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russellsppttemplates · 1 year

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How bad is it? (Lance Stroll)

Lance is there to help you through another time of the month

Note: english is not my first language. I'm trying to include Lance a little bit more in my blog (if you have any Lance account recommendations, let me know!), so I hope you enjoy this piece as this was a very self indulgent piece, also with the help of three lovely anons (thank you so much for sending the asks in (I choose not to share them as they could be a bit more personal for you))! This is also the second smutty piece I write, as I don't write many because while I love to read them, I don't think I write them that well, but this one just had to be it because it is really relatable and it's also part of it all!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Tw: reader's period (mentions bleeding, cramps, pains), smut (period sex)

"Are you and Lance doing anything this weekend?", Chloe asked, sipping her coffee while you stirred your tea, "yes, we are both taking Friday off so we can have a long weekend with the bank holiday on Monday. I think he has some things planned, nothing too structured and rather just for us to spend some time together", you smiled, tapping your spoon on the edge of the cup before taking a sip, hoping the warm drink would help you settle your stomach after another dinner with the Strolls where you had a variety of food so wide you're sure you were not the only one who didn't know half of the names of all the foods you had.

When you got home later that night, you got ready for bed, sitting carefully on the bed after putting two of the decorative pillows by your feet so you could prop them up, "are your legs feeling tired?", Lance inquired as he walked out of the ensuite, dress in his sleeping shorts after he also got ready for bed, "a little bit, it was probably the heels I wore today", you noted, opening your arms so you could cuddle and nuzzle your face in Lance's neck, kissing his soft skin, "Good night, sweetheart, sleep tight", he mumbled, kissing the top of your head.

Waking up the next morning was not the experience you or Lance had hoped for. Your boyfriend had woken up a little bit earlier so he could get started on breakfast, knowing that he'd have at least a twenty minutes head start before you could notice he was gone from the bed and look for him. On your end, you woke up because of the expected reason, feeling the loss of Lance's body and the heat he provided before you felt the pressure on your lower belly increasing, groaning to cope with it, "please, please, please, not this weekend", you whispered to yourself as you made your way to the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet and confirming that, indeed, your period had arrived. Grabbing your products from the cabinet, you got yourself sorted and then dressed in a pair of shorts and one of Lance's t-shirts before making your way downstairs, smelling what you assumed was pancakes.

Lance was indeed flipping pancakes on the stove, his naked back to you inviting you to curl up against him, making you clear your throat in hopes of not startling him, catching his attention, "I was going to bring this up to the bed", he murmured soflty, turning off the induction stove so the last pancake could finish cooking and then opening his arms to hug you, "Good morning, did you have a good sleep?", Lance said after he kissed your forehead, "Good morning, handsome. I was fine until I woke up and mother nature decided it was time for me to feel like I have a baby dinosaur eating my uterus for breakfast", you groaned, finding some comfort on the warmth radiating off of Lance's skin, "from 1 to 10, how bad is it, my love?", he asked, earning a mumbled "7" from you before your face cringed, "is it the smell of the pancakes?", your boyfriend questioned again, moving the plate away from you once you nodded.

Looking at the fridge, you decided that eggs would be the best option, since the smell of your favourite pancakes currently made you nauseous, "I can make them", you reasoned with Lance, "your pancakes are going to get cold, bub", you insisted, your boyfriend easily taking the bowl and fork you were planning to whisk the eggs in away from you, "breakfast was going to be my treat anyhow, but now that you're not feeling your best, I'm keen to continue with it", he smiled, kissing your forehead and shushing you to sit in one of the stools in the kitchen island, stealing glances once in a while.

While Lance ate his chocolaty pancakes, you ate your toast with scrambled eggs, "so, what are the plans for today?", you asked, "you said you wanted to do that trail by the forest, and it looks like it's a good day for i-", you began suggesting, remembering his excitement when he came back from a run and suggested that you would join in someday for a walk along the trail, "Y/N, I was planning on having a weekend cuddled up to you, doing whatever you wanted to do inside, and since your monthly cycle has greeted you earlier, I'm especially not going to suggest, much less take you, to do that trail, okay?", he interrupted you, his hand joining yours on the cold stone counter top, "I know you like the back of my hand, and while I appreciate that you want to do something I liked and suggested we do, I also want to take care of you and let you rest, because I bet the last thing on your mind is putting on leggings and going for a walk outside", he finished his rant, eyes sparkling at your blushing cheeks, "yes, I was hoping you'd want to stay in", you mumbled, puckering your lips so he could kiss them, "this weekend was always going to be about us, so cuddles and kisses it is".

Sitting in the living room sofa, Lance picked out a comedy show you both liked to watch, having spent enough time on it to the point where you know most of the lines already. It was all fine until your boyfriend's hand, that had been rubbing circles on your lower belly, began rubbing wider circles and accidentally touched your boobs, "fuck, Lance!", you hissed, your hand moving to where his was previously, "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!", your nervous boyfriend scrambled, "they're very sensitive, more so than usual", you explained, trying to soften the concerned crease on his forehead, "I know they look good, but you might have to stay away from them for a little bit", you teased him, relief overcoming you when you finally saw him smile.

After havin lunch, you felt good enough yo help Lance tidy the kitchen, despite his initial concern that it would make your back pain and cramps worse. You were putting the last plates on the cabinet when you felt the first cramp since earlier in the morning, slowly getting back up and resting your hands on the counter top, trying to soothe the pressure by rocking your hips on slow circles, "Are you okay, sweetheart?", Lance asked when he saw you, putting the table cloth in its designated drawer and approaching you, his hands on your hips, "My cramps have started again", you groaned, turning around so you could steal a cuddle from Lance, supporting your chin on his sternum and looking up at him, "how bad is it?", he asked, "about a seven, eight maybe, they're picking up", you mumbled, "is there anything I can do for you?", he questioned, "some cuddles would be nice right now", you suggested, pushing him to your shared bedroom.

Even though you had to get up a few times to use the bathroom since your flow was always heavier around the first few days, the cuddles and the nap you took helped distract you from the uncomfortable pressure on your tummy that had been building up.

"Do you have your products or do I have to pop to the store?", he asked gently, "I have enough, thank you. I stocker up last month", you reasoned, "but I was wondering if we have everything to make a carbonara? I just remembered it exists and now I can't stop thinking about it", you blushed. "I saw them all this morning, I think we do, yes. So, no sweet cravings this month?", he pointed out, "so far, no. At least I didn't steal your pancakes and you can't blame me for making you eat sugary things this month", you winked, "I did that once! The rest of the times I have mastered the art of hiding it from the nutrition team!".

By the end of the night, you were back in bed, tummy full of good food and waiting for Lance to come up and joing you, "I warmed this up", Lance announced as he walked inside the bedroom room, your wheatbag on his arm while he carried a tray with some water and snacks on it, "I also have some meds here in case it doesn't help", putting the wooden board on top of your nightstand and sitting beside you, "I thought I was out of them", you looked at the box, "I noticed you were running out and bought another box when I came back from the factory the other day, just forgot it in my car", he explained.

Opening your arms, you managed to just about lace them around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours so you could kiss him everywhere your lips could reach, "thank you, my love. I would've been miserable if I didn't have you here today", you pushed him to be closer to you, cuddling once again in his chest while he ran his hand along your back, often kissing the top of your head.

When Lance noticed you were falling asleep, he tapped your arm so he could have a little bit of your attention, "I know the bag is still warm, but if at any point it stops working, the tray has your meds, some water and snacks of it gets too much during the night, okay? And wake me up if you need anything", he tutted, earning a nod of confirmation from you and then a kiss to his naked chest.

Waking up was a slightly better experience that it had been the morning before, feeling Lance's body heat against your own, the wheatbag long forgotten on the floor. Somewhere around three in the morning, you had to wake up to change your pad and take one of the pills with Lance's help, since you couldn't help the lightheaded feeling that overcame you, "I'm sorry you feel like this, gorgeous. But I'm here for whatever you need", he comforted.

Laying with your back to Lance's chest, it was not difficult to figure out that you were in fact feeling his morning wood. Unlike last month, where you wouldn't allow Lance to even touch your tummy without you having a shirt on because you just didn't feel that great and felt a tad bit gross, this time around you were turned on by it. Wiggling closer to him, you turned yourself around so you could face him, kissing his neck in hopes of slowly waking him up, "to what do I owe the pleasure of being waken up like this?", your boyfriend's croaky morning voice rasped, his hands coming to hold your waist as pulling you impossibly closer to him, "I woke up to this", you palmed his erection through his sleeping shorts, "and I have my very handsome and amazingly wonderful boyfriend right next to me in bed", you carried on, hands feeling the muscles contract on his abdomen, "and I'm a bit horny too, all these hormones are making me very needy", you gulped, finishing with a kiss to Lance's throat.

Moving his hand under your pyjama top, Lance continued to nip kisses anywhere he could, "do you want to keep this here?", he asked, pulling his face away enough so you could look at eachother in the eye, "can we move this to the shower? It will be less messy", you suggested, your boyfriend not allowing any of the embarrassment features that framed your face stay any longer, nodding and kissing your lips passionately before he took you to the en suite, turning on the shower while you sorted yourself out from the night before, helping you take off your clothes so you could both get inside.

The warm water was helping your bodies loosen up, hands roaming on the other's body, feeling and leaving caresses as his fingers travelled to your hips, one hand holding you in place against the cold tiled wall as his hand moved to touch your clit, "Would you like me to play with your boobs too? Or are they still to sensitive?", your boyfriend asked lovingly, his hand that was holding you in place now free and caressing the side of your chest, "they hurt still", you mumbled, enjoyed the way his fingers danced on your skin.

Lance hummer against your throat, enjoying how you were squirming under his small and simple touches. His fingers returned back to your waistline, rubbing your soft tummy in circles before dipping them further down, quickly finding your clit, making you gasp. By now, every little touch and feel of him was turning you on, the smallest touches bringing your nerve endings to erupt like fireworks. His touches were soft but skilled, leading you to arch your back from the wall, your sensitive nipples grazing Lance's skin, earning an hiss and a whisper from Lance, "careful, bub, dont do anything that can hurt you", he whispered, moving a hand to soothe the sharp pain. Whimpers left your mouth while you felt your tummy tightening, the pressure increasing, “you're doing so well, Y/N”, Lance muttered against your neck, smirking against the skin while you only concentrated on his fingers. You were so close already, clit twitching under his touch from his touches, combining the right amount of pressure and flicks, the small circles and the feel of his hands on your torso bringing you closer as your legs bent slightly.

"Are you close, Y/N?", he asked, seeing you were out of breath, and the way your body was reacting was enough for him to know your answer, "it's okay, my love, you can let go. I've got you", he whispered on your ear, your moans delicious in his own before you let go. You allowed your fingers to hold onto his strong neck when you couldn't trust your legs to hold you up given the knot in your stomach that was starting to unravel. Your boyfriend's name spilled out of your mouth like a mantra, eyes rolling to the back of your head from the orgasm's intensity. You tried your best to gain your breath back, feeling Lance kiss your shoulders and neck, "are you okay?", he questioned, his hand that was not supporting your legs moved forward caress your back, "yeah", you managed to croak out, smiling against his skin when you heard yourself.

As your eyes fluttered open, you turned to look at Lance, seeing him smile while his eyes were wide, making you place a kiss on his lips, "it was so good, Lance, so good", you whispered like it was a secret you wanted to keep between you two. Forcing your legs to the floor, you regained control over your body, seeing Lance switch the shower from its top part to the detachable head, "you want me to?", he gestured to the running water, earning a small nod from your. The water felt amazing against your skin, holding Lance's hand so he could allow you to run water along where his hands just were, not expecting the area to be so sensitive still, another hiss leaving your lips followed by a mewled moan, "still sensitive?", he joked making you swat his chest, "c'mon, let me wash your hair", he tried his best to divert your attention away from his aching cock, "I want to make you feel good, too", you tempted, your hand travelling down from his belly button, "if you want to, though. If you think it's too gross or you don't want to, it's fine, I'm sorry I eve-", you were interrupted by a breathtaking kiss, only splitting so you could breathe, "Y/N, there isn't a moment in which I don't want to be inside you or having you wrapped around me, so if you're up to it, I'm all in", he smirked, "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable with it", he finished, holding your hand in his and kissing your knuckles one by one.

Smiling, you hoisted your leg up on his hip, his own hand holding your leg in place while his other guided himself to your entrance, “if at any point you don't feel good or it hurts, yiu tell me, okay?", Lance mumbled against your shoulder, warming you up before he thrusted his hips up, sinking his cock into you. Sex with Lance was always amazing, but maybe it was your increased sensitivity, the moans and gasp you let out indicating it. From being in your period and your previous orgasm, everything felt better, stronger, deeper. You could feel every every vein of his cock sliding against your walls as he slid in inch for inch, slowly and pleasurably, “I love you so much, Y/N”, Lance moaned as he bottomed you out, making you tap his shoulder impatiently, wanting to feel him filling you up again and again, moans leaving your mouths as he began to move in a slow pace.

“It feels so good, my love, you're so tight for me”, Lance moraned, increasing the speed of his thrusts, and sending bolts of pleasure through your entire body.

His hand looked for yours, pinning it against the tiled wall, and when he felt your leg drop down, a sign that you were no longer to keep it up on your own, Lance hoisted you up completely, helping lace your legs on his hips, his movements feeling even better as they touched the particular spot inside you that made you see stars, "it's better this way", you whimpered, letting him know he could carry on.

He hummed as your lips met, your arms wrapping around his back safely and holding him closer to you as you felt yourself nearing climax again. Lance was nearly there too, his breathing uneven, thrusts growing sloppy and a little less precise, “are you going to cum for me, beautiful?”, he asked, pulling back from your lips only slightly.

You mumbled an affirmative answer, followed by a moan that confirmed Lance's suspicions, and with one last thrust, you came again, feeling Lance's own release as he groaned against your neck, mumbles of praises your name leaving his mouth.

You stayed like that for a while until Lance tapped your thigh, silently asking you if you were okay to stand on your own feet, making you drop to stand, still rubbing circles on his back, enjoying the closeness of his body to yours, feeling his kisses on your skin.

"I'm going to grab the shower head and I'm going to point it to the area between us, okay?", you asked, earning a nod from your boyfriend who managed to get it to you, turning on the water so the whole situation that had happened could just flush down the drain, "Oh, you're squeezing me so well, fuck, Y/N", he said, "I thought you'd be more sensitive", he reasoned, making you blush, "I am, but I'm also aware that this area probably looks like a murder zone and the less we see of that, the better", you reasoned back, chuckling when Lance kept looking into your eyes, "best look at you then. Luckily, it's something I could do forever", he smirked.

