly feels desperate for attention and you can almost imagine the way his hands would feel rubbing at your needy clit, whispering filth into your ear as he coaxed orgasm after sobbing orgasm from within you.

“Are you goin’ to the square dance tomorrow night?” Namjoon suddenly asks you, attempting to distract himself away from his rising cock.

In the chaos of your frightful ride out of town, and the bliss of being pressed up against the handsome sheriff, you had forgotten all about the annual square dance held at the town saloon.  Drinks, dancing, and fiddlin’ festivities were always bound to happen.

“Oh, it must have slipped my mind,” you say. “But, I suppose I could get Papa out of the house.  He has an eye on that new schoolteacher.”

Namjoon laughs, and it warms your heart. He’s taken special care of your father as much as you have ever since your mother died years ago.

“I think she has her eye on him, too.”

You hum, deep in thought of your lonely father, and Namjoon squeezes your hip with his free hand.

“Well, I hope to see you there.”

The blush returns right as Namjoon’s horse strides up to your homestead. Your father must have seen you coming and runs out of the house and down the steps to collect you.

“Oh, thank the good lord!” He breathes as he pulls you into his chest. You smile and return your father's warm embrace, suddenly feeling comforted.

“Sheriff Kim, I owe you a lifetime for rescuing my little girl.”

Namjoon smiles at you and winks, before looking back at your father and pulling his hat off tenderly.

“Just doing my duty, sir.”

Something twinges in your heart, as you’re reminded Namjoon saved you out of dedication to the badge than any memorable feelings towards you.

“Plus,” he continues. “It’s already a reward when the little lady is as pretty as this one.”

There’s that stupid blush again. Your father claps Namjoon on the shoulder and then brings the sheriff in for a hug, with a cheerful laugh.

“Now, you best be careful how you speak, son. I can’t threaten the sheriff with my .22 when he’s courtin’ my daughter.”  His demeanor radiates his joking manner with Namjoon, but the sheriff’s eyes still widen like he’s a teenager again.

Your cheeks, already pink, flame red with embarrassment.  

“Papa!” You admonish. “Leave Namjoon alone! He didn’t mean nothin’ by it!”

Namjoon’s smile fades back to a solemn and stoic look as he unhooks the stallion still attached to his own.

“Here you go,” he murmurs as he hands the reins to your father. “He’s just fine, too.”

Papa nods, and Namjoon replaces his hat and bows his head in acknowledgment.

“Good evening, sir,” he motions to your father. “And to you, miss. I reckon I’ll see you at the dance tomorrow.”

You nod, licking your lips again without knowing it. Namjoon begs his cock to behave, especially in front of your father.

“Thank you, Sheriff. And I reckon you will.”

He saddles up, and rides off into the sunset. Your eyes remain on his disappearing silhouette and your father fondly flicks your ear.

“That fellow likes you,” he nods at the retreating man. “And you just had to hold a candle for the goddamn sheriff.”

He ‘tsks’ jokingly, before slinging his arm around your shoulder and guiding you up towards the house.

“How the hell am I supposed to scare a boy off my daughter when he’s got more guns than me!”

You snort under your breath and lean into your father's hold.  

“Oh, Papa.”

You can hear the music pouring from the saloon the moment you walk up. Papa stands next to you outside and anxiously fixes his hair.

“You think Ms. Lainey will be here tonight?” He asks.  He tries not to look worried, but you can read him like a book.

Your hands smooth out his crisp, dress shirt and adjust his handsome bowtie.

“Yes, Papa. I reckon she will, lookin’ prettier than a sunflower.”

His eyes lock on yours, full of gentle emotion that you haven’t seen since your mother passed.

“You think this is fine?”

He looks concerned—worries he’s perhaps moving on too soon from your mother when she’s been gone and buried for years now. You can’t help but feel a bullet through your heart for the older man. He raised you to an adult, tended to an entire ranch, and maintained his sanity in the depths of his depression.

“Yes, Papa,” you soothe. “Mama would want you to be happy. I think Ms. Lainey is the perfect person to help you with that. Plus, I hear she makes a killer cornbread.”

Papa smiles and pinches your cheek gently.

“You’re just like your Mama,” he muses with a fond smile. “A smart ass. But a beautiful one.”

“Papa!”

“Hey,” he grins as he holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not a liar. Now, let’s go in there and find that handsome sheriff, shall we?”

“Papa, please. Don’t embarrass me!”

“Well, too damn bad. That’s my job as your father.”

He pushes past you and through the swinging doors of the saloon.

Damn that old man.

Namjoon spies you the second you walk into the wooden saloon. You look like a princess, if he’s ever seen one.

Your blue dress hugs your curves just right and sweeps to the floor. It looks soft and Namjoon wonders what it would feel like under his fingertips. Tender, gentle, just like you.

He sets his bottle of beer down—he’s been nursing it for half an hour now, unwilling to get drunk or even tipsy tonight. Not out of some sense of duty—he had plenty of deputies around to keep the peace, but out of hope that you would come. He didn’t want to be drunk around you.  

He watches as you whisper into your father’s ear and gesture towards one corner of the room.  Namjoon tracks your gaze and sees you’re both looking at the new schoolteacher, Ms. Lainey who wears a pink blush that matches her pretty, pink dress. Your father kisses your cheek softly, before leaving your side and making his way towards the teacher.

Namjoon shoves the barely touched bottle of beer towards the barkeep, Jungkook.

“The hell you want me to do with it?” He asks incredulously to the sheriff.

Namjoon sends a look to his longtime friend.

“Fuck if I care, Kook. I’m busy!”

Jungkook grumbles under his breath as Namjoon turns away.

He weaves through the crowd towards you, keeping you locked in his vision. He hopes to keep you all to himself tonight, especially with you looking as ravaging as you do in that gown.

He nearly makes it to you when Jackson Wang slides in and wraps an arm around your waist.  He can see your face fall when you realize who it is. Jackson is your ex-boyfriend, and a shitty one at that.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he attempts to woo. “Let me have just one dance.”

“I said I’m not interested, Jackson.”

“Oh, I know you said that, but I don’t think you meant it.”

Namjoon clears his throat from where he stands behind you. You both turn in surprise towards the officer.

“I think the lady said what she meant.”

Jackson narrows his eyes at Namjoon and grips you tighter.

“And who the hell do you think you are!”

Namjoon opens the coat of his suit, giving Jackson an eye-full of the loaded revolver clipped to his side.

Jackson seems to get the picture and shoves you off him—Namjoon is quick to steady your uneven gait from the assault.

Namjoon whistles for Jimin, his deputy, and instructs the eager young officer to escort Jackson off the premises.

“You’re lucky I’m not having him take you to the Big House tonight.”

Jackson rolls his eyes and spits on the floor at your feet.

“Fuck you, Sheriff.”

Jimin shoves Jackson out the door and follows him out to ensure the man stays well-away from the dance tonight.

Your eyes are downcast when Namjoon returns his glance at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

The sheriff hushes you and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, just as he did before when he found you lying on the ground.

“Now, now,” he whispers as he steps closer. “I don’t want to hear none of that talk. You didn’t do nothin’.”

He slips a finger under your chin and brings your face to peer at his own. The violins change their tune from carefree to a soft ballad.

“Care to dance?” He offers.

You smile and nod after a beat of silence, taking his proffered hand and slipping your other to hold on to his firm shoulder. He looks handsome in his suit, much different from the Wranglers he wears to work. This suit is cream, and feels like fine silk under your fingertips. You wonder if he ordered it from the general store or if he rode his horse to the big city for it. It fits him like a glove and you silently thank the town tailor for his work, allowing you a tease of the man’s brilliant muscles and toned body under his clothing.

Namjoon’s hand slides around your waist—attempting to remain as proper as he can. He doesn’t want to give the town anything to gossip about, but the way your dress and waist feel underneath his palm make him nearly forget all his manners. His mother would kill him if she saw the way he continued to press in close to the woman, hoping to feel her bountiful chest press against his own.

“I’m glad you came,” Namjoon breathes as your feet move in time with his. “I was worried you weren’t gonna show.”

Your cheeks tickle a rosy hue, and Namjoon nearly melts.

“I’m sure you would have found another lucky lady to dance with.”

Namjoon hums as he spins you around, grip tightening on your waist.

“Maybe so,” he agrees. “But they wouldn’t be the girl I was hopin’ to dance with.”

Your throat feels tight.

“And who might that be?”

“The girl I’m dancing with right now.”

Something within you burns like a roaring flame, and you push forward to press your lips to his own. It stuns Namjoon; he doesn’t move until his brain finally catches up and he’s kissing you in return, deep and passionate. He pulls his hand out of yours to wrap around your waist completely, bringing you up to his chest as his tongue prods for entrance at your mouth.

You eagerly accept him, allowing his tongue purchase in the hot cavern of your lips, and you whine needily against him as you feel a bulge grow between his legs.

“Sheriff,” you whisper, pulling away from his lips.

“Namjoon,” he breathes desperately. “Please, call me Namjoon.”

“Okay, Namjoon.” He smiles and dives in to kiss you again when you pull away.

“Please, Namjoon, can we go somewhere else? Papa’s here…”

Your cheeks are red-hot and Namjoon chuckles, glancing around. Your father is busy enough as it is, dancing with the schoolteacher but he nods.

He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the bar, getting Jungkook’s attention.

“You back for that beer?” He asks with a grunt.

“Nah, gimme the key to a room upstairs.”

Jungkook eyes you standing behind the sheriff, bashful.

“Can’t even wait to get her home, now? Ain’t that the rancher’s daughter? He’s right over there! You’re really going to--”

“Jungkook!  The key, please!”

The barkeep rolls his eyes as he digs under the countertop for a large skeleton key and slides it to Namjoon.

“Down the hallway, first door on the left. The presidential suite.”

He winks at the sheriff who rolls his eyes and drags you up the stairs. You pray to any god listening that your father remains distracted with the schoolteacher.

Namjoon unlocks the door and allows you to enter first, giving you a chance to glance around the spacious room. There’s a copper bathtub, a fireplace, and a large feather-bed that looks divine.

“Wow,” you whisper. “Never been in a saloon bedroom before.”

Namjoon chuckles as he sets the heavy key on the dresser, loosening his tie.

Suddenly, you’re nervous. The implications of being here have your hands trembling and body feeling flustered. You’re not the kind of girl who fools around, nor are you the kind to simply open her legs for the first handsome officer who looks her way. You hadn’t even gone all the way with Jackson when you were with him. Now that it’s happening, you wonder if you’ve gotten far too ahead of yourself.

Namjoon notices the look on your face and crosses the floor easily to cup your face between his palms.

“Hey now, why the long face?”

Your eyes peer into his, shame washing over you. You want so badly to lie with the man in bed, in every sense, but you’re terrified.

“I’ve…” you swallow hard. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

The sheriff smiles and rubs under your eyes with the pad of his thumb. It’s comforting and having him this close to you makes your body feel like you’re close to the hearth of a fireplace.  Warm, soothed.

