tomboyfangirl28-blog

Latest Posts by tomboyfangirl28-blog

Corrupt Idol, Dinah Harper

Violent Hearts Masterlist

Emperor Geta x reader

Used as a pawn in your father’s games, you are sent to Rome as a plaything for the Emperors to do with as they please.

One despises your very existence.

The other seems intrigued. But what exactly does he see when he looks at you?

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI (coming soon)

CRIMSON PEAK (2015) dir. Guillermo Del Toro

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE dir. Shawn Levy (2024)

omg pls a hugh x reader where y/n and blake spends more time together then they did with their husbands pls

my wife’s wife | hugh jackman

an: HUGH JACKMAN PLAY WOLVERINE AGAIN AND MY LIFE IS YOURS (also i’m making this part of the marvel actress!reader universe that is currently being written lol)

It had been exactly two weeks since the release of Deadpool & Wolverine. Hugh was back home with you and your three kids. Even though the press tour was done and yours and Blake’s husbands were back home, you two still texted and hung out as if they were gone.

Hugh didn’t notice it until Ryan had texted him asking if your family was coming over to his house. You never mentioned anything about a trip to the Reynolds household.

“Oh no, hun, it’s just me. Blake invited me over. I gotta go, bye!” You kissed Hugh real quick before walking out the front door.

It became a regular thing since both families lived in New York. You and Blake had your whole schedule sorted out. Mondays were for Pilates, tuesdays were for shopping in manhattan and so on. Sometimes the kids were involved, mostly Blake’s since your two boys were in their early twenties and your only daughter wanted to be with her friends.

“Is my wife at your house?” Hugh asked Ryan over the phone. It was a late afternoon on Friday when Hugh noticed his wife was missing.

Before Ryan could respond, Hugh heard your loud laugh along with Blake’s. “They’ve been wine drunk for years, I am not joking. By the way, this is not how I pictured my marriage going. I thought Blake would leave me for Gosling, not your wife. I think they’re secretly plotting my murder so they can run away to some island and live together with our kids.”

“All thanks to us.” Hugh laughed.

“I’m coming over to yours. I don’t feel safe here.”

— tooth and nail

wolverine/logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE dir. Shawn Levy (2024)

Polynesian Kiss - A Max Phillips One Shot

Summary: It’s that time of the month, and your period cramps force you to call in sick at work, but Max is only too keen to help you feel better. Isn’t he such a nice boss? And vampires get a bad rep, tsk, tsk…

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 4.8k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.” 

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.  

Warnings/Triggers: - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/blood/menstration kink/sex whilst menstrating/oral F receiving/fingering/anal play/general vampire noms/Max is just a bloodsucking bastard and we love him for it.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.  

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: After rewatching Bloodsucking Bastards again, this abomination came to me. I make no apologies for it. If you’re currently suffering through your monthly woes, I feel you. Hold strong, besties. 

MAIN MASTERLIST | MAX PHILLPS MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

“Hey, hotshot. How’s my best PA?” 

“Max. I’m your only PA. You ate the others.” You titter with a wry smirk to him with the phone pressed to your ear.

“Guilty, as charged.” He chuckles down the phone, and it’s like you can see that razor sharp gleam as it spreads across his lips reflecting at you here, like a dazzling mirror shard that blinds as deep as it lacerates.

“Are you in the office?” You query knowing he’s a stickler for early starts, seeing as he doesn't sleep himself, but there’s a foreign commotion you can hear around him in the background. 

“En route. Getting my caffeine fix. You want me to pick you up a ‘chino? Extra cream, right? My treat.” He grins down the line and it leaves prickles flooding over your skin. “Ooh, they’ve got those cinnamon swirls I like. Scandalous.” He snorts deliciously around a moan and you feel it steam between your thighs.

“No. Uh, thank you. Listen. I’m not coming in today,” you begin intrepidly.

“Oh no. We’ve got the final audit to prepare for, was counting on ya slugger… Six shots please, and a cinnamon swirl. No, make it two swirls. Fuck it. I’ll go to Pilates this week.” He merges fluidly in between conversations with you and the drive-thru window.

“Although, I already know we’ve smashed it.” Max snickers with a husky breath to you. "The stats are off the fucking wall!" He sounds as excited as a little boy who has just discovered his penis for the first time.

“So modest.” You smirk.

“Hey, my management is style is highly effective. You’ve seen the results.”  

You smile faintly. “Mmhm. Nothing like the constant threat of imminent death to drive success...”

“You better believe it, honey. No, you have a nice day, champ.” You hear the sound of his electric window winding up and can imagine those hands of his bound tightly in his black leather gloves, so the sun doesn't penetrate his skin, as he reaches out through the dark window just rolled down enough for him to take his coffee order.

Driving with Max is like driving in the pitch dark constantly. Blacked out windows and the air conditioning blasting ferociously in the summer heat making his Mustang feel like an unrelenting ice box.

“What’s up, beautiful? You’re sounding verklempt.” His tone is serious now, concerned even over the masculine power roar of his engine, and it makes you melt.

“I’m uh… Not feeling too great.” You sigh, wrapping your arm around your stomach as another cramp rips through your womb. 

“Oh.” You can almost hear him pout. “You got the flu or something?”

“No.” You state toneless.

“Has it happened?” His voice is lower and it sends shivers down your spine alerting your nipples to wake up into stiff, aching peaks in subjugation. 

You nod even though he can’t see. “Yeah.” You whisper.

“You’re early this month.” his voice is but a low din, a growl even.

“I am?” You question, perplexed.

“Yeah. By two days.” You hear him suck in a deep breath and then click his lips. He keeps track of it better than you do. “Okay then. Get prepared. Rest. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

"Max, your meetings-" You don't have time to finish your limp protest.

"I said, I'll be there as soon as I can." He snarls darkly before making a kissy noise down the line. 

You hear the phone hang up before you can argue again at how his diary today is simply too full, but he’s gone and you put yours down on the table in front of you. 

You sit back, folding your arms tightly over your abdomen and sigh out waiting, your heels thudding against the floor occasionally; some automatic anxious reaction that originated from somewhere in your childhood no doubt.

A bit like biting your nails down to the skin until they're sore and tight, or shaking your knee incessantly without realising until someone yells at you to stop fucking doing that!

The first few times it had happened, it had been unpredictable - he was unpredictable.

A volatile mess that scared you the first time he was alone with you in his office; his voice leaving gnarly claws to protrude through the walls to come and get you.

Max Phillips was unlike any other man - any other boss - you’d ever known, although he wasn’t a man, not really.

There was a haunting aura about him, a distinct eeriness that hung off of his Peter Pan-esque shadow that laughed on its own, and you scoffed at first when he’d suggested it. Like it was a joke of some kind; a disgusting, unhygienic joke.

Max didn't laugh, however. He was deadly serious. Emphasis on the deadly.

But then he’d tapped into your curiosity with those wandering brown eyes and hypnotic smirks around pearly canines that had a knack of making you feel like you could walk on cotton candy clouds.

He had mutated any trepidation you'd had until you’d agreed, nodding like a puppet, and you were certain at that point there probably wasn’t anything you wouldn’t agree to where Max was concerned.

He was fucking beautiful and yet under it all, somewhat inherently terrifying.

And it turned you on so much. God, it was fucking unrelenting the way the tops of your thights now constantly stuck themselves together with your slick.

You had sensed it about him, unsure exactly what it was - what he was entirely. That dominant, toxic swagger about him, amped up on fuckboi steroids, that would cause carnage in the office, and you could never put your finger on it. The unusually high turnover of staff, the lingering stench of copper on his breath. The fact the blinds were always drawn and the air conditioning was always on, to the point you could see your breath.

You never spoke about it, none of you. Until the time he tore up the office and replaced all the bone idle employees with the walking undead and then it made perfect sense; he was a vampire, d’uh.

He said you could trust him though. He said he wouldn’t turn you, unless you wanted it - you didn't - and you believed him. He had been true to his word; he hadn’t hurt you at all - not without your express consent for him to take a little nibble on your jugular now and again anyway.

He liked it when you repelled him, made him work harder for it. Fuck, it made him so hard in his tight suit pants when you did that. Strutting around the office in your short skirts and barely-there blouses just to make him see red and chew on his tie.

He’d promoted you, although it was more of a candid expectation seeing as he’d picked his teeth clean with your predecessors.

You did in fact trust him enough to invite him into your home and let him roam unbidden and free inside it and do all those things to you that made your toes curl in the deliciously right way.

Fuck buddies with your boss. Or was it blood brothers now?

You couldn’t help but become enthralled by his spooky enthrall somewhat more and more, and was now resorting to adding this monthly rendezvous to your clandestine proclivities with him as though you had completely lost your sanity, and perhaps you had.

Max was always sharp and concise, straight to the point and no funny nonsense, ma’am. Unless you count him fucking you, bent over his desk, whilst you attempt to type up the meeting minutes as anything but serious.

He could talk his way into anything, including your cunt on a regular turn.

Somewhere inside, it made you shiver. Like something wicked and disgusting was unfurling and leaving those sharp nails to rake down your spine that make you feel sick and giddy in wanton anticipation.

It had to be something that was shameful, immoral; taboo, and yet you willingly engaged in it. You wanted it, craved it as much as he did it seemed.

You just craved him.

You take in a deep breath, the cramping that was present since it had begun in the early hours is deep and twisting in your gut, seeming to increase in its ferocity - it’s like it knows and is getting itself into an excitable tizz. 

You get up and make your way upstairs ready to prepare, clutching your stomach as you go. 

You run the shower in the bathroom; he likes you to be clean. Or as clean as you can be at this time of the month anyway before he dirties you up again.

Day one is always the worst - the heaviest and most painful - but the absolute best time for Max; the most important day where the blood is fresh and plentiful - when you are incredibly ripe for the plucking sweetheart, as he once put it.  

You climb into the shower, washing your hair and body with fruity scents that would make his mouth salivate, and the hot, inviting water starts to soothe the incessant pang pulling inside your uterus. 

There was no pain killer; Max had said it made the blood taste weird so you refrained from taking any. It would barely scrape the sides anyhow. No, the only thing that could tame it completely was him. 

But at this point, after the hot water subsides, the cramps increase in their veracity. A period is the equivalent of a heavy kick in the balls to a man.

No, make that several hundred kicks in the balls, then stamping on them relentlessly.

Or, imagine someone has taken a sledge hammer to them instead; just whacking the shit out of them tirelessly.

Yeah? Well, period pain is fucking worse, buddy.

Feels like someone is twisting your insides without a let up, and then pulling them apart slowly just to spite you. Some women would tell you that child labour hurts less than menstrual cramps.

They would be fucking right about that. 

I think my vagina hates me. I’m not sure what I did to piss her off…

You groan out as another cramp thunders through your core. You look down to see red spots making marble spirals around your feet in the suds, like inkblots being diluted in the water as they swill down the drain. It’s kinda pretty in an abstract way, as you’re mesmerised by those budding tulips for a while. 

You clench internally at what is to come and once out of the shower, dried and dressed in a robe and a clean pair of white cotton panties - without a tampon or towel as instructed by Max, thems the rules, baby - you brush through your hair after blow drying it and wait for him to come to you.

The waiting is the worst part.

You’re sure he’ll be there in the office frantically rearranging his diary, cancelling meetings for you as he gulps desperately at his strong coffee. It curbs the cravings, he'd said after you’d queried his collection of empty six-shot espresso cups collecting in a temple on his desk with a raised eyebrow.  

You gear yourself up to the point your pussy is already sopping and you're desperate to appease yourself with some release. But you never can bring yourself to, knowing that if you save it - save it all for him to have - it would be so much more sweeter. 

Thinking of Max makes your clit swell and throb, that tingle that teeters on the edge of pain and makes it uncomfortable and heavy inside your panties, but the moment he would touch you, it would be worth all the edging and gnawing pressure.

You can feel yourself getting wetter down there and knowing it isn’t just all the blood makes you smile sinisterly. 

When he finally arrives, he lets himself in. 

You could hear him pull up in his red Mustang and the creaky squeak of the door slamming shut after that deep roar of his engine was reduced to a dying purr.

Those quick scraping footsteps of his polished leather shoes against the gravel as he plays hopscotch with the shadows out of the direct sun.

The sound of him using the key you gave him to let himself into your apartment. Inviting the monster in to come and play with your guts and offals. 

You had to invite him in the first time. Laughing as he physically couldn't cross the threshold of your door without verbal invitation. Like there was an actual barrier there. Now, he comes and goes as he pleases.

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, you would wake to find him pawing at you; fangs and cock bared. He takes from you whenever he wants, and you always let him.

Goose bumps flood all over your body and tingles run tightly across your scalp in suspense. 

As he rounds the stairs up to your door, Max can smell you already and his gut rumbles as does his loins inside his tight, navy suit pants.

Once in your apartment, he pushes the door open to your bedroom to see you lying on the duvet with a towel spread underneath you, and you're wrapped up in a fluffy robe looking a little worn and tired despite flashing your effervescent smile for him. 

“Hey,” you beam at him and he shuts the bedroom door behind him with a gentle click.

He’s holding a small posy of flowers and it makes you smile that the vampire is a little bit of a sentimental doof under it all. 

He stands there watching you and keeps his distance for a few moments as you shuffle upright; a hot water bottle is revealed to him that's tucked inside the folds of your gown resting against your stomach to quell the pain.

“Are those for me?” You ask, as he puts them in the vase on your dresser, discarding the old ones that are slightly withered now into the trash can.

They are pink and bulbous and always a token of affection in thanks for what he is about to do to you. But you don’t see it as a quid pro quo at all. You want this just as much as he does. The peonies are just a pretty bonus.

Max nods at you and smiles thinly through his pink lips. 

“How you feeling, baby?” He queries. He loosens his tie and then slides it out from under the shirt collar completely and tucks it into his back pants pocket. 

“I’ve been better.” You say. 

“I can smell it.” He sighs, smirking. "Pungent. Mmm."

You nod slowly. “I know.”

“Show me.” He instructs, removing his suit jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves to reveal tan arms. An unusual trait for a vampire, you think. 

You remove the hot water bottle and plonk it on the floor by the bed and untie your gown, slipping it off over your shoulders. Puffy nipples that were embedded asleep inside your warm areolas greet him and he stares like a letch at them, licking his lips. 

You rest back on your elbows with your knees drawn up and he zones in on the damp, bloody patch that has seeped through your cotton panties peeking back at him between your ankles.

Incredibly exposed before him - the most intimate you could ever be with him - you're spread vulnerable and showing him exactly what he's after as you part your legs. The red patch is soaking into your panties like a flower slowly blooming and opening up just for him.

You pull your panties up by the waist band, using them as reins as you rub them against yourself, smearing it in further. He watches with a thick smirk as you moan and pant at the feel of them grazing against your engorged clit.

It feels fucking delicious.

“Take them off,” Max directs with a hiss between his teeth, lying his jacket down on the chair by your dresser after folding it neatly. 

You shimmy them down slowly and hold them out to him. His long, thick fingers snatch them from your hands and immediately they go to his nose.

He sniffs in deep and his eyes roll into the back of his head leaving just the whites, before he puts the crotch of them inside his mouth and sucks deeply against the damp, stained cotton. 

A desperate catch in the back of his throat he can all but choke on, sounds out of him like a wolf howling at the moon as he growls out in satisfaction.

The taste of your syrupy fluids and blood dancing over his tongue in a delightfully salty-chrome tango, is firing his synapses and setting his whole body alight.

He’s barely holding it together as you notice him visibly shaking.

“O-open your legs,” he growls menacingly through his mouthful, peering down at you and fighting to stave off his other face from making an appearance - his true face that he knows unnerves you. You do as he instructs, desperate to please your marauding boss.

You watch as he shudders more and sucks greedily at your panties, arousing you further as he stares at your glistening, ruby soaked cunt with eyes turning more jet by the second.