"There, see? All good, my love", Lance said once only clear water was running to thw drain, "how bad is it?", he asked, craddling your face with his hand. Smiling, you hugged your boyfriend once more, resting your chin in his sternum and looking up at him, "almost zero", you kissed his jaw, "I love you, Lance. Thank you", you said, your boyfriend shaking his head, "you don't need to thank me, okay? It's bad enough you have to go through the pain, it's my job to do the best that I can to help you with it", he mumbled, kissing your lips before grabbing your shampoo bottle, turning around so he could start washing your hair.

"I feel a lot better now, do you still want to go on that walk?", you questioned Lance while you towell dried your hair in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom. Chuckling, Lance approached you, hugging your from your back and rubbing circles on your tummy. You seemed to have not forgotten that he wanted to go on that walk, but he also noticed that even going up the stairs tired you out, "I've seen how much you struggle with going up the stairs", Lance reasoned despite your insistence to do something for him and that he wanted to do, owning up to it, "I feel like I have elephant legs all of a sudden, it's like I'm carrying a baby elephant on each of my knees", you mumbled, "so why don't I give you a massage? Henry sometimes helps me when I have restless legs", he forwarded, "I promise I'll do my best", your boyfriend suggested, making you take off your leggings and lay on the mattress while he got your favourite body oil.

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll × reader #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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jawritter · 2 years

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Carry On

Chapter 7

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2262

Warnings: Pain, Angst, Nudity (But some pretty big stuff too!)

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

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The week had been a challenging one. There was no other way to put it. Sure, there were some good things that had happened. For instance, Dean could now sit himself up in the bed, and was able to relieve himself without a catheter's assistance. That was a big step all by itself. But there was also the fact that every time they tried to stand him up, there was a shooting pain that went all the way from his back, down to his feet.

The doctor had warned him about the nerve pain he might experience, and that there were several things that they were going to try to do to relieve the pain, but it didn’t make him feel any less helpless; it didn’t make Y/N feel any better either.

Both of them knew that this was a hurdle that he might just have to learn to deal with, because both of them knew that some of the damage was permanent. That didn’t change the fact that Y/N hated to see him in pain.

His appetite was also still a struggle. Depression was a constant battle. Even with the little victories, every day seemed to bring a new challenge. Today’s challenge; was keeping Dean in the bed. Y/N had to stop him from trying to swing his legs over the side to try and stand up on his own.

Once he’d figured out how to hold his back so that he could move without the pain being so extensive it would literally take his breath away; it was becoming a challenge to keep him still. What it really boiled down to, was the fact that Dean was damn tired of being in this room.

“Dammit Dean!” Y/N yelled at him as she reentered the room that they had been in for the past few weeks to find Dean standing next to the bed, hunched slightly, and gripping the railing on the bed tight enough to break it. “I was gone less than five minutes! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Dean gave her a dead panned look that just manifested the word ‘done’ so well that any other situation would have been hysterical.

“I’m tired of being in this Goddamn bed, and I’m tired of taking a piss in a Goddamn bottle. I’m going to shuffle my way to that bathroom, and when I’m done, I’m going to figure out a way to take a proper shower, because I’m just fucking done.”

Y/N quickly put the snacks down that he had sent her to retrieve from the vending machine, and hurried over to brace him as he tried to shuffle a foot forward and grunted as the pain and effort it took to do so radiated through his still weakened state.

“Dean, I don’t know if you can get your back wet, even if you could make it to the bathroom,” Y/N tried, but Dean just shook his head and took another shaky shuffle forward; it was only a few inches progress, but it was a lot further than he’d moved so far.

Dean’s hand left the side of the bed where he was bracing himself and he reached to grab both of her arms, choosing to use her for balance.

“They get it wet every time they give me a sponge bath,” Dean argued, “I just won’t get it soaked.”

Dean gave a heavy growl as he pushed his right foot forward, making a little further progress and forcing her to walk backward towards the bathroom door.

Y/N’s heart was racing as Dean shoved his left foot forward to match his right. Sure, he wasn’t ‘walking’, but he was on his feet and moving, and if she wasn’t so afraid he’d fall flat on his ass if she lost concentration, she would have started to cry.

Dean was a warrior, a warrior that had been knocked down and wounded. He might not have taken off at a run, hell he was barely shuffling his feet across the floor, moving an inch at a time, but he was up again. He had a determination to get up, and there was a fight in him she hadn’t seen since the night he closed the trunk on Baby, for what no one knew at the time would be his final hunt.

“You’re getting there; Dean just a few more steps” Y/N encouraged breathlessly as he paused; his head lulling slightly onto her shoulder as he fought against the pain and the urge to just give up, a light layer of sweat spotting at his hairline.

Slowly, ever so slowly the pair of them moved together until Dean’s hand reached out over her shoulder to grab hold of the door frame, finally reaching his destination.

“Oh my God Dean, you did it!” Y/N said, her voice choked with emotion.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Dean answered, disbelief in his own voice as he shuffled forward a few more feet, and turned to sit himself down on the toilet. “Get the shower warming up for me sweetheart.”

Y/N turned to the small shower to her left in the tiny bathroom, and thanked whatever God was listening, that a little seat for patients to sit on was attached to the wall, along with a detachable shower head, apparently this was going to work after all.

“Do you want me to give you a minute to use the bathroom?” Y/N questioned, and Dean chuckled darkly.

“You’d be too late for that sweetheart. Sorry, I just ain’t in a standing mood right now.”

She turned to make a snide remark in his direction, but was struck dumb by his piercing green eyes and a smirk that would have murdered the entire female population if he so minded to use it as a weapon; a feeling she hadn’t experienced since before he’d been injured.

“You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna help me get in there,” Dean asked with a nod toward the shower, before gripping the sink tightly and standing with a loud groan.

Y/N shook herself, and pulled the seat down for him to sit on before helping to guide him into the small walk-in shower and sat him down on the seat.

“I got it honey, just stay here for me in case I need you,” Dean instructed before pulling the shower door closed, and Y/N sat on the seat of the toilet with a huff before she noticed a dumb struck nurse standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Did… did he walk in there?” she questioned; Y/N nodded her head slightly in disbelief of her own.

“Well, kinda,” she admitted with an amused chuckle, “It was more like an old man shuffle.”

“Fuck you,” Dean retorted from inside the shower, and Y/N snorted a laugh at the nurses shocked face.

“Oh, wow, well, I uh, I’ll let the doctor know he’s moving around some now! That’s great news! But I will bring a wheelchair to the room to make it easier for you to get him back to the bed and leave it by the door once he’s done, and if I’m not bothering you guys while he’s showering, I’ll go ahead and give him some fresh sheets and pillows.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, and the nurse closed the door to the bathroom to give them both some privacy.

Y/N was no idiot. Dean probably shouldn’t have gotten up and did what he was doing, but no one wanted to discourage any progress he was willing to make, so the nurse was using the bedding as an excuse to keep an eye on him.

“Fuuuck,” Dean groaned loudly. “I think I’m going to stay in here until I’m 90.”

She shook her head and smiled to herself, glad that for the first time in a long time, he was starting to sound a little more like Dean.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Y/N warned, and Dean chuckled before shooting back a “yes mom,” in a mocking voice.

“You know, you keep this up, and you won’t need my help at all pretty soon,” Y/N said, suddenly voicing her silent fears aloud as the smell of body wash filled the small space.

“That’s not true,” Dean answered back quickly. “Y/N I’m gonna need you around for a long time. So, I shuffled to the shower. I’m still gonna need help drying off when I’m done, and I still need you for almost everything else… That is… unless you're sick of being here with me—”

“NO,” Y/N cut in probably a little too quickly. “No, I just, I just figured you were getting sick of me hovering over you, and would probably prefer Sam over me anyway.”

Dean cut the water off himself before sliding the shower door open, pouting and looking much like an abnormally attractive drowned rat. Y/N snorted; holding back her comment; she stood with the towel in her hand and started to slowly dry him off, careful not to jostle him around and hurt him.

Suddenly, he reached up and grabbed her arm, stopping her from patting at his shoulders and chest as she worked her way down his body.

“Hey,” he voiced, drawing her attention back up at his candy apple green eyes. “I hope I didn’t do anything to make you think that, because I really am grateful, you’re here, Y/N/N. I probably wouldn’t be doing as well as I am if you weren’t here with me. I love my brother, but he’s not exactly good at these sorts of things. That’s probably my fault, because I always took care of things like this, he never really has had to take care of me, but I’m so fucking sorry If I have done anything to seem ungrateful, or like I don’t want you here, because that’s not true. My biggest fear is that you will get tired of taking care of a fucking cripple and leave me.”

She helped Dean stand up, and he towered over her as she looked up at him, making sure he was well braced on the shower bar before she finally let him support himself.

“And I’ve told you, over and over again, you will literally have to run me off Dean, I’m never gonna get tired of taking care of you. Ever.”

The air hung thickly between the pair of them as he reached out with his free hand and brushed the loose hair that had fallen around her face behind her ear. Neither really could look away from the other if they wanted too. It was as if there was an invisible pull between the pair of them. Like magnets. It wasn’t something they could control, they just naturally gravitated to stare at one another. So many unspoken feelings were bubbling in her chest, and she was pretty sure that for a moment, she’d stopped breathing all together, until the knock on the bathroom door made her nearly jump out of her skin.

“Mr. Clearwater, the doctor is on his way up, he wants to examine you and talk to you. I’ve also got your bedding changed and ready for you!” the nurse called through the door, and Y/N quickly began to work on drying off the rest of Dean’s body before helping him step into a pair of clean boxers, as well as a clean hospital gown.

“Be right out,” Dean yelled, grumbling incoherently to himself as he turned and looked at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror.

“Think he wants to chew my ass out for getting out of bed?” Dean questioned, and Y/N shrugged as she opened the door and moved to help him start to shuffle his way back up to the hospital bed that lay in wait for him in the center of the room.

“You never know, maybe since you’re moving around now he might let you go home,” Y/N offered, and Dean nodded slightly before shifting his feet forward with a wince as he moved.

“That would be great, if I could actually go home. I don’t want to go to some apartment Y/N, I wanna go home. I wanna be miserable in my own bed with Miracle and you. I don’t want to have to stay here for months.”

Y/N understood. She figured when and if the time came, he wasn’t going to want to stay here, but what she was worried about was whether or not, no matter how stubborn he was, would he be able to travel all the way back to Kansas with a big whole in his back, and cracked ribs.

“Let’s just see what he has to say, and we will take the rest as it comes, one day at a time remember?” she tried, and Dean just nodded as he gently lowered himself onto the bed to await whatever might be to come from the doctor.

If Y/N was being honest, she wanted to go back to the bunker with him too. She wanted to get him home where she and Sam could take care of him. She wanted him to be out of the fucking hospital bed, but she was also afraid the more independent he became, that their time together was limited. She wanted nothing more than to get Dean back on his feet, she just didn’t want him to run away once he was able.

Forever:

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ghostussy · 2 years

Text

Times You Fell Asleep in the Ministry

Pt. 3.5

. . .

sorry for another short part! I wanted to keep this even so that next time I could put two together again :)

Also, this will use some prompts from the writing prompt list (37 and 39)! If there are any specific ones you would like to see, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox!

. . .

6. At the kitchen table

It was the early hours of the morning when you finally pulled your car into the parking lot of the Ministry. The sun wouldn’t rise for a few more hours, and it was cold outside. You shut the car off and walked to the front gate, opening it and walking through to the front door. Knowing that it would be locked, you pulled out your key and let yourself in as quietly as possible. After all, you knew there would be Hell to pay if you happened to wake Nihil up this early in the morning.

As soon as you stepped through the front door, it felt as though all the exhaustion you managed to avoid throughout the day caught up with you. Barely able to focus, you removed your shoes and crept through the halls as quietly as you could manage. You were the only one at the ministry with a job outside, working full time to earn money to pay for your college courses. Sister Imperator allows you to do so, to both work outside the Ministry and take college courses as well as complete your duties to the Clergy. It was difficult sometimes, having spent much of your energy towards work and what little was left went towards homework. It didn’t help that today’s eight hour shift somehow turned into twelve, then sixteen. You weren’t even sure if that was legal; it didn’t matter anyway, you would have been required by your boss to do it anyhow.

Now that you were home, you realized how hungry you were. You had last eaten around eight hours ago, when you were supposed to be leaving work. You made your way to the kitchen, quietly still, though your movements were clumsy with exhaustion. As you walked through the wide doorway, you caught a glimpse of the digital clock on the stove, which read 5:43 a.m. Then you dug through the refrigerator until you found some leftover soup. Not the best dinner in the world, but hey, food is food at the end of the day. You just wanted to eat and go to bed. After all, you had to wake up in a few hours to work in the Ministry. You dumped the soup into a mug and set it in the microwave, setting it for a couple of minutes.

While you waited, you sat at the kitchen table and took a deep breath, resulting in an involuntary yawn. Having been on your feet for several hours, you could now feel the pain radiating through your legs, your joints the worst of all. With a sigh, you lay your arms down on the table, folded, and rested your head on top. You closed your eyelids, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion burning behind them.

. . .

“Y/n? Is this where you slept all night?”

You lifted your head quickly. “Hm? Oh, shit.”

Sister imperator stood over you, looking worried. “I must admit you gave me quite the scare. May I ask why you were asleep at my table?”

You lifted your head and buried your face in your hands, trying to think clearly enough to respond. She took notice of this and placed a hand on your back. “Child, I think that you should get to bed.”

“Ngh,” you were finally beginning to piece a thought together. “What time is it?”

“7:00 a.m., y/n.”

“Oh. Sister, I am so sorry. I arrived home from work around an hour ago.”

“Oh, child,” she looked even more worried now, “have you eaten yet? I noticed that there was a mug of soup in the microwave.”

You removed your hands from your face and looked up at her. “yes, ma’am. That’s mine, I’m sorry.”

“Oh dear, it’s quite alright. I did toss it, but I can make you something to eat. Give me just a moment.” She walked over to the stove, which you noticed now had a pan that appeared to have something cooking in it. You weren’t sure what she was making, and you didn’t care. You just needed something to eat so you could sleep.

You lay your head on the table again, and didn’t look up until she placed a plate in front of you.

“Please, try to eat something. Then off to bed with you.”

“Thank you very much, Sister.”

“Of course.” She walked over to the doorway, watching you carefully as you took the first few bites. Though they were slow, it was enough to convince her that you could be left alone for a moment, and she walked out of the kitchen. You continued eating.

You had just finished eating and placed your plate in the sink when Sister returned with Swiss, who was still dressed in his night wear. “Good morning, Swiss.”

“Good morning.”

Sister walked over to you and placed her hand on your shoulder. “”Y/n, I have relieved you of your duties for the day. You may treat today as a rest day.”

“Oh, thank you Sister, truly. Thank you.” You could feel the exhaustion return once again, and you nearly buckled. “I will take you up on that offer.”