“And you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, little lady. Thought we should just get out of the crowd.”

Your heart feels like it may just beat out of your chest completely. Namjoon is holding you, staring at you like you’re a treasure.  

“I want you, Namjoon. I’ve wanted you my whole damn life.”

Namjoon brings his face right up to yours, lips a mere breath away.

“And I want you.”

You close the space between your lips, finally re-acquainting yourself with his taste and the feel of his plushy mouth against yours. He tastes like hops and sweet mint. Your hands slide down to claw at his sides, gripping the fabric of his coat jacket in your balled-up hands.  

The kiss doesn’t remain chaste for long. You’re soon pushing off his coat, tugging down his suspenders and unbuckling his pants.

“Easy there,” he whispers as your hand tugs at his boxers. “We have all night.”

Inhaling through your nose, you nod. He’s right. There’s no reason to rush into this.  

“Plus,” he adds. “It’s not very fair that I’m nearly stark naked and you’re still in this pretty little number.”

Namjoon kneels down, thick fingers untying the laces of your heeled boot, and holding your ankles stable as he slips them off your feet.

He kisses your soft ankles, presses his lips to your shins and calves as if he’s worshiping you.  He thinks this is better than Sunday service, anyway.

The sheriff stands back up and his fingers move around to the back of your dress, easily finding the zipper and tugging down ever-so-softly. The fabric comes off your shoulders without issue, and soon pools at your bare feet. His eyes are soft as they travel over your body, left in only your silk panties and brassiere.

“There.” He whispers it like a prayer. “You’re so beautiful.”

The tone of his voice makes your body feel like it’s blazing—like the fire of whiskey as it pours down your throat. It burns, but it warms every single inch of you from the inside out.

“Namjoon, I don’t just want you for one night.”

Your anxieties pour out of your mouth with little thought. You wish you could hold back, just enjoy the moment. Your stomach twists and turns as he unbuttons the dress shirt and keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“That’s good,” he nods. “Because I don’t want you for one night, neither.”

Your hands slip onto his bare stomach, pushing the sleeves of his shirt off. His skin is hot, and firm. He feels like a dream. The shirt comes off easily and you gape at the artwork that is his chiseled chest.

“Oh my,” you gasp. Namjoon preens, enjoying your shameless gaze.

“All of this is for you,” he murmurs gently, watching the heated stare pull from his pecs to his eyes.

“M-me?”

He nods again and fingers the strap of your bra.

“I want you to be my girl,” he says. “I want to come home from a hard day and see my lovely little wife in our home. I’ll even get you a horse.”

You can’t help the smile that crosses your face.

“One that won’t buck me off in the middle of nowhere?”

He nods, slipping the strap down your shoulder.

“And if he does, your strong and handsome husband will be there to rescue you, every time.”

Your tongue soothes over your kiss-swollen lips as you listen to him and allow him to slowly remove your remaining articles of clothing. The bra straps fall off your arms easily and you let him work his hands around your back to undo the clasp.

“I want to make love to you every night,” he breathes. “Maybe get you nice and pregnant with my child.”

Your bra falls to the floor and his warm hands rub at your stomach, where a swell could be.

“Would you still help Papa?” You ask, hazy and dreamily.

“Every day, darlin’. I’d be the best son-in-law. Give him grandbabies to spoil rotten.”

He doesn’t say anymore—he couldn’t if he tried. Your lips are smashing against his and you’re pressing your soft, bare breasts to his firm chest and his mind is actively shutting down. All he can think of is you, your body, your hands, your mouth, and most of all, that sweet cunt. It’s still hidden behind a layer of silk, but he knows it will be the dreamiest place he’ll ever be, and one he doesn’t intend to leave often.

“Will you take me home tonight? To your home?” Your eyes are hopeful as you pull away to question him. Something about it all makes you want to make love to him all night long, in his bed. You want to wake up with him in the morning and cook together, only to get distracted and make love again on the kitchen table.

“I would love to.”

Your hands push down his pants and you’re gasping as his hard cock springs free from the slacks. It’s thick, and it slaps at his stomach once, leaving a smear of slick wetness where it hit.

“Lay down, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, tucking a piece of hair behind. It seems to be his trademark, and it sends shivers down your spine.

You obey wordlessly, laying back onto the bed and resting your head on the fluffy pillows.

Namjoon stands above you and gazes at your form, allows himself to breathe in the vision of you, nearly naked and waiting for him.

He crawls onto the bed and hovers over you, fingers trailing up your soft legs before rubbing at your clothed core. There's a patch of wetness there, and your trembling whimper tells Namjoon you’re just as eager as he is.

He settles himself in between your legs and inhales the scent of your pussy. It smells of fine silk, and of your arousal. You’re embarrassed, he can tell as your legs threaten to close, but he moves his hands to your thighs and holds them down as he licks a fat stripe up your soaked panties.

“Mmm,” he breathes. “Delicious.”

Your legs are trembling now and he flickers his eyes up to yours, gauging your reaction. Your head tips back in bliss, hands cupping your breasts.

“Do you like that, darlin’?” He asks.

Your head tips back down to stare at him, heat shining in your shimmery orbs.

“Is this okay?”  He wants to know you’re just as eager as he is and has no interest in taking advantage.

You nod pathetically, legs spreading open further for him.

“I want you.”

Namjoon lets his fingers run up to the top of your panties and keeps his gaze on yours as he peels them down and off your legs.  They’re drenched, and he whines when he uses two fingers to open your lips further and expose your soaked hole.

“Shit,” he grunts, tentatively kitten licking your sensitive clit.  

It sends radiating static and shock through you. No one’s ever touched you there—no one but yourself on lonely nights with dreams of the handsome sheriff.

Namjoon catches your hitched breath, your shuddering sighs, and continues gently.  His tongue licks tiny stripes up and down your quaking clit and enjoys the way your arousal seeps out of you.  He knows you’re a virgin, knows he needs to take his time to open you up for him.  And he plans on making it an experience you never forget.

“That’s right,” he breathes as he pulls away and licks his lips.  “My girl doing so well.  You like it when I lick your pretty clit?  Does it feel good?”

You nod your agreement and open your mouth to respond, but Namjoon quickly places his lips over the sensitive nub and suckles gently.  Your words turn into a throaty scream, back arching impossibly at the sensation.  

He brings a hand up and teases your slit with a finger as he introduces you to a new world of sexual awakening.  His tongue roves over your clit as he keeps a constant vacuum seal around it with his lips.   Ever so gently, his finger prods past your folds and slips inside the wet heat of your channel.

His cock leaps at the sensation on his finger.  You’re impossibly tight and drooling with juices and Namjoon’s tongue moves from your clit to lap at the slick.   You taste so sweet.   He can’t wait to acquaint himself with every inch of your body, especially the sweet spot here between your thighs.

“Oh! Oh, God!” You scream as your tug at your nipples.  Namjoon can tell by the tightening of your channel you’re near the edge.   He slides another finger in and fucks you gently with them, spreading open your heat ever so slightly so the stretch of his cock isn’t so hard to take.  

“Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes.  “Fall apart for your sheriff.”

Your eyes squeeze shut tight, stomach flexing hard as the band within you coils tighter and tighter until it blissfully snaps and your core is pulsating around his fingers like a grip.

Namjoon groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his fingers and drools juice.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers as he gently pulls his fingers from within you.  “You did so well.”

Your blush on your cheeks matches the rosy hue on your chest as you pant—attempting to bring yourself back to earth and right your breathing.

“That—, that was amazing.”

Namjoon presses one solid kiss to your thigh.

“You, my love, are amazing.”

You’re lifting yourself up on your elbows to peer down at him, whining gently for his attention.

“Will you kiss me, Namjoon?”

“I’ve got you all over my lips,” he says but you shake your head.

“Kiss me.”

Namjoon nods and crawls up your body, eagerly pressing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss.  It’s intimate, and fiery as much as it is gentle and exploratory.  Namjoon kisses you like he found the girl of his dreams—because he has.

After long, blissful minutes of rolling around in the bed with his lips attached to yours, you pull away and glance at his hardened cock.

“I’ve never,” you swallow as you allow your fingertips to graze the tip.  “I’ve never put one in my mouth before.”

Namjoon’s sensitive glaze over his eyes returns.

“You don’t have to, darlin’.”

“But I want to.  Will you let me know if I do something wrong?”

He nods once, and you adjust him to sit at the head of the bed, back against the headboard while you crawl down between his legs.

You allow yourself a few, long moments to simply stare at his length.  It’s hard, flushed with excitement, and drooling a substance from his head that makes your mouth salivate.  It has a soft, gentle curve to it you can only imagine will feel like heaven inside of you.

“You like it?”  Namjoon asks gently, without pride.  He looks sincere, like your opinion on his cock matters to him.

“I love it.”

You mouth at it gently, before opening wide to accept him in.

“C-careful, darlin’,” Namjoon warns. “It’s big—might not fit in your throat.”

Your eyes simper up at him for a moment, before you continue your plight and accept his length into your mouth.

You take it slow, torturously slow to him.  You take your time to get acquainted with the feeling of his cock filling your mouth before you continue to take more and more until all at once he’s at the back of your throat and your nose is pressed to his toned abdomen.

Namjoon whines out loud, feels his brain turn to mush and his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

“Good lord,” he whispers.  Your eyes are watering with tears and your gag reflex protests against the intrusion, so you quickly pull back out.

“Did I do okay?” You ask.

Namjoon’s cock throbs where it sits, right at the tip of your lips.

“You did fucking perfect, baby.”

It’s easy to see the pride flash across your face and you move to accept him all at once but he stops you.

“Don’t hurt yourself, doll.   You can just move your mouth on it.”  He grips the back of your head ever so gently and helps you descend, taking just enough to fill your mouth before he assists you in pulling back out.  “Mmm, yeah, like that. Hollow those cheeks—shit, you’re a natural.”

You preen and bob on his length without the guidance of his hand.   He drops his hands to push the hair from your face and as you work his cock in your mouth with surprising finesse.   A groan builds deep in his chest and he can feel his balls tighten and threaten to empty onto your pretty lips.  But, he can’t have that.

He taps your cheeks gently, forcing you to look back at him.  He nearly cums from the sight alone.  Your big, beautiful eyes staring into his soul as if he’s lasso’d the stars just for you.   Your mouth is full of his cock like it’s your home and Namjoon knows that it’s everywhere he wants you to be.

“I wanna cum inside that sweet pussy of yours, darlin’.”

You pull off with a pop, eyes widening at the sound and Namjoon thinks you look prettiest with a dusty blush across your cheeks—a color that matches the pink of your perky nipples.

“Lay down for me, baby,” he encourages, moving from the spot on the bed and allowing you to rest your pretty head on the down pillow.

He kisses over your neck and breasts sweetly, imprinting his adoration for you with each press of his lips.  He laves over your nipples gently as he situates himself between your thighs.  His hand grasps his cock and lines it up at your entrance, but doesn’t push in yet.  He allows your dripping slick to coat the head of his cock as he warms your body up with his lips.