Max clocks the sanguine vision of you spread before him on the bed, making his mouth salivate and his fangs ache to protrude fully. He blinks away the red mist descending upon him and swallows through a now tightly constricted throat.

He puts the panties inside his jacket pocket for safekeeping and kneels on the end of the bed, crawling up it like an ominous spider creeping towards you.

"All for me," he purrs with a devilish grin.  

He runs his lips against your knee and up your thigh as he descends upon you. His teeth catch on your nipple making you gasp before his tongue soothes it with a wet pop out of his mouth.

He takes your wrists and pulls you down towards him, positioning you just right so you are lying fully supine now; the towel is still spread out underneath you, not that you’ll need it.

He’ll make sure to get every last drop of you.

“Come here, you.” He growls and cold mist is pouring out of his mouth onto your body. "Going to eat you the fuck up."

Max can smell it; see the glistening claret shine around your pussy lips sparkling at him, and that plumpy clit growing and swelling out of the hood of your skin desperate for a good lick.

Droplets of crimson fluid bead at your entrance and a couple had rolled down your skin towards your ass leaving a delicious track for him to devour.

It’s darker in colour around your sodden hole and the iron rich smell is driving him crazy, his jaw twitching and cracking. “There’s so much,” he says with keen appraisal. “Does it hurt?” 

Max runs his hand up your leg and rests it on your abdomen; his palm splayed across it like a giant starfish swamping your navel, and feeling the coolness emanate from it as it's absorbed into your skin makes you whine with need. 

His healing hand soothing you as he presses onto you a little with his weight and it's those small gestures like this from him that make it all better to endure through the pain somehow.

That make you believe you could mean something more to him than just being a walking, talking bloodbag.

You nod and bite your lip as his fingertips feel like they throb and burn on your skin’s surface despite their cold. 

“I’ll make it all better, baby.” Max assures. And you know he will - he always does. 

His dark, now almost fully black eyes, flick down to your sopping slit as he shifts, and he cranes his head forward a little, licking up the length of your seam slowly with a flat, pressed tongue.

The taste of you floods his taste buds and senses immediately like he’s just shot up.

You throw your head back taking in a deep, heavy hit of oxygen. The feel of his cool breath against you and the slither of his serpent tongue leave electric sparks flooding through your veins. 

"Mmm, Max..." You shiver and grin.

His hand is still on your stomach, thumb stoking in little circles below your belly button; his other reaching towards your centre where his long fingers are sliding and probing against the edges of your sodden slit.

Max runs his index finger along the fleshy ribbons of your folds that are dyed a deep, entrancing scarlet. He would go to push it inside your tasty well and then pull away, teasing you.

“Mmm,” you moan, your body squirming and flinching under him.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Max simmers, smirking.

He knows what he's doing when he winds your body up like this. With that darned smile he can get away with anything and you both fucking know it as it slithers across his face like a snake about to attack its prey ferociously. 

“Please,” you whine. "Don't tease me, not today."

“You’re so fucking cute when you’re needy.” He soothes and plants a little kiss just above your clit making you groan further in frustration. He pouts and makes his voice a little squeaky. "You like that, baby? Hmm? Like it when I tease your little, needy pussy like this?"

"Max, please!" You growl this time. "Just fucking eat me."

He snickers and pats onto your pussy before rubbing his fingers all in it, knocking against your hard clit through the squelches, and running the pads all over those fleshy, swollen lips. Finger painting inside the rich red that coats them making them shiny like latex, before putting them inside his gluttonous mouth.

Max groans out as he sucks and licks each of them clean, savouring the metallic taste and dipping in again and again before he presses his lips to your sex finally to feast. 

"Oh shit!" You simper.

You feel his tongue dart in and out in quick succession and the flesh on your legs dissolve. He removes his hand from your stomach and spreads your lips with his thumbs, opening you up for him and running his tongue in your wet slick, flicking back and forth across the hard nub of your spongy clit. 

“Fuck,” you whine seeing stars and feeling the heat simmering in your lower abdomen start to boil.

He sucks and gnaws on it; slurping loudly around it and pulling it between his pert lips before letting it go, sending your body erratic and writhing under his expert touch. 

“Max...” You groan out utterly beside yourself.

“Say my name, baby. Let me hear you.” Max coerces with a mirthy chuckle and suckles on it again, pinching his teeth around it and watching you lose your shit every time. 

“Oh fuck, Max!” You wail as your back arches and your pussy spasms. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Tastes so good,” he confirms. "Want to devour you," he grunts darkly at you. The skin on his face darken a little, his muscles and features changing shape; shadows becoming more prominent.

"Eat me all up?" You squeak, your fingers gripping tight around the duvet.

"Until there's nothing left of you." His voice changes; it's deeper, more throatier and you know the vampire within is awake and stirring now. "Gonna rip this cunt open!"

Your right thigh judders uncontrollably as he polishes that pearl with his tongue; flicking back and forth with acute speed and bringing your first come session of the day so easily.

Growling and grunting loudly as he feasts on you with unhurried abandon. His grip on your skin is harder and you can see the strain whitening his knuckles as he fights to hold back from fully vamping out.

"Oh fuck!" You keen, shaking and tensing.

He watches, his dark eyes flicking up as his mouth stays firmly clamped to your slit, as your breasts jiggle and your nipples are as hard as diamonds.

Your whole body jolts and jerks hard before you flatline under him when you can take no more. 

You’re stunned, smashed around the head with gold stars, and panting as your focus shifts back to his creeping shadow between your legs after being blind and boneless.

Your face is all red; nipples swollen as you come wildly in his plundering mouth.

You watch him with blown out pupils mouthing all over your pussy; clit pulsing under his thrashing tongue and ready for more as you feel it start to tighten and cinch again.

"Mm-maax!" You groan. It's so senitive, so plump and swollen. So... delicious.

Smirking, Max curls his middle two fingers into your soaked, scarlet entrance and laps up his reward; your blood, your come, smearing around his lips messily, like trying to apply lipstick on a rollercoaster.

He fucking loves it.

"You wanna come again?" He taunts darkly through a raspy smirk.

He hums out in satisfaction as he drinks more from you greedily, sticking his tongue in further and further to get more from that sodden inkpot that feels like it’s gushing constantly for him now.

He pushes your legs up by the backs of your thighs, opening you up and licking down your gooch towards that puckered urchin of your ass hole, where a lusty mix of his saliva, the blood and your pussy slick had dripped down it creating a wonderful cocktail that he would get drunk on happily, all day. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m having a reeeally good time.” He slurps menacingly. “So glad I cancelled that meeting with the Bordstein Group. Mmm, fuck.”

Your neck cricks up at him. "Wait. You cancelled it? They were hard bastards to pin down..." You whine as he laps against your ass hole and pushes the tip through your rim. "Oh, that's so good, Max. Oh Jesus..."

"You can re-arrange it. It's cool." He shrugs, his mouth full of you.

"You make it sound easy. Pete is a - oh fuck, yeessss - a-a busy man."

"Look, if he wants a collaboration, he'll make time." Max snorts. "You can sweet talk him, baby. Now shut up and give me another one." He smooshes you further into his mouth with a quick yank of your hips upward.

You yelp and chortle waspily as he dives back in. He runs his tongue around the sticky rim of your ass and slathers around it before sliding his index finger in as he works his mouth back towards your bloodied snatch, clamping around it once more as he drinks you down. 

He finger fucks your tight hole as he eats out your trembling cunt, and he can feel you clench around his finger as he invades your butt deeper. 

“Relax,” Max soothes you, his teeth stained pink and clamps right back onto that messy muff.

He slips in another wet finger and fills up your ass to the knuckles, sucking on your clit again.

“Oh fuck!” You flop down onto the pillow, getting a neck ache from craning to look at him and just succumb to the blooming feeling inside your ass, completely distracting you now from the cramps altogether. A wonderful placebo to occupy you as Max fucks you up sideways with that dangerous hot mouth of his. 

He smears his tongue around, mopping you up and getting as much of you as he can; sucking you dry and clean before he would dart into your pussy hole and tease out more that you had to offer. 

All the while he keeps his fingers inside your ass, curling and pumping as he watches your thighs tremble and pulsate around the sides of his head.

He marvels at how your body reacts to him without him having to use his enthrall; you submit to him wholly and he loves it.

With a gooey, slick smile, Max laps at your pussy hungrily again and again like a rabid dog as you start to come apart at the seams once more. 

“Oh God!” You call out, gripping hold of the duvet and pulling at it tightly as your body contorts and bucks against his face. You can feel another orgasm building and twisting your spine out of shape.

“God isn’t going to help you, sweetheart,” Max confirms before he chews on your clit once more and lets you explode again. "The Devil on the other hand..."

“Oh, I can’t, I can’t-” You’re quaking now, the pleasure doing an absolute number on you and he keeps his tongue on your sensitive clit. You can see flashes behind your eyelids; feel your body contort and pulse. “Maa-hax!”

“You can,” he encourages as he flicks across your nub hard with a fast, busy tongue. “Come in my mouth, baby. Give it all to me.”

And you do.

"AaaahhhohGodpleasepleaseMax!”

You arch your back, trying to get away from his mouth, the wonderful feeling becoming too much; you’re drowning, unable to breathe and so fucking dizzy, but he presses down on your stomach again holding you in place so you can’t scarper away.

"Oh fuuucck!"

He forces you to confront it, to accept it and drown in that tidal wave as it crashes over your head and pulls you under. Your ears are ringing and your toes are breaking.

“Fuck me, Max...” You plead, gasping and burning at him as you resurface. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you hard?” He replies, teasing you.

“Please, just cover your cock in me.” You gasp as he draws up and unzips his pants.

He pulls himself out, thick and hard and leaking pre-cum as he pumps a few times before lining himself up against you. He wastes no time in giving you what you crave. 

You grip onto him, his shirt twisting in your vice-like grip as he sinks his cock inside you and begins thrusting, hard, just like you want it.

He feels you squeezing around him almost immediately as he rips through you, sending you erratic and spiralling and coming so forcefully around his dick quickly, that your body goes rigid and shakes as though possessed.

“Yeah, like that!” He coos at you, growling. He bears his teeth, grunting as he power fucks into you. "There you go, baby. Love it when I destroy this pretty cunt, don't you?"

“Maa-hax, fu-uu-ck!” You cry out; your voice being battered out of your throat, releasing uncontrollably and panting wildly.

It’s so wet between your legs that every thrust squelches obscenely.

“What huh, you want me to stop? I don’t think you want that.” He growls. Once more his face shifts, his fangs are out fully now.

You shake your head, gasping hard through a dry throat. You grip onto him as his face lwers closer to yours, the vampire breaking through.

You whimper and squeak through your pants.

“You want me to stop?” Max prompts again as he eases his grip, slows his pace with smooth, deep strokes; another tempo just as easily fucking you up again.

You can feel him so deeply inside you as he drives his hips forward; his body crushing yours like a hydraulic press into the mattress.

You can see he's fighting to stay fully in control as his human face reappears from under the dark lines and brow ridges.

“No, don’t stop,” you choke as your body fizzes like fireworks. “Please… More.” You whine, losing your breath as he fucks it right out of your lungs until you can no longer form coherent words around your tongue and you’re left babbling.

“That’s right; you don’t want it to stop, do you? Such a fucking slut for my cock. Letting me fuck you whilst you're bleeding all over it." Max croons into your neck and you can feel his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin there. "So fucking nasty, baby."

Fisting through his hair, you grip him tight as his hips snap into yours with vigour. “Not even breaking out into a sweat.” Max taunts inside your ear. “I can keep this up all day. In fact, I think I just might.” 

“Oh God, fuck.” You mewl.

"Want to drink you again. Let me?" Max presses his tongue over that juicy vein in your neck.

"Yeah," you pant as he gathers your hair away from the side of your neck. "Not too much-"

"I know," he croons. "Just a drop or two. You can take it."

Sharp stings are felt on your throat as he tastes you there too, puncturing the skin and swallowing you down.

It’s a heady feeling as he drinks; the niggly pain soon dissipating and making you see bokeh stars behind your eyelids.

The pull is sumptuous, dreamy. Comforting as your eyes flutter shut and you sink into the serene peace his immortal kiss offers.

“Fucking delicious,” he smirks as he runs his mouth up the side of your cheek; his hot, blood stained breath left to condensate inside your ear canal.

Growling and rabid, Max pulls out and slides down your body and licks up your oozy slit again, tasting you and smearing the bloody and sticky pulp across his lips.

"You’re such a good little PA for me. You take it so well every time.” He praises, pushing his fingers into your pussy once more and rooting around inside of you. "Going to give you more, baby. I know you've got more for me. And I'm nowhere near full yet."

He strokes your cushiony insides that are sodden and plump and allow him to slide in and out with ease. You still feel tight and bound from your orgasms, but he's able to bring about another one that leaves you caterwauling for him again.

He’s the conductor and you his orchestra, making sweet music to his ears whilst he faps and eats you out and then some for hours, until the day is bleached away into the encroaching twilight outside.

His stamina destroys you, bruises your bones as he fucks you over and over until you think you’ll never be able to walk again. 

And when he eventually comes, with a deep throaty howl that seems to vibrate through the whole building and cracks your neighbour's window panes, spilling himself wholly inside of you, he sucks it all out with the blood and swallows it down, remaining rock hard until he does it all over again. And again. 

And a-fucking-gain. 

“Hmm... love this pussy,” Max confirms, suckling gently at your over-sensitive bud and you’re beside yourself with the intense rapture of it all. 

Boneless mush. A drooling mess. Crying and wailing for more, pumped full of sequinned delirium.

By the time he’s finished feasting on you, you’re utterly exhausted and barely able to keep your eyes open. 

Max spends time cleaning you up. Licking around your inner thighs and filling up on all the spots he might’ve missed.

Fawning, delicate. The vampire is fully satiated for now.

He walks over to your dresser, running his thumb around his lips to get the crust of the dried blood over them, and his once crisp, white shirt is now a pink stained mess, like an artist who has gone berserk with his paint pots.

He pulls out a pair of clean underwear and slides them up your legs and taps your ass gently, rousing your sleepy focus back to him. 

"B-12," he finger shoots at you and you nod over to the supplements on your dresser. He brings them, and a band-aid that he sticks over the bite marks on your neck, and gives it a gentle press in place.

"There, all better." He smirks darkly.

He then leans forward and kisses you on the lips. Max pushes those plumpy, blood stained lips of his onto your own and kisses you deeply, slowly.

He slides his tongue into your mouth and massages it delicately. You can taste the metallic remnants of yourself on him, taste your salty-sweet cunt all around his gums. 

“See why I can’t get enough of your taste, hmm?” He murmurs around your lips as you sample yourself on him with mounting fervour.

He’s right, you do taste good.

Max groans into your mouth as you clutch at the back of his head hungrily and wanting more, despite your battered body yelling at you to rest. He falters again, sliding forward on the bed and gripping you tightly into his body.

You can feel the bulge of his still solid cock poking you in the gut, and you reach down to give him a rub and a gentle squeeze before he removes your hand and strokes your fingers inside of his stained ones.

God, he's like walking viagra. Constantly fucking hard. Well, he is dead. Technically the term is rigor-mortis... 

“The things I still want to do to you..." he utters with a low grunt. "But you need sleep.” He purrs gently, smoothing down your frayed hair.

“Stay,” you whimper as he pulls away.

“Can’t tonight, baby. Got lots to catch up on. You’ve kept me busy all day. Going to have to pull an all-nighter.”

“Oops.” You smile dreamily at him.

“Oops.” Max remarks with a dangerous grin. “You think you’ll be in tomorrow? Could really use your support with the audit.”

You nod. “I’m feeling better already.” 

“Good.” He smiles and kisses you once more. “Rest up. Tomorrow I’m going to fuck you in the supply closet from eleven til half-twelve. I'll send you a meeting invite.” He smirks as he pulls down and buttons his cuffs.