“Good. Now, off to bed with you, child.”

“Yes, sister.” You began to make your way to the doorway. Swiss stopped you.

“Here, let me carry you.”

You chuckled. “That’s very kind of you, but I will be alright. Thank you, though.” You tried to make you way past him, but barely made to the door frame before your knees buckled again, and you stumbled.

“I wasn’t asking.” He walked over to you and swept you off of your feet, somewhat effortlessly. Sister walked up behind you two.

“Thank you, Swiss. Sleep well, child.” He responded with a nod.

“Ngh,” you laid your head on his chest, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Come on, let’s get you to bed. Mine is closer, if you’d like to share.”

“Sure.”

He hummed in your ear as you made your way through the halls, sending chills down your spine. You were already beginning to drift off in his arms; by the time he made it to the ghouls’ wing, your eyes were barely open. He pushed his bedroom door open, and gently laid you down on the bed. The covers were unmade, and warm, indicating that Sister had woken him up to carry you to bed.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and laid down next to you, pulling the covers up over the two of you. You scooted closer to him, trying to absorb more of his warmth. Sleepily, you wrapped your arms around him, prompting a chuckle from him. “You know, if I had known you were going to be like this, I would have come to get you much more quickly.”

“Hgh. Maybe this should become a permanent arrangement.” You mumbled into his chest, unaware of the words coming from your mouth.

He smiled. “Maybe so.” He reached up and turned out his bedside lamp. “Alright, enough talking. Go to sleep.”

When he looked down at your face, he realized you were way ahead of him.

. . .

Prompts used:

37: “Try to eat something.”

39: "Here, let me carry you.”

#ghost band #drabbles #cuddles #ghost band cuddles #writing prompts #tyfaitm #swiss x reader #swissposter #swiss cuddles #the nameless ghouls #ghost band x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #the ghost band #ghost #can you guess which ghoul is my favorite lmao #it's swiss

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introverted-imagineer · 2 years

Text

The Boy Who Grew Into a King

Warnings: Themes of death, abuse, violence, smut, torture, warfare, and language.

Chapter 12

The stones beneath my feet continued to freeze the bottom of the cracking blistered skin on my soles. My legs covered in flailed leather lashes. 10 lashes in the morning, 10 lashes in the evening. ‘If she says anything useful, take it down one lashing, and if she doesn’t, increase it’ Godwin had almost pleasurably, yet sadistically ordered the large brute at the door. I had been here 3 days, and I had started on one lashing per day. Imprisoned, and defiant were not a faithful combination.

This wasn’t a cell however, cells are for those whom preserve some sense of dignity, but a cupboard was for the lost, desolate, truly evil. These cupboards weren’t hidden within the castle. They were on the main floors, close to the kitchens, a form of torture to starve the worst, but also be a reminder to the people of Wessex, the castles inhabitants, not to turn on its monarchy. It brought back memories, the screams that plagued the servants hall, those slowly being tortured to death, starved, desperate for any sort of release. It was human nature, the cry for help from the depleting, even when it’s obvious there is nothing that could be done to alleviate suffering. But it was also human nature that made one equally as desperate to help. Everyone would wince as the sound of cries became more violent. Cries of plea, people praying, even those crying out for release through death. It was a political tactic, not sending traitors to the underground of the castle. It was an installation of fear. A violent example.

I was not going to give the bastards the satisfaction. I was starved, I was in pain, my legs practically on fire, the smell of my own rotting skin, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I knew this would be my end, those who went into the cupboards never came out. Only as corpses dragged across the floor. It was a relief though, both for the servants and the fugitive when it came to that point.

The days passed in slow-motion, but what Godwin and his minions failed to recognise was this place was too enriching for me to slowly suffer and die. If they had put me in the underground cells, things may have been different, but I was too familiar with my surroundings. I knew the events the days would bring, I could hear the familiar shouts of cooks, the sound of children running down the corridor, and their light footsteps trailing back as they desperately tried to balance trays of exquisite goods that would go untouched most of the time. ‘Pain is just a sense of the mind’ I desperately told myself, desperately repeating, almost trying to convince myself. The truth was though, all I wanted to do was scream. Scream from the pain, scream from the cold, scream from the smells my depleting body produced, but most of all I wanted to scream from the guilt.

The truth was though, my demise was inevitable. That was the one weakness Godwin had, he was not a patient man. He would end my suffering soon one way or another, purposefully in front of a crowd, or seemingly by ‘accident’. Or the Vikings would come, and no doubt would any Viking spare a Saxon on their own territory.

Footsteps, both heavy and light, fast or slow, gentle or powerful, the world around didn’t stop for anyone. It wasn’t until heavy footsteps trailed down during nightfall, not of one, but of many. ‘MOVE’ that sinister voice sneered at the guard. I almost wanted to chuckle, it was always the smallest, most weakest of men, once they got a taste of power, it was at the tip of their tongue every time they opened their mouths, and Godwin was no exception. The door flung open, the open flame from the flaming torch radiated both heat and a light that almost stung my iris’s. ‘Unchain her’ he demanded. His eyes dark and piercing, his lips almost non existent. All I could do was smile at him. He flashed his teeth, but there was something satisfying knowing that I was getting under his skin completely. The guard came in, releasing my limp wrist from the wall it was pinned to. I could feel the blood rushing down my arm as gravity shifted. ‘Take her to the grand hall’ he demanded. The brute stomped over, lifting my almost weightless body and carelessly flinging me over his shoulder. He stomped down the hall. The surroundings oh so familiar, the gentle moonlight fading in from the detailed window etchings, the smell of damp concrete, the smell of blazing fireplaces which fumes escaped from underneath the doors. I could see the peering eyes of servants whom had clearly been awoken by the disruption, eerily spying through the crack of their doors as to not get caught themselves.

The grand doors slammed shut as the brute, almost too kindly, placed me on the floor. Surrounding me, earls, lords, soldiers sat. This was the end I thought.

‘Speak’ Godwin demanded, prideful, performing to the audience around him. He walked toward me, slowly, a facade of calm, control, satisfaction. But we both knew, that was far from the case. He was seething. If he was going to perform, I would perform too. ‘Hello Sweetling’ I comically whispered back. First it was his cheeks, then the ruby red blush trickled down to his neck, his veins propelling themselves from the sides of his forehead. You could almost see the blood pumping through. The sound of smacking skin vibrated across the room, almost producing an echo. The pain was nothing compared to the lashings I had endured the past few days. He gripped my hair, yanking my neck back so that my head was directed towards the ceiling. The sounds of men sipping at their ale and wine was the only thing that could be heard. ‘You will show me the respect I deserve you little bitch’ he spat in my ear. ‘Forgive me Lord Godwin’ I taunted, ‘I seem to remember you begged for the nickname my King from my mother’. His knee blew into my face, mercilessly. I fell to the floor, smacking my temple against the ground. My vision blurry, I could feel the warm blood running down my face. Fighting my droopy eyelids, I looked at the men around me; even they looked slightly mortified at the blow which Godwin had just dealt. It was clear that Godwin had noticed the sudden distaste in the air.

‘My friends’ he grandly announced. ‘Do not feel sorry for this pathetic excuse of a human being. She has no loyalty to our people, she has no loyalty to our country, to our monarchy, or to our one and true God!’ He exclaimed. ‘This being, this evil, this embodiment of the antichrist…’ his footsteps slowly trudged along the concrete floor, circling my limp body. ‘THOUSANDS OF INNOCENT LIVES, THAT OF OUR CHILDREN, OUR WIVES, OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS, OUR KING! THREATENED BY THE EVIL THAT THIS CHILD HAS THRUST AMONG US’. His rouse began to earn cheers from the audience. The sudden taste of wine doused my lips as men began to throw the contents of their goblets onto my weak body. ‘THE VIKINGS BITCH’ he screamed. The men suddenly begun to stomp their feet on the floor beneath, shouting together, coercing, drinking in every word Godwin pronounced. ‘BUT, WE WILL OFFER THIS DEVIL ONE LAST CHANCE’ his sudden turn in announcement was met with yells of men, demanding my execution, turning on Godwin himself, but he was too clever to let them sit on that statement alone. ‘WE SHALL EXORCISE HER, WE WILL CALL UPON CHRIST HIMSELF TO RELINQUISH THE SECRETS FROM THIS DEMONS TOUNGE SO THAT WE MAY KNOW WHAT CHALLENGES LAY AHEAD’. My eyelids dropped, the floor vibrating as the men stomped their feet upon the ground, their goblets clanging as they slammed them upon the table tops. But their stomps were interrupted quickly.

‘WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS’ the voice shouted. It was a voice that sounded uncertain, yet powerful, but almost forcefully as it tried to command the attention of the men around him. The sound of chairs screeching across the floor suddenly pierced my ears. The room went silent, and men suddenly lowering their heads to avert their gaze from the new presence in the room. ‘King Edmund…my lord’ Godwins voice almost pleaded. ‘We have captured a prisoner who has put us all in great danger, a traitor to your lordship’ he begun to babble. The sound of footsteps trudged slowly toward the centre of the room, walking around, circling Godwin. ‘And WHY would such a prisoner not be brought to me immediately?’ He condescendingly questioned. It was almost pleasurable to listen to, like a fly on the wall. Except I was the prisoner in question. ‘We…we…we’ he stuttered in response ‘we didn’t want to disturb your highness with such filth, this being is a waste of your precious time’ he almost pathetically pleaded with the boy King. Slowly the footsteps trudged towards me, the vibrations getting stronger as they approached closer. ‘Y/N’ he whispered to himself.

‘LEAVE’ he screamed. ‘EXCEPT YOU’ he directed at Godwin. The oh so strong, powerful men quickly scuttled out of the room, slamming the door behind them as they tried to disappear. ‘Where has she been?’ He firmly questioned, still standing in front of my limp body. ‘We believe she escaped to assist the Vikings’ he confidently mustered. But the King was having none of it. His footsteps swiftly marched toward Godwin where the sound of a slap followed. I simply lay there, eyes closed, but effortfully trying to stay awake and be present in the moment. ‘You BELIEVE?’ he shouted, voice echoing across the grand hall. For the confident man Godwin claimed to be, at least he was smart enough to not answer the boy of significant power. ‘GET OUT’ he demanded. Like the rest of them, Godwin quickly retreated from the hall. ‘Take her to my chambers’ he barked at one of his brutes.

The feeling of soft silk and a feather mattress was the most glorious feeling I’d felt in days. It didn’t matter than my wrists were bound to the bed post, or that a guard stood next to the bed with his hand at the hilt of his sword, ready to swing at me with the slightest movement I made. The salve on my legs stung, but provided a pleasant cooling sensation to the split skin on my legs. Edmund stood, staring at the blazing fire in the fireplace at the other end of the room. This was not the first time I had been in the King’s room, but he was only a prince when this occurred. It wasn’t love, it was barely a friendship that the prince and I had when I came to the castle. I didn’t have much choice in the matter, if the prince requested your attention, you didn’t say no. I didn’t know what it was about me, but the young Prince took an interest in me within my first week at the castle. His governess detested me, his peers and nobles were curious, but they knew his intentions were merely innocent. We didn’t exchange words, he simply liked having me near. If he was sparring in the training grounds, I was required to stand and watch, if he was sitting in the library reading books, or scribing, I was present. A curiosity? infatuation? obsession? nobody was really sure why he ordered my presence much of the time. The silence between us seemed to comfort bystanders however.

As we grew older, when Queen Emma came into his family, he slowly begun to retreat from interaction with me. I didn’t mind though, it was a relief. I was sick of the stares, questions and even judgement I received from others at court. His stares however intensified when in the presence of one another, especially toward my chest and curves as I got older. By the time we were deemed to be at a dangerous age, an age which the devils schemes, offers temptations, the one which the church declared ‘the most damaging time in our lives’ he had all but forgotten my existent altogether.

It was as if he stood there all night, only when the morn came, he was sitting in a chair, chewing on his nails, but his gaze and attention still fixated on the fireplace. He sat there, deep in thought, contemplating.

A knock at the door startled everyone in the room, ‘Leave’ he grunted. The footsteps retreated from the doorway and the room fell back to unsettled silence. The King rose from his chair, slowly trudging toward the side of the bed ‘leave’ he said to the armed guard on the other side. He nodded his head curtly and exited the room without wavering. The door closed, and suddenly it felt like the first time in years that the boy King laid his eyes on mine. Without notice, I suddenly took a deep breath in, I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew he wouldn’t keep me waiting long. ‘Where have you been Y/N?’ he quietly asked. I went to answer, but my raspy throat was met with an intense coughing fit. Edmund scurried to the table at the end of the bed, pouring liquid into a grand cup that probably cost a lifetime worth of jewels and coin. He gently, but firmly caressed the underside of my neck, bringing the cup to my lips. The liquid a sweet relief. Taking in a deep breath ‘I’ve been with the Vikings’ I barely managed to whisper. He took a deep breath himself, as if I had revealed something he didn’t want to hear. ‘Why did you go with the Vikings Y/N?’ He said, a tinge of fury in his voice. ‘I didn’t have a choice’ was all I could muster. ‘That’s not a good enough answer…slave’ he spat. ‘WHEN HAVE I EVER HAD A CHOICE ABOUT ANYTHING?’ I yelled back, only to be met with the palm of his hand across my face. While it seemed to release his temper, he was still irritated, and that was because deep down…he also knew that was true. ‘What are the Vikings planning to do?’ He seethed.

His question was interrupted immediately with the sound of horns blaring from outside the window. The sound of men shouting, running between turrets, heavy footsteps and clanging of metal running from outside the door. The aura in the castle changed within seconds. Panic flooded through the air. Suddenly the door burst open to reveal Godwin with an army of men behind him. ‘The Vikings are headed toward the bridge my lord’ he exclaimed. I could hear Edmund gulp, but he simply nodded his head and sat up from the bedside marching toward the doors ‘Bring the traitor’ he instructed. Two men trudged toward my bedside, carelessly slicing the rope violently, yanking my body up by the arms and dragging my dead legs beneath me as they followed the King toward the top of the castle. The air seemed misty this high, the drop below slightly daunting. I could throw myself over, be done with this life, be done with Wessex, be done with the Vikings, but the strong grips on my arms forced otherwise.

