Um hi hello 👋 I've never requested anything, so let me know if I'm doing this wrong. ❤️ I absolutely love your writing, you get the whole vibe of each character so perfectly!
Frank Castle has had such a hold on me lately, as well as Sabrina Carpenter's music. I saw you did one fic with Juno lyrics, and was wondering if you could do another one? If you haven't already done Tears, I would die for that. Like, Frank doing normal, caring, responsible things, like we already know he does. But when his girl, or neighbor, whichever fits, sees him doing the bare minimum, it turns her on?? Like yes Frankie, he's just such a man. 🥵❤️
I hope you're having a great day! 🥰✨️💕
ok yes this is the EPITOME of Neighbor!Frank. He's a "responsible guy."
You knock on Frank's door, your neighbor who you'd only met 2 weeks ago, to ask if had any advice on the window latches, which you couldn't seem to get shut for the life of you. You'd assumed he'd be able to describe how to tighten it or tell you where to find a new part so you can do t yourself.
When you explain the situation, Frank is listening intently, his brow all scrunched up that it has you thinking you must be annoying the hell out of him.
"So yeah, just wondering if yours were giving you same issue? Or if you knew how I fix them? Something like that," you say.
"How you been keepin' the windows locked the last two weeks sweetheart?" he asks, bypassing your main question. The tips of your ears go pink at "sweetheart," the term giving you more butterflies than it probably should have.
"I haven't been," you stammer out, trying to play it cool.
His eyebrows go up at that and he repeats, "You haven't been!? Sweetheart, you're a pretty girl livin' alone. Ain't an option to keep the windows unlocked," he replies, his tone firm and direct. You know a scolding from a man who is basically a stranger should absolutely not be making you weak in the knees, and yet, it very much was. Did he call you a pretty girl? And was he concerned about your safety?
"Thank you... I ... no I know. I wanna get them fixed. Is there something you recommend?" you reply, appreciating the way his jaw ticks like he's concerned.
"Show me sweetheart," he directs you, nodding towards your unit. You guide him through your apartment and show him the loose latches, demonstrating how they swing loose rather than click to lock your windows shut.
"Christ," he mumbles to himself as he fiddles with it, "You tell Amir about this already doll?" he asks, mentioning the building's super.
"Yeah, like last week," you reply with a forced normal tone at being called "doll" this time. If he kept this up you were gonna be a puddle. He shakes his head in agitation and pulls out his phone, jamming his thumb on a few keys before holding it up to his ear.
"Yeah it's Castle. Listen Amir, don't let me catch you pullin' this shit anymore, understand? A girl calls you to fix the windows, you fix the fuckin' windows," he says, his voice even but his message crystal clear. You hear some murmuring on the other end but Frank cuts him off, "Yeah, I don't wanna fuckin' hear it. Don't go doin' that shit again," he replies before hanging up.
"oh my god, you didn't have to do that. I don't wanna cause trouble or something," you tell him as soon as he's off, your heart hammering at being defended like that. He's already waving you off with a big hand, saying, "Gonna get this taken care of sweetheart, ain't a big deal."
You assume Frank was letting Amir handle the repair but Frank quickly adds "So wait here a minute and I'll grab my toolbox." You're sorta stunned for a moment, getting more care out of your neighbor in the last 10 minutes than you had out of the last 3 boyfriends combined. Frank senses it as hesitation and makes sure he's not overstepping by adding "That ok for you doll? Tell me if you don't want me in here," motioning to your apartment.
"No!" you correct him, perhaps too enthusiastically. "I mean yes. Yes, it's ok. I would really really appreciate it," you add, stumbling over every other word. Were your nipples.... hard? God this was embarrassing. You couldn't remember that last time you were so immensely turned on without being touched.
"Alright attagirl," he says and you quite literally die, "Gimme two minutes," he says, grazing your forearm with a comforting squeeze on his way out.
You let loose an enormous exhale when he's out of earshot and try to steady your breathing. Had you known Frank was like this, you would have knocked on his door days ago. While he's gone you pin aside the curtains to make his work easier.
He returns a few moments later, toolbox held in his huge, calloused, capable hand. His forearm flexes instinctively at the weight and balance of it. A small chain dangles around his thick neck and his hoodie is unzipped by a few inches down his chest. He catches your eye and gives you a soft smile and then spots the curtains, saying "Did that f'me? Thank you angel"
You were toast.
You nod in reply and he says, "Alright, let's get you taken care of sweetheart."
Attn: I was thinking about this fic and realized I mean to repost it a while back because for some reason it disappeared??? No idea why but maybe it’ll stay this time.
Word Count: 881
Pairing: Clark Kent x Gf Reader
Summary: You have a naughty idea when getting your nails done.
Warnings: 18+, dick pic, p in v sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, creampie
You’re on your way to the nail salon, it having been awhile since you got them done. Really it was past time and after you pouting about it your boyfriend, Clark, graciously agreed to pay for them. He loved when you had them done, all pretty and colorful, and he loved even more so how they felt dragging down his back when he had you beneath him.
You hadn’t much thought about the color until you arrived. You were waiting and remembered how women would get their nails done the color of their man’s eyes but then… something even better crossed your mind. You begin texting your sweetheart of a guy quickly before you’re called.
You: Clark I need you to do something for me.
Clark: Of course baby. Anything.
You: I need you to take an extreme up close pic of your cock head.
Clark: Why do you need that?
You: Just trust me.
Clark shrugs before heading to the bathroom and doing what you’ve asked of him.
Clark: Is that good?
You: Perfect 🥰
Later that evening Clark comes in after a long day at The Planet, luckily not having to been Superman for one day to find you plating dinner. He smiles to himself at the sight of you in just your tank top and cheeky panties when your nails catch his eye.
Big steps carry him across the apartment and you’re quickly in his arms. “Hey,” you smile up at him before leaning up for a kiss. He lets you kiss him softly, as he struggles to control himself. Once you’ve had your fill he takes your hand, taking in the color. He rubs his thumb across your nails as his cock begins to swell.
“It’s called watermelon sugar. Do you like it?,” you asks mischievously. “I like it very much,” he says huskily. “Well…,” you trail off while falling to your knees. “Let’s see how well it matches,” you comment as you undo his pants. Finally his cock springs free, pretty pink tip already oozing precum. You lean up and lick it, before humming in contentment and wrapping both hands around his girth.
“What do you think? Matches pretty well right?,” you say ask you work him with your hands. “Fuck,” he rasps. “Yeah,” you agree before taking the tip in your mouth. “Sweetheart.. you’re driving me crazy here,” he huffs. “Do something about it,” you challenge. Within seconds you’re off the floor, bare, and sat up on his shoulders. He laps hungrily at your slick folds, making you come expertly before sliding you down to his cock.
“Such a naughty girl… Getting your nails painted to match my—,” he trails off as you reach down to push him into your entrance. Clark’s eyes roll back and all thoughts about chiding you are gone. All that’s there now is the feeling of your warm, wet pussy wrapped tight around him. “How do you always feel so good?,” he groans before beginning to thrust into you.
He leans down and captures your lips with his, savoring every sweet sound you make for him. “H— harder Clark,” you plead into his mouth. He braces you before throttling you in the middle of the kitchen. God he was so strong. You knew he was Superman, but it still turned you on to no end how he could handle you.