The noise that comes out of you in response makes him chuckle darkly.

Holy fuck… 

Max pulls away from you, slipping out of your grip, leaving you to settle on the bed as he gathers his jacket. He pulls your bloodied panties out and gives them a sniff as he winks at you.

You can only imagine what he's going to do with them later.

He leaves the bedroom and you hear him let himself out. 

You collapse back on the bed, somewhat bereft, hearing his car start up with that familiar deep roar.

It fades away down the street and takes any sense of conscious thought you have with him. 

Rolling over and reaching for the B-12, you sigh out with a satiated smile and close your eyes thinking about the supply closest.

And the amount of times your freakishly insatiable boss, Max, has fucked you up in there already.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this Max Phillips story of mine. Just love a bit of hungry, gnarly Max, don't you? If you enjoyed what you just read, please consider re-blogging. Thank you so much! 🖤🩸

MAIN MASTERLIST | MAX PHILLIPS MASTERLIST

Teach Me Tonight

Lesson One: Kissing

Javier Peña x F!DEA!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Javier both have things to talk about when he visits her apartment one night with a bottle of whiskey. Y/N tells her partner about her crush on Brad from the CIA and ends up revealing that she is a virgin who has barely been kissed. Javier has his own thing to confess but she derails their talk when she asks Javier to educate her on all things sex and seduction so she can impress Brad.

Warning: Smut (in later chapters) but for this one: swearing, smuttish.

A/N: Of course I had to start another series! I just can’t help myself. I doubt this will be everyone’s cup of tea but I really appreciate any feedback you guys have and if you like it. Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

Fic song: Teach Me Tonight by Dinah Washington

Masterlist

Gif credit: @damerondjarin​

Javier knocks on your front door, shifting from foot to foot while he waits for you to answer and impatience tugs at his nerves.

“Hey” you lean against the wall next to front door of your apartment, smiling softly at Javier who is holding up a bottle of whiskey and his heart flutters a little at your surprised expression.

“Can I come in?” his eyes flicker past you to check and make sure you are alone until you nod, pushing off the wall and walking into your small apartment.

“Quiet night?” you inquire when he sets the whiskey down on your kitchen counter and shrugs. His short sleeved shirt is wrinkled and the top three buttons are undone, his hair is mussed and you wonder what he has been stressing about.

“I was just looking through the new files and needed a break” he explains and you open your cupboard, looking for a couple of glasses. His dark eyes flicker down to the sliver of skin that is exposed from your reach and he can’t look away from the soft-looking skin.

“I’m surprised you aren’t seeing Freckles or Vanessa tonight” you tease and he swallows, watching you pour the whiskey out before adding a couple of ice cubes to each glass.

“Not tonight” he mumbles, picking up the tumbler.

“Cheers” you tilt your glass towards him and he clinks your glasses together, the smokey booze slides down his throat but it doesn’t burn in the way he prefers.

He swirls the liquid around the glass and ponders how to tell you why he has been so on edge. He opens his mouth but you interrupt him, guiding him over to the couch.

“So the case files…did you find anything at all? Steve was getting antsy this morning and he’s been such an asshole lately…Olivia must still be keeping them up at night” you sigh, sipping the alcohol after you tuck your legs beneath you.

Javier watches your eyes roll and chuckles at your annoyed expression because of your partner, “yeah he’s been a real dick” 

“Whereas you are always an asshole so I know what to expect when I come in to work” you smirk, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

“Sure sweetheart” Javier scoffs, swinging his arm over the back of your couch, “because you are a dream to work with before you have had any caffeine” 

You reach out and swat his chest but he catches your hand before you can make contact, “hey!” you cry.

He grins and snorts at your childish scowl, releasing your hand reluctantly.

“I, uh, have something to talk to you about” he swishes the amber liquid in the cheap glass, the ice cubes clinking together.

“I have something to talk to you about too” you shift and set your drink down on your scratched coffee table; it was something you had picked up in a local market and you called Javier from a pay phone to ask him to come help you take it home in his Jeep.

Javier pauses, wondering what you need to speak to him about. He fears the worst and worries you had figured it all out and are going to call him out on his bullshit. He watches you with weary eyes and nods, “you go first chica”

Keep reading

The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 2

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javier is 40 and reader is 27), talks of baby loss, talks of pregnancy, angst, cheating, mentions of cancer, mentions of death.

Rating: +18 (not explicit)

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter 1 / Masterlist

A/N: here you go guys!! Second chapter is up!! I'm feeling so much better from my stupid cold. I would like to keep a schedule with posting, my goal is to post at least one new chapter every week but I had a cornea transplant less than 5 months ago (I still have 14 stitches on my right eye) so sometimes I need to rest my eye from screen time or the pain sometimes gets too bad and I need to rest in general, so I don't know if I'll be able to meet my goal every week, sorry in advance. I hope you guys like this new chapter!! <3 <3

Divider by @saradika

Javier wipes the sweat of his hands on the front of his jeans for the fourth time in the last hour since he started getting ready to go to Maria´s house, he looks at his reflection on the mirror, he can feel fear engulf his body, fear of disappointing Maria, he wasn't the same man he was when he left for Colombia. That day…

His mom, Alma, had been diagnosed with lung cancer four months before it happened, when Lorraine had told him that she was pregnant, he was shit scared, how could he be a father? He didn't know anything about being one, he was only 27, he assumed that he had at least 5 or 6 years more before even thinking about having a family of his own.

He didn't hesitate to get on one knee and proposed to Lorraine, part of him was happy that his mom would be able to meet at least one of her grandchildren; the doctors had already prepare them for the worst, the cancer was very aggressive, and even if his mom was still young, only 44, they had detected it very late.

The night before the wedding Lorraine showed up at his parents ranch, crying her heart out. They were sleeping in different houses since it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding. He got really worried, he didn't believe in that tradition, she had been the one very keen in doing it so it was already rare that she had showed up there unannounced but even more that she showed up crying.

“Lor? What happened?” he had been sitting on the front porch when she appeared, he got up from his seat quickly and headed to her putting his hands on her cheeks “What is it Lor? Is the baby okay?” he asked her with so much worry in his voice.

Lorraine only kept saying sorry and shaking her head no again and again. “Please baby, tell me what is happening, are you hurt?” he pleaded her.

“I'm sorry Javi… I'm so sorry… There´s no baby…” she said, not able to meet his gaze.

“What? Baby…” he could feel tears in his eyes already, he thought that she had lost it, he never would've thought that she had done what she did. He tries to make her look at him ¡. “Baby…Lor, look at me. Baby it's not your fault, we need to take you-” he was interrupted by her.

“No, Javi… There's no baby, there never has been a baby…” she took a step away from him, feeling shame in what she had done.

“What? Lorraine, this is not funny… Stop it” that was the only possibility in his head, she must have been pranking him, she would never hurt him this way, she loved him, right?

“I'm so sorry Javi, baby…” she tried to reach for him now but he didn't say anything and just walked inside without a word.

The next morning no one could find Javier, until his mom saw a little note on the kitchen table where he had written that he had accepted the job with the DEA in Colombia that the rest could be explained by Lorraine.

You were only 14 when you were sat down by your mom and Alma and got the news about her sickness, that was your first heartbreak, but definitely not your last. You loved Alma like a second mother, she was there when you said your first words, she had been the one encouraging you when you took your first steps… You couldn't imagine a life and a world without her, without her smile or her kindness… No, it had to be a mistake, the doctors mixed up some papers and they gave her the diagnosis of someone else, she couldn't leave you…

When Javier left, you weren't given the real reason from the adults around you, they told you that he and Lorraine weren't together anymore and he had to go work in Colombia, that was it. Obviously, living in a place like Laredo you heard the truth very soon, and felt heartbroken all over again for him, as big as your crush for him was, when you saw how excited he was when he talked about anything related with the baby in the weekly dinners your families shared, it filled your heart to see him just happy, so you couldn't understand how Lorraine had been able to break him like that, she said that he loved him and wanted to spend her entire life with him but then do that? How can you be so cruel to someone that you supposedly love?

A year later from Javier´s move to Colombia, Alma passed away, you only remember crying for three days straight without even sleeping. You remember your mom telling you that “Javiercito is coming for the funeral, he'll be here tomorrow morning”, then the next thing you remember is been dressed in all black, that made you think that Alma would´ve hate it, then not been able to see the casket through the tears and the last thing you remember of that day was how Javier had put his arms around you, caressing your hair and telling you how much Alma loved you and that would never leave you. It never did, you could feel her love everyday, in little things like the chirping of the birds outside, the warm sun, the little desserts you would bake with her recipes, etc…

That was the last time you saw Javier, when you were 15 and crying for the biggest lost in your life.

He parks his truck on Maria´s driveway and gets out with a nervous sigh. After he knocks on the door twice, you open the door with a big smile, fuck, he thought you wouldn't be here. He didn't have a problem with you being here, on the contrary, he was very happy when he saw you the other day, it had been way too long without seeing you. But the problem was that you had grown up… And fuck, did the years had treat you amanzingly. You were a full on woman now, and he didn't like that, because it made his body feel things that it shouldn't. If Maria or his own father could read what had gone through his mind since he first saw you a few days ago, he would definitely be six feet under.

“Hey! You're here!” you say with that big smile on your face. He doesn't say anything, just nods and gives you a tight smile back.

“Come in!” you move a little to give him enough space to come inside. “Mom is still cooking what must be her twentieth dish” you chuckle. He slips inside but you hadn't anticipated how broad his shoulders were so he bumps one of his shoulders into you.

“Oh, sorry” he apologizes and you can't help but feel a million goosebumps all over your body. “She shouldn't have trouble herself…”

You shake the feeling away, you weren't a stupid teenager anymore. “yeah, tell that to her” you smirk knowing he would never dare.

He walks to the kitchen with you behind, he remembers the way as if no time has passed, as if he hadn't gone through more than a decade without putting a foot in this house. When he makes it past the arch of the kitchen, he sees your mom, her back facing him, he can see the grey conquering her whole hair. For a moment he can almost see his own mom beside her cutting some vegetables.

Seeing his silence, you decide to clear your throat to make your presence known to your mom. She turns around starting a sentence that sounds like a question about who was at the door, but as soon as she sees Javier there, before her, her mouth shuts and she freezes. Knowing they'll need a moment, you walk around them to the stove to continue to stir whatever dish your mom is making now, so it doesn't burn while they catch up.

“Javiercito!” she almost screams, launching herself into him, a hand on the back of his head and the other arm across his back.

“Maria…” is all that he can get out of his mouth, apart from the biggest breath out that he has ever let out. He didn't even know that he was holding that breath for so long.

“Déjame verte bien mijo (Let me get a good look at you, my son)” she pulls away from him and pushes him a little back by the shoulders, then looks him up and down like she was examining that he isn´t missing anything.

“Ma, esta bien, no le agobies (Mom, he's fine, don't bother him)” you say from the stove, not even looking at them.

“¿Bien? (fine?) Have you seen him? Está demasiado delgado, gracias a dios que prepare suficiente comida. Siéntate, mijo. (He's too skinny, thank god i´ve prepare enough food. Sit, my son) I'll bring you some food right away” She says, patting his cheek and signaling with a hand to the kitchen table, then she goes back to the stove and replaces the place you were filling.

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief. “Do you want something to drink, Javi?” you ask him while opening the fridge to get a beer for yourself.

He talks again after feeling overwhelmed by the situation. “Sure, whatever you´re having” with that you pull out another beer for him and after uncapping them, you hand him one. “Thanks” he says, not meeting your eye.

You sit across from him on the kitchen table and take a sip of your own beer. Your mom puts a bowl of Pozole in front of each of you, and while you eat, she and Javier talk about a million things, how things around the house had been since your dad died, how you and her go to Chucho´s every now and then, how you help Chucho everytime the fruit trees need harvesting (which brings a blush to your cheeks when Javi asks if that's right and looks at you), and of course your mom starts to let Javi know about all the gossip he has missed in Laredo, which by his face, he couldn't care less to be honest but i guess your mom didn't want to pick that up. He just nods and hums while eating, while your mom tells him about how the girl from the Gonzalez´s was seen in the local theater every week casually talking and giggling with the guy working there; after a bit something pricks his ears, specifically when your name is mentioned.

“And you wouldn't believe all the commotion that it caused , pff, nos tuvimos que quedar en casa varios días antes de que ella se atreviera a enseñar la cara (we had to stay at home for a few days before she was brave enough to show her face)” she says while picking up both of your bowls to bring to the sink. You don't know where to hide in that moment, you couldn't believe your mom was telling him about that.

“Ma…” you say, trying to make her drop the subject. She obviously doesn't want to catch your desperation.

“What? Sorry i was lost in my head for a moment” he says not realizing that you don't want the subject to be brought up.

“Ay mijo, te estaba diciendo (i was telling you) about how she used to go out with the Lopez´s boy, Diego, and she heard from Doña Lucía about him and a girl, that no one knew, been seen in Jacinto´s ice cream shop, then she decided to confront him that same day, but she instead saw him and the girl on the town square just there,” she makes a dramatic gesture with her hands like she was physically pointing at them right there. “just sitting on a bench, muy acaramelados los muy sinvergüenzas (very lovey-dovey, those scoundrels). Doña Lucía told me that she just took the lemonade in the girl's hand and threw it to him, allí delante de todos, ¿tu te crees, mijo? (in front of everybody, can you believe it, my son?)” she shakes her head in almost disappointment.

“Well, if I'm honest with you Maria. Creo que le hizo poco, yo le hubiese dado un buen puño” you can see how his hands become fists, and his jaw becomes more tense. Javi feels a fire inside of him that he hasn't felt since he left Colombia, he already knows that if he crosses paths with Diego Lopez, he won't be exactly kind towards him.”Wait, he cheated and you had to hide at home?!” he asks, now looking at you.

“I didn't hide, she did” you say pointing towards your mom, who's washing the dishes, with your head. “I was just going through a breakup like a normal person” you shrug your shoulders to try to take some weight off of the conversation.

He nods, understanding now the situation. “Good, you shouldn't feel embarrassed, it's his loss” he huffs “He must be as stupid as he was when he was a kid” he says more to himself than to you, it makes you blush again.

“Javier Jesús Peña!!” your mom scolds him from the sink, turning her head towards him. Javi for a moment feels like a teenager again, being scolded by Maria and his mom for saying a bad word in the kitchen of Pena´s ranch while they make empanadas.

“What? No podes defender al desgraciado, hizo daño a nuestra vampirita (you can't defend that bastard, he hurted our little vampire” he chuckles sincerely now. You gasp at the mention of your old childhood nickname he gave you for being obsessed with the book Dracula when you were 9 years old.

“You don't want to play that game, Peña” you challenge him, squinting your eyes at him, but a little smile in your lips betrays your facade. He laughs with his whole belly now, throwing his head back. You decide right then that you like seeing him laugh sincerely a lot.

After some hours of more delicious food and banter, Javier informs you that he needs to go back to the ranch before his dad comes looking for him for leaving him all day alone with the chores.

You walk him to the door, his arms full of mountains of tupperware full of leftovers that your mom had insisted him to take for himself and Chucho.

You open the door for him since he has his hands occupied, those hands that you´ve been stealing glances to all day, you wonder how rough they would feel around your own hand, around your neck, around your- “Thanks for um… everything” he says interrupting your thread of thoughts.

“Don't mention it” you give him a shy smile, like he could´ve read what you had been thinking. Next thing you know, your mouth is working by it´s own mind, you ask without thinking.”Are you going to the barbecue at Doña Lucia's house this Sunday after church?” when you realize how eager your voice sounds about the prospect of seeing him again in less than two days you add “I believe she invited Chucho the other day, and i'm sure she did it in person with the sole purpose of having you at the barbecue and confirm the rumors of you being fully back home” you chuckle trying to play it cool, god you felt like you were 15 again, drooling for him.