By the time we got to the Bridge, what Godwin said was true. The Viking army stood strong on the opposite end of the bridge, however, opposingly to their violent nature, a man stood before them waving a white flag as Canute sat on his horse beside him. The flag-bearer retreated and Canute rode forward slowly toward the castle. Edmund, Queen Emma, and Godwin stood before him, as Canute almost tauntingly strode toward them. The Viking King menacingly laughed at the boy King, crowning him. ‘King Coward’. Desperately searching through the Viking crowd, I could see that the Viking King had left Mathilda elsewhere. Probably best, she had a weak stomach that seemed to intensify the more time we spent under the Viking reign. But she was clearly more calculated than I realised. After some sparring, the wound up newly claimed ‘King Coward’ seemed to almost relax as he chuckled to himself. ‘Bring forth the prisoner’ he exclaimed, my body was suddenly being propelled forward to the edge of the turret where Edmund stood. Canute seemed slightly taken aback at my presence. He stood staring, Edmund chuckled beside me, prideful at this ‘secret weapon’ he pulled out. The King slowly turned around, directing his gaze back to his army. The Vikings suddenly pulled out their weapons, as they prepared for Canute’s orders to attack. But Edmunds moment of glory suddenly suffered a crushing blow when Canute began laughing deeply, his reaction prompting his army to do the same. They menacingly stood there laughing, Edmund seething at such humiliation.

The laughter died down, as Canute stood there still chuckling to himself, right under the nose of the King. The brute who held my arm suddenly pulled out a knife, holding it to my throat in some attempt to gain some fear and respect from the Vikings. The blade sharp, cold to the touch, pressing into my neck, but even I wanted to roll my eyes at such action. Wessex was just laughed at by the enemy, did he really think executing me in front of them would do anything?

I was too tired to care, but my gut was dreading whatever was to come next. If this was the end, then so be it, but whatever happened, I hope it would be swift and quick. Canute condescendingly took another step forward toward the King, making sure to get right under his nose. ‘Do you really think I care for a slave girl who has already fulfilled all I needed her for?’. Queen Emma spun to look at me, shocked at the revelation of news she had clearly been left out of the night before. ‘KILL HER’ Edmund screamed. The brute took his knife from my throat, swinging his arm wide. Fear. That’s the feeling that suddenly rushed over me. Fear. I could feel a crack in my throat as I waited for the inevitable swing of the knife to my throat. I could see it now, a slow, painful execution…

Suddenly the sound of arrows flew through the air as guards around me fell to the floor, the nobles ducking under the cover of the castle wall. The grip on my arm suddenly tightened as the brute who was about to be the source of my demise gripped my arm, choking and gargling. I looked to see an arrow in the side of his neck. But adrenaline still ran through him as his other arm was still raised with the knife in his hand, still intent on fulfilling the King’s orders.

A single arrow pierced his neck again, making him drop the knife and grasp to clutch at his neck. A hollow, deep voice from below, familiar, haunting yet comforting all at the same time shouted from below. Harald. All he said was two words, but it was enough to give me the adrenaline I needed to change the fate that Wessex intended for me.

‘RUN SAXON!’

#vikings x reader #vikings #harald sigurdsson #harald x reader #vikings valhalla #vikings imagine

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hav-vok · 8 months

Text

24 HR pain dairy day 1

00:33 - been in bed & sleepy for around an hour, unable to sleep - restless legs, general pain in thighs + hips, neck + L shldr

00:46 still unable to sleep, also now pain in L wrist and radiating through hand. tired.

01:01 need support pillows for knees and upper body to prevent pain whilst lying on side. tossing and turning trying to get comfy but no luck. trying different spundstrack

01:09 R knee shooting pains getting much worse even with support. L ankle shooting pains start. L forefinger pain from wrist, R ribs ache now. other pain levels same.

445 awake l leg pain

06:10 awake, back neck ankle pain

07:50 awake ankle pain

8:55 - woken by stong burning pain in right hand, radiating up to elbow and shoulder, can't grip, pressing phone screen to type is painful

9:42 - unsuccessful at getting back to sleep, burning pain now in both hands, right still worse, radiating from wrists up to elbows. cannot grip with right hand, can grip large objects with left but no dexterity, typing with one finger (left) whilst phone rests against pillow

get up for bathroom - L hip painful until repositioned. instead, support myself on walls, feet hurt to put pressure on when standing, shooting pains in knees. need to hold on to bathtub and window ledge to support myself on and off toilet. make my way back to bed to doze a little as very tired

10:40 hands have calmed down enough that I can now get dressed with some amount of struggle, grip strength is still lacking so putting socks on took much longer than usual. comfy PJ's. basic stretches to help with stiffness in body. support myself on walls and both handrails on stairs, need to walk one step at a time BC of knee ankle + foot pain

breakfast - one plain gluten free brioche roll + water. can't hold knife (no grip strength + pain) to cut open roll, can't open jam jar etc. water in a cup with a straw because I do not have grip strength to hold it up and drink from normally. I struggle for 2mins to open my vitamin box to take vitamin and 10mg CBD.

dishwasher needs unloading. might try later. settle on sofa with various support cushions and blankets to read on phone.

12:25 been feeling better as I've sat and resting, my hands feel nearly normal but there's still a light burning/weakness to them and they feel stiff and fat to move. random shooting pains through legs that fade fairly quickly.

pins and needles along my left arm and 3rd+4th fingers, for around 5 minutes now, stretching and rubbing the arm helps a little bit the feeling has yet to fade

can't hold my phone for more than a minute or so without the pain in my hands getting stronger still so having to rest it on a pillow to read

14:06 - had an accidental nap for around 30 minutes. hands still sore, shooting pains still in legs. lunch time, leftover hotdogs from last night warmed in the microwave. mug with water, handle of mug is easier to grip. have to carry plate and mug separately to my study where I want to watch things on the computer because each is too heavy for one hand, need to carry with both hands.

15:39 watched some programs online, wanted to play some video games but holding the control was too much. R arm burning sensation running through elbow into hand, worse when extended fully or bent to any degree, or when using hand. im R handed so this basically rules out me doing any hobbies today. typing one handed with accessibility key board on my phone. at least my lefthand is okay now so I can drink easier. L shoulder occasionally stabbing pains again but they come and go and don't last long luckily. guess I'll just watch stuff and research or read.

16:10 burning pain is improved by not moving limb at all and hot water bottle.

17:28 both hands/wrist back to medium burning pain. given up trying to do anything because of discomfort. R knee + hip sore with occasional shooting pains when standing, made me unsteady and bump into door frame when walking.

19:14 partner is home, deciding on dinner. I can't life the baking tray to put it in the oven so my 'help' with dinner is to sit on the floor and offer conversation. my hands are both still burning so it's easy finger food, chips and salmon bites. standing it's tiring for more than 2 minutes, shooting pains in my knees cause me to spasm or kick out.

helped to put away some of the dishes from the dishwasher. which boils down to me slumped against the kitchen side struggling to hold on to single knives and forks to put them back into the correct place in the draw. also started to get sharp pains in my lower stomach like cramps, bad enough to cause me to clench, or to literally be bent double because they're so sudden and painful.

20:16 dinner was good. shooting pains in knees whilst sat down now, down into ankles. hands feel better but it's moved up into elbows, and gripping hard or holding anything heavy is still painful. stomach pains seemed to go as soon as they came which is good. glad i didn't need to hold a fork because I don't think I would have been able to for a full meal.

20:52 body is generally starting to hurt all over now. partner helps me up the stairs by supporting my hips from behind me and taking some weight whilst I use both handrails to get up. he helps me into the bathroom so I can shower.

21:32 I needed to sit in the shower after around 5 minutes or so because I felt unstable standing on the wet surface whilst being so tired. I found it difficult to open bottles and hold soap due to pain. I gave up washing my hair properly and just rested my head under the running water in the hope to get the shampoo out. I didn't condition it because I did not have the energy. I needed help out of the bathtub (shower over) afterwards and feel unable to do anything else for the rest of the evening now, including drying myself and my hair wkth towels or a hakr dryer, so i will likely go tonbed woth wet hair.

22:26 - dry and clothed for bed with help and lots of resting. watching qi in my study to stay under the heated blanket. heat helps

23:39 finally found the energy to make it across the hall from my study into the bedroom. did some basic stretches whilst lying down on the bed. partner offered to dry my hair for me. hands still slightly burny sensation but less stiff and fat. neck shoulders back and hips all bad pain now. waiting for the bed to warm up before trying to get comfortable and fall asleep. resting on cushions on top of covers. tired and sleepy.

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romanshomeonwattpad · 3 years

Text

no smokin’ n skatin’ | elliot

“hello. i have a rq idea. elliot, us, skateboarding. reader is like super stoned and she convinces ellie to let her attempt to do a trick on the board. anyslay, we go down into the bowl and do like a kickflip or something and land it perfectly and elliot is amazed.“

pairings — elliot/reader |best friend! au |

summary : you and your best friend elliot go skating, joints hand in hand and all.

warnings : none,, except for some drug usage & swearing,, also crack!comedy that’s probably only funny to me

authors note : this is such a cute friendship idea,, i really wanna be smoke buddies with elliot UGh,, i also added in some other stuff to make it a bit more longer if that’s ok!! thanks for the suggestion kind person :p there’s also an easter egg inside,, comment if u find it !! ;)

Dancing and giggling, you and your friend Elliot had found shelter underneath the largest tree that was located at the local skate park in East Highland. Two buds that used to be joints were littered across the floor, leaving the both of you to be stoned out of your minds, his hand twirling you into his figure before you both bursted out laughing again. The slow, rythmic beats of Vampire by Dominic Fike pumped in Elliot’s stereo that he had brought, both of your eyes being red and puffy. You sniffled, shoving him inside, earning a playful whine from him, “Outta my way, pretty boy. I’m gonna go down that cliff thingy.”

His brows rose, “You mean the bowl?”

You shrugged, grabbing his skateboard, which was tossed onto the grass without a second thought by Elliot when you had arrived. The back of it was red, white skulls being drawn on it by him when he was bored. You almost tripped as he snickered, crossing his arms at your struggling figure, “You sure about this, Y/N? If you break your wrist—“

“Shut up, bitch,” you giggled before flipping him off, earning another cackle from him as he studied you with glossy eyes—from the weed. You placed your right foot more towards the front of the board, then with a slight pedal, launched yourself with your left foot and then balanced yourself quickly. Your left foot hit the back of the surface, before you let out a shout, wheels burning rubber as you dived down into the bowl, and with another pedal, made your way back up to the other side. Jumping off, you planted your two feet onto the concrete, skateboard rolling off to the side. With a bright grin, you turned around, hearing Elliot let out a cheer from the other side, “Holy shit! Ellie—did you see that! I did it!”

He clapped, his figure slightly smaller from the distance. “I definitely thought you were going to fall on your ass.”

Smirking, you jogged over to him, before tackling him to the ground. He grunted as you laughed, him flipping you over, and tickling your sides. The pain was unbearable, your flesh extra sensitive due to the marijuana in your system, “Ellie—I’m sorry—stop! I can’t breathe—ah—!”

He stopped after a few seconds, flicking your forehead before rolling over on the grass beside you. You kicked one of your legs over his, his arm being thrown around you as the back of your head rested in the crook of his arm pit. His cologne fanned you as his warmth radiated onto you. The clouds floated back and forth, but your mind could’ve also been playing tricks on you. The sky was a rosy pink color, due to the sun sinking below the line that marks the earth. The fresh air welcomed your cheeks with kind kisses as you cuddled up beside your best friend.

You heard Elliot gasp, before tapping your arm fast.

“Look. That cloud looks like a dick.”

You frowned, but then followed his long finger pointing up at the sky, and bursted out into a mess of laughs. He was right. There was a white puffy cloud, that was indeed, shaped like a penis. But then again, the two of you were p r e t t y dirty minded, and it could’ve been a cucumber for fucks sake, “Looks bigger than yours.”

He snapped his head over to you, “You haven’t even seen it, asshole.”

You wiggled your brows, “Wanna show me? I’ll show you my boobs in return.”

His eyes lit up at your request, and like little kids, you both sat up and giggled at the actions you were about to do. His eyes went round as he looked around, craning his neck, making sure no one was around to see the two of you being nude. Sitting cross crossed, across from one another, your knees touched his as he blinked, “Okay okay, you first.”

You shot him a brow. “Uh uh. I made up the idea, so you’re first.”

He rolled his eyes.

“But you’re the one who called my dick small.”

You nodded, “Yes—because it is.”

He slapped you on the arm.

“Shut up. It’s not.”

“Prove it,” you fake yawned, appearing bored. You let out a cough afterwards, “Pussy.”

“Did you just—fine—wanna see? Look,” he scrambled to zip down his zipper, before shoving his hands into his pants. Your brows rose as he took it out, letting you peek over, before slapping a hand over your mouth. He shouted at you as he tucked himself back inside, embarrassed. “It’s not hard right now, okay?”

You didn’t answer, cheeks red as you gasped for air as you laughed. He let out an irritated sigh, “You’re such a bitch.”

Guilt hit you as you bit your lip, trying to calm yourself down, nodding your head as you cleared your throat, “A promise is a promise,” you sighed, his jaw tightening as your fingers went to the bottom of your sweater. Taking in a deep breath, you knew you were comfortable enough around Elliot to know he wouldn’t judge you—and yanked up the fabric over to where your collarbone was. His expression didn’t ripple until after a few seconds, nodding while pursing his lips, “They’re actually pretty nice. The color of your nipples was chosen very adequately.”

You nodded quickly, “Right? I love my tits, bro.”

Pulling your sweater back down, you patted his leg, “Don’t worry. Your dick is medium sized. Not too big, not too small.”

He smiled lazily, “I prefer that. It’s perfect, y’know. A good balance in between.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, watch this,” Elliot grabbed his board, running over to the front of the video store. There was a pipe beside it that he was going to try to ride. You cheered him on, like a good wing man, as he confidently began to pedal towards it. He then leaned into the air, about to land onto it, but accidentally twisted to hard—his back slightly cracking as he missed the board and fell to the ground with a thump! You fell to your knees, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe, letting out hacking coughs as he groaned, “Fuck. I think I ruptured my spine.”

Wiping away your tears, you sniffled, “Guess that means you need to get the beer.”

Laying flatly on the concrete, he let out a hiss, while you continued to occasionally snicker here and there.

“Fuck my life, man.”

Slowly sitting up, his eyes narrowed into a glare as you winked, making him send you the bird before he walked over to the liquor store beside the film shop. You stood onto your feet, tapping one of them on the floor anxiously as you watched him disappear behind one of the walls.

After a minute, you heard Eli scream run! before his slim figure rounded the corner. You frowned, but then gasped, when he held the box of modelos to his chest while sprinting away from the chubby store clerk that had a shot gun in his hand. You whispered a quick shit before snatching his board, then running along with him, hearing a gun shot fire off.

“Get your teenage asses back here with my beer!” A furious voice shouted, making you both laugh as you sped up, knowing you were going to outrun the overweight middle aged man. After a few seconds, when you’re sure he had stopped chasing you, you slapped Elliot’s arm before panting heavily, “I think we lost him, Ellie.”

“Fuck,” he heaved, dropping it onto the ground. Walking over to the tree that was in the park you had ran over to, he slid down the bark covered surface, breaking open the box before taking out two. He whistled, catching your attention before he tossed you one, “Drink up. You paid.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Huh?”