“You’re the prettiest girl in town.  Hell, even the whole county.”

You whimper gently as he takes a nipple into his mouth and grazes it with his teeth.  

“You wanna be my girl?  You wanna be the Sheriff’s little wife?”

You nod and Namjoon peers up at you, eyes expectant for a verbal answer.

"Please” you whisper.  “I’ve been sweet on you since I first met you, years ago.”

The sheriff licks your nipples gently.

“My pretty wife,” he coos.  “You ready?”

Your legs tremble—a mixture of nerves and excitement as the man lifts himself up and kneels between your parted folds.   His cock feels thick and hot at the entrance of your heated core and you’re gasping for more.

Namjoon presses forward and takes his time as he enters you, knowing the stretch will be new for you.  He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves in, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting of his cock.

It feels like heaven and hell.  The sting burns you, but it easily simmers down to a low flame of desire, of pleasure.  Namjoon licks into your mouth and you eagerly accept him, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer.   His tongue explores and seeks purchase—you’re loath to deny the handsome officer as you return the actions easily.

He pulls his lips away as he bottoms out inside you, panting.  He needs the stillness, himself.  Your cunt is so tight, so hot and accepting of his hard cock that he feels near the edge of his sanity already.  

“You all right, love?” He asks, eyes checking yours for any signs of trouble.  

The burn quickly ebbs away to nothing more than a slight smolder.  He fills you completely, and it feels like he’s making a home for himself within you—one you’re welcome to him constructing again and again.

“Yes,” your voice is deep and husky.  Your eyes are ablaze with a sudden passionate need for more.  “Please, show me how it’s done, cowboy.”

Namjoon needs no more—he pulls his hips back gently and thrusts back into you with ease.  You’re soaked, and the slide is tight, but slick.  He moans gently as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper his sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispers.  “God, I’ve dreamed of the way you would feel underneath me.”

Your legs open even further to allow more of him and his pace eagerly picks up speed. The sound of skin slapping on skin soon fills the room and Namjoon continues his litany of love.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby, so fuckin’ good. You’re the perfect little wife for me. This cunt was meant for me, wasn’t it, my sweet?”

Speaking coherently is not a task you can handle now.  Namjoon’s cock is fucking into you with a depth and speed that feels like fucking paradise and all your brain can comprehend are his sweet epithets he whispers to you and the way your core burns and sizzles with need.  You can feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tight, tight, tighter.  You’re nearly at the end.

“I wanna fill you up, my love.” His pace is becoming erratic, with less finesse as he charges towards his own finish line.  “Going to fuck a baby into you, darlin’.  Get you nice and full—fuuuuck, cum for me, please.  Let me feel that hot cunt cum around my cock.”

His words burn your ears with depravity, but it only forces that tight coil even further.  It pulls until it nearly steals all the breath in your lungs as it throws you over the edge.   Your walls pulse and constrict around him, making him whine out loud to match the crying whimpers of your climax.

“That’s my girl, oh god, I’m gonna cum.”

It’s all the warning you get before the hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pools deep inside you.  Your whines silence as he presses his lips to yours while his cock continues to shudder within you.   He kisses you hard, deeper than you’ve ever been kissed before and you hold him so close to you, you fear you may never separate again.  Not that it would be a bad thing.

“Shit,” Namjoon sighs as he finally feels his climax subside.   His cock finishes its weak pulses, and he gently pulls out of your spent hole, watching his seed drool out of you.  

“Mm, I think your little pussy needs to look like this every single night, don’t you?”

You peer down, leaning up on your elbows to watch as his white cum dribbles out of you and onto the feather bed.

“Yes, Sheriff.”  Your smile is coy and sweet, a hint of humor in your worn out voice.

He scurries to the bathroom to get a warm, wet flannel and returns to your legs to clean you carefully.  Your heart feels like it may burst. He cares for you so sweetly, wants you comfortable—wants you to feel loved.

“Take me home, cowboy,” you whisper as he presses his lips to your legs after he finishes cleaning you.  

Namjoon assists you in dressing, kisses all over your bare skin as he laces you back into your dress. You both can’t stop staring at each other, eyes filled with promise and a future full of each other and no one else.

He guides you down the stairs, back towards the dance and you try to fight the blush that blooms on your cheeks.  You’re sure your mused hair tells everyone in the room what you got up to upstairs, and you pray your father has left early.

Namjoon slides the key back to Jungkook once they reach the bar, his other hand tightly laced with your own.  Jungkook gives you both a look, then smirks.

“Your Papa asked your whereabouts,” he muses as he dries a glass with a rag.

His smirk grows wider.

“Told him you were shining the Sheriff's gun. Looks like I was right.”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[winwinnns]

an act f a (kinda)

this was supposed to be enemies to lovers but i got carried away with yn in denial lol

a loud laugh ripped through the quiet mumble of the library. startled, you turned to see where the sound came from. you narrowed your eyes. na jaemin and his friends were sitting at a table behind you. you hated him with a burning passion. he was so loud all the time. one time you were paired with him for a project, and he didn’t do any of the work. he bothered you while you worked, and he still got credit.

you lock eyes. you stare him down, not wanting to be the one to break away. he says something to his friends and stands, maintaining eye contact. he walks to your table. you twist back around as he stops right next to you.

“what?”

he laughs at your harsh tone.

“no need to be rude princess,”

god you hated it when he called you that. you loved the pet name, but didn’t exactly like when it fell from his lips.

“you were the one looking at me after all”

he leans in closer to you.

“see anything you liked?”

you wanted to fight the part of you that melted at his voice. you’d never admit it, but you liked when he teased you. it made you squirmy, and he seemed to notice. you shifted in your seat.

“yeah right. i just looked in the direction of the noise.”

he leans in even closer. you wanted to pull away, you really did, you swore it. but you stayed in place, noses almost touching.

“mhm. right.”

you push him away.

“fuck off jaemin”

he laughs and distances from you.

“when are you gonna stop playing hard to get?”

playing hard to get? what was he talking about. you hated him. well, kind of. you didn’t hate how he laughed, you didn’t hate his voice at all, you kind of liked his face. no. you hate him, you decided.

he smirked at you before walking back to his table. it stirred something deep down inside you, and you hated that.

the next time you saw him, you were the class you had with him. he didn’t usually show up, but today he did. he sat right next to you. he smelled good, that pissed you off. you professor droned on. you were zoning out, focusing on the doodle you were drawing on your notebook.

“y/n” jaemin whispered

you ignored him.

“y/n”

he poked your arm. you rolled your eyes and looked at him.

“yes?”

he smiles mischievously.

“hi”

you punched him in the arm. not too hard, but not soft either.

“ow!”

“shut up and pay attention.”

“you’re one to talk.” he smirked.

“at least i know what’s going on.”

he sighs and rubs his arm.

“well that’s cause you’re smart, not because you’re paying attention.”

you dropped your pencil and tried to assess what just happened. he complimented you. your face flushed and you hid it, making sure he wouldn’t see you. you hated this. why did a compliment, that wasn’t even heartfelt, make you an embarrassed mess? you knew why. the answer lived in the back of your mind. you shook your head.

“thanks i guess.”

he smiled again, but turned forward towards the professor.

after that, you saw him another time. you were at a small party with your new friend, sowon. she was nice to have invited you, despite not knowing you very well. you were having a good time talking with new people.

suddenly, loud laughter entered the room. it sounded awfully familiar. you looked up and your stomach dropped. it was jaemin.

suddenly you regretted coming. sowon said she was inviting a few people. what you didn’t know was friends jaemin and his group.

“you’re friends with them?” you ask her.

you didn’t know much about her. but you didn’t think she’d be friends with the rowdiest group of guys on campus.

“yeah, me and haechan go way back!”

she smiles at you. you smiled back, but inside you were pissed. you didn’t want to see him. not in class, not out of class.

that wasn’t true, you were actually kind of excited to see him, but you’d never confront those feelings, you pushed them down like everything else you felt regarding jaemin.

you looked for him, just to make sure you weren’t near him, you convinced yourself.

you found his eyes and he smirked, then winked at you. you cursed the butterflies in your stomach. you tear your eyes away and go to the bathroom. you face felt hot.

you splashed your face with cold water. you looked at yourself in the mirror. you hate him. you’ve needed to remind yourself more often recently. his words stick in your mind for the whole day. his teasing tone bouncing around your brain.

when you opened he door to leave. he was leaning on the wall in across from it. his brought his eyes up from the floor to look at you.

“what are you doing” you ask him.

he smiles.

“waiting for you.”

you contorted your face.

“ew. why?”

he pouted.

“because i wanna talk to you princess.”

you melted just a little bit before regaining your composure. you wanted him to leave. you didn’t want to talk to him.

“what makes you think i want to talk to you?”

he smirks.

“because when i winked at you you got all embarrassed.”

he got up from the wall and stood close to you. you titled your head up to look at him. your body was screaming at him to touch it. you chose to ignore that.

“i know you like me y/n, stop fighting it”

your eyes widened. what? you don’t like him. you hate him. right? no. you hate him you were sure.

“yeah okay jaemin.”

you push him away walk out of the hallway. he follows you to the living room. you stop in your tracks. sowon was friends with everyone you hated apparently, because your ex was standing right next to her.

jaemin leans his head over your shoulder.

“why’d you stop?”

they were flirting. you scoffed. that’s how you found him at every party you went to while you were dating. he was always with another girl. you hated jaemin but man, he really takes the hate cake. (ALPH INTERRUPTION: HATE CAKE WHAT? IM KEEPING IT FUCK IT) suddenly, an idea formed in your head. you’d have to ask jaemin to do something.... interesting.

“jaemin.”

“yes princess.”

“pretend to be my boyfriend.”

you could feel his smirk. before he could say anything snarky you turned to face him.

“don’t get your hopes up. i need to get back at someone.”

he sighed and leaned into your neck, breath fanning over the skin. the closeness of his lips to your body lit your skin on fire.

“don’t worry princess, we’ll show them.”

“who are we avoiding?”

“the guy next to sowon. don’t stare too long.”

he chuckled.

“i know that.”

he pulled away from your neck to look at him. he cupped your cheek with his hand. you panicked, widening your eyes. he giggled.

“relax princess. i’m just playing my role.”

he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“it has to be convincing right?”

you were stunned. you couldn’t move at all. na jaemin just fucking kissed you. on your face. and you liked it???!!! you felt like you were losing your mind.

he brought you back into the hallway. he pushed your hips into the wall. your heart sped up.

“do you just want to leave? we can go somewhere.”

you thought about all the times you’ve pushed down your feelings for jaemin. all the times he made your stomach flutter. how his voice made you melt. how attracted you actually were to him. why did you start hating him anyways?

“yeah. let’s go.”

did you ever actually hate him? or was it just a front. you didn’t know. you couldn’t make any other decisions right now with his hands on your hips.

he pulled away from you and took your hand. you look down at your interlocked fingers.