His dad had told him about the gathering but he wasn't planning on going, but now, seeing the slight spark your eyes got when you asked him about his possible attendance, he couldn't think of a better plan for Sunday. “Yeah, my pops told me the other day. I take you´re going too?” you nod with doe eyes and he can't help his eyes for going down to where you tongue tips out of your mouth to wet your lower lip, he gulps and can feel a drop of sweat going down his spine; his mind wondering how you tongue and your lips might feel against his own, against his neck or his chest…

Your mom suddenly yells your name from inside the house. “Dani is calling you, mija!!” you both can hear her voice coming from the living room where the telephone is.

“Dila que voy ma!! (tell her i'll be right there mom!!)” you yell towards her, turning your head over your shoulder, then you turn towards Javi again. You guys keep looking into each other's eyes for what feels like a second and an eternity at the same time until you decide that if you don't stop it, your mom will come over and ruin the moment even more. “I'll see you on Sunday then?”

He nods and then does something that makes you melt into a puddle of water into the ground, he kisses your cheek and with a breathy and deep whisper wishes you a good day to then turn around and walk to his truck on the driveway. You can't help but to stay right there frozen with your heart going way too fast and an almost shocked expression, watching how he puts the leftovers on the passenger side then gets behind the wheel and drives away; it isn´t until your mom calls your name again that you defroze.

Next chapter

Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna walk to my ship, with the kid. And you’re gonna let it happen.

“Dance with me.”

Cal Kestis x reader

You convinced the crew to take a small break to attend a local festival for a much deserved downtime. Convincing a certain Jedi to dance with you is much harder, however. Or is it?

_____

„Dance with me.“

You had asked Cal to do a lot of crazy things. To explore unknown territories, to jump across impossibly wide canyons and to take down Imperial bases full of Stormtroopers. And never had he hesitated to say yes. Until now.

He looks at your outstretched hand and swallows hard. “I don’t think…”, he begins and instantly the smile on your face diminishes. As if sensing his discomfort about it, though, you are quick to pat his shoulder.

“No worries. It’s not for everyone.”, you assure him and disappear back into the dancing crowd, joining the masses as they jump, turn and just move around to the heavy beat of the drums.

“Why didn’t you join her?”, Cere asks when she returns with your drinks, clearly having witnessed the scene.

“I have no clue how to dance.”, Cal admits with a shrug. “It wasn’t exactly part of Jedi training.”

Cere chuckles. “It’s not like they are following specific steps.”

“That makes it even harder.”

Cal learned to let go of many things, but the Order and the lifestyle it had taught were also still deeply ingrained. There was always a given path or a pre-defined routine to stick to. This is far beyond his comfort zone. His new mentor stares at him for a few moments and suddenly says: “Time for a lesson.”

“What?”, the red-head asks, hand stopping mid-motion on its way to grab his cup.

“It’s time I teach you something beyond the Order’s knowledge. Stand.”

Slowly he follows, though confusion and hesitation are visible in every movement. Cere moves them into position and then tells him the steps. Easy ones. Basically like walking in a box.

“That’s it?” The surprise is thick in Cal’s voice and clearly written all over his face.

“In a way, yes.”

They return to the table and Cal’s eyes slide back to you. Or to where you had been before. Apparently, you have danced your way deeper into the crowd and out of his sight. His attention is drawn back when Greeze shows up with food and he busies himself talking with his found family until his fellow Jedi’s return.

You are out of breath, but smiling so brightly that Cal can’t help but stare. Have you ever been more beautiful? Hair dishevelled, cheeks flushed and lips drawn into a permanent grin. “Ahh, this was so much fun.”, you sigh, dropping onto the empty seat next to Cal and pouring yourself a drink.

The conversation returns to Greeze’s new recipe ideas and plans on where to go next, while the surrounding festival seems to slow down. Soon, the music is soft and gentle, leaving mostly couples moving to the tune. Cere gives Cal a nudge under the table, motioning toward the marketplace behind you.

He knows what his mentor is asking, but the young man still finds himself swallowing hard. He can do this. He fought Darth Vader and came out alive. Surely, asking you to dance is easier than that.

“Y/N?”

You look up from your almost empty plate and Cal almost loses his voice again.

“Uhm… I know I said no before, but… do you wanna dance now?” Ok, that didn’t come across as confident as he would have liked, but at least the words HAD left him at all. First, he is met with a gasp and seconds later with that happy smile of yours again that gets his heart beating faster. “Yes, of course!”, you agree, instantly pushing your plate aside.

He offers you his hand, before leading you toward the dancing couples, trying to relax his body. He is good with remembering steps, so that’s not the issue. But will he do it right? All negative thoughts slip away when you place one of his hands around your waist, before grasping the other one, your bodies pressed together.

With his mind pleasantly blank, Cal begins to move, the steps so much easier to do when he doesn’t worry about making a mistake. All he can think of is how you feel in his arms, how happy you look at this moment and how badly he wants this to continue forever. The steps you are taking are slow, barely moving as you just sway to the slow melody. Nobody says a thing, but it is the most comfortable of silences.

Gently, Cal draws you even closer, your foreheads soon resting against each other as you continue the slow dance. “This is the best part of the festival.”, you whisper and Cal’s heart soars. “I didn’t even know you could dance.”

“I didn’t until today.”, he admits with a little grin.

“Well, then you are naturally talented.”, you compliment back, making his lips twitch upward even more.

There won’t be many moments like this, you both know. It makes it all the more special amid the war and the constant danger.

“Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me.”, you speak again.

“Whatever makes you happy.”, he replies honestly and without hesitation.

Your eyes have this mischievous look in them again. The one that worries and excites the Jedi at the same time.

“Whatever makes me happy? Hmmm… maybe I should utter another wish then.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, expecting something crazy.

“Kiss me.”

Force, how he loves you. And even if you HAD asked for something crazy, he would have jumped into action right away. Everything to make you happy.

“As you wish.”, he whispers, before his lips met yours in a soft kiss. This is perfect. Who knew a dance could ever make you two this happy?

The Lesson (Crush Drabble)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have something that you want Javi to teach you.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)

Content:  Explicit Smut (Risk of Getting Caught, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Innocence Kink, Oral, Fingering, PinV sex, teacher/student dynamic), Age Gap (15 years), Yearning, Pining, Insecurity

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Happy Crush Day, friends! Here we are again! This happens about a week after Part I. No spoilers for future parts.

Special thanks to @leylinefiction and @captainlexi94 for sending in asks about this topic in particular. 😘

Masterlist  | Series Masterlist

Javier Peña. Javier Peña. Javier Peña. If only your diary could see you now. 

In his room. In his bed. And not for the first time.

You smile as you turn over on your side, take a deep inhale of the scent that clings to his pillow. He smells so good. How does he always smell so good? The scent is not even one you can easily identify. He just…he smells like heat feels. The way it can make you burn even as you long to curl up against it. 

You turn onto your back again as you listen for the sound of the shower across the hall. Knowing he’s in there without a stitch of clothing and without you seems particularly unfair. You close your eyes and picture it. Wet hair and wet skin. The smell of his soap and his shampoo curling into the steam. Water running from the shower head to his broad shoulders and strong arms, a steady stream down the planes of his chest and stomach, lower to…You groan, grab the pillow from behind your head and press it to your face. 

It had been easier to think straight back before you knew what he looked like naked. The things you could have accomplished…back before your sex drive took over and flipped a switch in your brain as easily as he likes to flip you on his mattress. 

Yes, you had pined, you had fantasized–had you ever fantasized, but now you know. And God, did he have to be so pretty? Isn’t the real thing not supposed to ever be able to compare to what you've imagined?

Will that be the case for this, too?

You’re doing it. Tonight. You’ve decided. You can’t keep losing your nerve just because you’re not completely sure of what to do. After all, you’ve done it before, and your college boyfriend certainly hadn't complained so…But what if you do something wrong and Javier decides he’d prefer someone with a bit more experience?

No, you’re doing this. You want to do this. It has been on your mind every time you’ve been with him, every time you’ve seen him strip his clothes away, every time you’ve felt the thick width of him pushing into you. Not to mention every few hours in between.

You want to know what he would feel like in your mouth. What he tastes like. You want to make him feel good like he always does for you. Want to hear the sounds he makes, the words he says.

Just like that, bonita. Always so good for me.

You moan, remove the pillow from your face and open your eyes to stare up at the popcorn ceiling and the spinning wicker-blade fan. You should have just gone in there with him. You had been insane not to. The risk of getting caught pales in comparison to the reality of not getting pressed up between him and those shower tiles right now.

Sure, you’d never be able to look Chucho in the eyes again, and he’d probably tell your parents but is that really…

Bad. Very bad. Get a grip.

You take a deep breath and sit up, pushing up the bed until your back is against the headboard. This is better. Collected. Patient. Simply and calmly waiting for him to return as if your stomach isn’t in knots and you’re not already embarrassingly wet between your thighs from a few kisses and from just thinking of him.

Jesus Christ, you want him so bad it aches.

How long has it been since he helped you through the window? Can’t be more than a few minutes even though it feels more like hours.

You had come over as soon as you’d been sure your parents were asleep, had expected to find that Chucho already was as well but…Instead Javier had pulled you through the window with even more haste than the previous night, had kissed you before you could get out a single word. 

“Pop’s still awake,” he had whispered in your ear when he pulled away. “We just got done.”

“With what?” You had whispered back. You had been able to taste the hard work from the day in the salt on his lips, feel it in the way his dirt and dust-streaked white button-up shirt was damp with sweat beneath your palms. 

“We put in a new gate in the back pasture. Took way longer than it should have. Fuck, been thinking about this all day.” He had leaned down to kiss you again then, hungrier, more urgent, a tempo that you had instantly risen to meet as your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. 

He had groaned when your fingers hit bare skin, had slipped his hands into the back pockets of your jeans and tugged you against him. Not really necessary since you had already been trying to press up against him in any way you could.

“Bonita.” His voice had been low, insistent, drawing you even closer. “Come shower with me.” 

You had already been nodding, his mouth a teasing breath away from yours, when the first thing he’d said had started shouting at you from the last remnants of your self-control. 

“Wait.” Your head had jerked back as Javier made a low sound of disapproval at the loss of contact. “You just said Chucho was still awake.”

“He’s going to bed. We'll be quiet,” he had reassured you, sounding so very confident that could be the case that you had almost believed him, especially with the way he was nosing along your shoulder until—

The sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the house had made you jump, and even Javier had done a quick turn to make sure the door hadn’t been his own. When his eyes returned to yours, the resignation that he would be showering alone had already been there. 

“Alright, fine.” Another deep kiss with just enough teeth to it to let you know he was anything but fine with it. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes. It has to have been five minutes by now. 

As if on cue, you hear the water shut off, the sound of metal curtain rings being dragged forcefully along the rod, a brief pause, the sound of one door opening and then another. 

You’re not sure you even register the sound of his bedroom door shutting again before everything zeros in on him. All he’s wearing is a towel, hung low across his waist, though he seems to have barely taken time to use it. His hair is just roughly dried, water droplets still on his skin. His eyes are already dark when they find you on his bed.

You collide somewhere in the middle, with you halfway off the bed and him halfway on. He barely pauses when he connects with you, his arm wrapping around your waist and carrying you through the rest of his trajectory to the center of the bed. Your shirt is already clinging to your skin before he gets the chance to tug it off, water from his bare chest absorbed into the soft fabric. Your jeans are next, the button popped loose with a flick of his fingers before he drags them down your legs. Then you’re on your back, his hands racing down your body. 

You arch into him with a quiet moan, your mouth seeking his. He smells so good. He always smells so good. His own scent now mixing with the smell of soap and the taste of mint. You can feel yourself getting lost in it, slipping happily into the sensation of being surrounded by him.

No, you said tonight. You want to do this tonight.

Your hands push at his shoulders once and then again a bit harder, and he rolls onto his back while rolling you on top of him. You straddle him, the towel now lost and only the thin fabric of your underwear separating you. You roll your hips against him, feeling him hard and ready beneath you before you bend down to cup his face in your hands. Your mouth presses against his, soft and sweet, as you try to settle yourself, and you feel his brow furrow against yours. His hands move to cradle your back as he sits up with you.

“You alright?” He murmurs against your mouth, and you nod, breathy and nervous again.

“Yeah, I just, um..” You tangle your fingers in his wet hair as your lips move from his mouth to his jaw. “There’s something I want to do.”

His shoulders release some of their tension, and he tips his head back to give you better access. “What do you want, bonita?”

You reach the crook of his neck and nuzzle in for just a moment before you place an open mouthed kiss along his shoulder and start to move lower. “I, um…” 

You’re halfway down his chest, your palms on his shoulders, before his hands wrap around your upper arms and pull you back up. His right hand releases you so he can cup your jaw and make your eyes meet his.

“What do you want?” he asks you, his eyes warm and searching. “Tell me.” He’s always so patient with you.

“I want you…” You answer him softly, your voice trailing off before you can get the rest out. His head tilts to the side, probably trying to understand what you could possibly mean when he had been halfway to having you before you had made him slow down.

Your eyes drop from his as you try to get the words out. Why does this have you so worked up? It’s like you’re tripping over yourself. 

His mouth meets yours, coaxing, his tongue lazily stroking the seam of your lips until you part for him. He captures your bottom lip then, nipping lightly, and the hand that’s still on your arm starts making soothing passes up and down. 

“Where do you want me, bonita? Is that the better question?” He murmurs to you. His hand is still on your jaw as you quietly nod, and your own hands grasp his and shift it higher. When his thumb brushes your lips, you open, your tongue tracing it before you wrap your lips around it and suck.

He hisses out a breath, his hips involuntarily jerking beneath you as he shifts you in his lap. “You want me in your mouth, cariño? That what you want?” He drags his thumb from your mouth, swiping the wet tip against your bottom lip. 

“I just, um, I don’t really know…” You confess. “Can you tell…teach me? What you like?”

His eyes squeeze shut, a ragged breath in and out. When his eyes open again, it’s only halfway as he studies you. “Fuck, you’re killing me.” He kisses you, hard, the hand that had been on your jaw edging back to bury itself in the hair at the nape of your neck as you grip his arm. “Yes, baby, I’ll teach you.”

You let out a soft whine as a shot of need spikes through you, almost like you had been waiting for confirmation that you would be getting what you want. You lean forward to kiss him again right above his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat.

You go slowly, Javier leaning back on his arms as you start to work your way down his chest. There are still drops of water on his skin that haven’t been wiped away by you or his sheets, and you lap them up with your tongue wherever you find them. When you capture one along his side, just beneath his ribs, his muscles tense and you see his fingers curl more firmly into his quilt. Your eyes flick up to meet his, and the want in them makes your breath catch.

You need to do this more. Take time studying every inch of him so you can commit it to memory.  Every rise and fall, every place that he’s sensitive, every piece that makes him…him. 

You shift again, crawling backward, and he adjusts so that you can settle into the open space between his legs. His hard length is lying flush against the soft swell of his stomach as you lower yourself, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as you draw close. When you look up at him once more, his eyes are on you from beneath his dark lashes, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

There’s a bead of moisture on the tip, and you’re not sure if it’s still from the shower or from him before you reach out to lick it up just as you had the others. The salty taste that immediately hits your tongue and the way he moans tells you that it’s him, and you do it again, then again in hopes that he’ll give you more. 

“Fuck,” Javier murmurs as he groans and rolls his head back. “Cariño, you seem to be doing just fine on your own. That good?”

You nod, your mouth still close enough that your lips brush up and down the underside of his length. Since he seems to like it, you repeat the movement with your tongue, a broad and firm stripe up before you return to the sensitive head. You wrap your lips around him and suckle lightly.

“That’s it. Good girl, fuck, just like that.” His words zing through you and settle right between your thighs making you squeeze them together. You’re tempted to slip your hand between them to give yourself some relief but instead you wrap it around his base, your fingers not quite touching. 