He pulled out your wallet, grinning widely as he waved it in the air, “I tossed him five bucks before dipping. Y’know, for making him workout for the first time in the past ten years.”

You smacked him upside the head, receiving a glare from the blonde.

“Ow—“

“Shut up, bitch.”

#elliot #elliot imagines #elliot is mean #elliot x you #elliot imagine #elliot x y/n #elliot x reader #elliot smut

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Beginner’s Luck

Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6K

Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT. Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry

A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos

***

“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting. “Turn around, let me see.”

“No. I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says. You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in. “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.

Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it. You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle. Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.

Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him. He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.

“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence. “I look ridiculous.”

Still, nothing. You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth. Oh for the love of Maker—

“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl. He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.

Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it. You fucking knew he was laughing.

“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.

“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?” You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries. The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace. “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”

“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now. “Way too big.”

“Too big?” You blink at him. “That’s your criticism?”

When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no. It’s fucking… rust. It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character. There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?

“You’re telling me you went from this—” You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens? It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”

He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull. “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh. “This planet isn’t nice.”

That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully. “Are we on Corellia?” You ask without thinking.

“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron. “Tatooine.”

You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill. Different setting, same kind of people. Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them. You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else. It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.

“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs. “Someone… nice. It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”

Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you. Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to. Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy. But for real, who is he talking about?

“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?” You ask instead, but he shakes his head.

“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace. “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”

“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again. “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”

Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore. “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words. “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”

You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second. “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment. “We can stay with your… friend.”

You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step. You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.

Was that not subtle? You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated. You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again. That’s what’s called a friend, right?

Maker, why are you being so weird about this?

Thankfully, you end up getting away with it. After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit. You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.

***

It’s bright. Fuck, it’s so bright here. You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it. Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.

Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now. But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance. “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”

Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely. You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.

“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him. “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”

“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink. What… what happened last time?

“It sure won’t!” The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long. “I’m still recovering, Mando!”

“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second. “How much do you think my life is worth?”

Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration. Probably both. “I brought my ki—”

“You bring trouble!” She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground. “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”

He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot. How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide. He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his. He talks to you. He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without. Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.

So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.

“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos. “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”

Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders. Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.

“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?” She faces him and pokes his armor again. “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”

“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase. Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point. He said she was nice? And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?

“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks. Fuck, there’s no way. There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.

But… he doesn’t respond. Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation. Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue. Maker, five hundred credits. You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it. He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.

So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around. Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side. You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now. Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does. Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it. You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—

But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.

You understand him. Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway. You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing. It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him. That’s insane.

He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.

“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.

And you think now is finally the time to go, right? Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently. Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you? You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?

You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape. He leaves and doesn’t look back.

Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.

“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk. Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask. “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”

You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her. “Pre-Imperial or post? Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”

She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.

***

So Peli is… a character.

She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it. She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable. You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night. You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.

The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse. You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck. Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror. Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.

Din was right, though. She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about. She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being. On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears. It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.

At least you stay busy—which, understatement. She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing. Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later. You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset. You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life. However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do. After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.

One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself. You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.

You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.

Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.

You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.

***

A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.

There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game. There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.

It’s an unpredictable nightmare. But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game. The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.

“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.

You don’t argue, because there’s no point. The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point. You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void. You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best. Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.

“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it. “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”

You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand. “I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair. Peli sets the mug down and sighs. “You’re a good mechanic. I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Now, you do smile. But it’s a hidden one. A fond one. One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him. You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him. Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace. It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him. Nothing can touch you. You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.

No, you’d never consider it. This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous. You love the baby. You love him. You’d never consider it.

“Don’t you get bored?” She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit. “Just waiting around for him to come back?”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Of course you do. If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without. Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go. You’ve never experienced anything like that before. There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age. So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them. You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy. You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family. You don’t know of anything you could want more. Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment. Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence. You know what it means to live for yourself. You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different. As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better. Now you have other people to live for, too.

You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago. He used to terrify you. You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up. Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.

No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition. Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do. You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea. But maybe you can also…

You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What do you want now?” She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal. “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them. Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface? I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”

She furrows her eyebrows at you. “But I still need your help with…”

You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it. Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work. This is what Din does, right? Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet? Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.

“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin. “But only if you win this round. What d’you got?”

You set down your cards to reveal your hand. A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.

“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.

***

It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7. They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave. Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.

You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done. After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.

As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape. You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating. You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.

Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before. You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted. It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.

Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired. You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open. Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.

“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you. Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.

You know you must look a hot mess right now. Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is. Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.

Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could. Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.

You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that. You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.

And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted. He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.

Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level. And fuck, nothing stops you from looking. He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either. He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.

He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs. Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…

The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.

You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time. Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now. Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…

“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all. “But… shit, but…”

“But…?” You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides. “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”

You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him. All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.

“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside. Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful. “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long. “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him. Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you. The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck. “Shit. I… I need to clean up. Grab your things, go tell…”

Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss. You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters. “Uh. Go tell…” He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so. “Her. That we’re leaving tonight.”

“What?” You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused. “What are you saying right now?”

“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. “The mechanic, with the… droids. Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”

“Peli?” You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point. “Did you forget her name, Mando?”

“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that. “Never asked.”

“But you—?” You blink at him. “But you said she was your friend?”

“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy. It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it. Yikes, you absolutely did say that. You forgot.

“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response. “Ha. Oh. Yeah, huh.”

There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom. Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?

“Were you jealous?” He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.

“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far. You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.

“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw. “Tell me the truth.”

You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered. So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would. Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.

His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help. His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle. “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”

His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you… Mind blank, no thoughts. Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.

“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try. “There’s no reason. I was jealous. It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid. I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”

Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off. Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.

“See that wall?” He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it. You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about. It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar. He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you. “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar. “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”

Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.

She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore. “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”

“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.

“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again. “You owe me five hundred credits.”

“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point. Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.

“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.

“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.

Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly. You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here. She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.

“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him. “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”

And then your jaw drops. Holy shit, is she serious? You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly. Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.

Also… girlfriend?

Is that what you are to him? Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so. You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important? You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again. If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough. Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough. It’s an elementary school version of what this is. And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend? Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.

“Uh.” He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point. Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder? Lover? No, not good enough. Partner? No. No, not wife, definitely fucking not— “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder. “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”

All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness. The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.

“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.

***

So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.

You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing. You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here. Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.

When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food. A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps? Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things. While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.

Well. Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.

Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful. The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you. You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.

So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically. So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one. He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.

Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch. It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye. Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.

Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—

You fire, and… well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life. You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.

“Try again.”

There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it. Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.

No, you think in frustration. You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time. You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.

You adjust your aim and fire a few more times. Miss, miss, wild miss, miss. Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you. Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—

Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise. He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.

“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit. “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was. Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing. He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast? That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?

“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.

“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.

“So how did you toggle so fas—?”

He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.

“How in the f…?” You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch. “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again. “Design flaw.”

“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon. “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature. Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”

The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.

“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking. “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando? I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”

“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips. They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again. “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”

“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.

“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.

“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin. “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”

But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off. “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”

Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards. “Of course not. Pick up the gun.”

Okay.

Okay, so that one gets you.

You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you. Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.

Shit, okay, focus. Focus, you can do this. You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life. The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours. His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows. He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.

He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on. Maker, chill out. Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot. This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…

Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong. You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—

“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.

The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center. You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.

He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target. Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.

When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more. You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit. Bullseye, right on the nose.

This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.

“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh. “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”

“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down. “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong. Are you just distracted?”

Uh, fuck yeah you are. So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind. He’s your biggest distraction, all the time. He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.

Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.

“Can I watch you do it?” You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf. “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him. He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused. You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.

He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically. You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out. You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot. You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.

As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right. You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop. Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.

He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable. Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago. No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere. The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit. They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands. But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there. He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either. He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.

None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize. It’s not fun because he’s too good at it. This is life. This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.

You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element. You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you. Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.

Is it just you, you wonder? Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?

No, you think. No. You have seen him relax. You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.

But… only with you. A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.

Fuck. Why does that turn you on so fucking much? It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit. The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.

“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it. You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it. You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.

Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders. He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.

Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back. Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.

He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason. There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator. He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime. Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.

Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf. The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.

“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.

Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots. Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.

You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this. His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too. You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.

A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him. Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more. So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point. And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.

Din is a fucking statue. He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it. Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.

You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already. You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out. You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.

At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public. Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.

Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else. Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response. He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it. This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else. This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.

You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue. His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue. While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.

Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth. Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with. You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it. He endures. Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.

But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando! Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”

You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing. The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.

And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.

The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming. Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at. Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.

He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance. The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever. Handling it is all on him. He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun. It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?

Wrong. So wrong. You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss. Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs. But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.

Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length. Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him. His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.

So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want. His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache. You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.

“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise. “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”

Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?

You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.

His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth. You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner. The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.

He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean. His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.

He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going. Is that fucked up, you wonder? What would he think?

He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving? Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that. The coast must not be clear, you have to assume. Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t. You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants. He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.

The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows. What would he think? That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent? Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.

At some point, you can’t stop yourself. You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.

You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit. Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss. He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on. You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.

Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair. Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—

That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand. And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this. You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again. Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified. Debased. And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.

When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum. You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins. By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants. You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.

The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest. You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble. Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that. He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake. He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense. Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.

Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.

“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet. “Now you should be able to focus, right?”

Fuck… Fuck, is he serious? You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard. How does this work again? What does this do?

“Wh-What?” You croak—fuck, your voice is gone. “I… I can’t—”

“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it. Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield. “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath. “You can do it.”

You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way. “I… can’t.”

“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace. A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.

It sounds… wonderful.

Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady. The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.

You drop your hands, already defeated and drained. “I can’t.”

“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again. Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.

You shoot. Nope. So you shoot again. And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.

“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again. “Expensive. Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”

Miss, miss, miss, and—no. Just, no. There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap. You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place. “Mando, I ca—”

“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.

… What? N… No…

Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.

You… you know it must just be a joke, right? Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be. You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.

“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding. If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away. Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something. Is he messing with you again? Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?

It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate. Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.

The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready. You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—

—it hits dead center.

Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is. You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.

“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint. Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened? “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him. “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”

You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all. Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?

No. Shut up. Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything. Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—

You do, and oh. Oh, no.

“Uh?!” Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic. What the fuck? No fucking way. Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot. “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”

Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you. You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.

The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb. There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—

—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.

It fucking bends. Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.

Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.

… that’s not closed.

The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away. Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it. You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.

Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.

“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him. “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”

Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door. You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance. The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.

***

Stay tuned for the next part!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #star wars #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids

5K notes · View notes

koushou · 4 years

Note

hey can i request a oneshot or hc for megumi, thank you 😩❤️

insufferable

pairing : megumi fushiguro x f!reader {small angst + fluff}

warnings : reader injury, gojo being a perv

word count : 3k

a/n : thank u for requesting! i'm a sucker for enemies to lovers, so this was fun to write, i hope you enjoy !

he’s been your rival for as long as you could remember, it was always some kind of competition between the both of you. although, the feeling you both feel for each other, is it truly as simple as hatred?

Insufferable.

It was the only way to describe the dark haired boy standing in front of you, a smug grin playing on his lips.

“Alright, calm down, you two,” your teacher’s voice rang over to where you were standing as he made his way over.

Gojo sighs, running a hand through his hair as he eyes the both of you.

“What did I say abo-”

“He clearly had a head start!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, glaring down your rival across from you.

“Are you accusing me of cheating?” He raises his eyebrows at you tauntingly.

“Anyone could tell that you ran before sensei blew the whistle!”

“Maybe you should stop focusing on me, and work on bettering your own abilities instead.” He rolls his eyes while starting to walk away, obviously getting bored of the conversation.

“You—!”

“Okay, okay, come on,” Gojo leads you away before you could tackle the boy with his back turned to you.

Megumi Fushiguro.

Your life-long rival, you guys had been by each other’s side for as long as you could remember.

Not that you wanted to remember, you hated him. And so did he.

Everything was a competition between the both of you, and although you would die before admitting it, your constant battles did improve you as a jujutsu sorcerer.

When you both found out you were going to be attending Jujutsu Tech together, you personally saw it as an opportunity to fight him even more, to prove that you were the stronger one, while Megumi-

Well, he didn’t care. He never cared about anything, anyway.

“Come on, we’re heading to the mission location,” Gojo begins to walk ahead of you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You let out a sigh, wishing you could be in the safe confines of your room instead of fighting alongside your least favorite person in the whole world.

“Sensei, what are the curses’ grades?” You ask after the tall white-haired man, who was getting into the front passenger seat of a black car.

“They said it would be a couple Grade 3’s, nothing too much,” the older man yawns, stretching his arms over his head before cursing as they bump against the car’s roof.

“They also mentioned a special grade or something, I don’t really remember,” Gojo slams the car door shut, leaving you to roll your eyes at the man’s irresponsibility.

About to make your way to the car as well, you stumble as a force pushed you from behind, turning around as you get ready to attack whoever was-

“Try not to die to a couple Grade 3’s, alright?” Megumi smirks down at your fuming expression, before making his way to the car.

“I mean, I know they can be quite a hassle for you, but take your time.”

Inhaling sharply, you massage your temples with one hand, trying to suppress your frustration and holding back from tackling the boy to the ground.

“He’s so immature.” Nobara, one of your closest friends at Jujutsu Tech, comes up to you, rolling her eyes at the boy.

“Ignore him, let’s have some meat buns when we get back.” She sends you a wink before walking towards the car, to which you respond with a laugh.

There will be meat buns waiting when I get back, you thought to yourself, licking your lips unconsciously. It will be worth it, snuggling up back in your fluffy blankets, binging your newest favorite show that was airing today-

“You coming or not?” A voice breaks you from your daydream, snapping your head up.

“Ah, are you scared? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Megumi smiles at you mockingly, chuckling as he shoves his hands into his pockets and entering the car in the back seats.

Ah.

This was going to be a long day.

“We’re here,” Gojo announces, unlocking the car door to get out.

You all exit the car, stretching as you take note of your surroundings.

The mission assigned this time was to eliminate a couple curses who had sneaked their way into an elementary school. The students were still inside, so you had to be extra careful with fighting.

“Well then, let’s head in.”

Starting to make your way toward the school entrance, a small groan from the side halts you all in your tracks.

A green, slimy creature emerges from the bushes, crawling on its legs as it stares up at all of you.

It leaps forward suddenly, lunging at you, as you raise your sword in time to block it, slicing it in half in one swift motion.

It lets out a final groan as it drops to the ground, melting into a green blob.

“Not too bad, you actually killed it.” Megumi raises an eyebrow in amusement as you clean your sword of any of its remains.

“Thanks for the compliment.” You snarl at him sarcastically, drawing another sigh from Gojo.