Your wanton moans mixed with the sounds of Clark’s huffs and his balls slapping against you at breakneck speed. “Oh God— just like that. Claaark,” you cry out as your orgasm hits you hard. He works you through it and you turn to jello in his arms. “I hope you don’t think we’re through Sweetheart. Can’t get me all riled up like that and expect a one and done,” he teases.
Before it’s over you’ve come more times than you can count, and Clark is relentless. He’s laid you out on the table and decided he wants you for dinner. Lapping and sucking at you all while giving your slick little pussy a bit of reprieve. It doesn’t last though. Once you’ve come at least three times Clark takes you to the bedroom. He lays you on your back and spreads your legs wide before pushing them back.
“Looks good on your nails baby, b— but looks even better slipping inside you,” he says as he watches the head of his cock get swallowed up by your cunt. He’s just barely in but he’s mesmerized at the sight. When his hips curve up he hits your gspot just right, making you gush. “Mmm,” you whine at the overstimulation. “‘M so fucking close,” he pants. He keeps his movements the same, only feeding you his pretty mushroom tip. Then you watch as he meets his release. It’s so hot you can’t help yourself. You reach down and stroke your clit, sending yourself into one last orgasm.
Once he’s done he laughs, shaking his head. He pushes himself into you fully before leaning down for a passionate kiss. “I told you, you were naughty,” he chuckles. “I mean… have you seen my boyfriend? If so can you really blame me?,” you say with a tired smile. “I love you,” he then says caressing your face. “I love you too Clark,” you reply.
Attn: Hiiii! So I dunno if anyone remembers this drabble, but I decided to flesh it out and write their story in the spirit of spooky season. It’s been a bit since I’ve written anything so I may be a little rusty lol, but I hope you all enjoy!!!
Word count: 2, 831
Pairing: Vampire Sy x OFC Evelyn James (Evie)
Summary: Sy becomes a vampire and learns how to live with that. Along the way he also finds a way not to be lonely anymore.
Warnings: 18+, murder, vampirism, blood drinking, fem receiving oral, fingering, squirting, p in v sex, biting
It happened without a warning, Sy deep within a war zone. They came in a group, none of the bullets any of his guys sent out killing them. When one finally grabbed hold of Sy he managed to blurt out, “What are you?” “The same as you shall be. A lifetime of suffering for the one that led the sheep to slaughter seems fitting does it not?,” he smiled, sharp canines glinting in the moonlight just before they sank into Sy’s neck.
Sy awoke sometime after, confused and starving. Suddenly flashes of what happened played out in his mind. He looked around at all his men… dead and gone. Every one of them had their throats ripped out. He grasped his own, trying to remember yet things were blurry. The overwhelming hunger felt as if it were tearing him from the inside out.
Just then help arrived. Sy sat in the back of the medical van with his head pounding. Every sound being too loud and overwhelming him. “It’s alright Captain. You’re safe now,” the medic said as he leaned over Sy to adjust things. As he did Sy could hear it, smell it… all the blood rushing through the medic’s carotid. He could feel the hunger rise to the surface and it was as if everything went black. When he finally came to his senses the medic was dead on the floor, the driver having pulled over and exited the vehicle and running after what he saw.
“What…,” Sy murmured before realizing what he’d done. He exited the van and quickly chased the driver down. “Please…,” he begged. “It’s okay. I— I didn’t mean to. Don’t be scared,” Sy told him. “I’m not scared,” the driver said calming down. “You ain’t?,” Sy asked confusedly. “You told me not to be,” he squeaked. “Hop on one foot,” Sy then said, and so the driver did. That was how Sy discovered his compulsive powers.
Though he felt terribly, he curated a story. Those that attacked his team attacked the medic. Now that his hunger was at bay he could think clearly. He decided to stay in the desert, realizing he was now a vampire, he decided he’d only feed on his enemies, then use his compulsion to clean everything up.
Eventually he had to go back to the states though, which made things a bit trickier. He decided to join the police force, being able to get in easily with his previous training and the help of his cousin, Walter, whom he told everything to. At first Walter thought maybe Sy was having some sort of mental break, but when he showed him it was undeniable. “Why’d you think I stayed in the desert so long? I could just feed on the bad guys. I was thinkin’ I could do the same here,” Sy told him.
Being that Walter often times struggled with losing the bad ones, the ones that ate at him day after day, he had no problem handing them over to Sy to take care of. This worked for a good many years before Walter pointed out what wasn’t quite obvious to Sy yet. “You’re not aging. People are going to notice that,” he told his cousin. “I gotta leave then don’t I?,” Sy said sadly. He looked at Walter, the grays peppering his hair and beard, the wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes. How it hadn’t dawned on him before surprised him, and it made him incredibly sad.
Walter’s face mirrored his sadness, the two of them having always been close. Walter helped him find a new place to live, get him settled in a new department, and kept in touch until he passed, which nearly broke Sy. Before Walter was his parents, then Walter, and various other family members. Before it was said and done he was all alone in the world.
He wandered tirelessly from place to place until he was gone from home so long that he was able to return without any suspicion. His family owned a simple farmhouse out on several acres of land. The truth in his return was that he was tired of the fast life. He just wanted to settle down somewhere people wouldn’t bother him. He’d taken his vampirism into consideration and decided he’d either go into a bigger town for feeding or manage to take blood bags from local hospitals.
While he was happy to be home, he was incredibly lonely. In all his years his lifestyle wasn’t particularly sustainable for a relationship, and sure he’d met a few other vampires along the way, none of them were a good fit. So many of them had lost their humanity, and had no regard for human life. Sy hated what he was, but he figured at least he was using this curse to rid the world of evil people. The few vampires he’d met were truly monsters, he could never be that.
One night he decided to go into the city. Usually he could find a few scumbags in alleyways trying to do one nefarious thing or another when he noticed something out of the ordinary. Her hair was a soft brown just falling below her collar bones, half of it pulled back, and the prettiest sage green eyes behind her glasses. She was maybe 5’5”, soft curves accentuating her body. She looked beautiful, creamy skin seeming to glow beneath the streetlights.
“Now what’s a pretty little thing like yourself doin’ out here all alone?,” he cooed. “You’re a vampire?,” she asked. “Wh— what do you know about vampires darlin’?,” he questioned. “I’m looking for one. I have waaay too many books on my tbr to finish in a lifetime. I just need you to turn me,” she told him. “Lemme get this straight you want—,” he started. “Did I stutter? Look if you won’t do it I’ll find—,” she began before Sy cut her off.
“What do I get in return?,” he asked. “What do you want?,” she responded. “Well I am lonely… Would you come stay with me? I got a place that’s secluded. I could help you with the transition, but before we could get all your things… your books, and you could have anything you want darlin’,” he told her. She worried her lip while appraising Sy. “So I’ll get vampirism, time to read my books, and a hot vampire man? Yeah let’s go,” she told him.
“You sure? I don’t even know your name,” Sy chuckled. “I’m Evelyn James, but most people call me Evie, and you?,” she responded. “Eric Syverson, but you can call me Sy. You didn’t answer me though, are you sure?,” he asked again. “I’m sure. Honestly… I’m lonely too. No one seems to get me… and for some reason I feel like I can trust you, and that you’ll take care of me,” she told him. “I promise I will,” he said. She nodded in agreement before letting Sy take her by the hand.