Fuck, he’s so big. How will you even take him in your mouth?

“You can grip a little harder, baby,” he tells you softly, more of a suggestion than a demand. You’re quick to follow but hesitate when you worry you’ll hurt him. He sits up a little more, still bracing himself on one hand while his other reaches down to cover yours. He squeezes. “You feel that? How tight?”

You nod again, breaking your gaze away from the sight of his hand enveloping yours so you can see his face. 

“That’s how tight you squeeze me when I’m buried inside you, little thing.” His hand starts to move yours slowly up and down, and you swallow hard as you watch him. He lets out an uneven exhale. “Feels good, baby, just like that.”

You dip your head again to lick up the moisture leaking from the tip, and his hand tightens even harder over yours when you take the head of him back into your mouth. When you start to suck, he rotates his wrist slightly, guiding you to do the same as you continue to work him up and down. You don’t stop when he takes his hand away. 

“Fuck, bonita, so good. So good for me.” His breathing is coming in quick pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you.

You’re practically vibrating from the praise, the ache between your thighs nothing when you have the chance to hear more of it. Feeling bolder, you start to sink down on him, letting the smooth hard skin stroke your tongue before you pull back up. He moans, one of his hands burying itself in your hair, holding it back and away from your face. On the next dip down, you go lower.

Your progress is steady, taking him a little deeper each time. He keeps shifting slightly beneath you, low sounds escaping even when he manages to keep his movements restrained. Still every once in a while his hips roll, his hand tugs. Every once in a while his control slips. You like it when it does.

You’re breathing through your nose, taking in the spiced scent of him and the clean smell of soap as you press closer, your mouth almost brushing your still moving hand. You get so lost in the rhythm, the feeling of him overwhelming you, the taste of him on your tongue, that you slip a little farther down than you’d intended. You choke, cough as you hit your gag reflex and pull away. 

“Sorry,” you mutter as your cheeks flush suck in a breath.

“Sorry?” he croons to you. “I can barely keep it together, cariño.” He leans forward to cup the back of your head and pull you closer so he can kiss your forehead. “You’re perfect, baby, just go slow.”

You settle back between his legs and try again, going slower this time like he said. You move your hand away from the base to cup him lower, massaging gently and swallowing back the urge to gag again when you go as deep as you can. You swallow, your nose brushing the wiry hair at the base and your exhaled breath drifting through it as you hold and hold even as your jaw begins to ache.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pulls you off of him fast, rougher than you’re used to him handling you, and a thrill goes up your spine as he drags you back up into his lap. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask, your voice shaky.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me fucking come.” He reaches for the drawer of his nightstand, hand fumbling for a condom as you smile, wrap your arms around his neck, and nestle into his chest. Once he has one, you lift up, giving him space to roll it on, and you’re about to move to the side so you can slip off your panties when he pulls you back, tugs the fabric to the side with a quick efficiency and slips two fingers inside as you moan at the stretch.

“Stay right here. Going to fucking lose it.” His fingers start to thrust shallowly in and out. “Fuck you are dripping.” His free hand grabs your chin so that your face is an inch from his. “You’re perfect, you understand?” 

You lean in so he’ll kiss you, but instead he slips his fingers out. You panic, afraid he might leave you on this edge. “Wait, yes, I understand…”

“Good.” He lines himself up and starts pushing in. “Look at you. Already ready to take me. You get this turned on sucking my cock, cariño?” 

You whimper as you start to move with him, making slow progress as you sink down that reminds you of the way you took him in your mouth. You groan.

“Going to have to get you to learn to use those words as your next lesson, bonita.” He thrusts into you, deep and to the hilt, and you gasp as he hits the spot deep inside that makes you see stars, but then he stops moving again.

“Javi,” you plead with him, “move.” 

He does, but it’s a slow rock into you that’s not nearly enough. “You need something more, cariño? Tell me.”

“Please,” you murmur, trying to rotate your hips on your own. “Harder.” The change is immediate, his thrusts punching into you as your head falls back. “Yes, just like that. Fuck, Javi.”

“There you go, bonita. Taking it so well.” He nips his way down the side of your neck. “What else will you tell me if I keep letting you ride my cock, hm? That what it takes to get you to use your words?”

“Mm.” You can feel it dragging you under, that climax that had been building since you’d climbed in through his window. Maybe before. “What do you—” He rewards you again with a snap of his hips. “What do you want to hear?”

“I want to hear you ask for what you wanted earlier. I want to hear you say it.” His hands move to your back, undoing the clasp of your bra before helping you slip it off and toss it to the side. His wide palms support you as he leans you back, your hands returning to their favorite place in his hair as his mouth finds you. Teeth graze your nipple, before he wraps his lips around the hardened peak, and you keen.

“I—I wanted…” His movements start to slow, and you get the rest out in a rush. “I wanted your cock in my mouth. I wanted to taste you, wanted to make you feel good, and…” One of his hands drifts down to hover over your clit. “And I wanted you to fuck me.”

He grins against your skin. You can feel it. “Good girl.”

His fingers rub your clit as his mouth captures your other breast and his pace quickens just slightly, and it’s enough…more than enough. You come, clinging to him, and biting your lip to keep from crying out from the force of it. 

He’s not far behind you, seemed to only be holding on as long as you did. He grips you tight as he lets go, moving until the height of it passes, then he slowly falls back with you so that you’re once again lying on top of him.

Several long minutes pass before you’ve caught your breath. When you have, you fold your arms across his chest, raise up and peer down at him. He looks sleepy but satisfied, eyes drifting closed and the corner of his mouth turned up.  

“What are you thinking about, bonita?” He asks, his hand starting to draw lazy circles on your bare back.

You press your mouth against his chest, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “I was thinking about what other things you might like to teach me.”

His eyes open wider, and he raises his head enough that his gaze locks with yours. “Bonita, I will teach you anything you want to learn. All you have to do is ask.”

HER SOUL TO TAKE

Leon and Rae

Characters belongs to Harley Laroux

Safe Harbour | Frankie Morales x F!AFAB!Reader | Fluff

Summary:Frankie finally takes a bath for his bad back. You can't help but join him. Warnings: No explicit smut, but it's not "clean" either.         Bathing/Washing; Mild Sexual Content; No Smut; mentions of genitalia; Fluff; Domestic Fluff; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Romantic Fluff; Valentine's Day Fluff; Bubble Bath/Bathtubs; Food mentions; alcohol mention; Frankie Morales has a bad back; But even that won't stop him from wanting to bone. Reader has no physical description but is "Mrs Morales", and has a vagina. Just a little fluffy fun with Frankie and you, his wife. Fluffbruary Prompt: Phone | Bubble bath | Doll [Day 14 prompts of @astromechs #rebelcaptain Fluffbruary!] Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @merz-8 for taking a look at this before I posted! Wordcount: 1920 Read on AO3

“I’m almost home guapo,” you coo down the speakerphone, the traffic around you finally beginning to move. You’re sweaty and irritable and if it weren’t for the promise of Frankie and a long weekend together, you’d be miserable right now.

“Drop-off go ok?” Frankie asks and you shiver at the way his voice sounds, deep, rich, relaxed. You’re about to answer when you hear a strange swooshing noise in the background of the call, but you carry on regardless.

“Yeah, Gabi was fine, far more interested in the empanadas Diego and Maria were making than saying goodbye to me,” you chuckle as you recall the apologetic look Maria’s new husband had given you when Gabi had run off without so much as a second glance at you.

“Don’t take it to heart mi cielo, she’s five, and takes after her dad in being painfully food motivated,” Frankie tries to soothe you over the phone, but you shake your head, even if he can’t see you.

“I know,” you say before another swooshing noise distracts you in the background of the call, “Frankie, are you in the bath right now?”

There’s a heavy pause and you feel the bubble of triumphant energy pooling in your belly. You’ve been trying to get Frankie to take a bath for weeks. It’s not that the man doesn’t wash – Frankie is a clean freak even by your standards – no, it’s the back and shoulder pain you’re more concerned about.

“I might be,” he says, the smirk on his face clear in his tone.

“Did you use that bath bomb I got for you?” You ask with a bigger grin on your face as you prepare to ditch the slow-moving traffic for your exit of the freeway.

“I did.”

“How does it feel?” You ask as you finally break free of the traffic, you’re only a few minutes out now and the idea of Frankie in the bath is making you impatient.

“So good mi amor, I should have listened to you months ago,” he admits, and you bite your lip as you grin.

“I’m just glad you’re enjoying it,” you say as you turn in to your street.

“Come join me when you get in yeah?” Frankie asks sleepily and you can already imagine his blissed-out face and damp curls.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

~*~

You knock on the bathroom door with your free hand, the fingers of the other wrapped around two bottles of pilsner. Your black silk robe hangs open, exposing the lacy red set of lingerie you have on.

“Come in muñeca, the water’s just fine,” Frankie says with a heady sigh, “What took you so-,”

Frankie’s voice cuts out with a strangled gasp as you nudge the door open with your hip. His jaw goes slack as he looks you up and down, his dark brown eyes swimming with hazy desire. He’s stretched out in your large corner tub; you can hear the soft rumble of the jets that line the sides of the bath.

“You’re too good to me,” Frankie says with a groan as he takes the beers from your hand so you can shimmy out of your robe. You see the way his chest is red and flushed from the hot water, colour creeps up his neck, and dapples across his cheeks. His soft curls stick to his temples and forehead as sweat and water droplets bead at his brow.

You take it slow, shrugging it off your shoulders so it bunches around your elbows, exposing the skin of your chest. Frankie’s tongue darts across his lower lip as he watches you inch the flowing material down over your curves. His eyes follow with rapt attention as you feel the heat simmer under your skin.

“So beautiful mi amor,” Frankie breathes as he sinks a little lower in the bath. The fragrant waters slosh around him as he not-so-subtly places the beers on the tiled floor before slipping a hand below the surface.

“Thank you,” you coo as you unhook your bra and toss it to the floor. Your nipples are hard despite the steamy room, pebbling with arousal at the way Frankie is devouring you with his eyes. You turn slowly on the spot, baring your ass to him as you roll your thong down your legs. You hear the sharp intake of breath when you bend forward, giving him the smallest glimpse of your cunt. You slip the garment off your feet and kick them into the pile of discarded clothes.

“C’mere,” Frankie rasps as you hear the bathwater churn a little, you turn to see him sitting upright on the small shelf built into the bath, arms outstretched.

“How could I say no to that?” You ask as you saunter over to the tub. Frankie holds out a hand to steady you as you step into the tub, you grip it firmly as he guides you down onto his lap.

The hot water rushes up to meet you and you moan softly as your skin burns a little at the high temperature. It’s a pleasantly exhilarating feeling as you settle in the steamy bath, thighs straddling Frankie’s lap as his hands settle on your body. One hand cups your cheek as the other rests on the curve of your hip. You don’t miss Frankie’s thick, hard length bobbing between you.

“Missed you baby,” Frankie murmurs as he tilts his head up to look at you, his facial hair is coated in droplets of moisture that shake from his moustache as he speaks.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” you chastise him gently as you thread your fingertips through the curls at the nape of his neck. You rest your forearms on his shoulders as you roll your hips forward to press your mound against his cock, trapping it between you. Frankie’s body shudders beneath you as he lets out a soft hiss.

“Long enough for me to draw a bath and soak a while before you got back,” he pouts a little as you press a soft kiss to his jaw, right where the hair refuses to grow.

“Poor Frankie,” you tease as you leave a kiss at the corner of his mouth, the bristles of his moustache taking delightfully over your skin, “Such a needy boy.”

That sends shivers down his spine as he turns his head to capture your lips with his own. He takes your bottom lip between his and sucks on it slowly, pulling on it before letting it go with an audible pop. His dark eyes glisten as he looks up at you, a silent question behind them.

“You need to rest your back baby,” you scold him as his dick twitches against your stomach, “Ten more minutes and then we can have some fun.”

“You’re cruel,” he whines but he doesn’t press further, instead he lays back, sinking you both deeper into the hot, heady waters.

You lean forward and press your face into his damp locks and nestle your nose against his ear. You trace irregular patterns along the slopes of his shoulders as he runs his hands up and down your back.

You stay there for some time, steam curling around you as the water ripples with a soft hum, the rhythm soothing. The air jets blow bubbles over your legs, a gentle caress that has you curling your body forward, enveloping Frankie with your naked form.

“Thank you for dropping Gabi off,” Frankie’s voice is no more than a whisper as his lips ghost the damp skin of your collarbone. You can feel the press of his strong nose and the brush of his soft facial hair as he nuzzles into you.

It’s like you’re both desperate to get closer, although there is naught but skin on skin, souls bared and bodies entwined. It’s hot and clammy, and you know you’ll need a full shower after, but it’s worth it. Intimate moments with Frankie like this are priceless.

“Thank you for looking after yourself, you’ve been pushing it too hard lately,” you say with a sigh as you toy with hair behind Frankie’s ear, twisting the curls around your fingertips.

“I know, but I do it for you, for Gabi, for us,” Frankie wraps his arms around you, one snaking around your waist, the other gripping your neck from behind. You’re anchored to him, unmoving amongst the turbulent waters.

“And I love that,” you hum softly as you pull back a little, pressing your cheek into Frankie’s as you savour the contact, “Just want you to look after yourself too sometimes.”

“You’re so good to me,” he says, weariness clear in his tone, “I love you.”

“I give as good as I get, guapo, I love you too,” you respond with a smile on your lips as you lean back to look him in the eye, “How ‘bout we shower off and order some takeout?”

“Then bed?” Frankie smirks up at you, bottom lip between his teeth as he raises his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“We could eat the takeout in bed,” you counter with an equally salacious grin on your face.

“You’re incorrigible Mrs Morales,” Frankie teases and you yelp as he stands abruptly, you scramble to wrap your legs around him. You engage your core, and support yourself with your arms on his shoulders as you glare down at him.

“That’s not good for your back,” you scold him but he simply grins up at you before teasing his teeth along your jaw.

“Sorry Mrs Morales, maybe you need to teach me how to behave.”

“I really do, put me down,” you growl as you leer at him and he rolls his eyes and relents. He puts you down gently and you cross your arms over your chest. You can’t stay angry at Frankie for long, you know it, he knows it, but it’s worth labouring the point.

“Fine, besides, the bath did wonders,” he says with a shrug as he bends and flexes for you, as if to prove a point of his own.

“Yeah, yeah,” you scowl as you point to the shower, “Hit the showers Morales, we’ll see how limber you are once you cool down.”

“I don’t plan on cooling down for a few hours, muñeca,” Frankie clicks his tongue as he cups your chin, brushing the pad of his thumb across your moist bottom lip.

“Don’t come crying to me when you can’t move in the morning,” you say without any real bite to your tone.

“Noted, now, what are we ordering in? I’m starving,” Frankie says with a grin before slipping into the shower.

You shake your head, incredulous as you join him under the hot water. You wash each other slowly, savouring the rough drag of the washcloth over your skin. He massages your scalp as the water washes over you, you repeat the action for him. It’s a delicate dance peppered throughout with affectionate touches and open-mouthed kisses.

Eventually you’re swaying together without purpose, a slow, sleepy waltz of sheer bliss as the hot water cascades over your joint bodies. One of you needs to make the first move to get out of the shower and call the local takeout place, it takes almost an hour before you do.

Never have you felt so content, but Frankie Morales is your home, your refuge and safe harbour. You know for certain he feels the same way.

Never before had you known love, then Frankie Morales came along.

ADCU Masterlist

A/N: Just making a separate masterlist for this because I have a fair number of these and also there's a bunch of different characters!

Kylo Ren

Call Me Kylo | Officer!Reader ↠ You're tasked with getting the Commander's signature to finish your assignment. Unfortunately, you can't find the Commander anywhere.