You all continue making your way to the school’s front doors, when suddenly your teacher holds an arm out, stopping all of you.

“Shh, listen.”

There was a quiet voice- no, many voices coming from down the hallway of the school. The building was filled with black smoke, restricting your views of where the sounds were coming from.

It sounded as if the many voices were chanting a curse or spell of some sort, and you all knew instantly.

This couldn’t be the doings of a grade 3.

It had to be a special curse.

Gojo steps forward slowly, entering the black smoke as he checks the left hallway, before returning and nodding to you that it was safe.

You nod, slowly making your way into the school as well, turning to check the right hallway.

The black smoke almost made it hard to breathe, you trying your best to swat away any smoke making your eyes tear up.

The chanting became louder as you entered the hallway, and you saw a figure standing in the middle.

Your breath catches in your throat, ready to turn and tell Gojo what you saw, but could you really describe what it was?

It stood at least two feet above you, with gray skin mixed with red blotches here and there and multiple arms hanging by its side. Horns and unidentifiable liquids stuck to its skin, with its mouth hanging open. It had the sharpest teeth you’d ever seen on a curse- no, you’d ever seen in your life- and drool pooled at the corners of its lips, if you could even call them lips, before dripping down its chin, staining the marble floor.

It continued to chant its spell, however it sounded as if the voices were in your head, in your eardrums, echoing through your brain.

You could hear your name being called from behind you, probably Gojo, but the chants were getting louder, louder, and louder until the special grade was standing right before you, its tall figure looming over you.

Snap out of it, you thought to yourself, trying to shake its voice out of your head, commanding your legs to move. To turn back. To run.

Finally you felt your legs listening to you, and you turned around and ran. Ignoring the pattering footsteps of the creature following close behind you, you ran as fast as you could.

Finally, you could see the light at the entrance, where you all had been before, and you could almost see their faces, until-

“Y/N—!”

A sharp pain shot through your stomach.

Ah, that voice.

The voice of your rival who had been competing with you, fighting with you, for your whole life.

It was like it all happened in slow motion, like in the movies.

Megumi and the others stood before you, with a horrified expression as their eyes travelled down, down to your stomach.

You followed their gaze, a dark crimson stain beginning to seep through your uniform, a sharp horn stabbed from the back, right through your body.

Ah, this was it. That jerk was right, huh? I am weak after all.

At that moment, your body went limp. All feelings left your limbs, leaving you to free fall forward, eyes closing as you begin to lose consciousness.

But not before you felt a pair of arms wrap around you, stopping you from the impact.

“Y/N! Wake up, come on, wake up—!”

Why do you keep shouting? You’re so loud, be quiet.

“You can’t do this, wake up— please—“

I told you to be quiet, geez, let me sleep already.

And the last crumb of consciousness left your body.

A horrible thumping pain in your head. Hushed voices from next to you. Fingers entangled with yours.

Wait- fingers?

It had never been so hard to open your eyes, wincing as a bright light from above hits you directly.

Taking a moment to adjust, you finally looked around your surroundings.

It seemed as if you were in a hospital room, long tubes connected to your arms, hands, legs, making it hard for you to move at all.

You notice a doctor and Gojo speaking by the door, but what shocked you was the sleeping boy by your bed.

The sunlight seeping through the window shines on his slender face perfectly, dark strands of hair framing his sleeping face, one you could’ve almost teased him for until you notice his hands. Your hands.

His fingers entangled with yours by your side, the warmth from his palm radiating through yours as the rise and fall from his breathing caused his hands to move slightly every time.

You wished you could snap a picture of this right now, but the comforting feeling of his hands against yours made you not want to move an inch.

“Ah, you’re awake, Y/N,” You recognized your teacher’s voice as he makes his way over to your bed with a relieved smile.

You feel the boy wake up with a jolt, eyes blinking to focus themselves, before settling on yours and widening.

It was only then that he became aware of your entangled hands, quickly pulling away and coughing to cover the slight pink spreading across his cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor next to Gojo asks, holding a clipboard in his hands.

“Just a bit sore in my ribs, but nothing too much.” Megumi glances in your direction, and you would’ve thought it was out of concern before mentally slapping yourself at the absurdity of it.

“Alright, we’ll need to keep you here for a few weeks,” the doctor says, noting something on his clipboard. “I’ll be right back, we still need to give you a check-up.”

He leaves the room, and Gojo takes a seat on the other side of your bed, across from Megumi.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Y/N,” he sighs, before leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head.

“Good thing you were brought back in time, doc says that any longer and the injury would’ve been more severe.”

You nod, facing your teacher, “Thank you sensei, I should’ve been more careful.”

He shakes his head, “It was a special grade, my fault for not notifying you all earlier.”

A grin spreads across his face, leaning forward slowly in his seat.

“But I’m not the one you should be thanking.” He nods his head slightly to your left, making you turn to see a coughing Megumi, who suddenly thought his shoes were the most interesting things in the world.

Gojo chuckles, patting your shoulder as he gets up to leave.

“I’ll leave you two alone, Megumi take care of her, alright?”

Even behind the blindfold, you could sense that he was sending a wink your way.

The boy only grumbles in response, fiddling with his hands nervously.

You stare at him, before bursting out in laughter.

His head shoots up, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks at you still laughing.

“What’s with that gloomy look? Don’t tell me…”

You tilt your head at him, a smirk spreading across your face.

“Aww, are you worried about me, ‘gumi?”

The use of the nickname you made for him makes him scoff, turning away from you.

“As if. Just wondering about how stupid you were to get yourself hurt.”

He bites his lips for a moment, as if pondering his next words.

“And stop laughing so hard, what—”

Megumi stops and looks away.

“—what if your wound opens again?” He murmurs quietly, but you managed to catch it.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, before chuckling at him teasingly, “So you are worried about me, liar.”

“Am not!”

“You totally are.”

“Keep lying to yourself.”

With a sigh, you close your eyes, refusing to argue with the boy any longer.

“By the way, what did sensei mean before? That you were the one I should be thanking?”

You open your eyes, waiting for his answer.

His eyes widen the slightest bit, before looking away once again.

“...s’nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise your eyebrows at him, confused.

He shakes his head, showing that he wasn’t going to answer.

Groaning, you roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “God- you’re so infuriating sometimes, why—”

“When you fainted, I carried you all the way to the hospital, okay?! On my own damn legs, I ran all the way here, I don’t know why I did, but I did so stop asking—!”

Megumi shouts, panting as he finishes talking with an unreadable look in his eyes.

You gape at him slightly, still trying to register his words.

“You...carried me here? Why didn’t you just take the car?”

He scoffs, “The car is way too slow, I would be faster. Plus, your injury would’ve gotten worse so you should thank me.”

He eyes you, searching for any emotions on your face, but all you felt was confusion at the moment.

A few beats of silence pass, and Megumi sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Well? At least say something.” He mumbles, shifting his feet on the floor.

You just look at him, not believing what he said, before laughing softly.

“Man, ‘gumi, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you liked me so much that you were scared that I would die.”

You teased him, expecting a scoff or an insult thrown back of some sort, but he just rolls his bottom teeth in between his teeth, not making eye contact.

“...so what if I do?” He finally says, so softly that you wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t so close to you.

Wait, why was he so close to you—

The distance between you two closed as he leaned forward to meet your lips with his. The kiss was slow, inexperienced, but honest and passionate.

Your eyes widened in shock, while his were screwed tight, afraid to open and meet yours.

A contrast to his appearance and personality, his lips were soft, fitting snugly against yours, the taste of him sweet, like cherries.

After a few seconds, he pulls away hesitantly, sitting back down in the chair.

The tension was so thick in the room, not even a knife could cut through it.

It was awkward for a few beats before he spoke.

“I-uh, sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” he rubs the back of his neck, a heavy pink dusting his cheeks.

“It..it’s fine, it was nice,” you spoke softly, almost whispering.

His head shot up, facing you. “You liked it?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, before nodding, slowly meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, for saving me.”

A small smile spreads across his lips. Not a teasing one he would use when he was making fun of you, not a fake one, no. This was different.

Megumi was genuinely smiling at you like you were the most amazing thing he’s ever seen before.

“No problem,” he speaks, before slowly reaching for your hand.

Watching you with a careful gaze for any signs of discomfort, he intertwines his fingers with yours, giving it a small squeeze.

“... I was scared, you know?” He sighs, eyes never leaving your face.

“Scared that… I would lose the one person I care about.” You flush at his words.

“I know, I treat you like you’re below me all the time, like you’re weak, but I-“ He clears his throat, not wanting to mess this up. He only had one chance after all.

“-I do care about you, and I get happy whenever we fight against each other, or with each other. I was scared that- that I would lose the most important person in my life.”

You couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face, one part of you wanting to tease him like usual, but the other part of you, wanted to do something else.

You tug on his hand that was still holding yours, making him lean forward as you met his lips halfway.

The kiss was a little longer this time, you didn’t have to use words to convey your feelings. He knew. And you knew, too.

Pulling away at last, you lightly flicked his forehead, causing him to pout and rub the sore spot.

You giggle, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“I care about you too, Megumi. A lot. I always have.”

You smile.

“And I always will.”

He smiles widely, leaning forward once again until you hear muffled voices on the other side of the door.

“Do you think they’re having s-”

“Sensei! Stop being so loud, they might hear you—“

The door suddenly slams open with Nobara and Gojo tumbling onto the floor.

Silence.

Laughing awkwardly, they finally stand up, nudging the other to speak.

“I- she- uh, we- woah—!” Gojo gasps dramatically at the sight of your hands together.

“So you were having s-”

Both of you flush at the same time, shouting at him.

“We weren’t—!”

You all burst out laughing, feeling Megumi squeeze your hand softly.

Gosh, making you feel butterflies in your stomach like this?

Megumi Fushiguro was truly insufferable.

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #megumi x reader angst #megumi fushiguro x reader angst #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff

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mrsnegan · 3 years

Note

hey beautiful! loving all your writing! and was wondering if you’d do a request with the reader having Negan as her neighbor and he gets jealous when her guy friend comes over instead of him

[Hi there! So, so sorry it took me this long to write your request. But here it finally is, another smut fest, I just can't help myself. 😅]

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, rough sex, jealousy, oral sex (f receiving), bodily fluids, squirting, aftercare

Moving into a new neighborhood always felt weird. Getting used to a new surrounding, meeting neighbors and hoping they would be kind of alright was a pain in your ass. You hated those situations. But meeting Negan, your neighbor of two years by now, was the most cool thing ever. He was a real sweetheart with a sailor's mouth, ready to help whenever there was a problem, ready to party whenever there was an invitation. Even if he was eye candy as well, a real flirt at times, you didn't consider him as an option, more as a friend, a life long partner in crime.

Negan, on the other hand and unbeknownst to you, did definitely have interest in more than harmless teasing. He liked you - a lot. Though he would never pressure you into anything, would never make a move without any signal from your side, because he cherished your friendship as much as you did and respected the hell out of you. Little did he know that a mysterious male guest of yours would shake up his whole resolution, unleashing something primal and urging inside of him.

---

You stood in front of the oven, the lasagna smelling delicious and nearly ready to eat. Paul, your friend from work, would ring at any minute. He was a nice guy, helping you out with a big project. In return, you invited him for dinner to thank him for all the effort. This wasn't a date though, Paul was gay 100 percent, the coolest dude in your opinion. He dated an Italian barkeeper who was at work right now, so it would only be the two of you. Either way, you looked forward to a chatty evening with good food, lots of wine and laughter.

Your doorbell rang some moments later and you opened it with a bright smile.

"Hi Paul, come in!"

"Hi there! Thank you so much for the invitation, Y/N!" he beamed, handing you two bottles of wine.

The two of you entered your kitchen, preparing the rest of the dinner together. It was such a relaxing atmosphere, you had missed nights like this.

The lasagna tasted as delicious as it smelled and the first bottle of wine was empty much sooner than you thought. Paul and you talked about work, life, love and everything in between. You felt at ease, happy to the core. The second bottle was opened a few moments later and both of you decided to enjoy the nice weather in your little garden.

"Hey, who's this?" Paul asked, head pointing towards Negan's property. You could see him standing on his terrace, looking straight at the both of you.

"My neighbor and friend Negan", you answered and waved with a big smile. To your surprise, he just looked straight ahead, turning on his heels to get inside.

"What the fuck was that?" you asked perplexed.

"Uh, honey, sorry to break the news, but he seemed to be severely pissed about your male company."

"Huh? That's...why should he?"

Paul looked at me with his eyebrow raised, his glass of wine still in his hand.

"He's some nice piece of ass, at least from what I could make out. And honey, let me tell you, he's jealous because I'm enjoying your presence, not him. He's definitely hot for you."

You laughed loudly at his explanation, shaking your head in disbelief.

"No, he isn't. We're just friends."

"Y/N, for real, I know how a jealous man looks and he definitely wants you all to himself. I'd suggest you get your beautiful ass over there and get banged real good. Because jealous men are such a turn-on and won't keep their hands off of you."

Despite knowing Paul for a long time, you clasped your hand over your mouth.

"He's my friend..."

"So you keep saying. What's wrong about friends with benefits? You absolutely deserve a good time. And he looks like a real snack", he winked, drowning his wine and getting up.

"Besides, I need to get home, it's late. I will get myself an Uber. Don't you worry your pretty little head, just get over there for your dessert."

You said goodbye at your front door half an hour later. While you watched Paul drive away, your heart kept beating faster and faster. Your feet carried you to your kitchen where you drowned another glass of wine. Was it possible what Paul had said? Was Negan jealous? Deep within you there definitely was a spark you felt, a pull towards Negan. He was handsome and funny, that much was true, though before Paul's suggestion you hadn't seen Negan in this kind of light. And since it had been spoken out, you couldn't stop thinking about what his lips might taste on you, what he might feel pressed between your legs.

You gulped audibly, not believing your own thoughts. Blaming the wine for your inappropriate thoughts seemed too easy, but admitting you were attracted to your neighbor was too difficult too. Sighing, you pulled your cardigan over your shoulders, grabbed your keys and went to his front door. The wine gave you the much needed confidence to do so, but your heart hammered in your chest nonetheless. What if you would destroy your friendship with this stupid little action? What if Paul was wrong? But you had to take the risk or you wouldn't sleep at all at night, laying awake with the punishing thoughts of what if.

The door bell rang in your ear louder than you remembered. Your palms were sweaty, so you tried to anchor yourself on your cardigan, hugging yourself tightly.

When Negan opened the door, he looked pissed to say the least.

"Hey", you said timidly.

"Hey", he answered without the warmth in his voice you were used to.

"Can I come in?"

"Why would you want to? You do have company, don't you?"

With a dry mouth you shook your head. "He went home."

"Asshat", he mumbled and you raised a brow.

"Negan, we need to talk."