After gathering Evie’s things as promised Sy takes her to his farmhouse. After showing her around the air loomed thick with the unasked question. Evie worried her lip again. Sy can’t help but watch the plushness of it and wonder what it would feel like against his own lips. “I— I think the sooner the better don’t you?,” she then asked. “It’s gonna hurt, but if you want I can make it hurt less,” he told her. “Okay,” she breathed.
He approached her carefully, taking her into his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he held a woman, but he somehow knew this was right. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger before tilting her head up to meet his eye. “Anything you don’t like me doin’ tell me,” he told her. “I will,” she agreed just before his lips met hers. “Mmm,” she hummed against him, setting off something inside of him.
He lifted her up with ease, his added strength making it all too easy before carrying her to the bedroom. He undressed her, tenderly caressing every bit of skin he could with his finger tips, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin. He could hear her heart pounding, sense her arousal building. “You can touch me too darlin’,” he told her. Evie let her hands run beneath his shirt, enjoying the feeling of his coarse body hair, before pulling it over his head, then making her way to his pants. When she slid them down his legs her eyes widened in surprise.
“You’re big,” she commented. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise,” he told her softly as he removed her glasses. “Can you see me without those?,” he asked. “Mmhmm,” she murmured while he kneaded her breasts. “Good,” he replied before laying her back on the bed. His mouth roamed from her neck, before laving her nipples and making its way between her legs. “You smell so sweet,” he husked before running his tongue through her folds.
Evie gasped as he slid up to her clit. Her hands tangled into the fitted sheet before Sy took her hands and laced his fingers with hers. “Look at me baby,” he whispered before diving back in. Within moments of their eyes meeting, Evie shattered, orgasm roaring through her quicker than ever. “Sy,” she whimpered as he licked her past her orgasm. “One more,” he mumbled into her pussy before sucking her clit into his mouth.
He then let one of her hands go to slide two fingers into her dripping pussy. “P— please… please,” Evie warbled. Sy worked her clit and gspot harder, making her cry out and gush everywhere. “That’s it,” he praised. Once she calmed down Sy kissed up her body before kissing her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue. “I want—,” Evie started before Sy ran the blunt head of his cock against her slit.
“That whatcha want darlin’? Definitely what you deserve after bein’ so good for me,” he said as he began easing into her. “Mmmm,” she whined as her walls stretched to accommodate his girth. Once he hit bottom he could feel her legs shaking. “Look at me Evie. You okay?,” he asked, caressing her face. “I’m just so full,” she groaned. Sy smirked above her. “That’s right darlin’. Full of me. You feel me up here?,” he asked, touching her stomach as he began sliding out then back in slowly. “Y—yeah,” she hiccuped.
“That’s right. Now I need you to do somethin’ for me,” he told her. “What?,” she replied, already near delirium from the feeling of his cock touching her everywhere. “Before I go to turn you I need you to cum on my cock twice. You think you can do that?,” he asked. “I dunno,” she admitted. “I need it darlin’. I think you can. Can you try for me?,” he replied. “I’ll try,” she nodded. “Good girl,” he praised before giving her a kiss.
After that he leaned back to watch himself get swallowed up by her tight pussy. “Fuck,” he grunted. He could see himself moving beneath her skin and if it weren’t for the fact his vampirism gave him insane stamina he would’ve came on the spot. “Gonna go a little harder now okay?,” he questioned. “Please,” Evie breathed, grasping her breasts. Sy pushed in deep before pulling out slightly and hammering into her. Nonsensical moans began falling from Evie’s lips as the pressure quickly built between her legs. “That’s— fuck… that’s it baby. Fuckin’ cum all over me,” he encouraged. Just then her back arched off the bed as she gushed everywhere.
He pulled out to smush his face back into her pussy and lap it all up. “Ssssy,” she cried as her legs shook with pleasure. Just as fast he was back atop her, back inside her. “Such a pretty, perfect woman with such a perfect little pussy. All for me. G— gonna make you mine forever,”” he rambled. “Forever,” Evie managed best she could with the way he was fucking her so frantically. “You ready darlin’,” he asked as he felt her tightening up once again. “Yes,” she said just before he sunk his fangs into her neck.
“Ahhhh,” she keened as the pain of his bite and the pleasure of her fourth orgasm of the night took over her senses. She seemed to cum unendingly, and the squeezing and pulsing of her tight pussy pulled Sy right over the edge as he drank her blood. He tensed, cock straining against her tight walls as he emptied his heavy load. He pulled away from her neck, lapping at the bites before reaching down and swiping at her clit. His efforts earning him one more orgasm from Evie, and prolonging his own.
Once he was done, Evie lay there boneless. He brushed the hair from her face, letting his eye meet hers. “Don’t let me hurt anyone,” she said softly before drifting off. “I won’t,” Sy promised to her resting form. He knew the change took some time so lifted Evie in his arms and took her to the bathroom where he cleaned her. He then changed the sheets and dressed her in some of her pajamas, wanting her to be comfortable. In the meantime he gathered supplies then waited.
He wasn’t really sure how fast she’d change. For him it had taken three days, but he’d heard for some people it took less time, others it had taken longer. He waited for the next two days before Evie opened her eyes. “Hey sugar,” he said softly. Evie blinked up at him, vision slowly clearing. “How you feelin’?,” he asked while caressing her face. “I’m hungry,” she said coarsely. “I know baby,” he replied, helping her sit up.
“I— my vision is perfect,” she commented while holding out her hands. “Yeah your senses improve with the change,” Sy told her. She looks over at him and suddenly becomes a bit shy. “What’s wrong darlin’?,” he asked. “This was insane right I— usually I’d never and now you’re stuck with me and—,” she stammered. “I wanted you the moment I saw you darlin’. You’re no burden to me, I promise,” he said.
Evie nodded lightly before grasping at her sore throat. “Here, this’ll make it better,” he said, handing her a bag of blood. She opened it and went from sipping it slowly to gulping it down. “Can I have more?,” she asked, still feeling hungry. “One more, okay? We need to make sure you have enough but not enough to develop a blood lust,” he told her as he handed her another bag. “Yeah I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she replied. “I know. I’m gonna help you,” he assured her.
Over the next few weeks Evie did her best to adjust to the change but everything was so extreme with her senses being elevated. One morning she woke to hammering and before she realized she’d sped towards the sound. She found a bare chested, sweaty Sy in one of the spare rooms, building bookshelves. When he noticed her state he rushed to her. “Evie what’s—,” he got out before she pounced on him. They hadn’t been intimate since their first night together, Sy giving her space to adjust but now…
“It was too loud but now I’m— I want you. You smell so good. I’m aching Sy. Please,” she panted. Of course he obliges, how could he not? His sweet girl needing him so badly. Before it’s over they’re both hot sticky messes on the floor. “I need more,” she whined. “Poor little darlin’. You sure?,” he asked. “More,” she breathed. They didn’t leave the room until well into the night.
Months together quickly turn into a year. Sy’s all but helped her adjust to her new abilities, and manage her hunger. Evie had no desire to feed on an actual person, but between her, Sy, and their compulsive powers, she stayed stocked up on more than enough blood bags. She’d gotten her own little library too once she actually let Sy finish it. Her life was comfortable, and she felt more content than she could ever remember being. One day as she sat reading it dawned on her.