Correspondence ↠ The Supreme Leader has a lot on his plate, leading him to neglect certain things... like himself, for example.

Nothing But A Monster | Vampire! AU ↠ Forced to accept help from a mysterious stranger, you find yourself in a predicament of sorts.

It’s The Small Things ↠ Kylo finds your optimism odd in place of the First Order.

The Meaning Of Care | Officer!Reader ↠ Kylo Ren takes care of you when you're sick? That's something you never would've seen coming.

Clyde Logan

Pinball & Motels ↠ Roadtrips, A present for Clyde, and the one-bed trope? What more could you ask for?

A Day Off ↠ Clyde finally takes a well-deserved day off.

Flip Zimmerman

Frenzied Rendezvous* ↠ Flip finally has his way with you after enduring your teasing all night long.

Pale

Early Mornings ↠ Pale wakes up to find you making breakfast. It's like you plan on staying or something. Wait... do you plan on staying?

Solo Triplets

A Quiet Night ↠ The boys want to take you out on a proper date.

Ben Solo

Fairytale Mess* ↠ Sleeping with Ben Solo doesn't seem like such a bad idea when you're both under the influence.

Paul Sevier

Extraordinary ↠ Paul attempts to go out and have a social nigh. After everything that's happened... things haven't changed him that much, have they?

Daniel Jones

Late Night Confessions ↠ Dan wakes you up with a drunken phone call.

Headcanons

Breakup Headcanons

Simon Riley HeadCanon

Simon care about you deeply. He would do anything for you

He would lay down his life for you, extremely protective

If you go to the store he carries everything (including you) and pushes the cart cuz he's a man who take care of his woman

He has a fat ass

He actually good driver when you in car with him. He cares about your safety

He owns a motorcycle. It's old, vintage but he takes good care of it

He lets you ride but ONLY if you wear helment and sefetey gear

He calls you "babycakes"

If you have to walk somewhere late at night, no you don't

He drive you

His thighs are thick like tree trucks

His cock big as a Stanley cup

When it rains he makes sure to drive you so you safe.

Simon helped you get into his truck. You were only 5 feet tall so small he hand to pick you up practically as you struggled to get in

You could feel his hardened body and manhood pressing into your backside as he helped you up.

You glance at him over shoulder

"Simon Jr is excisted?" you ask with a wink.

Simon grunted like caveman.

His hands gripped your hops. Tightened suddenly. He ground into you like a mortal and pestle.

As if crushing seeds

Tou let out a moon of pleasure at the sentation

This sound only made him more excited

Ghost let out a primal growel from deep inside his chest it rumbled like the wheels of a lifted truck. Or lightening.

Ur hand graibedb the leather seat of truck that you bent over seat

"Simon people will see us," you cried out but couldn't help a moan of ecstasy as his cock glided against your princess parts

You were already dropping wet at the sanitation. So was he.

As he lifted you he also lifted your skirt exposing hour pink princess

Part

To the world

But he steeped closer hiding you away.

You are for his eye only. No other man can even looo at you.

"Ur minE!!!" He say "ain't that roight, babycakes?"

"Yes sir!" You screamed. "I'm yours!!!"

You didn't care if everyone in the neighborhood could hear it.

He pulled your panties aside and then...

He let our a loud growl like that of a wild tiger in the wild woods running after its prey catching its prey in its jaw and biting down I. Ecstacy it was like that

So primal so animalistic was his LOVE for YOu.....

He filled your body, slamming his large and tick and juicy and hot and veins cok into u

Over and over. So fast and rough that he rocked the truck in the street where it was parked along the sidewalk.

You gripped the passenger seat for dear life

Cars drive by

Simon 's trusting is hard and fast you scream with each blow of his man hidden inside hou

He hit spot so deep in you you you felt him up in your throat. You feel so full cuz of it. Reaching 0laces you didn't knew about.

Your muscles begi. To tught as your pleasure build inside your feminine flower beads of wetness droop f

Down your feet onto the car of the truck

You s cream wo lpugly as you come for him

The tightness of yur tight English Channel was too much for he

With a rosr like a bear un the jungle he comes

Think and creamy spurts of his manky essence flows into your cavern which socks it allll up. It flows thru you deep into the trenches of your waiting thirsty womb where it plants itself.

The two of your stay entwined for one heart and then two and then....THREE

5 seconds pass and then he pull put of you. With a gush or his seeds and yours he stuff it back in his pants. Before placing your panties back whete they go. Then he leans over and gives your pussy a kiss above the fabric. "Good girl," he tells her (your pussy)

You smjle at the affectionate gesture it fills you heart wirj deep pulsating juicy love

Simon would be a good dad

He loves kids and can't wait to see you fat with his little ones

Thus is why he always makes sure to fill hu with his thick and virile seed every day and night sometimes multiple times in row.

He have no refraction period

And is always hard

He fixes your skirt and then helps you into the Honda Civic truck

The two of your drive away to Tesco to shop for banana, his cum spilling out of you and staining the seat of the vehicle, but Simon didn't care in fact he l9ved to see it.

The wind

Darkness Calls

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader   Summary: As the call of space nearly consumes you, Luke reaches for powers forbidden to a Jedi to keep you safe and deals with the consequences. Warnings: reader gets a leg injury that is briefly mentioned, angst, canon-typical violence, reader almost gets sucked into space, Luke feeling lots of guilt and inner turmoil, mentions of Luke having insomnia and nightmares/PTSD, slow burn/mutual pining. A/N:  Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Stay tuned for part 2 and enjoy!

**

Blaster fire made an impenetrable web through the ship’s wide, X-shaped hallways and it had become impossible to determine which shot belonged to which side. Even armed with the Force and your lightsabers, you, Luke, and the other rebels were hopelessly outnumbered. Your teams had been so close to gaining control of the imperial cruiser’s bridge, which would’ve made capturing the necessary plans much easier. But you’d been overrun with reinforcements at the last second via the porthole at the end of the main thoroughfare. Han and Leia had led their team down a hallway to your left twenty minutes ago, yelling something about the hangar and the dropship docked at the porthole that was hard to discern over all the commotion. 

You glanced at Luke across the hall, his blue eyes wide and chest heaving as he caught his breath. His flesh hand gripped the hilt of his green saber so hard, you could see his knuckles turning white. Closing your eyes, you sank into the Force to sense precisely how many Stormtroopers flooded the hallway in between and could feel your fellow Jedi doing the same. 

On three, he sent to you through the Force. One…two…

“Three,” you whispered before the two of you jumped into the fray as one, doing your best to block the onslaught from the imperial’s blasters. The best you could hope for at this point was to deflect their own shots back at them and dwindle their numbers. The path to the bridge had been thoroughly blocked and Han and Leia either needed to get their asses in gear, or a path needed to be cleared for R2 to work his magic without being fried. 

Just as you thought you were getting somewhere, loud footsteps crashed in the distance and a wave of Dark Troopers picked up the slack. 

“There are too many!” Luke cried, motioning to the teams behind him who were desperately trying to provide cover. “Fall back—”

As if fate itself was pranking you, the blast doors suddenly closed off the left and right hallways to trap your peers. You and Luke stepped forward so they could file down the hallway directly behind you, providing as much cover as you could while several rebels traded off shooting the enemy and making a run for it. 

Suddenly, C3PO and R2 came scurrying towards you from behind. “Oh, Master Luke!” the protocol droid cried, his hands waving frantically up near his face. 

“Not now, 3PO!” he growled. “Head back with the others!” R2 whizzed ahead of his companion. “R2, no—”

“But Princess Leia and Captain Solo said to clear the—”

Before he could finish, the blast doors directly behind you slammed shut just as R2 passed the threshold. You cursed. “What now? They’ve pinned us in!”

Luke shot you a worried look. “I don’t know. They’re jamming our comms, too. I can’t get a hold of Han or Leia.”

A sudden mechanical buzzing from R2 caught your attention long enough to make you clumsy. You cried out in pain as a shot seared your leg and stumbled back a few steps, falling right on the astromech’s dome. 

R2 tittered in concern just as Luke stepped in front of you. “Get behind me!”

“I am behind you,” you grumbled, quickly realizing that R2 hadn’t budged at all when you’d fallen into him, which could only mean one thing: his feet were magnetized. 3PO’s message of Han and Leia wanting you to clear something rang through your head…

Oh. Oh no. 

“LUKE!”

But you’d made the realization too late. The magnetic shield separating the porthole from the rest of the ship went dead with a flicker of blue light and a whirl as you realized the imperials hadn’t boxed you in—Han and Leia had boxed you out. Or, at least, tried to. 

“Get back!” you screeched at the remaining rebels, motioning towards the meager available space in the hallways to your left and right. Just as they dove for cover, the dropship at the end of the hall ripped away from the port hole, violently shaking the ship and making you lose your footing before you could finish regaining it. 

The deafening whoosh of wind entered the corridor as the Dark and Stormtroopers were sucked out the hole now staring straight into space. A few of your comrades who had been too slow went with them just as R2 whipped out a retractable arm to tuck both your and Luke’s lightsabers safely in his compartment. 

Luke let out a cry of surprise as you both went flying towards the exit. He made quick work of grabbing a pipe going up one wall with his flesh hand and grabbing your wrist with the gloved one. 

The force trying to separate the two of you was overwhelming as Luke’s fingers dug into your wrist hard enough to bruise. He alternated between checking that he had a good grip on the pipe and turning terrified eyes to you. As you glanced towards your feet, the yawning hole was almost hypnotic and stole the breath from your lungs. 

“Don’t look down!” Luke shouted over the gale, repeating it in your head through the Force to make sure you heard. “Just focus on me!”

You turned your gaze back to him as he tightened his grip on you even more. You could feel how much he was straining as he used the Force to help pull himself closer to the pipe and could see just how much his perfectly tailored jacket clung to his muscles as they worked—

Really? you said to yourself, hoping Luke hadn’t heard your thoughts. You’re gonna think about that right now?

Just as Luke pulled you closer to the pipe so you could grab it yourself, your wrist slipped from his grasp for just a moment. 

“NO!” he screeched, his voice and face more terrified than you’d ever seen him. Fear flooded you just as you caught his gloved fingers. No matter how dire things seemed, you’d always felt comforted by the fact that Luke was not only with you, but typically the calmer, steadier one. But if the amount of terror and desperation you sense in him was anything to go by, you weren’t sure how you would get out of this one. 

“Please hang on!” Luke said, tilting his head up to scan the rest of the hallway. “R2, where are you?!”

The astromech zipped to and fro, trying different wall sockets to no avail. They must’ve been jammed or the magnetic shield required a specific one he hadn’t found yet. You looked down to barely make out another socket just ahead of the door. “R2, it’s down there—kriff!” 

Luke screamed your name as your hand began to slip from his. He held on tighter, but the smooth leather of his glove just made your hold even more slippery. “Hold on, please!”

Afraid this might be your last chance, you took a moment to memorize the shape of his body, the contours of his face, the way his hand felt in yours, the way his golden-brown hair whipped in the wind, the way his Force signature felt so soothing, calming, and like home against you (even in all its unbridled terror). 

“I need you, please!” he begged in a tone that was so frantic, it felt uncharacteristic of him. You’d never seen him this terrified and felt his Force signature shifting into something heavier—darker—as he called on the Force in whatever way it took to save you. 

“No! Luke, no Dark Side.”

As soon as the words left your mouth and the tone of Luke’s signature began to shift back, the glove suddenly gave way. The darkness beyond had been calling for too long, and you finally had no choice but to answer, ripping the glove off Luke’s cybernetic and flying towards the exit at an incomprehensible speed. Just as you were about to exit the porthole to become one with the stars, you stopped with a sudden jolt. Now, two forces were pulling on your body: the gale dragging you towards infinite nothingness—and the Force, wielded by a powerful Jedi, pulling you back towards safety. 

You groaned against the strain on both sides of your body, watching as R2 hurtled towards you and the socket you were now eye level with. You gasped as you were suddenly ripped up towards the blast doors and shot straight into Luke’s arms. He kept an iron grip on the pipe with one arm and held you tight against his chest with the other. You grabbed the now available pipe to ease his burden while wrapping an arm tightly around his shoulders. He let out a shuddery breath as he buried his face in the juncture of your face and neck and squeezed you hard. His hand carefully migrated down the pipe to wrap his pinky finger around your pointer finger. You could feel him growing tired and the strain in his arm through the Force – and this after he’d already started this mission tired thanks to the sudden surge in his insomnia and nightmares lately. 

“Luke, if it’s too much, you can let me go—”

“No,” he said firmly in your ear. 

“I can hold on—”

“No, I’m not letting you go.”

You relented, squeezing yourself closer to his chest as much as possible with the vacuum of space still trying to rip you both away. You pressed your face into his shoulder and thought he couldn’t possibly hold you tighter, but he did. If you hadn’t been struggling for breath thanks to the current situation, you surely would’ve been from the sheer force of Luke’s embrace. 

Suddenly, everything went still and the pair of you tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Luke fell flat on his back hard just as you smacked right down on his ribs, leaving him gasping for air. With adrenaline pumping and ears ringing, you took his face in your hands out of pure instinct. “Are you okay?!”

He nodded, keeping a firm grip on your hips as his breathing gradually returned to normal. He finally opened his eyes to look at you and you couldn’t help admiring how he looked breathless underneath you with hair in complete disarray—stop that, we almost died, you told yourself. However, any further thoughts came to a halt as Luke pulled you tight against his chest again and pressed his cheek to yours. His breath blew hot and heavy in your ear as one arm snaked around your waist and the other slid up your spine to hold the back of your head. His fingers gently dug into your hair, smoothing back and forth in a way in a way that made you melt. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed in his ear, indulging yourself for a moment and hugging him back just as fiercely. Your hand was drawn to the nape of his neck to play with his hair, but before you could remove it and apologize, he sighed and you felt him relax beneath you.

His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, gently massaging the tension there. “Maker, sweetheart…”

You withhold your shock at the term of endearment in case it made him let you go. You weren’t ready to be released from the safety of his arms yet and it seemed neither was he. The only times you’d been this close was when you’d both found each other after nightmares—but that had been when you’d both been in a desperate, sleep-addled state, only half aware of what you were doing. You honestly weren’t even sure how many of those moments he remembered when he woke the next morning. But you would jump back out the porthole before you were the one to shatter the illusion. 

Several frantic voices of the soldiers around you suddenly came into laser-sharp focus and you remembered you weren’t alone. Luke, however, held on as tight as ever, seemingly content to lay here with you for hours. You could sense his relief, but also echoes of terror and some other feeling you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked again. 

Luke’s hand smoothed up and down your back. “Not a scratch, I promise.”

“No, I mean…when you almost…you know…”

You felt sudden, intense feelings of guilt and shame flood his signature and immediately regretted opening your mouth. 

“I—” he cut himself off to let you go, beginning to roll you both so you laid on your sides. You propped yourself up on your elbow, the absence of his warmth leaving goosebumps all over your body. He avoided your eyes to watch R2 quickly roll towards him. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—that was…” He sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. 

His embarrassment, shame, and frustration with himself was so palpable through the Force that it felt like a punch to your gut. “Luke, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he whispered. 

“Hey, look at me.” Ignoring how painful the turmoil in his eyes was, you continued, “It happens. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He glanced at R2 as the droid whistled sadly. “We’re all right, R2.” He turned back to you, not quite meeting your eyes, but still giving your hand a firm squeeze. “I’m just…glad you’re safe.”

“Thanks to you.”

He nodded, but you knew he didn’t believe you. He quickly stood, holding out a hand to help you up as one of the rebels ran up to you, asking if the two of you were all right and for further orders, totally oblivious to the way his soul was ripping itself apart inside his chest. 

“R2, get these blast doors open if you can,” Luke said, his voice much flatter than usual. 