"About what? I think it's more than fucking clear. Have a good night", he said, motioning to close the door in front of you, but you pushed yourself against it.

"He's gay", you told him, letting him stop in his tracks.

"What?"

"Paul, my visitor. He's gay. He's one of my colleagues and a good friend. This was a thank you dinner because he helped me out at work", you explained even if you didn't have to.

Negan pinched the bridge of his nose, opening the door wider, so you could slip inside.

Both of you stood awkwardly in front of each other, just staring at your shoes.

"Look, Paul said you would be...jealous. Are you?"

You heard Negan huff before you risked a look into his face. He looked troubled, as if he calculated the pros and cons of his next words.

"Fucking shit, Y/N, yeah, I'm jealous. You satisfied now?"

"No", you answered truthfully, risking everything with your next move. You closed the distance between the both of you, getting on your tiptoes to press a fleeting kiss against his lips. You pulled back as fast as you had kissed him, adrenaline driving through your veins.

Negan's growl surprised you, he was on you in an instant, pressing you against his door, his lips colliding with yours. The heat radiating from your bodies made you feel dizzy, his hands held your face tightly while he devoured your mouth with passion. He deepened the kiss as his body pressed itself against you, grinding where you ached the most. Your hands grabbed his strong frame for support, the moan into his mouth made him stop, pulling away a bit to catch his breath and also look into your eyes.

"Damn, baby, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this."

The groan leaving your lips spurred him on, moving his center against your trembling body in a nice rhythm.

"Shit, I...I had no idea."

"You surely didn't. Such a sweet, innocent girl. You wanna continue?"

He stopped all at once, earning a desperate whine from you.

"Y-yes, please Negan."

That damn grin of his made your knees buckle. He was so hot and he clearly wanted you. Thanking Paul silently for speaking his mind and Negan for his jealousy, you made the next step by pushing his shirt up, revealing his lean stomach to your hungry eyes.

He just smirked down at you, helping you out by pulling his shirt over his head. You admired his tattoos for a while, tracing them lightly with your fingers. He caught your hands in his, kissing your fingertips before he let go to slip your cardigan over your shoulders before he open button after button of your silky blouse, revealing more and more skin as well as your bra.

"Hot damn", he mumbled when he had freed you from your blouse, starring blatantly at your cleavage.

"I wanna worship every part of that hot body before I fuck you senseless."

Moaning at the prospect of getting laid by Negan, your hands found a home on his chest again.

"You...you don't need to be...you know...gentle with me, at least not this time." You bit your lip at your own forwardness. This was definitely the wine speaking. Your panties were wet the minute he had attacked your mouth and edging was the last thing you needed right now.

"Oh baby, you're full of surprises. The next time, huh? You sure?" Negan played with one of your locks, scanning your face for any second thoughts.

"Yes", you whispered.

He was on you in an instant, his hands on your ass, pushing you against him before he lifted you off the ground to carry you to the living room.

He sat you down on his dining table where the cold wooden surface made you gasp.

"I would carry you into the bedroom...but I think that's something for the next time", he winked, pushing up your skirt and slipping off your shoes. "I need to have a taste right now."

He surprised you yet again by dropping to his knees. Your panties, soaked as they were, were gone in an instant and his impatient mouth closed around your center.

You jumped at the sudden pleasure, too much too soon. Your hands wandered into his hair, desperate to push him away and to keep him there at the same time. The moans leaving your lips sounded like they were coming from someone else. He ate you out with passion, the slurping sounds so foreign to your ears that you turned a light shade of red. But he seemed to enjoy himself, biting down gently on your clit.

"Whose pussy is this?" he asked against your wet flesh, his breath on your lower lips driving you insane. You couldn't form a sentence, earning a light slap against your inner thigh.

"I asked you a question, baby. Whose pussy is this?"

"Y-yours", you moaned, you answer accompanied by his fingers rubbing over your folds.

"Yeah, that's right, mine alone", he mused, closing his lips around your clit again while two of his fingers entered your slick channel. He fucked into you with precision, driving you to your breaking point in no time. You came against his mouth and around his fingers screaming his name.

"So beautiful. Better than I could have ever imagined", he mused, looking up at your face. "I could do that all night. But you didn't ask for gentle, did you?"

There were no words with which you could respond, your orgasm had made you feel like jelly, absolutely unable to do anything than breathe.

You heard Negan's belt come undone and the zipper of his jeans. With the little strength you had left, you lifted your head to look at him. The sight you were greeted with drove another moan out of your mouth. Negan stood in front of you, cock in hand, stroking it languidly while his gaze was fixed on your wet center.

"You like what you see?", he asked, smiling warmly with a hint of mischief in it.

"Yes", you whimpered.

He came nearer, pushing the head of his cock between your soaked pussy lips.

"Fuck...", you uttered, over-sensitive but so damn horny for him nonetheless, despite the earth-shattering orgasm he had gifted you with.

"Patience, baby. Gonna fuck you so good, don't you worry", he mused, concentrating his movements on your clit. You jerked under him, the pleasure rapidly building and as he rubbed himself harder against you, you came again.

"Shit, would you look at that? You like my cock that damn much, don't you?"

As hot as his dirty mouth was, you wanted to feel him, finally. So you pushed your arms up and around his head to pull him down for a longing kiss. Just as his tongue sloppily played with yours, he entered you in one swift motion, setting a fast pace from the beginning.

The moans and groans you shared echoed through his house, the wood underneath you creaked with every movement. This was precisely what you had asked for, a good, hard, passionate fuck, something primal to get rid of all the tension. He fucked you harder still, looking down at you with furrowed brows. His right hand pulled your bra down to bare your bouncing breasts to his heated gaze while you tried to anchor yourself underneath his punishing thrusts. You hadn't been fucked like this in a long, long time, nearly forgetting how much you liked to be taken, to be claimed. And Negan was just perfect at fulfilling your fantasies, his cock feeling incredible.

"Baby...", he purred when he watched you play with your nipples, throwing your head back in the process.

There was something building inside of you again, much stronger than before. Your moans got louder in the process.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't...", you chanted repeatedly, while Negan fucked you hard, his hand coming down between your legs to flick your clit roughly with his thumb. The walls came crashing down for you, your orgasm roared through your body, wave after wave of pure bliss, so much so that Negan had to pull out to make room for you to squirt all over his cock.

He practically roared at the sight in front of him, jerking himself off furiously and shooting his load against your sodden pussy.

Both of you panted heavily while coming down from such an exquisite high. After a while, Negan helped you out of your skirt and bra which were still dangling on your sweaty body and carried you upstairs to the shower. Underneath his big shower head, you pulled him against you, still with shaking legs, but happy, so damn happy.

"Thank you for being jealous", you said giggling against his strong frame.

"No worries, baby, I still am. You're mine now."

You laughed at his comment, even if you knew he was honest with his statement. The kiss that followed was sweet, a nice contrast to your rough coupling some minutes ago.

"But honestly, I would love to invite you for dinner, have a proper date if you would like to", Negan suggested, his hands drawing lazy circles on your back.

"I would absolutely love to", you answered, peppering his chest with light kisses.

---

Taglist: @iluvneganandjamie @murphslass @negans-attagirl @you-a-southpaw-doll

#negan #negan smut #negan x reader #negan x you #jeffrey dean morgan

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 3 years

Text

Some Like It Rough

Gif credit @bodybebangin

18+ fic. SMUT SMUT AND MORE SMUT.

Taglist @ackles-nhl. @cbouvier23.

Hope everyone enjoys it.

Happy reading dollies

"I needed you. Where were you tonight"? Kayce sat on the edge of the bed holding his ribs.

"I was out with Beth". You leaned over and grabbed the medical bag.

"For six hours"!? Kayce hissed when you pressed on his side.

"We talked, she drank...a lot. Then we played some pool at the bar". You tell him wrapping his ribs up.

"Meet any guys"? Kayce nibbled on his lip, looking up at you.

"Not this again. I didn't talk to anyone except Beth and the bartender".

"Was he a guy"!? Kayce grunted as he tried to lay down on the bed. You huffed and put the medical bag back in the bathroom.

"Yes, he was. We hooked up in the bathroom while Beth table danced. He also has a wife and a kid on the way". You lied about two things but Kayce didnt care even if you joked. He was jealous.

"I think you should go stay with your parents. We need some time". Kayce sighed, getting comfortable in the bed.

"Why? So you can go fuck every girl you see? Thats what you want? Go for it". You aggressively grabbed your duffel bag and started stuffing your clothes inside. "You wanna know something, the whole time we talked we talked about you and I. Like I couldn't shut up about you. Beth was there ask her. Because I know she wont lie for me". You scoffed and grabbed your keys.

"Y/N, I'm sorry".

"I'm tired of your sorrys. You start a fight and then apologize. We never solve anything. I'm sick of it. That's all we do, since you got back. You need to grow up and figure out what you want whether it has me in it or not. Figure out your shit". You slammed the door behind you. Kayce had a lot to think about. First he hated being alone when he was hurt. He needed comfort. So he went to his big sister.

"So what was this fight about this time"? Beth lit up a cigarette.

"What happened at the bar"? Kayce relaxed in his rocking chair with a groan holding his side.

"We talked and I got a drink. What's all this about? I thought you two were good"?

"We were but I guess my jealousy took over. She came home looking good. Guys must have talked to her. Drooling over her and shit".

"The only guy we talked to was the bartender. He was nice. But married".

"So you didn't table dance"? Kayce chuckled when he figured out he was an asshole.

"Hell no. I'm not that drunk". Beth laughed.

"I think you owe her more than just a shit I'm sorry. You need to fuck her brains out". Beth looked at Kayce seriously.

"I'm not talking about this with you". Kayce gasped getting up from the rocking chair.

"I'm a girl. I know what we want. We want a hard rough fuck and a man that knows what the hell he wants. Not some chicken shit. So grow up and tell that girl you love her. And fuck her brains out". Beth sat back in her chair proudly. She knew her shit.

"Well, it'll have to be a slow fuck cause I'm banged up". Kayce laughed with a hiss.

"Just give her that dick good and she'll know you love her".

"Oh my god. I'm leaving. My sister just said good dick in the same sentence. Have a good night. Thanks". Kayce struggled as he tried leaning over to kiss Beth's head.

"That was the pg version. I could've gone graphic. You know me". She laughed as Kayce shook his head and limped down to his car.

Kayce knew what he wanted. He wanted you. He needed you. Kayce called your cell and nothing. He called your parents, nothing. He was starting to get worried. But he knew you wouldn't go stay with friends cause they would tell so he searched at the hotels around. Only two near the house. One was a nice place and the other was a hole in the wall.

"Is there a Y/N Dutton registered here"? Kayce asked the night clerk at the front desk of the nice place.

The lady typed on the computer. "Sorry no ones named that here".

"Can you try Y/N Y/L/N"? Kayce knew if you didnt use the Dutton last name then you would use your last name.

"She's here. Room 204. But am I allowed to give you her number? You a serial killer or something"? She was hesitant on giving Kayce the key.

This made Kayce chuckle. "No ma'am, I'm her boyfriend. We're in a long distance relationship right now but she's thinking about moving here". Kayce made up something so she would give him the key.

"Alright but if I find her in the morning dead, I saw your face and I will identify you. I'm not scared of you". The clerk pulled out a shotgun.

"Yes, ma'am. That's not going to happen though. You may hear some screaming and moaning but that's not from what you're thinking of". Kayce blushed a little but was honest, he didnt want her busting in and pointing that shotgun at him.

"You do you, boo. Go get your girl". She smiled and patted his hand as she passed him the key. Kayce snickered and started up the what felt like a hundred stairs. He groaned and grunted as he walked up holding his side. In his mind he was just hoping he was able to make you moan and not pass out at your feet.

Kayce knocked on the door. "Who is it"? Kayce heard your voice and smirked.

"Room service". Kayce disguised his voice.

The door opened and his eyes went wide, you cracked the door open in a towel. You had just got out of the shower.

"Kayce, what are you doing here"?

"Um, I, god you're beautiful". Kayce stepped in, licking his lips. He grabbed you by the waist and captured your lips with his. He closed the door behind him with his boot and your towel fell to the floor.

"Kayce"? You gasped when Kayce lifted you up, your legs immediately went around his waist. His calloused hands dug into your back as he kissed you.

Kayces knees hit the bed and he slowly laid you down. He released your lips and stood back.

You closed your legs and covered your chest. "Don't hide from me". Kayces husky voice made you tremble. Your inner thighs became wet. The heat from your center was radiating off of you.

Kayce smirked as he brought his shirt over his head and threw it across the room. He kicked off his boots and unbuckled his pants, letting them fall to the floor. When he first came he was hurting but as soon as he saw you. What pain?

He was already so hard. He could have hammered a nail with his hard on.

"Open your legs, baby. Let daddy see". Only a few times has Kayce went daddy and every time the night was amazing so you hardly ever done it so it could be special.

You let out a squeak, your legs falling open. Kayce smirked to himself when he saw how wet you were already. He took his middle finger and touched your clit. You thought you could have came right there. You bit your lip to quiet your moans.

Kayce chuckled, his slipped his fingers through your slit with ease, massaging your with his palm. "You like when daddy does this, dont you"? Kayce evil chuckled. You nodded.

Kayce bent down and got on his knees, he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He started kissing your inner thighs. His beard tickled, but you loved it.

"Mmm". You started to buck your hips but Kayce held you down with his strong hands.

"Someone's eager". Kayce was inches away from your clit, you felt his hot break on your pussy lips. You felt yourself get wetter.

Kayce took the tip of his tongue and flicked your clit. Making you whimper to be touched.

He flattened out his tongue and pressed hard against your clit and started wiggling his tongue.

"Fuck". You gasped, your hand went to his hair.

He sucked on your clit, his middle and index finger teasing your entrance then slowly pushing in. It was driving you crazy for him not to be rough on you.

"Daddy". You moaned his name and he went faster. It encouraged him to go rougher. His fingers went in deep and rough. His middle finger pushing against your g-spot. "Oh fuck". One hand tangled in his hair and the other one holding on to the sheets.

"I'm gonna cum". Kayce sucked you clit as he looked up at you, his fingers never losing their pace. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming". You screamed over and over as you felt your first orgasm take over your body. It trembled and shaked as he kept fingering. He let go of your clit with a pop. Your hand reached down and stopped his. You couldnt take it.

"Such a good girl for daddy". Kayce grinned smacking his lips as he climbed up your body. He helped you scoot up the bed. His eyes never leaving yours. You let out a giggle, a blush upon your face.

"I just wanted to say...". You cut Kayce off by a kiss to the lips.

"Shut up and fuck me". You pulled Kayce on top of you. Wrapping your legs around him, a knot tied with your legs so he couldnt go anywhere.

"Yes, ma'am". Kayce gladly did as he was told. He lined himself up and pushed in. God, he stretched you in all the right places.