She threw her book down before making her way out into the garage. “Hey baby,” Sy beamed before taking her into his arms. “Sy,” she said softly, looking up at him. “What is it sugar?,” he asked with a furrowed brow. “I love you,” she told him tentatively. He smiled down at her, cupping her face. “You’ve loved me a long time now haven’t you?,” she then asked. “Maybe since we first met,” he admitted. “You’ve given me everything I could’ve ever wanted,” she told him. “It’s only fair seein’ I got the better end of the deal,” he replied. “This really is forever isn’t it?,” she asked, eyes shining up at him. “Forever and always,” he said before kissing her lovingly.
Oh my goodness, I love this!! This was such a joy to read at the end of a very long day, thank you!!! 🥰 I don't know how I haven't asked to be on your taglist yet, but now I beg you! Can I pretty please be on your taglist?? 😭 because your writing is so good
Fic rec time! 📖 When you get this, reply with three fics that you've read and loved to pieces, then pass it on to at least five other people who read fics. Let's appreciate fic writers and their amazing stories 💖
My bestie @mrsevans90 Sy series Puppy Love is so amazing!!! She’s three chapters in and I can’t wait to read more once she posts. Her masterlist for your consideration!
The Hall Pass series was the first I read by @deandoesthingstome and I binged it so fast lol. Fantasy Hotel is amazing too! I need to read more of Charlie’s works.
Anything by @littlefreya is amazing. I still need to go through her masterlist and do some rereads.
Also I know we said three but bonus because it was my first Sy series and I’m still obsessed with it, the Kissed by Fire series by @wolvesandhoundshowltogether is phenomenal.
ALSO, Scars and Souvenirs by @starfirewildheart! I’m obsessed. Her Geralt series is brand new but very good as well. Here’s her masterlist!
Thank you so so much for tagging me in this @shellyshellshell! I love all of the writers and fics you posted and wanted to add some of mine (some are the same as yours lol)
I love the opportunity to share other's work and celebrate their incredible writing on here! Let's encourage and lift each other up!
I couldn't stop at 3 🤦🏼♀️ but here's what came to mind!
My bestie @shellyshellshell is amazing! I haven't found a single one of her works that I'm not obsessed with. Her masterlist is insanely good. I particularly love her Sy series I Can Fix That!
2. @sillyrabbit81 is another personal fave. Even If You Don't Mean It is hands down one of my favorite Syverson stories on here.
3. @just-chirpin Eyes That See is another one that's just so good. Masterlist attached.
4. @littlefreya has all of the juicy and incredible stories for Henry Cavill. Their extensive masterlist is attached as well.
5. @geralts-yenn wrote a Syverson story called bonfire that was absolutely amazing. Lots of great works on her masterlist as well.
6. @gummydummy19 also has such a good masterlist and I am loving the Year in Apartment 6B series they have.
7. @stargazingfangirl18 with all of the yummiest stories about chris evan's characters. Masterlist
Thank you both for mentioning me! I'm so behind the times as far as reading goes, I know I need to check out both of your masterlists and Im looking forward to it 🥰
At first, you and Clark Kent were ships in the night.
You passed each other by, not really giving each other a second thought. You had your respective job and hobbies, and he had his. It was all a part of the arrangement. The renting arrangement, that is. You and Clark are roommates. After the place you were living at suddenly kicked you out and rented your place out from under you, you had to find somewhere to live and fast. Clark needed some help with bills and whatnot, as living in Metropolis was getting more expensive by the day, so he offered you his other bedroom to reside in. You were more than grateful, despite your initial hesitance in living with a coworker- you both work at The Daily Planet; you’re a photographer, while Clark is a writer. But after a few months, living with Clark wasn’t too bad. Luckily, you enjoyed the same food, same movies and shows, and liked the apartment at the same temperature. It was a match made in heaven.
The clock in the living room ticks, filling the dead silence of your apartment. It’s one of those nights where Clark has disappeared randomly. You never think anything of it. But you’re struggling to find something to do while he’s gone. Especially since you’ve long since finished dinner and editing photos you’ve already taken. So, you decide to go out and find some photo inspiration- maybe you’ll spot Superman. While Clark does all the interviews with Superman for The Daily Planet (you can never figure out how he does it), you’re the one who manages to snag amazing photos of the hero in action. You both usually end up on the front page, which both shocks and intrigues everyone, especially your coworkers, Lois and Jimmy. Both of whom enjoy poking at you and Clark for numerous reasons, but being front page almost chronically is the highlight of their teasing. You throw a hoodie on along with some shoes, grab your camera bag, and head out. The news reports that Superman is downtown, so that’s where you’re going.
By the time you get there, there’s a small crowd gathered at a safe distance away from the scene. People have their phones out, recording or snapping pictures to post on social media, no doubt. You find a good spot and kneel down on the ground to get a good vantage point. The helicopters surrounding Superman and the alien creature that’s wreaking havoc on Metropolis give off enough light for you to snag some cool photos. You put away your camera, the bag still tight around your arm. But before you can fully stand up from your crouched position, the sound of concrete and steel whining from above you fills your ears. Everyone around you starts running away. Since you don’t have the ability to get up and run nearly as fast, you close your eyes and accept the fact you’re probably not gonna make it home to enjoy that new ice cream you bought earlier. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the building collapsing, when suddenly, you feel weightless. Wind is blasting through your hair, your camera bag hanging on for dear life on your arm. You dare to open your eyes. Clutching you around your waist, having saved you from a sure death, is none other than Superman.
He lands near the park, far enough away from the disaster zone for it to be safe. The two of you watch as the top of the building fully collapses to the ground where you were standing.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” you finally breathe out the air you’d been holding.
Superman chuckles, and you turn to look at him, “Thanks for uh, you know, saving me.”
“No problem, ma’am. Now go home and stay safe. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for those photos you took,” Superman smiles at you with a gleam in his eye before shooting up and away into the air.
You stare at his red and blue streak across the sky in awe.
The walk home was silent and full of anxiety. Every time you’d hear any noise, you’d flinch. But you do make it home, and you eat half that tub of ice cream. Sleep doesn’t come easily. It’s fairly late, almost early in the morning, when you hear Clark sneak in. You rip the covers off your body and open your bedroom door to see him about to open his.
“Psst, Clark.”
He slowly turns around like he’s been caught.
“Yeah?”
“You will never guess what happened tonight.”
Clark studies your face with his eyes, “Enlighten me.”
“Superman saved my life.” You fully open your bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway, “It was insane. I thought I was definitely about to kiss my ass goodbye.”
“Really?” Clark quirks an eyebrow, “Superman, huh?”
“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p.’
“Tell me all about it,” Clark opens his door, widening it for you to come in.
Clark gets on his bed, and you climb next to him, your thighs touching.
“So I was out taking photos, right? And all of a sudden, the alien Superman was fighting, had collided with the bank building, and the top of it was about to fall on me.”
Clark listens intently, his blue eyes on you as his face scrunches in focus.
“I seriously thought I was going to die, and there wasn’t much I could do except stay put since I couldn’t get up and run right away. But he came swooping in and got me to safety. It was crazy. I’m still full of adrenaline, not gonna lie.”
“I can tell,” Clark jokes, poking his shoulder, “You look owlish.”
You scoff, knocking your shoulder into his, “Shut up.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, though,” Clark says, looking at you with a tinge of seriousness.
Clark tells you about his interview with Superman from tonight, and you listen closely, hanging onto every word.
“How do you get all these interviews with Superman? Are you like, his favorite or something?”