“what? we’re gonna walk right past him.”

you look up at jaemin, a contagious smile on his face. you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. you led him to the door, trying not to look at your ex on the way out.

you don’t know if he saw you, you don’t really care. jaemin was holding your hand. you hated how safe it made you feel.

na jaemin, your self sworn enemy, was walking you to his car. you would’ve never seen yourself in this situation.

“where do you wanna go baby?”

the butterflies in your stomach went ballistic. you tried to keep your breaths even.

“baby? jaemin you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

he smiled. eyes glued to the road.

“let me enjoy it. i’ve gotten to see so many things today.”

“like what?”

“like how much you really like me.”

fuck he noticed. how? you were just coming to terms with it in your mind how did he pick up on it. you hid your face in your hands.

“i don’t like you. i actually hate your guts.”

“mhm... right.”

he put his hand on your thigh, rubbing softly.

“is this okay?”

you tensed up. his hand felt so warm. you liked it. you liked him. you gulped.

“mhm”

his hand was on the middle of your thigh. you thought about it going higher and higher until- no. you cut yourself off. no definitely not.

he glanced at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“you’re tense.”

he started to pull his hand away but you grabbed his wrist and but it back on your thigh. jaemin giggled.

“okay princess.”

you pulled through the drive through of the fast food restaurant, jaemins hand glued to your thigh. when you got your food, he looked for a place to park.

you were halfway done with you sandwich before he speaks.

“why do you pretend to hate me princess?”

you nearly choke on your food.

“what?”

he takes a sip of his drink.

“you know, how you pretend i don’t effect you and how you ‘don’t like me’. why?”

“hm. i don’t really know. i don’t even know how it started.”

he smirks.

“so you don’t hate me”

you rolled your eyes, a sudden feeling of boldness washing over you.

“no. i actually have a crush on you.”

your entire body flushed as soon as the words came out of your mouth. you couldn’t believe yourself. you for sure thought you hated him, how could you have a crush on him.

“i know baby.”

your head spun. he knows?? baby?? you took a big bite of your food to distract yourself.

he chuckles. he brings his thumb up to the corner of your mouth. your eyes widened.

“so messy.” he teases.

you thought about other times he’d call you messy, all of them being far too inappropriate to you.

“shut up jaemin.”

he chuckles.

“don’t tell me what to do princess.” his voice was light, but his eyes weren’t. he looked at you challengingly. he wanted you to take the bait. to play with him.

“don’t call me princess then.”

you didn’t actually want him to stop. you’ve grown to like how it sounds coming from his mouth.

“what if i do?”

“then i’ll-“

you didn’t know what to say next, mind blanking

“you’ll what? kiss me?”

“yeah. i fucking will.”

you saw the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. he liked this. he liked fake fighting with you. it excited him.

“do it then.”

you flushed and looked away. you couldn’t kiss him. no way you’d kiss na jaemin.

“aw is princess scared?” he taunted.

that was it. you leaned over the arm of the seat and kissed him. it only lasted a couple seconds. when you pulled away he just stared at you.

“what?”

he grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a harder kiss. this one full of passion. you liked him. you accepted it. you were tired of pretending you didn’t. what was the point of that anyways? you weren’t fooling anybody.

you sighed and pulled away.

“what’s wrong princess?”

you rolled your eyes and sat back down in your seat.

“don’t kiss me like that i’ll get addicted.”

he laughed loudly. you didn’t hate it this time. he shifted in his seat so his torso was facing you.

“wanna come over?”

he wiggles his eyebrows. you laughed. he looked cute.

“hmmm what’s in it for me.”

“more kisses? plus you can wear my clothes.”

you sighed. “i guess i’ll come over.”

you looked at each other before busting out in laughter.

“of course i’ll come over jaemin.”

“hey.” he pouted.

“call me something else.”

“like what.” you teased.

“i don’t know, baby, honey, you could always call me daddy.”

you bursted in another fit of laughter.

“you? daddy?”

you catch your breath. looking at him again. he was pouting again.

“yeah” he frowned dramatically.

“okay sure ‘daddy’”

he slapped your thigh. you yelped.

“don’t make fun of me princess.”

you drove for 15 minutes before arriving at his house. you took off your shoes and we went to his bedroom to get clothes for you.

“bathrooms there, hurry up.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. when you came out you smelled like him. you loved it. you all but skipped to his couch, sitting next to him. he pulls you into his lap. you shared a sweet kiss that made you feel so warm inside.

“jaemin. what are we?”

he thought for a moment.

“anything you want us to be princess.”

you smiled at him before laying your head down on his shoulder.

you never hated na jaemin, you decided.

it was all an act.

[glitxhwayventeen]

A Different Kind Of Love…

Wonwoo: Chapter 2 (All I Ask)

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut (it got dirty fast my bad), breeding kinks, creampie, oral sex (female), pet names, dirty talk, biting (but y’all knew that this was a wolf fic so you should’ve been known about that one), angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, cheating (maybe?), violence mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to All I Ask by Adele. The song just has this need to it that I was trying to convey in this chapter. It was just really… necessary.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Some 🥀, a little ☁️ towards the end, but mainly 💋

A Different Kind Of Love… Master List

Chapter 2: All I Ask

“What- what do you mean you aren’t ready for it?” Wonwoo asked, still so completely stunned at your last remark, he was unsure that you had actually said it.

You had moved to his room as you wanted to head back inside once it had started to rain. He ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration before he looked back to you for an answer.

“I mean, your girlfriend JUST tried to kill me in a fit of jealousy. But I thought SHE was your mate, not me. I’ve- I’ve never even been in a relationship before. How am I supposed to just jump into one with you when yours isn’t even really over yet? Everything’s too… messed up” You explained, sitting down on his bed, brushing out your soaked locks with your fingers.

“I know it’s not really… normal. But we’re wolves. None of what we do is normal…” Wonwoo tried to reason as he resettled his glasses on his face after having cleaned the water droplets off of them.

“No it’s not. But being a wolf doesn’t give me the right to be a home wrecker. How am I supposed to be with you knowing that I’m the reason your relationship is ending?” You questioned, tears starting to brim your vision when you looked down at your hands to distract yourself from your anger at the entire situation you found yourself in, “I don’t want to be the cause of someone else’s misery. Even if I never really thought she was a good person, Song deserves better than this. I mean, have you even broke up with her yet?” You managed to whimper out.

“Of course I did!” Wonwoo defended himself, “Or at least, I thought I did. I didn’t necessarily say those exact words, but she knows she fucked up too badly to continue coming back here.” He spoke, seeming to be trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You scoffed in annoyance and crossed your arms over your chest in a huff.

“So you didn’t ACTUALLY end things with her? See this is what the fuck I’m talking about! You ARE just as confused as I KNOW I am. How the hell are we supposed to be with each other? I refuse to just be some sort of mistress to somebody, even if my instincts are telling me otherwise. Whether you’re my mate or not, I can resist them” you declared, looking him dead in the eyes with complete seriousness.

“But I can’t! I’ve been trying. It’s not working! I’m already in love with you. I don’t care what happens with Song. Sure I’ll always care about her because of everything we’ve been through together, but I love YOU. I want YOU.” He responded, getting closer to you on his bed and taking your face in his hands.

Your heart started to race at the minimal contact. His hands were so warm and soft, you could’ve just started to melt into them with ease. Usually you’d have asked for your space, but you felt comfortable with him touching you. In fact, you loved him touching you. It had been SO hard for you to stay away from him during your stay, you truly wondered how you were able to keep from going insane.

“I know you can’t fight it for much longer. I know your heart speeds up when I walk into the room. I know you can’t think when we’re in the same room. I know that you look at me like I’m the only reason you wake up in the morning.” He continued as he started to stroke your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I know you feel the same dizziness I feel whenever you get close to me. I know that me touching you sends lightening through your every vein because that all happens to me whenever I’m with you. I don’t care about anything else anymore. I just want you to be mine already. I NEED you to be mine already.” He said in desperation while biting his lip, still holding your decision torn face between his hands.

He was tired of having to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night to rub one out from sheer thought of knowing you were in the next room behind Song’s back. He NEEDED to actually have you soon or he was worried he’d physically explode. He was about to start his rut and, although he’d NEVER EVER guilt or push you into having sex with him for it, every part of him was begging to touch you to relieve the aches he was beginning to feel. He was hoping if he could calm your anxieties about the situation that you’d want him as much as he’d want you. He already knew he had an affect on your more than you were willing to admit.

A deafening silence started to overtake the both of you. You didn’t want to start anything with him until things were sorted. But God, you wanted the same thing as he did. It made you sooo angry to see him with Song, but you didn’t understand why until now. Now, knowing he was your mate, you realized it was the primal jealousy you held from another woman being that close to him. You had wanted him from the very start, but you always had to hold yourself back out of respect for their pre-existing relationship.

You weren’t really sure where they stood at that moment, but you were starting to not care. Him being so close to you and not actually touching you where you wanted him to made you feel like you were going to catch fire. He smelled like Heaven, and his slight touch made you begin to lose your better judgement. His presence was started to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

He was the first one of you to speak up again, “I know we still have so much to figure out.” Put it out of your head. No matter how much you need him and his plush lips right now.

“And I know that you’re worried about feeling guilt over Song,” Don’t do it. Control yourself!

“But please, if there’s any guilt let it be all on me.” You’re gonna regret it, no matter how phenomenal he smelt. You’re stronger than this. RESIST.

“A- All I Ask is that you at least give us a chance before-” Oh Fuck it, you thought before you quickly interrupted him with a passionate kiss, stopping him from speaking any further.

He was clearly dumbfounded by your sudden actions that had contradicted your previous statements. Even so, he reciprocated immediately anyways, kissing you so roughly that your teeth clashed together. Everything that followed happened in a blur.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it upward. He caught your hint quite fast and all but tore his shirt off, barely even breaking the kiss in the process.

You then locked your hands behind his neck and jerked him as close to you as you possibly could, raising yourself to your knees in the process. He growled lowly before he ripped your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your shorts and bra.

He put his hands on your hips and pushed you down on the bed. He threw his body to hover over yours and feverishly reattached your lips. Your tongues started fighting for dominance, though he inevitably won the battle.

Your wrapped your right leg around him and attempted to use it as leverage to grind against his pelvis, needing some sort of friction to satisfy the growing hunger between your legs. He groaned into the kiss before he pulled himself back.

He gave you a dirty smirk before he grabbed your leg and used it to push you up the bed slightly, giving him better access to your shorts. He slid them and your panties off in one go before he lowered himself down to your heat.

You soon felt his lips attach themselves to your clit, he drew in one harsh suck that drove you crazy. Your hands found their way to his hair and you tugged at the locks, letting out a high pitched whine due to his action. He repeated it a few more times, just to be an tease. He liked watching you squirm because of something he had done. It made him feel powerful, and you looked fucking gorgeous while doing it.