The droid zipped by with a morose series of beeps. The blast doors facing the porthole opened first, revealing a waiting 3PO. “Oh, R2 – and Master Luke and Miss Y/N! It’s wonderful to see you’re all right! Now, as I was saying, Princess Leia and Captain Solo told me to tell you to clear the area. They’re going to shut off the magnetic field and pilot the dropship away from the porthole—”

You tried to withhold your laugh. “We kind of got that, 3PO.”

“Oh…” The protocol droid finally glanced down the hall at the carnage and gaping hole in the ship’s side. “Oh, my! R2! You were supposed to tell them!” He gave the astromech a firm kick to the leg as his companion chirped in protest. 

“It’s all right, 3PO, we…made it work.” 

Luke, who was still turned away from you and focused on a random spot on the floor, closed his eyes at your words and sighed quietly. His hand was still in yours and you gave him a gentle squeeze, gently swiping your thumb over the back of his hand. His other hand hung at his side, the charred edges of the blaster hole and the mechanical workings inside on full display with his glove lost to the abyss outside. It felt as if something private was naked, and you took a step closer, determined to save him from any more embarrassment (no matter how unnecessary his current humiliation was). 

“Here,” you said, unzipping your pants pocket and pulling out a pair of standard issue, black leather gloves. “These were always too big for me anyway.” You gently took his cybernetic and pulled the glove over top of it. 

He looked at you with eyes so full of emotion, it nearly cut you in two. He glanced back down at the glove as you adjusted it, pulling his sleeve to inspect the small red initial sewn into the wrist. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, they told me that was the only pair I’d be getting for a while, so not to lose them. My old bunk mates were famous for stealing each other’s gloves, then claiming they were theirs the whole time, so…” You shrugged. 

“But—”

“Keep it. Please.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, still holding onto your hands tightly with both of his. His gaze was pleading, and he seemed as if he wanted to say something but settled for gently stroking your cheek with the back of his flesh hand in a feather-light touch. He suddenly ripped himself away and stormed down the now open hallway, leaving a trail of guilt, shame, regret, and an unidentifiable burning in his wake. 

**

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Stay tuned for part 2!

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added! Sorry if I missed anyone, I'm terrible at remembering handles): @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @coffeeorsomething-irl @eveningserenityyy @victorian-nymph @lxstfathier @rogue-kenobi @lavandula-ipsum @sonofthedunes @pomplalamoose @lex-the-flex

Crash Landing

A/N: I thought I'd give some ESB Luke some love! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

“Hmm, I’m not picking up any cities or technology. There’s massive lifeform reading though. Something’s alive down there.” Luke deciphers.

“I wonder what it could be? The planet could just be a giant ocean.” You reply, checking on R2.

“Then we’d be screwed.” Luke bluntly states. 

Descending through the unknown planet’s atmosphere, the double X-Wing is swallowed by a thick layer of fog. Jolting the ship to stay in a straight line, Luke does his best to avoid any collisions. 

In a flash, R2D2 beeps and whirls loudly and frantically does his best to send messages to both of your monitors. Keeping the ship’s Hyperdrive and thrusters in check, Luke begins flipping switches. 

“I know, R2! All the scopes are dead, I can’t see anything! Hang on, Y/N. I’m gonna start the landing cycle.” Luke emphasizes in between shouts. 

Falling further and faster towards the unknown planet, the X-Wing’s nose crashes down into a large river of sludge. Water splashes against the windshield just as Luke realizes the situation he’s put all three of you in. Raising the windshield to fully survey the terrain, the humidity nearly clogs the young man’s lungs as he tosses his gloves down in a minuscule fit of anger. 

Climbing out of his seat, Luke stands on the ship’s exterior hoping to spot where the water’s edge might be. Removing your helmet, you crane your neck to get a better view of Luke, making yourself physically uncomfortable. 

“Luke? What do you see?” You ask. 

Tossing his helmet into his seat, Luke glances over the swampy landscape before walking down the front of the X-Wing, only stopping when the ends of his boots touch the water. Raising himself from his spot, R2 prepares to join his Master, but Luke turns back toward you both. 

“No, R2. Stay with Y/N. I’ll be back.” He orders. 

Climbing out of your seat, you carefully stand on one of the ship’s wings, hoping to get a better vantage point than by being close to the water. Jumping into the murky water, Luke breaks the barrier of mist, and safely swims to shore. Ready to follow him, something bumps into the ship, causing R2 to fall into the water with a big splash. 

“R2? Where are you?” Luke asks. 

“He fell in! Something hit the bottom of the ship.” You exclaim, pointing to where R2 is. 

Slowly making your way down to Luke’s seat, you briefly lose your balance but regain it fairly quickly. Just then, R2’s scanner breaks the surface of the water, beeping happily. 

“You be more careful.” Luke sternly orders. 

Sighing at annoyance of the current situation, you briefly meet Luke’s gaze. His bright blue eyes fixate on your peaceful e/c orbs, succumbing to the look on your face with a silent nod. Sitting into the pilot seat, you look around the small cockpit quietly taking inventory when suddenly R2 is pulled down through the water by an eel twice his size. 

“R2!” Luke shouts, aiming his blaster at the water. 

Watching the foggy water go still, you can’t help but ignore the lump in your throat. Lowering his blaster, Luke doesn’t give up. Running to the other side of the water’s edge, the eel spits out R2, causing him to collide with multiple vines and trees far away from the X-Wing. 

Motioning to move, Luke immediately stops you in your tracks, wanting you to stay put. Comforting the droid, you can hear Luke admit to R2. 

“…it’s like, something out of a dream, or… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just going crazy.” He says through saddened eyes that you cannot see. 

“Was the dream real? How is that possible?” You mumble to yourself. 

Having had enough of waiting, you finally jump into the water to meet with Luke, noticing that the eel is nowhere to be seen. Swimming the shore’s edge, you slowly grip some strong vines to pull yourself up, when your left foot is grabbed by the eel. Kicking the eel with your free foot, you quickly try to stomp it. 

“Luke, help!” You call out, trying to pull yourself up. 

Rushing toward you, Luke makes it to the shore’s edge. 

“Help you!” You shout, reaching for Luke with your free hand. 

Taking your hand, Luke tries his best to pull you out, but the eel tightens its grip around your boot. Removing his blaster from his belt, Luke is able to expose your left foot, and he shoots the eel’s slimy skin. Releasing its hold on you, Luke pulls you into him breaking your fall, and lands on his back. 

Listening to the water return to normal, the feeling of Luke’s gentle hold on you makes a series of butterflies rise in your stomach. Facing him, his eyes are filled with anxiety. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” You reply. 

Motioning to pull away, Luke doesn’t let you. You can tell that he wants to keep you here, at this moment, just for a little while longer. Supporting your body on his, Luke pulls you closer, and you bend down to press your lips on his. 

Gently kissing Luke, he feels serenity in the air, finally fulfilling this desire to kiss you for a long time. Breaking your lips from his, a large smile fills Luke’s face, and the happy whirls and boops from R2 fills the air along with your shared laughter.

luke taglist ~

@dreamliners

@midnightepiphany

@maybeimart

@nonbinary-tatooine

@kaleidoscope1967eyes

@dailydragon08

@eveningserenityyy

@sonofthedunes

@wicked0clouds

@tearsleftt

@thereallchristine

@partofmejustwantstosleep

@xxx-aurora-swirls

@remusstefon

@annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

@0paperairplane0

@kethamine

@pantaeudaimonia

@acupnoodle

@flawroses

@xplore-the-unknwn

@tatooineknights

@myevilmouse

@edwxrdkenway

@gabbasposts

@garagesesh

@bsxcrxts

@maybe-if-youd-listen

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

planetarium

part 4

pairing(s): luke skywalker x (f!)reader, din djarin x (f!) reader

summary: you hitch a ride

warning(s): none

a/n: okay wow it’s been like two years since i’ve updated this story lmfao better late than never lol oops

␛ to masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Luke Skywalker woke up early to an empty bed. Hanna city was blanketed with fog and a blue tinge as the sun had just began to rise but hadn't quite peaked over the mountains yet. Stretching his limbs with deep blue eyes still closed, he patted the mattress beside him, searching for the body of his fiancée. His hands found nothing but the cold silken imprint of you body.

That was odd.

He always woke up hours before she did for his meditation and training.

"Y/n?" He called out from his spot, still lying in bed.

There was no response.

Luke peered up at the clock that was built into the wall across from the bed; the white numbers blinked 4:45.

"Honey?" He tried again, but the apartment was completely silent. There was no low hum coming from the fresher and the holonet wasn't on. A bad feeling creeped up inside him as he threw back the covers to investigate where you had gone at this ungodly hour.

As he rose out of bed in a flash, the hair stood all over his body. He only got this feeling when something was wrong. Like the forces way to warn him for the incoming torture that he was about to endure.

Before he was able to pass out of the door into the living room, his deep blue eyes glanced to the long ornate dresser. There was no red blinking glow of the tracker that he had placed there only last night.

Where was the tracking fob?

"Y/n?" He tried again.

Again, no answer.

It was then that he spun on his heel and practically ran to their shared walk-in closet. His breath hitched at the sight of clothes, of all kinds strewn over the floor with empty hangers littering the racks of her side.

He unconsciously reached a hand to the shelf above his side, blindly patting the wood for his now missing duffle bag.

Kriff!

"Y/n?!" This time he wasn't expecting an answer. He knew there would be none.

Luke strode out of the closet and over to her side of the bed. Looking for the DL-18 blaster that she always had strapped to her thigh during their wartime escapades. With an outstretched hand to grasp the handle, a shiny kyber crystal sat upon a tissue stopped him midair.

Hands trembling, he reached out and gently grabbed the ring with his real hand, as his bionic one grasped the tissue with neat handwriting.

Turning the kyber crystal ring in his hand, he read the short but effective note written in Gwyn's handwriting.

‘I need to go. I’m sorry.’

His heart felt like it had been ripped in two as he read the words over and over again, until the message had fully sunk in.

She's gone.

And it felt like entirely his fault.

Balling up the tissue in his hand and grasping the ring in his other, he pulled on his discarded pants from the night before and grabbed the black robe that hung from the door, and flew out of the room and into the apartment.

"HAN!" He screamed as he slammed the door open. "HAN!"

Practically flying down the hallway to his twins apartment, tears began to stream down, staining his flushed cheeks with salty drops.

Luke's bare feet skidded to a halt in front of their apartment. The hand with the crumpled note banged loudly on the maroon and golden front door. "HAN!"

His banging continued on the door, trying desperately to wake the couple up.

After what seemed like forever, the maroon door slid open to reveal Leia in a white silk dressing gown.

"Han isn't here!" Leia yelled back at him in annoyance as she rubbed her chocolate eyes and looked up at her brother. His hair stood in all directions and his once sparkling ocean eyes, were dullen and stained red with waves of tears streaming down his cheeks. Her tone became soft with her brothers distraught appearance, "What happened?"

His hand opened up to reveal the engagement ring sitting in his palm.

"She's gone."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The seedy cantina was dimly lit with blue neon panels on all of the surrounding walls. The sleek silver bar, encrusted with yellow lights along the perimeter of the circular bar, held dozens of smugglers, bounty hunters, and alcoholics.

You were currently hunched over the bar with a bottle of something you didn't quite know in your hand, with the duffle bag securely between you legs and blaster strapped to your thigh. Your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone with at least a trustworthy face, but it was proving to be hard, especially in this place.

"I hear you're looking for passage somewhere." A deep voice spoke next to you.

You came face to face with your brother.

"Han?" You slipped off of the seat.

"Hey kid." Han Solo smirked down at his little sister.

"I-I thought you were on a job!" You poked a finger in his hard chest as you sat back down on the stool, securing the bag back between your legs.

"Yeah, I was." Sighing, he situated himself on the empty stool next to you. "I just got back from Coruscant."

"Where's Chewie?" Looking for their tall and hairy friend.

"Talking to some Twi'lek." He pointed his thumb behind his head towards a secluded table. Chewbacca was leaning back in his chair against the wall, laughing at something a pink female Twi'lek had said.

"Typical." You laughed lightly and took another swig of the bitter alcohol.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm mad." You said truthfully.

"Mad at who?"

"Everyone. Everything."

"So you ran away?"

"So I ran away."

"What about Luke?"

"What about him?"

Han sighed deeply and ran a hand though his hair before he laughed. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

You smiled solemnly as you tipped the bottle towards him and took another sip.

"What's with the tracking fob." Han pointed to the small silver tracking fob that was currently clipped to your belt.

"I don't know," You looked down at it. "it gave me an excuse to leave."

"Where does it take you?"

"Arvala-7."

"Never heard of it."

"Neither had I before yesterday." You laughed reminded of the conversation had with Luke just yesterday. The two siblings sat in silence as you finished the rest of the drink.

Chewbacca, finally done with the pink Twi'lek, made his way over to his old smuggling partner and encircled his long furry arms around you.

"Hey Chewie." You smiled into the warm Wookie, wrapping your own arms around what you could of him. He groaned in response as he ruffled your hair. "So can you two take me?"

"Are you sure?" Han looked down solemnly at you. You only held his gaze, letting him know you were dead serious about your decision. "Alright kid, we will."

"Don't tell the twins."

"Look I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb." The two siblings laughed.

"And no questions asked."

"No questions asked."

"Where are we going?" Chewbacca groaned.

"Arvala-7." Han answered his co-pilot.

"Never heard of it."

"Neither had I until twenty minutes ago." Han smiled.

"Let's go." You placed the empty bottle on the counter and grabbed the duffle bag, getting up from the stool and began to make for the exit.

"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down." Han reached out and grabbed you shoulder to stop you. "What's the rush?"

"It's now or never Han. What happened to no questions asked?" You didn't even look at him before shaking free of his grip and starting for the exit once again. Han and Chewie looked at each other with puzzled looks before shaking their heads and following you.

Opening up into the empty streets of Hanna City, the orange glow of the sun just began to peek through the tall buildings. You breathed in the crisp morning air as you felt the way the blaster rubbed against your thigh and your hand clamped around the bag, creating callouses on the soft palms; made you feel like yourself again. The freedom ran through your veins for the first time in five years.

"This way, kid." Han and Chewie were standing to your right as they waited for you to follow.

The old trio stepped into hanger seventy-two. A golden circle of light shown down upon the Millennium Falcon, illuminating the piece of junk in a halo. Han smiled to you as he opened the hatch to the ship and climbed on in.

However, confliction rose within. You hadn't even thought about Luke and how it might affect him. You were glued to the floor, feet staying firm at the bottom of the ramp. How would it affect the rest of your friends?

How would it affect Leia?

Ben?

Chewie?

Han?

You weren’t so sure you’d come back at all if you stepped on the ship.

"You coming?" Chewbacca poked his head out as he groaned to you.

Closing your eyes and inhaling the fresh air, you gripped the handles of the bag harder.

I need to go.

Or I'll regret it.

You opened your eyes and descended up the ramp.

No going back now.

The millennium falcon hadn't changed one bit as you entered the old Corellian light freighter. The sheen of the black floor held your reflection as you tread carefully through the winding corridors of the ship.

The old dejarik table was still situated in the corner of the large hold. Walking over, you pressed a finger against the on button, the holo figurines were still in their place from Chewbacca's game from all those years ago.

Powering it off, you walked further down towards your old bunk room. Pressing lightly on the button, the door slid open revealing the small bedroom.

Everything was as you had left it.

The photo of you and Han, younger on Corellia sat on the ledge of the tiny window. Your first blaster, a stolen EE-3 carbine rifle stolen from a Stormtrooper when you were twelve, was still propped up against the dirty off-white wall. The turquoise and white blanket that you had once bought off a trader on Tatooine, laid on top of the small single person bunk.

You dropped your things onto the bed and all but ran out of the room and down to the cockpit, where Chewie and your brother were prepping for the flight.

You situated yourself down in your regular seat from behind the co-captain's chair. Nostalgia washed over you, a warm and normal feeling.