Clark chuckles, “Yeah, you could say that.”
“What’s he like?”
“Charming for sure,” Clark says, “He’s a kind guy, super chill.”
“So just like you, then? You seem to have a lot in common with Superman, Clark,” you tease.
“Yeah,” Clark smiles, “We do.”
You eventually fall asleep on his shoulder next to him on his bed.
The next morning, you feel like a corpse. Or close to it, rather. Especially after you almost became one. You had only gotten a few hours of sleep before having to get ready for work. Clark’s alarm had roused you awake.
“Shit, shit! I’m so sorry, I did not mean to fall asleep here,” you cursed, putting a hand over your eyes in embarrassment.
“It’s okay,” Clark said, his voice deep with sleep, “I don’t mind.”
As a matter of fact, he secretly enjoyed you snoozing on his shoulder most of the night. But he’d never tell you that.
You pore over the photos you took last night, looking through ones you edited and submitted to Perry. One photo in particular stood out to you. It’s a shot of Superman floating in the air, surrounded by smoke and dust. The moon hits the particles in the sky, reflecting light in a cool way. With some lighting adjustments and other tweaks, the photo looks amazing, if you say so yourself.
“Okay, that’s a badass shot right there,” Jimmy says from over your shoulder.
“Thanks,” you smile proudly, “I guess we’re about to see if it’s front page worthy. Clark will probably be there again, too.”
Jimmy snorts, “Oh, I’m sure he will. You know him- that go-getter!”
You roll your eyes at Jimmy’s jealousy, but scan the room for Clark to ask if he did, in fact, happen to get anything from Superman while out doing whatever he was doing. Before you can call out to him, Lois comes barreling to your desk, slamming down the daily paper. sᴜᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴ sᴀᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ!
“Congrats! Front page again. I think the photo is fantastic,” Lois smiles genuinely.
All day, people approach you and pat you on the back for an amazing shot. You don’t really see Clark all day.
It’s funny how life can change in an instant.
Like a fleeting moment where you don’t even realize it’s happening, or a slow, drawn-out event that rearranges everything you once knew. It happens to you in a way you could’ve never imagined.
You’re floating around the apartment, gathering dirty laundry from your room and the bathroom. You hover by Clark’s room, wondering if you should grab his stuff. He usually doesn’t mind you doing his laundry. So, you open his bedroom door and step inside. You open his closet to where his hamper resides, grab it and tote it out of the room to where the washer and dryer are. You’re grateful not to have to lug around pounds of clothes to the nearest laundromat like you used to. You’re sorting the intimates from the shirts and pants, putting them in respective piles. Suddenly, you grab something that has an interesting texture. You pull it out of the sweatshirts at the bottom of Clark’s hamper to study it further. That’s when you see a familiar shade of blue. Now you’re pulling the garment fully out of the rest of the clothes to make sure you aren’t seeing things. Your entire body goes cold as you tense up, the suit slipping out of your grasp and onto the floor in a heap.
There’s no way- just no way this is happening. You exhale shakily before picking up the garment and letting it fully unfold before you in its glory. The Superman suit. In Clark’s laundry. Everything suddenly starts to make sense. This also meant Clark saved you and didn't say a word about it.
You keep the revelation to yourself.
Clark steps up to make dinner one evening, and as he stirs around some vegetables, you’re curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the TV in hopes that Clark wouldn’t strike up a conversation. You haven’t been able to fully look him in the eye for about a week now. You’re worried he’s picked up on it.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, are you doing okay?”
Your head snaps in Clark’s direction, anxiety filling your stomach, “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Why do you ask?”
“Have I done something?” Clark puts down the spatula and turns down the eye of the stove, walking over to the living room. He sits on the chair adjacent to the couch.
“No,” you wave a dismissive hand, “Of course not.”
Clark gives you that soft look where he knows you’re lying, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Clark. If you did or said something that bothered me, I’d tell you.”
You weren’t exactly lying- he didn’t do anything. You just so happened to find his suit. No one’s fault.
Clark narrows his eyes slightly, pushing his glasses up, “Okay.”
He gets up and resumes cooking, and you quietly sink into the couch. You aren’t sure how long you can hide that you know he’s Superman. Every day that passes, the more things fall into place and make sense. Like how he wears his glasses despite not even needing them, how he leaves work randomly, is out at weird hours of the night when off from work, and has exclusive interviews with Superman.
You’re in your room later that night, listening to music on your record player, and reading a book you’ve picked up recently. A good scene is about to unfold when you hear an odd noise over your music. You furrow your eyebrows, removing the needle from your vinyl, straining your ears to see if you hear the sound again. Your face quickly turns into one of shock when you realize it’s Clark in his room next to you. Moaning. You press your ear to the wall, listening as his moans grow louder. He probably thinks you still have your music on. You chew your bottom lip as you continue listening to Clark. You aren’t going to lie, the sounds he’s making are kinda hot. Physically shaking your head to get rid of the thought, you pull away from the wall and continue reading. Though every word you scan with your eyes doesn’t really soak in. You keep thinking about Clark stroking himself, and the whines and groans leaving his lips.
That night, you dream about Clark between your legs.
The next morning is difficult. You’re running late already, having overslept the few minutes you usually use for a shower. Clark beat you to it. He’s in the shower now, and you’re leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, waiting for him to finish up. Your mind keeps wandering to last night, and every time you think about it, you get a weird, warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Before you can think about it anymore, the door swings open, steam flowing out of the bathroom as Clark steps out in nothing but a towel. It’s low on his hips, allowing his V-line to peek out. Your eyes travel up his abdomen, which is tight with rippling muscles and don’t even get started on his pecks-
Clark clears his throat.
You blink harshly before meeting his gaze briefly, trying your best not to let your entire body burn with embarrassment. But you burn anyway. You don’t say a word and immediately make a beeline for the bathroom.
Now you have two problems. Not only is Clark the one and only Superman, but you’ve got a huge, weird crush on Clark now, too. Of course, Clark has always been cute in that boyish way; he smiles crookedly and pushes his glasses up his nose, or the way he laughs when there’s something funny in the show you two are watching. The way makes breakfast for dinner a lot, or opens doors for you everywhere you go together. Yeah, you’re beyond screwed.
At work, you catch Clark staring at you, and sometimes your eyes meet. You tear your attention away and try to distract yourself with editing. Luckily, your desk is a little farther away from his, where you’re surrounded by other photographers. So you’re able to separate yourself from him to some degree. But not at home. Home is a whole other situation.
When you finally walk through the door later that day, you notice Clark didn’t beat you home. Sometimes you walk together, but other times one of you stays behind at The Daily Planet to catch up on work. You figure that’s what he’s doing, or he’s out being Superman. Either way, you’re glad to have the apartment to yourself.
After a long, relaxing bath, you go to your bedroom to finish that book you’ve been reading. You leave your door cracked since it’s such a warm day, because the apartment gets stuffy, not giving it another thought. While trying to focus on reading, your mind keeps going to Clark. How funny he is, how charming and sweet he is, how downright attractive he is, and the fact that he could pick you up and throw you if he wanted to. You lose yourself in thought about Clark, and you remember the dream you had last night, heat growing between your legs before you can stop yourself. You keep thinking of him, fresh out of the shower this morning.