After he was done with his little game, he had his tongue run up and down your slit before he thrust two fingers into your tight entrance, knowing he had to stretch you so he could have you the way he really wanted to. This caused you to take in a breath of air and gasp loudly. It was music to his ears. He didn’t even mind the death grip you had on his hair, it just egged him to keep going.

He started to scissor his fingers before he added a third into you. It was getting harder and harder for you to control your volume, if the others could hear, they’d be deaf by morning. He was making you feel so good, your legs had started shaking. Before you knew it, they locked around his head and your vision went white.

As you came back down to Earth, you started to become sensitive from the orgasm you had just had. Wonwoo was still licking and sucking at your bundle of nerves, the feeling hurting so bad but so good. You let him continue his actions for a bit longer, jerking every now and then from your vulnerability.

Eventually. the overstimulation got the best of you and you started to push away from him, earning a smirk and small chuckle from him. He wiped his mouth off before he stood up and brought his wet fingers to his lips, cleaning your release from them.

Watching you come undone so easily beneath him had his cock begging to be released from it’s restraints. So he quickly rid himself of his jeans and boxers he was wearing. You had propped yourself up on your elbows and licked your lips when you saw his member bounce back to his abs as it was freed. God, he was huge. You absolutely could not wait to have him inside you.

You motioned for him to come back to you, which he did gladly, crawling his way back up the bed. You grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and crashed your lips back to his again, tasting what remained of your juices on his tongue. The kiss continued as he slowly lowered you to lay back down on your back.

He moved his mouth down to your neck and began to leave small love bites, earning little mewls from you. He had used his left hand to steady himself and used his other to unhook your bra, getting a full view of your chest. He trailed his bites down to the mounds of your breasts before he took one of your nipples in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the bud, flicking the other nipple with his fingers so it wouldn’t be left out.

He unlatched his mouth from your breast with a small ‘pop’ sounds and started kissing you again, grabbing his member in one hand and smearing the beads of precum that had gathered at his slit down his shaft. He began rubbing his tip up and down your opening, partly to tease you and partly to give you time to back out if you wanted. He halted the kiss, earning a small whine from you which caused a proud smile to appear on his face.

“Are you sure about this (Y/N)? We can stop if you want to” he said as he pushed some stray hairs behind your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Yes I’m sure. Now PLEASE just get inside me before I scream” you joked, sort of anyways, placing a peck on his nose. You thought it was sweet how much he cared about your comfort, but you serious just needed him to plow you like a corn field.

He positioned his tip at your entrance before he stopped one last time to look at you asking for approval, to which you nodding your head gently. You grabbed his biceps, readying yourself for the pain that was about to come.

Wonwoo thought it would be best to get the pain part over with as quickly as possible. So he lifted your chin and kissed you to distract you from your nerves and relax you before he pushed himself fully inside you all in one go.

“Oh fuck!” you all but screamed out, gripping his arms tighter, your nails no doubt having left marks on his soft skin

“Shit.” Wonwoo says through gritted teeth as he tried to control himself.

He wanted to start fucking you into next week already, but he didn’t want to move before you were ready. So he held still, using every bit of strength he had to hold himself back.

A small tear slipped down the side of your cheek as a reaction from the sudden feeling of being so full. He wiped it away with his thumb and kissed your lips.

“I’m sorry princess. Do you want to stop?” He asked eyes full of concern and worry. You gave him a short kiss back.

“No. I’m okay now. Please keep going. I really need you to keep going”

And, ever the eager people pleaser he was, he started to pull out almost completely before he pushed back in to you with a groan.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking tight. I dont know how much you’ll be able to take baby” he half joked to you. He nibbled on the sweet spot under your ear and continued his previous action again and again, making you see stars.

“I- I can take all of it. I’ll take anything you give me. Just please, go fast. I- I need you to go faster.” You whimpered out, attempting to meet his thrusts with your hips.

Your words lit a fire in him he couldn’t explain. The thought of you asking him to give you all he had sent an unexplained excitement through his veins. He didn’t know what it was about them that made it happen. But one thing was for sure, he was gonna give you everything he possibly could and he was gonna make sure you took all of it like a good girl.

He quickly sped up his thrusts to an almost inhumane pace, watching every pretty face you made in the process. You started chanting for him to ‘please go deeper.’ And who was he to deny you something when you were being so polite?

So he grabbed one of your legs that you had wrapped around him and pulled it up to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh God right there! Fuck please don’t stop!” You yelled out, dragging your nails down his back leaving bright red lines, some of which must’ve broken skin.

He smiled to himself as your eyes screwed shut at the pleasure he was giving you, small pleas and thank yous leaving your lips in rhythm with his thrusts.

He lowered his eyes to watch himself disappear into you as he pounded you harder and harder. You had never had sex before today and yet, here you were, taking him like a good little cockslut. Fuck. You were incredible.

“You’re doing so good baby. You look so good on my cock” he groaned out, laying his forehead on your shoulder.

“Come on princess, let everyone know how good I’m making you feel. Let everyone know who owns this pretty little cunt.” He cooed at you when he realized you had started to bite his shoulder in an effort to muffle your noises.

You whine in response, knowing normally you wouldn’t have wanted people to know about something so private, but also starting to lose focus on your priorities as his cock started brushing up against that special spot inside you.

“Oh Fuck Wonwoo! Right there! Fuck do that again!” You moaned out, begging him to repeat what he had just done. He smiled to you smuggly.

“Oh you mean right…” he teased as he fixed his position to touch your sweet spot again before you started to scream out in euphoria, “there?”

“Yes yes yes! Fuck yes! Don’t stop! God please don’t ever stop!” You choked out, starting to lose yourself to the immense pleasure he was giving you.

“Well I’m gonna have to in a minute baby. I’m almost there and I’ll need to pull out” he reminded you while tilting his head backward to try and hold his orgasm off just a little bit longer to get you there again.

“Fuck I- I don’t care! Cum inside me then! Just please don’t stop!” You wail, holding onto Wonwoo for dear life at this point.

Wonwoo’s eyes shot wide open at your words, “Princess I could get you pregnant if I do that. You don’t want that” he spoke while begging any fucking god listening to give him the strength to say no to your request.

“Ye- Yes I do. Fuck please cum in me Wonwoo! Please! I want you to fill me up! I want everyone to know I’m yours!” You sobbed, getting so close to your high tears were now freely falling down your face.

Wonwoo’s eyes went bright red. Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him. “Is that what you want baby? For me to fill you up? To get you nice and pregnant so everyone can see your belly and know you’re mine? So everyone’ll know you’re my little cumslut?” He responded, pounding into you harder and harder as he neared his high.

“Yes please! Fuck please! I want your baby! I want you to fill me up! I wanna be your dirty little cum slut! Make me yours” You screamed as his words sent you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. You asked him to get you pregnant and every instinct in him told him to do it, he was starting his rut. To hell with the consequences. If anything happened, he’d take care of you and everything would be fine. You were his mate after all. He’d breed you some day anyways, why not today?

His fangs elongated as he drew closer to his own orgasm. He sunk them into the apex between your neck and shoulder, the feeling pushing you over the edge. The pleasure mixed with the pain drove you to a release so amazing, you never even thought it possible. And it sent him to his as well. The last thing you remember was feeling his hot cum jet against your walls right as the darkness took over you.

-

“Well looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up” Wonwoo stated as he kissed your nose. You noticed he didn’t have his shirt on, you did. You didn’t remember putting it on…

“What- what happened…?” You groaned out, still pretty groggy from the activities of the previous night.

“We fucked. You passed out after. You must’ve either been super exhausted or super fucked up from cumming really hard.” He said matter of factly while he rubbed your back.

“I think it was the second one” You pieced together as you tried to sit up, soon realizing that your muscles didn’t want to work.

“Considering you were so out of it you were begging me to knock you up, I’d go with number two too” he joked while massaging your sore thigh.

“I- I did that?” You questioned, shocked that you had gotten that fucked up.

“Well… yeah. Don’t worry. We can get you the day after pill when we go to the market today. Of course… you’ll have to cover this…” he responded while moving your hair behind yout shoulder, pointing out the bite he had left on you.

“You marked me??” Your eyes widened at the thought, had you SERIOUSLY been SO fucked out that you didn’t even remember him biting you? You seriously were so lost in cumming that you didn’t realize he marked you as his?

“Yeah I guess I did…” Wonwoo whispered as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry. I hardly even remember doing it. I remember you saying you wanted me to cum inside of you. I remember how that made me have this sudden primal urge to make you mine, then everything went blurry.”

“It- It’s okay. I can’t really be mad if I was literally asking you to… well you know. We both ended up getting pretty fucked out huh?” You joked, a small smile forming as you spoke.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked out is a bit of an understatement. But still, I’m sorry for the unintentional marking and mating. I can’t really do anything about the marking… but we can at least help the mating thing by getting you that weird pill” he shrugged out, already getting ready to put his jeans back on.

“Wait!” You stopped him by grabbing his arm, surprising both him and yourself with the action. He looked back at you with confusion plastered all over his face.

“What? Isn’t taking it as early as possible better?” He questioned, your hand still holding his arm.

“Yeah… but I don’t want to get out of bed. I’m kinda sore. So do we… absolutely have to get it…?” You wondered aloud, trying your best to convey to him what you were trying to say.

“I- uh if you don’t want to get pregnant… kinda?” He stuttered out, now grabbing your petite hand in his large one and placing a little kiss to the center of it’s palm.

“What if- what if I don’t mind it? Getting pregnant I mean. Do we have to go get it…? Unless you want me to take it…?” You trailed on. His eyes widened and his heart rate sped up. Were you saying what he thought you were saying?

“Are you saying- are you saying that you’d actually be okay if I just got you pregnant?” He gulped, hand still encasing yours.

“Well… yeah. Kind of? I mean- we’re already mates right? We already know we’ll be together till the day we die. So I don’t see why it matters if we have a kid now or twenty years from now” you explained cautiously, hoping you didn’t just freak the poor wolf out. He looked back at you, his face completely unreadable.

“If- if you’re okay with it then- Yeah that’s- that’s fine. We don’t have to go get it if you don’t want. We can just stay here and uh… talk?” He let out very questionably, still not completely sure what to say. After everything you had said to him about… well- about everything, he had NEVER expected those words to come out of your mouth.

“Are you… mad? Because we can go get the pill if you-” you started, worried that you had in fact, upset him with your request.

“No- no! I’m not mad. Just… kind of shocked is all. I didn’t think that you’d… be okay with something like that so soon” he defended, holding his hands up in the air as a way to stop you from talking any further.

“Oh. Yeah well… me either really. But I’m not… absolutely hating the idea, ya know? I mean I’m not saying ‘I want a baby right this second so let’s keep going till I get pregnant’ or anything. But I just mean- if it happens, it happens. Why try to fight it if we’re supposed to be together anyways? Unless you hate the idea then I-” You say, slightly losing steam at the end of your sentence, while looking down and biting your lip.