"Fuck, baby". Kayce mumbled into your skin of your chest. He started kissing along your collarbone, kissing your neck.

Kayce picked up his pace and his thrusts were deep and long. His hands resting on your back.

"I love you. I'm sorry for being jealous". Kayce spoke between kisses and thrusts.

"I forgive you". You kissed his chest and nibbled at his ear lobe. "I love you so much. Fuck". You threw your head back into the bed when Kayce thrusted in the right angle. God, did he know your body or what.

"You gonna cum again"? Kayce chuckled as he felt you start to squeeze his cock. You let out a whimper and a nod.

"Cum for daddy". Those words sent you straight to the stars. Your orgasm exploded around Kayce. His cock still thrusting as your orgasm still fired away. He was close. So close. Your walls were milking him.

"Fuck". Kayce grunted, his head fell to your chest as he came. His hot seed covered your walls. You wrapped your arms around him and held him as both your orgasms exhausted both of you. You laid there until he went soft and he pulled out of you. Getting under the covers, Kayce pulled you into his arms with a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

"I'm truly sorry that I always let my jealousy get in the way of our relationship. I'm going to work on that. Because I know you would never cheat on me". Kayce said as he cuddled you in more.

"I would never cheat on you, ever. Especially after that. Holy fuck that was amazing. You definitely out did yourself there Mr. Dutton". You giggled, moving a piece of hair from his face.

Kayce chuckled. "You'll have my sister to thank for that. She told me what you wanted".

"So you did talk to Beth and found out that I'm a good girl". You teased.

"I know that's a lie. But I know that you want me and I want you. I was just being bullheaded. I'm sorry".

"I forgive you. Now". You cleared your throat. "How bad are your ribs hurting"?

"Not to bad. Why"? Kayce eyed you.

"I want a ride again, cowboy". You pushed him on his back and climbed aboard the Kayce train. You were never getting off no matter how jealous Kayce was or how angry you were about it. You both loved each other and that wasn't going to change.

#kayce dutton fanfiction #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton #Kayce Dutton imagine #kayce dutton smut #yellowstone fanfiction #yellowstone smut #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone #Yellowstone tv #beth dutton #happys-crazy-queen22

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luvvewan · 3 years

Note

promptsssssss!!!

13: “Just listen to the sound of my voice.” 🥺🙏❤️

Thank you for the prompt, @sanerontheinside ! I went full Obi-whump, so I hope you like it.

—

The healer crouched at the edge of the bunk and took Obi-Wan’s bare feet in his hands.

Obi-Wan cried out, trying to pull away from the touch, twisting in the blankets.

“Caht, nah.” The elderly man, Hagit, said softly. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Numo.”

Qui-Gon had garnered only a handful of words in the native tongue, but he didn’t need to know what the healer said; he could see it in his eyes. Pity. For Obi-Wan, yes. But also for him? Fear lodged in his throat.

“Evvi, eh. Uh…here. Boy…numo.” Hagit motioned to Obi-Wan’s foot.

“Keep him still, Master Jedi, please.” Evvi, their young interpreter and Hagit’s grand-niece, translated. “He sees the spine in the left heel.”

Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder and turned away, leaning over his insensate student. Obi-Wan’s face was covered in sweat, eyes half-lidded, lips cracked and quivering. His Learner’s braid had plastered itself to Obi-Wan’s pale neck and chest. Qui-Gon smoothed it carefully between his fingers. “You are doing very well, Padawan. Just stay still. I know it’s difficult but you must not move,” he used a gentle voice better suited for younglings, despite the fact Obi-Wan was twenty three years old and a newly senior apprentice.

He watched Obi-Wan try to look at him, but another wave of pain erupted through their connection in the Force, and his eyes rolled back. Qui-Gon absorbed what he could, wanting to take it all, though even the echoes of Obi-Wan’s agony were enough to make him briefly light-headed.

He noticed Hagit was speaking again, a distant noise. Evvi said something back to him, then Qui-Gon heard several small, hesitant steps. A hand touched his arm.

“I’m sorry, Master Jedi. Removal is very painful and delicate. He does not want the spine to break apart while still in the foot. It will release more poison.” Evvi explained. “Can you hold him down?”

Obi-Wan was more powerful than his small frame would suggest. The pain and delirium made him combative, and when Qui-Gon gripped his arms he thrashed and snarled. He had never seen Obi-Wan, obedient and self-possessed Obi-Wan, untethered this way. Fingernails raked down his forearm, tore at his robe sleeves.

Sedation was not possible. The medical supplies were limited anyway. They were lucky to have Hagit, who was old enough to remember when the stone-fish were plentiful, before a plague wiped them out. Now it was exceedingly rare to catch a stone-fish on the shore, due to both its near-extinction and impressive camouflage. Obi-Wan had accompanied some of the village’s children to the water, or really they had accompanied him, starry-eyed at the presence of an offworlder, a Jedi. He had been stepping along a path of craggy rocks leading to the ocean when his foot landed on a stone-fish, its spiny, algae-crusted body hidden amongst the rocks and sand.

The pain had been immediate. The children had run, screaming, for help. By the time Qui-Gon found him, Obi-Wan was screaming too.

Other villagers had come. Among them was Hagit, helped along by Evvi at his elbow, his grey eyes milky and grave. Obi-Wan was administered a general anti-venom there on the beach, already overwhelmed by the agony that radiated from his foot through his entire body.

Evvi had told Qui-Gon the poison was brutal and quick. It was not always fatal, but it triggered something nearly as cruel: most victims were gripped by an unbearable sense of dread, demanding to be killed before the poison could fully take them.

From his admittedly foggy calculations, it had been close to an hour since Obi-Wan was attacked. Qui-Gon’s stomach lurched. He did not look behind him, where he knew Hagit was hovering at the wound site, arthritic hands shaking, preparing to perform a task of great precision.

“Still, Master Jedi. He must be still.”

He brought the Force to bear down on his Padawan while using his own brute strength to pin Obi-Wan’s wrists back onto the bunk. Obi-Wan whimpered and moaned, whipping his head to the side. Tears streamed freely down his face, snot and sweat dripping from his nose.

“Help!” He kicked his legs, trying to free himself from the healer’s grasp.

Hagit made a sharp noise under his breath, likely a swear.

“Obi-Wan, listen to me! We’re trying to help you!” He barked hoarsely, wiping sweat from his own brow before straddling his Padawan and laying over top of him, using his weight to hold him down. Their heads were pressed together and Obi-Wan wept and keened in his ear.

Qui-Gon’s heart found new ways to break. The Force was overrun with panic and hopelessness. Obi-Wan twitched and fought under him, desperate to get freed. Qui-Gon tried to use a sleep suggestion but his Padawan’s aura was clouded, elusive.

And time was draining away. He imagined the spine lodged in Obi-Wan’s tender heel, the poison seeping into his blood and causing more damage. “Just…breathe with me, Padawan, alright? There is no pain, there is the Force.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan whimpered.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. “Leave it to me, then. Trust in me, young one. Whatever else is happening…it doesn’t matter. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

He knew it was a risk, to appeal to the dutiful instinct in Obi-Wan that very well might be overridden by poison-fueled anxiety. But what else could he do? Hold his delirious student down with every last bit of strength he possessed, and possibly break his bones in the process?

Obi-Wan bucked against him, sniffling and gasping. “It won’t stop it won’t stop oh gods…”

“Shhh,” Qui-Gon smoothed his damp hair. “You are so far away from that, aren’t you? Safe with me. Safe and very tired. Only you and only me, far away.”

Nerveless fingers clutched at him. “M-Make it stop make it stop I can’t—“

“Of course I will. Hold onto me and keep your legs very still. You can do that, I know you can. Put your arms around me and hold on, as tight as you can.” Qui-Gon blinked back the sweat pouring into his eyes, body vibrating with hope and dread as Obi-Wan slowly obeyed. “That’s it. Now I want you to keep the rest of your body very, very still, Padawan. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan heaved an exhausted sob, but nodded. His arms gripped around Qui-Gon’s back while his legs gradually relaxed on the bunk.

Hagit murmured to himself. Evvi touched Qui-Gon’s leg.

In the stuffy little room, everyone tacitly understood what would happen next.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan begin to tense. “Far away,” he continued, as if there had been no interruption. “We can go anywhere, can’t we? We’ve been to so many places together.”

“Nuh, Evvi.”

“Uncle says now, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and released his fear to the Force. “Where do you want to go, Obi-Wan? I remember you enjoying Alderaan, with all the beautiful trees. The people there were so kind, weren’t they?” He did his best not to think of the fragile procedure happening inches away. His muscles shook, ready to react if necessary. He knew once Hagit began removing the spine it could not be halted. “I can’t remember…did we visit in the summer or winter?”

Obi-Wan was holding onto him for dear life, strangled moans catching in his throat.

My brave boy, Qui-Gon thought to himself. The pain was unreal. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what it felt like for Obi-Wan.

“Kill me Master Master oh Force I can’t…”

Qui-Gon squeezed him close. He thought of what Evvi had said--the poor victims who begged for death. He had not thought Obi-Wan would reach that point. But even the Force could not insulate the young man from such all-encompassing agony.

Obi-Wan wept openly against Qui-Gon’s neck. “Master, Qui-Gon...it’s moving..what….what is it doing..?”

“Don’t move,” Qui-Gon warned. “Do you want to go to Alderaan? Or someplace else? Someplace warm?”

They had just finished an extended mission on a frigid planet, yet Obi-Wan shook his head. “N-No deserts.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan sunburned easily, returning from desert assignments with pink cheeks and ears. “Of course not. No, someplace cool enough to sleep out under the stars. Kodasta, perhaps? Remember how the stars seemed so close, as if we could nearly touch them?”

Obi-Wan clutched at the robe on Qui-Gon’s back. “Y-Yes…ahhh…”

“What was the constellation you saw? I can’t remember. It was quite rare, wasn’t it? I’m never any good at that but you spotted it right away. What was it called?”

“…Th-The El…usive Mage.”

“Oh yes. That was it.”

Obi-Wan moaned into Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

Qui-Gon held him steady. The pain was beyond excruciating and Qui-Gon could only feel the edge of it; Obi-Wan had long since given up any attempts at shielding from him. It was a testament to Obi-Wan’s endurance that he had not passed out.

“Nearly done,” Evvi said.

Thank the Force. “You’re doing so well, Padawan,” Qui-Gon praised him quietly. “Keep right here with me, can you see the Mage? Close your eyes and see if it’s there.”

“M-Master…”

“I know. But we are so far away from that, aren’t we? Among the stars on Kodasta. I see them when I close my eyes. Close your eyes and you’ll see them too. No, no, you can’t twitch like that. Squeeze me instead. That’s better. Now look for the Mage with me. Help me see it.”

“Ugh…” Obi-Wan groaned and panted. “Mmmmph…”

Qui-Gon could not let their progress unravel, not now. “Is it there, towards the left?”

For several strained seconds, Obi-Wan made harsh, pained sounds and struggled for breath. Then, finally: “Y-Yes. You have to…un…ah…unfocus your eyes to see. Look for the hat f-first.”

Qui-Gon smiled, blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes. “Ah, of course.”

“It’s out, Master Jedi.”

“I see it now, Obi-Wan. It’s beautiful.”

His Padawan sagged under him, unconscious.

—

Qui-Gon went to the shore and walked along the rock paths, fingers hooked in his belt. The stone-fish had been immediately killed, its remaining spines safely collected and the rest of it burned by a few of the villagers. Evvi told him some of the men searched the beach until dawn, out of caution.

They had not come across a single other stone-fish. Obi-Wan’s foot had apparently found the only specimen on the entire beach.

But then, Obi-Wan had always been blessed with a particular sort of luck.

He came to the place where Obi-Wan was stung. Specks of blood stained the rocks there. His instinct was to throw them into the ocean.

Instead, Qui-Gon left everything as it was, sea spray misting his cheeks as he turned back towards the village.

—

When he returned to the little cottage, Hagit was sitting at a sun-bleached wooden table in the kitchen. The red-tinged spine, still full of venom, was sealed in a plastibag and held loosely in his liver-spotted hands.

Hagit looked up at Qui-Gon. He was quite old, skin sagging and eyes permanently wet.

“Boy…yes.” Hagit nodded firmly at him.

Qui-Gon found it difficult to swallow. He bowed before the healer. “Graz-ta,” he said. Thank you.

—

Obi-Wan was curled up on the bunk. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him, his bandaged foot sticking out from the bottom. Though he had improved since the day before, his face still looked drained of its color.

Qui-Gon glanced around the quiet, dark room. He noticed Obi-Wan’s clothes and boots tucked under a chair. Evvi had done it, probably, but it was still a familiar sight, reminding him of how Obi-Wan tended to neatly fold his tunics, no matter where they found themselves. His heart tightened; he let it pass. He knew he would feel this way after such a close call. Small, tender things about Obi-Wan were going to strike him at odd times—he knew that, unfortunately, from experience.

Like the way he would hold his braid between his fingers when he slept. Qui-Gon could not recall Feemor or Xanatos ever doing that.

He sat on the bunk beside Obi-Wan and listened to the quaint sounds of life beyond the door. He appreciated the borrowed sense of domesticity that came with staying in family houses: home cooking, careworn sheets, a calmness and mildness in the Force. He wished they could stay here until Obi-Wan fully recovered from his ordeal, but the Council had already sent them their next assignment.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers against Obi-Wan’s forehead. Glassy grey eyes fluttered open.

“Only a slight fever now,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan kept his braid laced between his fingers. He looked swallowed up by the thick weave of the blanket and the night shirt that was several sizes too big. Or was it simply the absence of Jedi trappings that made it more obvious that he was young, human and fragile? “Well,” he croaked, voice ruined from prolonged screaming followed by prolonged silence, “I didn’t die.”

Qui-Gon tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward huff. He touched Obi-Wan’s cheek. “No. You seem very much alive to me.”

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes already drifting closed. “I didn’t sense it. The…ah…thing.”

“Neither did I,” Qui-Gon admitted, gazing out the window above Obi-Wan’s head. The villagers had searched the beach, but who could search all of the sea? He began to think of other dangers on other worlds, the unnamed masses of threats that awaited Obi-Wan in his life, on their next mission, even tomorrow. “If we could sense everything, our lives would be much easier.”

“Mmmhmmm. Less interesting?”

“I’m slipping. You’re guessing my lessons before I can give them.”

“Mm, but I can…always sense you, Master.” Obi-Wan mumbled. He would be asleep soon.

Qui-Gon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “May the Force be with you, my Padawan.”

—

They rarely dreamed together, but that night they did, climbing through constellations in the dark sky, safely above the sea.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #qui-gon #writing prompts #obi wan and qui gon #obi wan whump #luvewan fanfic

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance, Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Sing To Me AU

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