You sigh, squeezing your legs shut to give yourself some sort of relief. But the arousal only grows. Defeatedly, and a little ashamed, you pull open one of your bedside drawers and retrieve your handy-dandy vibrator. Turning it up to the medium, consistent setting, you toss your now closed book on the floor, and relax on your pillows. You pull down your shorts and kick them off before spreading your legs slightly. Teasing yourself, you run the vibrator along your thighs, around your clothed clit, and against the growing wet spot on your panties. You hum at the feeling, lightly moving the toy higher. Your head tosses back against the pillows at the feeling of stimulation. You eventually slide your underwear down and off your legs and let them fall where your shorts lie. Spreading your legs wider, you put the toy right against your swollen clit. You whine, turning the speed up to the highest it’ll go. You glide the vibrator along your wet entrance, gathering your slick before using it as lube to make rubbing your clit easier. Quiet moans slip from your lips, your mind going numb. You don’t even hear the front door open. You especially don’t hear Clark coming down the hallway. But Clark, well, he hears everything. He could hear the vibrator, the sound of your wetness, and your moans all the way in the corridor outside the apartment.
A little curious, Clark peers through the crack in your door. He sees you sprawled out, pleasuring yourself without a care in the world. He gulps hard before knocking on the door with his knuckle. You nearly hit the ceiling when you hear the sound, immediately turning off the toy and shuffling to cover yourself.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Clark says, opening the door a little wider and feeling a little braver.
You struggle to come up with any form of response.
Clark is still in his white button-up from work, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. God, his arms look delectable. Clark sits on the end of your bed, his back against the wall as he turns to face you.
“Like I said, don’t let me stop you.”
Wordlessly, you hesitantly grab your vibrator again. You’ve never exactly had an audience while getting off, but life has been strange lately anyway. Before turning the toy back on, you lift off your bed to remove your shirt, the only article of clothing left on your body. You weren’t wearing a bra, much to Clark’s surprise.
“Do you not wear a bra when we’re at home?” he asks.
“No,” you snort, “and I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.”
You press the power button as the vibrator comes back to life. You spread your legs again, and this time, they shake with nerves. Closing your eyes, you try to forget that Clark walked in on you and put the vibrator against your clit. Your hips jolt at the feeling, your hand reaching up to grasp your breast as you begin grinding yourself on the toy. Clark’s mouth waters at the sight of you playing with yourself. He’s always found you attractive, but never thought you’d give him the time of day. Guess he was wrong about that.
“Can I?” Clark asks suddenly, prompting you to open your eyes.
You furrow your brow in confusion.
“Can I use it on you?” he clarifies.
You nod, handing him the vibrator as he crawls between your legs. He braces himself on his elbows, and for a second, it’s almost identical to your dream. Clark carefully presses the toy to your clit, not bearing down or anything, but letting it barely touch you. You whimper, trying to wiggle closer, but Clark only pulls away.
“Be a good girl and be still,” Clark glances up at you.
You gulp, relaxing back into the bed and following his instructions. Clark puts the vibrator to you again, but slowly presses down before letting up again. He’s teasing you. He rests his cheek against your thigh as he starts to rub your clit with the vibrator, making your hips buck forward. Clark leans closer to your pussy, lapping at your weeping entrance as he swirls the toy around.
“Fuck,” you cry out, “Don’t stop, Clark.”
He presses the toy down onto your clit a little harder, rubbing it back and forth as his tongue explores you. You play with your nipples, lightly rolling them between your fingers as Clark licks up every bit of your arousal. He replaces his tongue with a finger, curling it inside you, making you moan like a bitch in heat. He then adds another, stretching you out nicely. You feel yourself getting close, that warm knot in your stomach slowly about to come undone. Suddenly, Clark pulls away from you completely. You groan at the loss of touch, your legs moving to squeeze together, but he keeps them spread. He stands up by the bed, undoing his belt and sliding his pants down to his ankles, where he steps out of them. You can’t help but stare in awe at the size of his bulge through his underwear.
Clark begins to unbutton his shirt, but you sit up on your knees and start doing it for him, “Allow me.”
You undo every button, sliding off Clark’s shirt and letting your hands wander across his bare chest. You’ve been dying to feel it ever since this morning. Clark lightly pushes you back down on the bed as he discards his underwear, finally letting you see his girth unrestrained. You hold in a gasp. God, he’s huge. How is it gonna fit?
Clark laughs, and you realize you accidentally said that out loud.
“It’ll fit, sweetheart.”
You make yourself comfortable as Clark hovers over you, pumping himself a few times before gliding himself along your slit. He begins to push inside you, and yeah, you figure he’s gonna rip you in half. Inch by inch, Clark pushes inside you, and your wet cunt welcomes his size. Before long, Clark is fully sucked in, your walls fluttering around him. You both sigh at the feeling, and Clark looks down at you.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this,” he admits.
“Is this what you were thinking about the other night?” you ask, an eyebrow raised.
Clark looks at you, confused, before it dawns on him, his face turning pink, “You heard me, didn’t you?”
You nod, biting your lip.
Clark doesn’t respond; instead, he pulls out of you slightly before slamming back in. You groan, your head lolling back against your pillows. He repeats the action, but pulls out a little further, thrusting his hips against yours even harder. Clark eventually gains a steady pace. You’re gripping his arms as he throws not one, but both of your legs over his shoulders. The new angle only makes you clench harder around his cock. Your eyes lock with Clark’s. You wonder if you’d be in this situation if you hadn’t heard him the other night. Before you can realize what he’s doing, Clark reaches over for your vibrator, turning it on. He presses it to your clit, and all your senses leave you. You grind against his length and the toy, growing impossibly wet. So wet that it’s audible.
“Gosh, you feel amazing,” Clark says, the vibrations also making him more turned on.
You’re a mess of moans, your hands traveling to Clark’s shoulders to hold on for dear life. You feel yourself getting close again.
“Clark,” you warn, “I’m gonna cum.”
He speeds up his thrusts, rubbing your clit harder with the vibrator in tandem. You feel yourself about to lose control, your nails digging into Clark’s skin. You let out a string of curses before your orgasm bathes you in white heat. You gush around Clark’s thick cock, the feeling of your cunt constricting him sending him over the edge just moments later with a throaty groan. He presses his forehead against yours, the toy still on your clit. You’re beyond overstimulated, but plead with Clark with your eyes to keep going. He circles your clit over and over before swiping it with the vibrator. His lust-blown blue eyes watch as you come undone for the second time. By this point, you’re gasping for air. Clark turns off the toy, tossing it to the side before pulling out of you. He goes to get dressed, but you pull him down next to you. Grabbing his face with both hands, you kiss him. At first, it’s chaste, but then it grows more passionate. You pull away.
“I have to tell you something,” you say against Clark’s lips, “I may as well since we’re just airing stuff out at this point.”
“What’s up?” Clark pushes his crooked glasses up with his knuckle.
You reach up to remove his glasses, and he flinches, moving backward a little bit so he’s out of reach.
“I know, Clark,” you say, reaching to fully pull off his glasses, “I know that you’re Superman.”
He freezes as you put his glasses on your nightstand.
“How did you-”
“I found your suit while doing laundry not long ago,”
Clark mutters an “oh” before scratching the back of his neck, “You weren’t supposed to find that,” he says sheepishly.
“I know, but it’s okay. I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t.”
Clark studies your eyes for any inkling of untruthfulness, but there’s none. It’s his turn to kiss you, now.