“Hey” Wonwoo said while lifting your chin with his hand, “I dont hate the idea either. I know what you’re saying and… I feel the same way about it” he admitted with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Really? You’re not mad or gonna like freak out?” You quizzed him, still very worried that he was a mess inside and was just hiding it fo your sake.

“Really. I’m not mad and I’m not gonna freak. What you’re saying, it makes sense. I already know I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Hell, I’ve already marked and mated you, so why try and stop it if we’d both be okay with it.” He added taking your hand and kissing it once more, this time with love and adoration in his eyes rather than concern.

“Okay. Good. Now that that’s settled… can we lay back down now before you start your mating season? I’m in a bit of pain and kind of need to get my strength back before I have to deal with you for a whole week” you declared, earning a small laugh from Wonwoo.

“Yeah baby. We can lay back down. Come on” he chuckled out as he quickly moved under the sheets to lay beside you.

“Better?” He asked, playing with your hair as you laid on his chest.

“Better.” You answered before you snuggled further into him.

You knew that you trusted Wonwoo and that you loved and cared for him more than you did yourself. You may not have planned how today went, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. No matter what hardships decided to come your way…

Another Author’s Note: Ahhh. This was a fun chapter. Wonwoo’s next chapter is where it’ll really start to hit home. I’m not that good at writing smut but honestly, something about this boy makes me always wanna just smash my lips to his and fuck him. Don’t know why. Don’t know if I’m the only one. Either way, I promised smut for his chapter and I delivered as best as I could.

(Updated 9/6)

[spicycreativity]

Flufftober Day 1 - Winning a Tedddy Bear for the Other

This is the only October prompt fic I was able to write, so uh. Hopefully you enjoy it!

2.5k words, pairings are pre-Logince, Dukexiety, and pre-Moceit

Nobody actually wins a teddy bear for anyone, despite their best efforts

Truly have no idea if this is solely an American hick town thing or not, but where I'm from, all the summer drama took place at the county fair; the hook-ups and break-ups and all the stuff that people would gossip about at the beginning of the school year. Except! The crew have just graduated and this is kind of their last hurrah before college and work and what have you.

Roman closed his eyes and tried to focus. He turned the basketball over in his hands, privately grossed out by the weird, sticky texture beneath his fingertips. He let the ambient noise of the county fair fade into the background. Focus. He just had to focus.

Then Virgil's voice shattered his concentration: "You know this game is rigged, right?"

Roman opened his eyes and, catching an annoyed glance from the carnival worker, sighed and hurled the ball at the hoop. It soared a neat arc and fell neatly through the center of the hoop. Ha. "I'll have you know I played basketball in middle school." He puffed out his chest a little and raised his arms so Virgil could admire his killer delts. 

"And how old are you now?" Virgil leaned into Remus, who was lurking over his shoulder like some kind of lanky cathedral goblin. How Remus had landed a boyfriend before he did, Roman would never know.

The worker handed Roman another ball, which Roman accepted with a half-hearted "Thanks."

"It's true, though," Remus said, placing his chin on Virgil's shoulder. "The hoops are ovals."

"Everybody knows that," Roman huffed, and threw the ball.

"Yeet!" said Remus. Idiot.

The ball bounced off the rim. "You distracted me!" Roman huffed. The carnival worker held out another ball, but Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Oh, forget it!" Two baskets would only get him a stupid Minions keychain, and he definitely didn't want something that cursed in his possession. He turned and walked away, half-hoping Remus and Virgil wouldn't follow him. 

"Dude, you paid for three tries," Virgil said.

Roman stopped and turned around and nearly got trampled by a herd of excited pre-teens. "You don't get it!" He gestured at Virgil and Remus' intertwined fingers, even now unable to fight back the wave of jealousy and longing that rose up inside him. "You guys already have your fairy--" He paused, corrected himself. "Your weird, creepy, Tim Burton fairytale dream. I have one shot to impress Logan tonight and I need to make the most of it!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Remus grabbed Roman by the wrist (ewww, Roman, just try not to think about where his hands have been) and dragged him over to a bench. "Your grand plan is to win Logan some lame carnival prize before he even gets here?"

"Oh, buddy." The mocking pity on Virgil's face was enough to make Roman blush. Jerk. All he'd had to do was sit around and wait for Remus to make the first move. "What makes you think that's even going to work?"

Roman stood up again, motioning for Virgil and Remus to stay seated. He'd had enough. "Because it's a grand, romantic gesture and I am a grand, romantic prince. Now leave me alone! You're wrecking my concentration and I'm supposed to meet Logan in an hour!" And he stalked off, soon getting lost in the crowd.

Virgil looked at Remus, who was wearing a look of undisguised masochistic glee. Still, Virgil ventured, more to soothe his own conscience than anything, "Should we try to help him?" 

"Look!" Remus shot to his feet, pointing off into the distance. "Deep fried pickles!" He took off, nearly jerking Virgil's shoulder out of socket.

Virgil dodged an elderly woman and nearly tripped over his boots. "Roman?"

"No, I'm Remus."

"No, I mean, should we try-- Oh, forget it." Virgil wrapped his free hand around the back of Remus' and let Remus yank him through the crowd. There was a long line for the cart selling deep fried monstrosities because this was the county fair and people lost their humanity upon stepping through the gates. Not Virgil. He would sooner lick the door of the horse barn than consume anything from this horrorshow of a food cart. That was one thing Virgil and Roman could agree on: fair food was disgusting. Ah, poor Roman. "You do have to feel a little sorry for him, though," Virgil said, admiring the shiny piercings decorating the shell of Remus' ear.

"Who?" said Remus, standing on tiptoe and examining the crowd. 

"Ro--"

"Oh, Roman?" Remus landed hard on his heels and nudged Virgil with his hip. "No I don't. A little heartbreak might take Sir Brags-a-Lot down a peg." Something caught his eye and he jerked his head away with a smile. "Hey. V. I'd like to dip my pickle in your deep fryer."

Virgil made a face, but soldiered on. "But he's had a crush on Logan since, what? As long as I've known him."

"Longer." Remus stuck out his tongue. "He and Logan were lab partners Freshman year. And I had to hear about him every single night." He lowered his voice into a passable imitation of Roman's, gesticulating with abandon. "'Ugh, Remus, this boy in my science class is so annoying; he knows about dumb shit like protons and covalent bonds. Who even cares about that? I don't. So I'm gonna keep talking about it for the entire bus ride home.' Nightmare."

"Exactly!" said Virgil, though he had kind of forgotten what he was getting at. What had he been getting at? He shuffled forward as the line moved and turned his fractured attention to the menu.

"Hey," said Remus, now drumming on Virgil's shoulder with his fingertips. "When was the last time you saw Pat and the Hat?"

"Who?"

"Come on, that was clever."

Virgil tapped his lower lip. "You mean Patton and Janus?" Remus just blinked at him. "I dunno, didn't they say they were buying tickets?"

"Yeah, like, 30 minutes ago.

The line moved forward again. Remus ordered his horrifying hell-pickle. Virgil ordered a lemonade, knowing full well that Remus would insist on paying anyway.

"Maybe," said Virgil, side-stepping away from the order window and deliberately ignoring the way Remus was running his tongue all up and down his deep-fried pickle, "they went to the petting zoo."

"Well, let's go get 'em," Remus said. "They don't get to ditch us just because Patton wanted to see the bunny rabbits."

The setting sun painted the clouds a brilliant orange. Patton sighed and stared out at the expanse of the fairgrounds beneath him. One by one, rides were starting to turn their lights on. It was exactly the most romantic time of evening, exactly how he'd wanted things to go when he suggested they take a quick ride on the Ferris wheel before tracking down the others.

Well.

Almost exactly.

"I should sue," Janus said. Again. He looked over the edge of their basket where it dangled almost exactly at the top of the Ferris wheel. "How long would you say we've been stuck up here?"

"Um," said Patton, trying to wiggle his phone out of his pocket.

"What if I was diabetic, hm? What if one of us needed to take life-saving medication and couldn't because we were stuck at the top of this death trap?"

"But Janus." Patton waited for Janus to meet his eyes, then smiled. "We don't."

The magic didn't last. "It's the principle of the thing!" Janus said explosively, looking away in obvious agitation.

Patton rallied and tried again. "You don't think it's kinda romantic? I mean, look out there." He gestured at the lit-up fairgrounds and the golden haloes of clouds.

Janus huffed and didn't look. "I don't see what's so romantic about a potential reckless endangerment lawsuit." And he was off again, ranting about confusing legal concepts and other things Patton wouldn't care about, except that they were important to Janus.

Oh, well. He sighed and watched the blinking lights of El Niño. If they got down soon, maybe he could win Janus a teddy bear or something and make his confession then.

"What color?"

Roman ran a hand through his hair. Of all the games to have a knack for, he hadn't expected darts. "Pink, I guess-- No, wait, the blue one."

The attendant nodded and handed Roman a flimsy acoustic guitar. "Congrats, man."

"Thanks." Roman turned to go. He had to meet Logan at the gates soon. At least he wasn't doing it empty-handed, not that a barely-playable guitar was a particularly romantic gift. Realy, who was he kidding? Logan didn't want the guitar and Logan didn't want him.

The fairground lights lit everything up a sickly green. Roman scanned the crowd at the midway, trying to determine the best way through, when his gaze fell on a familiar pair of glasses.

He was still trying to decide how to react when Logan reached him, his arms full of brightly-colored stuffed lemurs. "Hello, Roman."

"How long have you been here?" Roman demanded. The idea that Logan had been sneaking around, avoiding him, sat heavy in his stomach.

But to Roman's surprise, Logan blushed. "Not long," he said, shifting his weight. "I wanted-- Well, it seems foolish now."

Roman forgot his anger in an instant. "What? C'mon, Lo, I don't think you're even capable of being foolish."

"I had thought," Logan dropped his gaze to the stuffed lemurs in his arms, "I had thought that if I came early, I might be able to win something big and--" He cleared his throat. "And give it to you."

"Why?" Roman demanded. Why would Logan copy his plan? 

"Well, Roman," Logan said in such a clipped, professional voice that he might have been delivering the weather report, "traditionally, winning a large prize for your sweetheart at the county fair is a romantic gesture."

"But I'm not your sw-- Oh." Roman's jaw dropped. The guitar's strings dug into his fingers. Then he started to laugh. Logan's expression hardened, but he stayed put, staring intently at Roman. "I'm sorry!" Roman choked out, brandishing the guitar at Logan as some sort of peace offering, though Logan didn't have a free hand to take it. "I was--" Tears streamed hot and ticklish down Roman's cheeks, his entire body still spasming with stifled laughs. "I was trying to do the same thing! That's how I got this stupid guitar."

"Oh," said Logan. "Oh, dear."

"Come on, let's sort this out." Roman stood on his tiptoes, spotted an empty bench, and led Logan to it.

"This is terribly awkward," Logan said, adjusting the lemurs in his arms. "Do you even want these?"

"Not really," Roman said. He held up the guitar. "Do you want this?"

"I don't."