"Ready?" Han and Chewie both turned around to look at you.

You didn't know that the smile on your face could grow any larger than it was, but it had. “Ready.”

Han's hands guided the ship out of the hangar and into the sky. Hanna city grew smaller and smaller as the Millennium Falcon climbed higher and higher in the atmosphere.

Before you knew it, you had flown out of the atmosphere and made it into space.

"Welcome home." Chewie groaned.

You smiled at them, guilty, but real. Han punched the hyperdrive and they were finally off to Arvala-7.

"I'm glad to be home."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

␛ to masterlist

In sickness and In Health | One Shot

Rating: General.

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x reader

Word Count: 3215k

Summary: Luke thinks the day shall be seemingly peaceful and perfectly content…until he finds you struck with an illness he must help care for.

A/N: I started writing this when I was sick, and whilst i'm better now, I do hope this helps comfort two of my friends who are! <3

Luke woke up early this seemingly delightful morning, eyes both kissed and scorched by the golden rays of the morning sun as it dawned upon his sleepy figure; easing him into a state of consciousness.

His first instinct, just as the day before and just as likely fated to be the same tomorrow, is to turn his attention to you in order for you to be the first thing he sees and may admire when he awakens. That alone is the key to a great day in his opinion, getting to wake up next to you and watch as your chest rises and falls with light breaths, and the way your lips are slightly parted with your messy hair framing your pretty face. 

His day cannot start until he can be assured you are next to him, safe and happy in his loving gaze.

You seem so peaceful and content, therefore he did not have the heart to wake you up so selfishly. He leaned over, careful for his movements to be anything but heavy as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek; the heat of your flesh warm and inviting against his soft lips.

Naturally, he finds himself to be smiling as he rises from the bed, getting himself dressed and ready to attend to his students. 

He hates to leave you just to wake up on your own whenever that time may be, yet alas, he would have to go regardless of his desires. You would be just fine, and close by if anything were to happen.

He whispered a sweet “I love you.” before leaving you to your rest, hoping you don’t wake up too lonely whilst he's gone. 

Soon after, the fog of dreams lifted on your end, and reality was born before your eyes as they fluttered open just to squeeze shut again in mere seconds. It wasn’t simply the sunlight of which was a source of woe, but too the dizzying pressure in your head that had struck you immediately.

Something was deeply wrong, wrong enough to be noticed despite the dreadful sleepiness that swarmed you like a warm weighted blanket fresh from the dryer. 

You sniffled, noticing how both stuffy and runny your nose felt- there too was a soreness in your throat, gathering the unrelenting need to clear it over and over as fluids coated it on the inside.

“No…not today!” You could not help but whine in such a moment as this, dreading the very idea of being sick so suddenly and without warning. 

Okay, that's not entirely true- for over the past two days, you’d noticed your throat felt rather dry, but being sick never crossed your mind. Instead, you simply drowned your throat in water and called it a day. You thought perhaps you had spoken too much, or hadn’t drank enough water, for germs were never a suspect.

Immediately, your body and mind craved comfort and care for this curse of illness casted upon you. You wanted to be cuddled, soothed, and brought copious amounts of soup until you could start feeling better at last, to be cared for as a parent does for a child. 

You wanted Luke most of all, reaching out for the empty space next to you where he no longer was; The only remnants of his presence was that of his imprint left in the mattress, the imprint of which had been lovingly filled when you had first gone to rest the night before. 

You extended your arm, reaching for his pillow as you brought it close to you like a teddy bear. You nuzzled your face into it, gathering his scent, for the pillow smelt of him; eucalyptus, and the light mist of fresh springwater, paired with a flowery scent that you could not put your finger on but was comforting nevertheless. You did in fact worry that your germs would swarm the fabric, but you could always wash it later- you needed the comfort when in such a state as this, and you dearly hoped he would not mind (Which, in all probability, he wouldn’t).

A sharp pain then built in your throat, mimicking the sharp stabbing of a dozen knives as it caused you to cough about a dozen times. You couldn’t stop as hard as you tried, a tingling feeling in the back of your throat that demanded your coughs of suffrage as compensation. Your throat was beyond irritated, close to nausea after such a fit.

You just about wanted to cry, too tired to deal with this. It wasn’t fair, and so suddenly were you mourning the days when your illness was beyond comprehension, when you could lay back without the mucus wishing to be drained.

Furthermore, from a distance did Luke sense something to be wrong indeed, the very fabric of the force singing to him in silent desperation. He attempted to focus on it, yet the younglings had so many questions for him at this time in their lesson, therefore he waited until the break in between sessions to go and check on just what was the matter.

Once the break commenced, he was quick to return to you, wasting no time as he entered the home you had shared and built together. 

As he entered the bedroom, his heart dropped as he saw you curled up under the blankets, your poor figure shivering and holding his pillow to your body as you struggled to keep the coughs at bay.

You appeared so weak and delicate, suffering under the effects of a sneaky illness. He couldn’t stand to see you this way, immediately tending to your side as he crouched next to you, pressing a hand to your forehead before placing his lips there instead, feeling the warmth you radiated so violently.

“Luke?” You mumbled out, voice sounding so rough and weakened. You had barely noticed him enter the room, a telltale sign of your state.

“I’m here, star, im here…” He tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, despite how much it pained him to see you like this. “Sick, huh?”

You nodded with a frown, sniffling to drain your nose as your eyes wet themselves with the buildup of tears. “I don’t…don’t feel good-”

He had the strongest urge to care for you, to do everything in his power to make you feel a little less terrible than you did now. How could he leave you like this? His heart sank at seeing your state of being, and he simply wished to do all he could for you.

He made a choice in regards to the day he had originally planned, one he was perfectly content with.  “I’ll be right back, alright? Try and rest. Close your eyes for me, it’ll help.”

You complied, eyes falling heavy as you heard his footsteps disappear into the distance. You wondered what he was doing, although your brain was much too fried to think about anything too deeply. 

After a few minutes, he came right back, once again crouched by your side with a cold cloth to be placed on your forehead. You hummed in response, for it felt so nice on your skin. It was the best sensation you had felt all morning, compared to the waging war of your immune system.

You then remembered something, gazing up at him with tired eyes as it occurred to you. “Mmm’ Luke…don’t-” Cough, “-You have-” Cough. “-Class today?”

He smiled warmly, shaking his head as if to reassure you as quickly as possible. “I cancelled, don’t worry. Who else will take care of you but me?”

You were glad, although did not let it show as to not be selfish over his time you had stolen from the padawans. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“Star,” The loving nickname lingered over his tongue, drawing it out as if to question you with a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re hugging my pillow for comfort- I think you need me.”

You blushed, or at least you think you did if your face isn’t already pink tinted. You and Luke were equally needy when it came to each other, sure, yet that intensified when you were sick- you’d have him glued to your side if you could.

He brought a hand to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers. “Can I make you some soup, see if that helps you?”

You nodded, weakly so. “Please…I would like that, if you don't mind.”

“The regular, I assume?” He asked for clarification, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He knew you liked to be cared for whilst also not wanting to be a burden, but to him, you could never be such a thing. Caring for you made him happy, for he could help soothe the one he loved most.

“Mhm.” You hummed in response, thus watching as he got up to make his way over to the kitchen, your eyes struggling to stay open as you found yourself succumbing to the dark fog that was a deserved nap.

It's truly a surprise that you could fall asleep at all when in such a condition, therefore you would take whatever chance you got for some rest.

Luke smiled to himself, knowing you were napping peacefully, and for that he was glad. It was the one moment in which you could have any true peace, not having to experience the effects that's plagued you so terribly. 

He loved you so much, and hated seeing you sick more than he naturally should. He loved seeing you smile, or strut about the room with such grace, making his heart burn for you with the sound of your laughter…but seeing you so weak and fragile, so pale and miserable at that, brought him great pain.

He gathered the ingredients at the kitchen counter, setting up the pot and cutting up some vegetables for your soup with a rapid ease.

He thought himself to be a decent cook, with recipes he already knew, at least. He had his aunt to thank for that, having taught him how to cook select recipes when he was growing up. 

This soup was always one of his favourites, and now one of yours, of which Beru had taught him how to make. It was a simple recipe, lots of spices- there was only one thing he had adjusted for your liking, and that was grating the carrots in as opposed to chopping them. It was a texture thing for you, mushy carrots not having much of an appeal.

The process of making it wasn’t too long, some time passing before he could bring it to you. He too took some time to allow it to cool down, too giving you more time to rest in the process. As he did this, he kept glancing back into the room you laid within, tinges of worry tainting his mind.

He quietly spoke your name as he nudged you awake, already having placed your soup on the bedside table for you. He made sure to be gentle with his nudges, not wishing to disrupt you poorly.

“Mm?” You hummed, voice raspy as your eyes fluttered open. “Oh…Hi.”

You were so sweet as you looked up at him, feeling awful yet still so happy to see him as you always were. It made his heart flutter with the dancing of butterflies.

He smiled, pressing his curved lips to your forehead again to read your temperature. “Still hot, I see. You should take the blanket off, i don’t want you to overheat or-”

“I’m always hot.” You tried to joke, yet it didn’t much land, for your tone was quite monotone and depressed sounding due to the physical state. “-But yes…”

You caused a slight chuckle to slip past him, and for that you were glad as he thus asked you to kindly sit up in order to eat the soup he had made for you.

You nodded, carefully and rather slowly pulling yourself up to sit with you back leaning against the headboard of your shared bed. 

“Good girl,” That smile was still on his face as he praised your efforts, causing you to blush. He didn’t mean it in any way that you may have been thinking, for it was a rather innocent praise.

He took the mug of soup from the nightstand, holding it carefully as he took the spoon, gathering some broth on it as he brought it to your lips. You had no complaints in regards to him helping you like this, so you parted your lips in return and allowed for him to ease the spoon into your mouth.

As you swallowed, it felt comfortingly warm against your throat and dry mouth, the spices dancing on your tongue as the flavours hit you like a harmonious song. 

“Thank you…” You spoke after a few more spoonfuls of soup, swallowing the liquid coating in your throat as you did so.

Luke is always so good to you, allowing for you to feel so loved and cared for. You couldn’t feel more appreciative of the man who sat before you. 

You reached a hand to him, cupping his cheek as you caressed the pink flesh with your thumb. Your touch was so gentle to him, perfectly delicate and warm due to the heat you radiated. 

“Can we cuddle, please?” You pleaded, giving him the cutest pout and puppy eyes. 

How could he say no when you asked so nicely, and needed him so much today? He was quite sure that his heart must be melting in his chest.

“Of course. It's hardly a question, you know. ” He smiled so warmly once again with a joy that felt like medicine, placing the mug on the bedside table as you scooched over for him, giving him room to lay with your back to his chest.

You worried that facing him would put him at risk of gathering your germs, therefore spooning was the safest position…yet part of you hated that very fact. Your love language is physical affection; you wanted to kiss him, to place your lips all over his rosy cheeks and soft lips, and you wanted just the same from him in return. 

He had his leg draped over your own, his face nuzzled into your hair and neck as his hand found its place upon your chest, feeling your heartbeat thump against him in a calming manner. It was peaceful to know your blood was pumping healthily through your veins, even in a state that may have left you feeling as if death was on its way. 

Though, he could indeed sense something was bothering you, a sudden riff like the waves on a calm ocean becoming disturbed. Something was on your mind.

“Star, is something wrong?”

You would feel rather silly having to explain that you’re pouting because you can’t kiss him until you get better, so you brushed it off instead. “Mmm no, just keep holding me, okay?”

He wasn’t buying it, but just nodded, pressing a kiss to your hair as he felt the disturbance once again. He was beginning to catch on, smiling to himself for the fact that you were always so needy for him, craving his affection; he adored it, truth be told. He felt so wanted and loved because of it, but make no mistake, he still wished to comfort the anguish of which he was not so very fond of in comparison.

You felt him pull away from you before slowly and gently nudging you around to face him, leaving you half laying on your back. He placed a hand on your chin, thumb running over your bottom lip as he began to question you. “Starflower, be honest with me; are you upset because you think I can't kiss you?”

You blushed, forgetting how quickly he catches onto things. “Well…but you…you know can’t- i’ll get you sick and i don’t wanna be the reason you get sick…”

“You didn’t answer my question.” His tone was both reassuring to protect you from embarrassment, while also teasing at once.

You sighed, pushing a cough down your throat as you did so. “Yes…I am- don’t laugh at me.”

He shook his head, blushing just as you were. “I'm not laughing, I promise.”

You tried to hide your face in the pillows, escaping his gaze as his grasp drifted to run through your hair soothingly. “I’m not afraid to kiss you just because of a few germs. You only have to ask me.”

“It would be selfish to get you sick, Luke.”

“And it would be selfish for me to deny you when you want me…Star, there is nothing I would hesitate to give you.”

You peered up at him again with the brightest blush, shy to give in. “Don’t blame me when you get sick then.”

His heart thumped in his chest, eyes switching between your lips and your sleepy eyes. “The padawans deserve a break for how hard they have been working, and we get to spend time together. I don’t sense a problem with this.” 

He had his right arm resting on the other side of your head as he looked down on you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. A few quiet moments passed like this, finding comfort in close proximity before you thus spoke quietly, pushing a smile from your lips. “Kiss me, please…”

“Hm? What was that, sweetheart?” He lightly teased, wishing to lighten the mood further, thinking a tad bit of silliness may ease your mind. 

“Luke…” You whined, pouting. Although, there was a part of you that would have giggled if not for being sick.

He let out a chuckle, lowering his lips onto your own as they connected, latching onto one another as if they had moulded to fit together as a perfect puzzle piece over the years. The kiss was soft, and left your lips feeling warm and tingly as his kisses always did. Even the curves of your smiles blended together smoothly, considered almost addicting.

You could feel the tug of his smile against your own throughout the entirety of the moment, so blissful even when in the company of countless germs. It was a lovely contrast, truly. That was what you loved most, the fact he could make the dark times seem like a paradise.

Reluctantly did he pull away, yet not far enough for his hot breath still danced against your skin. “See? That wasn’t so bad, star…”

You shook your head, raising your arms up to wrap around his neck. “Just wait until you get sick, maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, coughing along the way and yet not phasing him in the least as the germs were likely spread over him. “You’re ridiculous, Skywalker.”

“I’m only in love.”

With another cough, you spoke. “When did you get so cheesy?”

This would be one cue to say something along the lines of “when i fell in love with you”, but fortunately for you, he instead replaces such a phrase with another interlocking of lips instead. Suddenly, being sick wasn’t so bad as it once appeared…

Here's my masterlist!

For now it's kinda of empty since I've just started on Tumblr but it'll get bigger little by little.

Thanks for checking out my work!! <3 <3

Dividers by @saradika

Fics recommendations

Javier Peña

The Casualty of Love

Rating: +18

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Sneak peek

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Extras:

Chapter 4

Playlist (songs I've listen to while writing this fic)

Frankie Morales

Camping proposal (inspired by this moodboard)

[Astarion] is a cat. He's a black cat. There's a stray that comes into my house called Red... and he's quite feral. It took me three years before I could pick him up and hold him. He's totally cool with me now. Three fucking years. He gave me a lot of inspiration about Astarion.

- Neil Newbon, on developing Astarion's physicality and mannerisms

LOKI Season 2 BTS

Dunkin has peppermint mocha flavoring again and I need y'all to understand that this is pure The Mandalorian season 2 release era nostalgia for me. My college was in the middle of nowhere, so on Mandalorian Fridays during season 2, I used to drive 40 minutes one way for a peppermint mocha iced coffee while reflecting on brand-new episodes and creating the theories we used to discuss back then. I am thriving at the moment

Thinking about how Din’s goodbye to Grogu on Corvus took so long that Ahsoka went to the Razor Crest rather than waiting for them by the gates

LOOK WHO’S HERE