The next morning, you awake in his bed again, but this time, things are different. Everything is different.
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
Summary: Din saves you after your home is destroyed, giving you both a chance to finally come clean about your feelings.
Warnings: language, descriptions of death/violence, longing/pining, hurt/comfort, angst, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, reader wants his baby real bad
WC: 5.9K
---
He knew something was wrong before he even landed.
Naxore was never what one considers a paradise, but the dusty planet never looked as ashen as it did from this distance.
It was small, but it managed to house about one thousand citizens. From his experience, they're good people. They mind their own business and require very little from the galaxy. Most of what they eat and use gets produced right on the planet itself. It's small, ugly, and hardly a blip on the radar. This never stopped the people who live there from loving it with their whole hearts.
When he first arrived all those years ago, ship in desperate need of repair and Din in desperate need of hiding, the citizens welcomed him. They fed him and cleansed his wounds without a second thought. They put their lives and their little planet in danger to keep him safe. And when he left, the doctor who tended to him and gave him a bed said, Keep Naxore a secret.
And he did. But whenever Din had the chance, he would stop by and pay them a visit. He brought goods and wares from other planets, trinkets and toys for the children, and anything else he could think of they might find useful.
He always stayed with the doctor, whose wife passed on before Din had ever arrived, but still had a daughter.
You.
He told himself he was being kind, that the reason for his visits were virtuous, but deep down he knew it was you that kept him coming back. After every visit, he became more and more infatuated. Less and less time would pass before his next trip, just so he could get a glimpse of you, and when he was away, his thoughts were consumed with your laugh, your smile, the way your eyes sparkled when he unveiled to you whatever little gift he brought. He thought of you constantly. He longed for the conversations you would have, all alone, late at night around the fire. He grew hooked on your every word, eager to learn as much about you as possible. You would tell him stories of your mother, of the children at the school where you taught, how worried you were for your father as he aged.
You never once spoke of a partner, and he never asked. It would be considered too forward. Besides, what sort of life could he offer you if he tried to make you his? A bounty hunter, living a life of danger with no real home?
No, you were safer with your father.
Still, he enjoyed his visits. It temporarily satiated his thirst to be near you, to listen to you speak, to watch the way your nimble fingers worked to mend clothes or knead bread.
Din didn't have many pleasures in life, but that was certainly one of them.
So as he began his descent and saw your little planet was barren, his heart sunk. He discovered once he stepped off the Razor Crest that what little trees and foliage you had are burnt to a crisp. Everything is grey, death looms everywhere. Corpses, nearly skeletons now, litter the streets. Buildings collapsed, rubble crunch under his boots, and the entire town is silent, yet he still follows the familiar path to your father's house. He knows what he's going to find, but he can't stop himself.
Sure enough, when your house comes into view, his suspicions are confirmed. The entire building is leveled to the ground. He stumbles a moment, fighting the pain swelling in his chest. Not much is recognizable, but there is a chair that used to be in the sitting room. The same chair you used to sit in while he regaled you with his stories.
He falls to his knees then, and dips his head, fighting the urge to cry. He isn't even sure why he bothers. No one is alive and he still has his helmet on, yet he still blinks back tears.
You were so young and beautiful. You had your whole life ahead of you. You were kind and thoughtful and patient with the children in your class and with your father.
His gloved hand digs angrily into the dirt, fingers curling like he could find some answer for his pain. If he just visited more — if he took you with him, like he always wanted — maybe you would still be alive.
He feels sick. Enraged. His heart splits in his chest and his body folds over, slowly, as if the weight of his agony was trying to bury him.
Just then, there's a noise. It sounds as though someone's walking over the rubble, albeit much softer than he just did. His breath stalls and he scans the area, freezing with his hand on his blaster when he spots the source.
He can hardly believe his eyes. Yet, there you stand. Dirty, ashen, hair a mess and clothes torn. But still, you're there.
He blinks and a tear slips past his defenses. He's convinced at first he must be hallucinating, but then you move again, looking at him like you must be thinking the same. Like he's a mirage.
When you get closer, his hand falls from his waist and he slowly brings himself to his feet. He refuses to tear his eyes away, afraid if he does, you'll disappear.
Finally, you slowly raise your hands to cup your mouth. Your eyes crinkle and streaks of wet trail down your filthy cheeks and you call out his name with a broken sob.
"Din."
He closes the distance in a heartbeat. His arms wrap around you and he feels your body heave, bawling and shaking in his arms. He murmurs your name, tells you you're okay, and promises to take care of you.
You nod and continue to cry. Your fingers grab at him, searching for comfort. They slide over his steel armor, feeble fingers clawing at unwavering metal, and he never before felt so angry. Angry at whoever did this to your planet. Angry at himself, for not doing more. Angry at the promise he kept to remain hidden behind a helmet.
He doesn't ask. He leads you to his ship, slowly. Your shoes aren't as good as his and your body seems weak and malnourished. But when it starts to grow dark and you stumble next to him, he scoops you up in his arms. A squeal of surprise slips past your lips but your arms wrap round his neck, anyway.
"You need rest," he says by way of explaination. "I can carry you the rest of the way. I have food and a warm bed. You'll be strong once again, and you will be safe."
You simply nod and lean your head against his shoulder. He feels your warm breath on his neck through his cowl and he has to resist the urge to strip himself of his armor and press his body to yours the second he gets you safely on the Crest.
He feeds you and gives you fresh clothes. He shows you to the fresher, where you can wash up, and promises to wait just outside the door in case you fall or need help. You don't, but he never once leaves his post. When you emerge, your eyes look sunken and puffy. You're exhausted and he knows there was no use in asking you for details that night. He ushers you to his bunk and you crawl inside, collapsing into his cot with a deep sigh of relief.
"I'm going to get us out of here," he says. You just nod with your eyes closed. "Call out if you need me," he adds before flicking off the light. He gives you one more glance before he ascends to the cockpit. You look comfortable. You look at peace. And you look fucking incredible in his clothes.
He stifles a growl and heads up the ladder.
His priority is to get you to safety. Everything else can wait.
---
"If you never take it off, how can you eat?"
Din's eyes flickered up to you through his visor. It's been two days. You nearly slept for one of them. You look healthier and more like yourself now. The sight made him happy, more relaxed.
"I eat alone," he explains. You're sitting across from him at the small metal table that folds out from the wall. You are halfway through your meal, which is nothing fancy, just some freeze dried rations, but based on the noises you made since the first bite touched your lips, you'd think you're eating fresh tiingilar.
Your eyes drop to the plate in front of him, untouched.
"Oh," you say, recalling from his prior visits when he would retire to his room to eat. You always thought it was due to exhaustion or perhaps he didn't want to hear you prattle on about nonsense like you had a tendency of doing whenever he lingered in your father's sitting room. It was always so hard to read him when his face and body was covered in armor.
"What if I turned my back?" you offer. His head tilts and his fingers thrum against the tabletop.
"I can wait," he assures you, then asks, "Will you tell me what happened?"
Your face falls and you look down sadly at your plate. You push around the food and drag in a shaky breath.
"We were attacked," you say. "It happened at night. They ransacked the town while everyone slept. I remember—"
You choke on your words and he stiffens.
"I remember going to the window when I first heard the shouting. I... they were dragging people from their homes. They took the women and killed the men."
Din stops breathing. His jaw tenses behind his helmet. You sniffle, then continue.