They smiled at each other. "You know," said Roman, hurriedly counting Logan's stuffed lemurs. "You can trade six of those in for a kiss."

"Piercings!" Remus tugged on Virgil's sleeve and gestured at the booth. 

"I thought we were looking for Patton and Janus," Virgil said, already trying to think of a way to keep Remus from getting an ill-advised piercing.

"Forget them! I wanna get my tongue done."

"Here?" Virgil asked as Remus tugged him closer and closer to the piercing booth. "We're, like, six feet away from a horse barn. You're gonna get an infection."

"Damn, V, it's not like I'm gonna French kiss the horses."

Virgil bit his lip and made a second attempt. "Don't you have enough holes punched in yourself?"

"Nope!" They reached the booth and Remus bounced on his toes while he studied the laminated photographs pinned to one of the tent walls.

"Fine, but don't expect any kisses until that piercing is fully healed," Virgil said, struck by an eleventh-hour moment of genius.

"Hold up." Remus turned around and stared at Virgil. "What?"

"You heard me." Advantage secured, Virgil relaxed a little and even managed a sneer. "No kisses until I'm 100% sure you're not gonna get blood or anything else in my mouth."

"Baaaabe." Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil's shoulders and let Virgil take some of his weight. "You're killing me! What about my self-expression?"

"You can get your tongue pierced," Virgil said, "just not at some shady horse barn-adjacent piercing booth run by a bunch of traveling randos."

"I'm an American," Remus mumbled into Virg's collarbone. "It's my God-given right to die of a horse infection because I got my tongue pierced at a-- Whatever you said."

"C'mon." Virgil stood Remus upright and took him by the hand. "I'll pay for you to get your tongue pierced at that nice place downtown. Or I'll get Janus to pay for it. Next birthday. I promise."

"Thanks, I guess," Remus muttered. He was obviously trying to pout, but his face kept cracking into a smile.

"And as for your self-expression…" Face-painting booths were a dime a dozen at the fair; you practically couldn't turn a corner without running into some kid with their face painted to look like Spider-Man. Virgil pointed to the closest one and continued to lead Remus toward it. "I'm thinking spider eyes for me, kraken for you?" Remus took a breath, but Virgil knew better. "There's no way anyone is going to paint a photorealistic dick on your face."

"Alriiiiight," Remus said. "Kraken it is."

The sun was now nearly gone over the horizon, only visible as a faint golden line. Janus had finally worn himself out and gone silent, though even in the darkness, Patton could see the annoyance smoldering in his eyes.

Oh, he was so cute. Even when he was annoyed. Which, granted, seemed to be most of them time, although some of it had to be an act. He smiled sometimes, when he thought Patton wasn't looking.

It was those secret smiles that had given Patton the courage to make this plan. He jiggled his leg and swallowed as nerves sent flutters of nausea through his belly. "Um, Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," Patton started, "since we're stuck up here and everything."

"Don't remind me."

"I mean, you know, It's not all bad. If I have to be stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel, I'm glad it's with you. I… I'm glad it's us."

For a moment, Janus was silent. Then he said, in a tone of suspicion: "You're trying to cheer me up."

Patton sighed. As smart as Janus was, he just didn't seem to be putting the pieces together. Although, that was as much Patton's fault as it was Janus'. Well, it was mostly Patton's fault. He just had to be brave. "Look, Janus, I had this whole plan where we were gonna ride the Ferris wheel together and it was gonna pause at the top and while we were looking out over the fairground, I--" His breath hitched.

"...Was going to push me over the edge?" Janus asked.

"I was gonna do this." Rainbow lights from the Ferris wheel spokes danced across Janus' face. Patton leaned over and took his hands. "Janus, I really like you. And I want--"

"Yes," said Janus. "Whatever you're about to say, yes."

So Patton kissed him. 

[animezing-fandoms]

No More Waiting (Gruvia Week 2021 series) Chapter 1: Beguile

Masterlist

Relationships: Gruvia, background Nalu.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced smut.

Series Summary: After the 100 Years Quest, Gray’s finally ready to be in a relationship with Juvia. And after pining for each other for so long, things escalate quickly. 

Chapter Summary: Fairy Tail goes to the beach for a weekend for Sorcerer Weekly to take pictures of them. And seeing Juvia in a swimsuit, has Gray feeling some kind of way.

A/N: For gruvia week I decided that instead of writing a bunch of one-shots, I’d string all the prompts together into a mini-series! Each chapter based off of one prompt for each day. So here’s the first one for “beguile”! Enjoy!

-------------------

You’d think that an ice Wizard would hate going to the beach. But Gray actually enjoyed it quite a bit. The weather was warm but if he got too hot it was easy to cool down with his magic. Not to mention, it was perfectly acceptable for him to wear minimal clothing. 

“Gray you’re naked!” Lucy exclaims.

Perhaps not that minimal. 

Gray turns around to see where he discarded his swimming trunks and hurries back to put them on. 

“Sorcerer Weekly paid for us to come here because they want pictures of Fairy Tail wizards having a day at the beach for their Summer issue. Not idiots in the nude.” Lucy scolds Gray. 

“You’re one to talk.” Gray retorts. “You’re practically nude yourself. That bikini you’ve got on under your cover up barely covers anything.” 

That earned him a smack upside the head. 

“At least I’m not flashing my goods to anyone like you.” Lucy says.

“Fair enough.” Gray says and rubs the back of his head. 

He looks around at all of the people on the beach. There were Fairy Tail guild members and a few civilians. But the one person he wanted to see most, seemed nowhere to be found…

“Looking for Juvia?” Lucy asks teasingly. 

Gray stiffens up and Lucy giggles. When he turns around to see her smirking face, he bristles with annoyance. 

Ever since the 100 Years Quest ended, it was pretty obvious to everyone that he returned the water mage’s feelings for him. It was true, he was in love with Juvia. But he didn’t love all of the teasing from his friends that came with it.

“No. Aren’t you wondering where Natsu is?” Gray asks. 

That got her. Lucy blushes and looks away from him. 

“Well yeah but it’s not like I’m dying to see him or anything.” Lucy says as she sets down her stuff and starts to unpack. 

“Really. Because I think you may have bought that new swimsuit just to impress him.” Gray says.

That earned him a whack in the head from her beach bag that knocked him into the sand. 

“That is completely idiotic!” Lucy exclaims before taking off her cover up, revealing her pale skin, and white bikini to the salty air of the beach. “Besides, it’s Natsu. You know he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” 

“Hey Ice Princess!” 

Speak of the devil, Gray thinks to himself as he turns around and sees Natsu running up to them, carrying a beach ball under his arm. 

“Come play volleyball with me! I know that I’m better at it than you! I’ll totally kick your ass!” He taunts. 

“We’ve only been here for ten minutes and you’re already challenging him to a fight?” Lucy asks. 

Natsu looks over Gray’s shoulder, to see Lucy and his playful demeanor instantly changes to a flustered one when he sees her. Gray was shocked. Natsu has never shown any interest in women or relationships before. He’s never gotten flustered by them either. While all of the guys in the guild would be drooling over sexy women, Natsu couldn’t care less. Until now, apparently. His eyes were glued to Lucy’s form and his cheeks began to heat up. 

Lucy began to get flustered under his gaze. Gray could tell she was just as shocked by Natsu’s reaction as he was. Although Lucy was probably hoping this would happen someday, but she didn’t expect it to actually come to be. 

“W-what do you think Natsu?” Lucy asks shyly, tilting her head to the side and pushing her chest forward a bit to try to look more attractive. 

“You look…great.” Natsu answers.

Lucy blushes and looks away from him. 

“Oh…thanks.” She says. “You like my new bikini?”

“Yeah it looks perfect!” He compliments and Lucy has to cover her mouth to stop herself from squealing in surprise and excitement. “It’s perfect for playing ball with me and Gray! Think fast!” He exclaims and tosses the ball at her, and it hits her in the head.

Gray smiles and laughs. Natsu sure had them both going for a second there. But sure enough, he was still his same old dense self. It was obvious he was into Lucy but he still didn’t know how to show it properly yet. So nothing out of the ordinary or groundbreaking would be happening today. 

“Gray-sama!” A familiar voice calls to him from the ocean.

Or so he thought. When he turns to see Juvia, he suddenly realizes why Natsu was so flustered when he saw Lucy in her swimsuit, because he was feeling the exact same way about seeing Juvia in hers. 

She was wearing a simple light blue bikini, the same color as her hair. The top was held together by a knot in the front under her breasts, tying the two pieces of fabric together. So her cleavage was on full display. And as she made her way out of the water and towards him, he couldn’t help but stare at her legs. He always thought they were her best feature. They were strong, hiding powerful muscles under smooth, soft skin. Soft skin that glistened in the sunlight from the water droplets that remained from the ocean. By the time she was in front of him, he was practically in a trance, lost in her beauty.

“Could you help Juvia put up her beach umbrella by her towel? Gray-sama?” She asks when he doesn’t answer her. 

She was confused. He was staring at her, but he couldn’t seem to hear her. And his eyes didn’t seem to be on hers, they seemed to be looking at something lower…She waves her hand in front of his face and he snaps out of it. 

“Huh? Did you say something Juvia?” Gray asks, embarrassed that he caught her staring.

“Yes. Juvia asked if Gray-sama wanted to help her set up her umbrella?” Juvia asks again.

“Oh yeah! Sure!” Gray answers a little too quickly. 

-----------------

She brings him to her towel and he immediately gets to work with the umbrella, using the task as an excuse not to look at her so he could get his thoughts in order. But then when he turns around to stand the umbrella up, she bends over to try to pick up a hermit crab she spotted, and his thoughts became even more scrambled. And now the umbrella wasn’t the only thing standing up.

Even before he returned his feelings for her, he’d always found her attractive. I mean who wouldn’t. But seeing her like this now that he knew he liked her, he couldn’t help but let his imagination indulge in thoughts of what her smooth skin would feel like under his hands. And what it would be like to touch the places that were covered underneath the fabric of her swimwear. How it would feel to have those long, gorgeous legs wrapped his waist while she moans his name in the throes of passion-

“Gray Fullbuster and Juvia Lockser sharing a towel together on the beach! So cool!” Jason exclaims, spotting them and coming over. 

Gray lets out a sigh of relief. This would be a good distraction from his smutty thoughts, for sure. 

“Hi Jason!” Juvia greets the photographer cheerfully. “Juvia found a hermit crab in the sand!” 

She shows him the little crab and he inspects it. 

“So cool!” He answers, predictably and Juvia sets the creature back down in the sand.

“Have you gotten any good photos so far?” Gray asks. 

“You bet!” Jason answers enthusiastically. “You Fairy Tail wizards make the hot beach look so cool! And seeing an ice make wizard, and a water mage, the two coolest magic element wizards standing here together in the sun has inspired an awesome idea for a photo! Can I take a picture of you two together on the towel?” 

“Oh Juvia would love that!” Juvia says and bounces on her feet. 

Gray gulps, as the action causes her breasts to move a bit and he was suddenly beginning to feel flustered again.

“Would Gray-sama pose on the towel with Juvia?” Juvia asks him. 

Even though Gray knew that getting close to her when her body was so exposed like this was a bad idea, he couldn’t say no to her. He’s already disappointed her too many times. 

“Sure, why not.” Gray says simply and the look of joy on her face was enough to make him smile too. 

“So cool!” Jason exclaims. 

Jason directed Gray to sit on the towel, so his side was facing the camera. And then he instructed Juvia to sit on top of him…on his lap…

“Uh…She’s gonna sit where?” Gray asks, with his face starting to turn red.

“She’ll be straddling you on your lap.” Jason explains.

“Is Gray-sama okay with that?” Juvia asks, blushing a bit as well.

Gray looks her over once again and considers his options. She’s just sitting on his lap, surely he could control himself right?

“Yeah, hop right on.” Gray says as confidently as he can.

Gray gulps as Juvia swings her leg over him so she’s straddling him and then sits herself down in his lap. He was eye-level with her ample chest and he could see the droplets of ocean-water roll down the valley between them. And the feeling of her warm, supple thighs on either side of his hips, squeezing him was making his mind head straight for the gutter as he imagined being in-between her legs for something other than a picture. He gently squeezes her sides as it takes all of his will-power to stay calm and collected. But any control he may have had over himself slipped away instantly when she gently held his chin in her fingers and tilted his head up to look at her.

“Gray-sama, is there a problem?” Juvia asks in a soft voice while Jason takes some pictures of them.

She was so beautiful. Like an ocean Goddess. And he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted her, and neither could his body. And soon Juvia could feel that against her and she gasps.

“Yeah. A big problem!” He mutters.

Gray gets up immediately and runs into the changing room, losing his swim trunks in the process, but that didn’t matter. He was alone now. He could take care of himself in here. But what he didn’t realize is that the cause of his arousal had followed after him to return his clothes to him. 

So when Juvia pulled back the curtains to announce herself, she got a full view of what she had done.

“Gray-sama are you alright-Oh!” Juvia exclaims when she sees the cause of his distress. 

Her pale face turns bright red and she covers her hands over mouth to keep from screaming as her eyes stay fixed on his crotch unable to look away, and neither could Gray. His eyes were fixed on her, wondering which one of them would speak first. 

“You...you were right.” Juvia says softly. “That is a...big problem.” She gulps and averts her gaze. 

Gray takes the opportunity to grab his trunks and pull them on. She was staying silent, which was less of a relief and more of a worry to Gray. Normally she couldn’t stop talking  and she’d cling to him. But now she was silent and unsure as she looks away from him.

“Gray-sama...” she says softly. 

“Yes Juvia?” Gray replies. 

She turns to face him again and meets his gaze. 

“Did Juvia...do that?” She asks shyly. 

Normally Gray would’ve lied. He would have denied it, called her crazy and stormed out while she chased after him. But things were different now. Now that he had become a man who could protect her, he didn’t have to reject her advances. Nor did he want to. He wanted her more than anything, and she had a right to know that. 

“Yes.” Gray answers.

Juvia’s eyes widen and she lets out a soft gasp. 

“You’re so beautiful Juvia, and you look so sexy in that swimsuit. I couldn’t help but get turned on. I’m sorry.” Gray explains. 

“Why is are you sorry Gray-sama?” Juvia asks. 

Getting more confident, she steps closer to Gray and he gulps. 

“Juvia has always wanted Gray-sama. So now if he wants Juvia...” She says and stops right in front of him, standing up on her tip-toes to kiss him. “He can take her.” 

So he did. 

He wraps one arm around her waist and holds her cheek in his other hand and brings his lips to hers. 

Juvia was surprised at first, but let herself melt into the kiss. Her hands moving up his chest to rest on his shoulders as they kissed. 

As they make out, she presses her body more firmly against his and Gray’s hands can’t help but wander her body. 

She presses up against the tent in his trunks, causing Gray to groan “Juvia” and Juvia to moan “Gray-sama”, a noise that only turns him on more. 

But before she can take off her top like she was working on doing, Gray places his hands over hers to stop her. 

“Wait.” He says. 

Juvia’s lustful gaze turns to one of worry. Gray felt a twinge of regret, knowing because of their past that she was afraid he would reject her again. But he wasn’t. In fact he was doing the opposite. 

“Come with me.” Gray says simply and takes her hand to lead her out of the changing room. 

Juvia’s heart soars with excitement. 

“Gray-sama, what are you doing?” She asks. 

“Taking you on a date.” Gray says and Juvia stops breathing for a moment. 

“Oh Gray-sama! That makes Juvia so happy! But why do you want to go on a date instead of just making love to Juvia?” Juvia asks. “Does Gray-sama not want Juvia in that way?”

“No. I do. But I figure that if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right.” Gray tells her. “And you mean too much to me for me to just screw you before I’ve done something to show you that I care about you.” 

Juvia blushes and runs up closer to Gray to hug his arm. 

“Juvia knows that you care about her. But whatever Gray-sama wants to do, Juvia is fine with.” Juvia says. 

“Alright then let’s go on a date.” Gray says. 

And with that they walk into the woods together.

[moonbeamwritings]

Could I ask for a scenario, where like PB Dio is actually nice pleasant to the girl that he Really likes, but then she starts avoiding him and when he blows up on her she tells him it's be abuse she saw what he did to Danny (I would just wonder how he would react to the conversation and rejection. Pwease?

oh the flavor, the drama!! i can definitely do that! thank you for sending in and for being patient! 💕 this one got a little out of hand, but i think that might be a good thing with this idea haha

Dio was not a kind person, he never was. He knew, better than anyone, that his talents lied in manipulation and charm. Cunning, almost to a fault.

When he was with you, however, it was like he was a different person. A dizzying jump from the chill of winter to the warmth of summer.

You reminded him of his mother in the best of ways. Your smile made the tension between his eyebrows lessen, compelled his malice to bubble down to a simmer. Your kind words drew him in.

At first, he merely scoffed at your presence, viewing you as nothing more than a pathetic little thing, too kind for your own good. Despite his initial distaste, he grew to crave your company, often seeking you out to drag you along on walks or to accompany him to the store.

When he wasn’t with his friends, he was with you. Be it sitting by the river in fits of laughter or having hushed conversations as you walked to and from the Joestar mansion, it didn’t matter, so long as he could watch you smile or tuck flowers behind your ear. So long as he could spend time with you, basking in your comforting glow.

All along, you knew he was rotten to Jonathan, but none of your attempts to distract him from his goals seemed to work. You tried to compel him to finally leave him alone, to learn to like his adopted brother rather than torment him, but you fell on deaf ears. He had an end goal and he would not be swayed otherwise. He picked at Jonathan like a child does a scab, never leaving the situation alone, never allowing the wounds to quite heal.

You had no idea how deeply his hatred for Jonathan truly ran until one day when you arrived at the mansion to ask Dio on a walk.

Rounding the corner as you always did, you saw a head of blond hair just up ahead, but something churned in your stomach. Something wasn’t right.

As you approached, you saw what was really going on. You watched as Dio dragged Jonathan’s beloved dog by the collar, forcing him up and into the family’s incinerator.

Hot, wet tears raced down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut. 

This couldn’t be real.

For the first time since you met Dio, you felt fear grip your heart, a fear that ran so deep it left your bones cold and lungs tight. You were terrified, too shocked to even speak as you turned and ran in the other direction.

You should have said something, should have told Dio off, or warned Jonathan, but you just couldn’t. Part of you almost couldn’t believe your eyes, while the other part was too afraid of what Dio might do if you attempted to expose him.

The next time you saw Jonathan, no companion by his side, bile hitched up to the back of your throat.

You avoided Dio like the plague, no longer sitting outside to read in the hopes that he’d bump into you, no longer seeking him out as you used to.

The image of Dio you had previously fostered, held so close to your heart that love began to bloom there, was shattered, becoming nothing more than a warped, ugly picture.

Dio noticed almost immediately, knowing you far too well to think your absence was anything but intentional. It made his heart flip.

He couldn’t recall a time that he would’ve pushed you away, no specific instance coming to mind as to why you had now all but disappeared from his side. Sure, you often became displeased at his discussions of Jonathan Joestar, but you never got so angry that you stopped talking to him entirely.

As he returned from a trip in town, he spotted you in the field, resting with your back against the grass, gaze high up to the heavens.

He smiled at the sight.

“Oi! Where have you been?”

He raced up to you, moving to stand with his feet on either side of your hips, trapping you between his legs. The teasing tilt to his lips was immediately replaced by concern as he watched the color drain from your face, as your eyes widened in what he could only describe as fear.

His stance immediately softened, instead choosing to kneel down in front of you, taking your hand in his, “What’s wrong? I’m not angry.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Dio I-”

“What? What is it?” He was eager to speak to you, to finally hear why exactly you’d been avoiding him.

His insistence made your heart race, a flutter of panic bouncing around in your chest. You flicked your tongue out to wet your lips as you felt your hands begin to shake.

“I saw what you did to Danny, Dio.”

The words came out in a rush, nearly jumbling together to the point that Dio almost didn’t catch what you had said. 

Almost.

“I’m sure you’re misunderstanding the situation.”

For the first time in your entire companionship, he saw disgust cross your features, watching in horror as you stuck an accusatory finger in his direction, ripping your hand from his.

Your voice was thick with tears as you spoke. “I saw what happened. Don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise. You put that poor dog in the-”

You cut yourself off as the tears overtook your face, not even able to verbalize exactly what you had seen that day.

He attempted to reach out to you, but you swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He felt his hand burn like he’d just dipped it into a fireplace. Seeing you like this, so distraught and all because of his own actions, made his heart sink into his stomach.

“Please, just listen I-”

“I can’t forget it, Dio. You’re… you’re sick. I don’t even know what to say.”

Dio’s mouth hung open as his eyebrows began to crease. How could this happen? What was he supposed to do? He listened as your sniffles filled the air, punctuated by the quiet babbling of the river.

The anger that you had so dearly helped to quell began to bubble over, washing over his heart and clouding his mind. He reacted in the only way he knew how.

If you already believed him to be a monster, just like everyone else, then he certainly had no problem showing it even more.

“Fine, if that’s how you feel. I never liked spending time with you anyway.”

You both knew how much of a lie it was, but you didn’t dare call him on it. You never wanted to see him again and if this was how it would end, then so be it.

He stood, stomping away as he returned to the mansion, not even sparing you a final glance.

That night, as he sat alone in his room, staring up at the moon and stars that he had spent so many nights observing with you, he allowed himself to cry.

He allowed himself to cry as he thought about your smile, about your friendship, about the way you’d always tenderly hold his hand in yours after he got into fights, about how he’d always wanted to kiss you, about how he believed that he may just change if given enough time with you.

All destroyed by his own ambition, by his own actions.

If he didn’t have you, then he had no problem watching the world burn. 

And burn it would.