"My father built a small bunker underneath our home when I was a child," you say, wiping a tear from your eye. "He hid me down there and I begged him to join me, but he wouldn't — I begged him, Din."
Tears trickle down your face now. He reaches out a gloved hand to stop you, rests it on top of yours.
He knows it's a long shot, but still he asks, "Do you know who these people were?"
You shake your head somberly, eyes drifting now to his hand. You think it over for a moment before lifting your other hand to place on top of his. Your thumb idly rubs the tough fabric.
"I never found another living soul," you whisper. Din's gaze is still locked on your hands. "I searched for days. I suppose it's fortunate my father was a paranoid man."
"Your father was a careful man," he corrects. You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. He feels horrible because it's clear your heart is torn in two and filled with guilt, yet he sits across from you, brimming with joy and relief that you managed to survive.
"What will happen now?" you ask, "what will I do?"
He swallows and you must hear it because you tilt your head slightly.
"I can take you anywhere you want to go," he eventually says.
You laugh, but it sounds flat. You keep his hand sandwiched between yours when you say, "I have nowhere to go. I've never even left my planet before. I have no one. Well... except for you."
Your cheeks burn. You give his hand a little squeeze before letting it go and even through his gloves, he instantly misses the heat from your touch.
"Navarro is nice," he says, "I have people there that I trust. People who can help you get back on your feet."
"Oh," you breathe. Then you blink and drop your gaze to your lap, food long forgotten. "Yes, okay. That... okay."
He studies you through his visor. He can tell the idea makes you nervous. You're shifting awkwardly in your seat and anxiously chewing your bottom lip.
Then, he says something foolish. Something reckless and selfish.
"Or, you could stay with me. On the Crest. It's not much of a life, but—"
"Really?" you ask, cutting him off. You peer at him hopefully through your lashes and warmth spreads in his chest at being the object you chose to grace with that look.
"Of course. You're welcome here for as long as you wish. I just ask you listen to me," he tells you sternly. He wants to make sure you understand the seriousness of what he's trying to say, but you're practically bouncing in your seat from excitement. "It can get dangerous, at times. If I tell you to stay on the ship, you need to stay on the ship, no matter how bored you might be, or—"
"I will, I promise," you say before jumping up and rounding the table. He barely has a chance to blink before you throw your arms around him for a hug. It's clunky and awkward with his armor, but you don't seem to mind. You're grinning from ear to ear, the happiest he's seen you look in days. He inhales deeply, breathing in your scent through the filter in his helmet. It makes him dizzy. With his soap and clothes, you smell so good that it leaves him breathless.
"Thank you," you say softly. You pull back slightly to gaze up at him and for one second, he thinks you can actually see him. Your eyes lock on his and you hold it, and it all feels so real that it has his breath catching in his throat. Without thinking, one of his hands lifts to cradle your face. You immediately lean into his touch but your gaze never falters. Nobody has ever looked at him the way you did. It cuts him to the core in a way he never imagined.
The air between you grows too heavy and he can't resist quickly scanning your body. Through his visor, he picks up your heat signature is slightly elevated in your face and chest. And he tries to fight the urge, he really does, but he can't help scanning lower. He clocks the temperature between your legs and his cock stirs when his suspicions are confirmed.
"You said you've never left your planet."
His voice breaks the tension. You blink and nod with a smile before stepping back, creating some breathing room between you.
"You shouldn't hide down here, then. You're missing the entire galaxy. Let me show you the cockpit."
Your eyes flicker nervously to the ladder before slowly nodding.
"O-okay," you reply shakily.
Din frowns and reaches for your hand. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I think you'll like it."
Your shoulders square up. Your chin lifts confidently and he smiles when you say, "I trust you."
He climbs the ladder first, then reaches down to help you up. When you clamber to your feet and look around, your eyes grow wide and your lips part with wonder.
"Oh, my..." you breathe, gaze raking over all the lights and controls before settling on the huge windows. He can see the reflection of the stars in your eyes and he can't tear himself away. As he suspected, all traces of your earlier apprehension vanished. You're hypnotized by the way the bright stars stretch and swirl through hyperspace, completely enraptured.
"This view. It's... beautiful," you whisper, unblinking.
With his attention still fixed on you, he replies, "Yes, it is."
Your eyes dart to him and you try to bite back a shy smile when you realize he wasn't looking at the stars.
"I've never flown before," you tell him, "it's so incredible. I can't believe you can do this all on your own."
"Really? Never?" he asks, and you shake your head. "Then we should celebrate," he adds. Your eyes light up when he spins around to a small cabinet bolted to the wall and pulls out a half filled bottle of liquor. As he pours the dark red liquid into two glasses, he realizes he hasn't stopped smiling since you stepped foot in the cockpit.
"What is this?" you ask when you take the cup he offers you. You sniff it and your nose scrunches up.
"It's Mandalorian wine," he says, "try it, it's good."
You take a tentative sip then look up at him with surprise. "It's sweet."
"I don't have it often, it's hard to come by," he admits. Then his free hand unlatches his helmet and your eyes snap to the place his fingers hook under the edge. He swears he notices excitement flicker across your face for a brief moment before you turn around.
"I won't look," you promise.
He opens his mouth to tell you it was fine, that he was only lifting it a few short inches to take a drink, but he doesn't. He sips from his glass and allows himself to take you in fully without your heated gaze pinning him to the wall. He can just make out your reflection in the windows and you faithfully have your eyes squeezed shut, just in case you catch an accidental glimpse. He sips again and his eyes darken. He can feel his body responding to how obedient you are and it's growing uncomfortable.
He slips his helmet back down and when you hear the telltale hiss of the latch, your eyes open.
"Can I turn around now?"
A muscle flickers in his jaw. Fuck, you're such a good girl.
"Yes," he says, voice rough.
You pick up on his tone. Your face warms as you slowly turn around to face him and its imperceptible, but your thighs squeeze together in his fucking pants. It's a good thing you can't see him because underneath the helmet, he is fighting every urge to pull you into his arms. He's sure it's written all over his face. Maker, he wonders what it would be like to be touched by you, to be held by you, to be kissed by you. It's been so long.
You're nervous again, he notes, but not due to fear this time. Your gaze shifts around the cabin and you swallow thickly before pointing towards the controls.
"W-what do all these do?"
He follows your finger. You're pointing to the control wheel and dials right in front of his chair.
He sets down his mostly empty glass and sits. He begins to half heartedly tell you what certain switches and knobs do, and you nod along, sipping from your glass and leaning into the side of his chair.
You lean forward, across his lap, and squint at one particularly important looking lever.
"What about this?"
His eyes slide closed and he breathes deep. You're so close to him he can feel the warmth from your skin through the slivers of exposed fabric that lies underneath his armor.
"It— it's one of the controls that sends us into hyperspace," he mumbles. You hum curiously and take another sip, draining your glass. Your body still stretches over his lap as you study the control panel and he hopes you don't notice the twitching in his pants.
"One of?" you echo. Then your beautiful eyes find his visor. He swallows harshly, leather creaking over his knuckles.
"Yes," he rasps, "there's — well, there's levels I need to check first and a course needs to —"
He stops speaking when you straighten up and sidestep so that you're wedged between him and the control panel. He watches in a haze when your small hands wrap around the control column, right where his hands normally go to steer the ship.
His gloved fingers dig into the arms of his chair.
His legs straddle yours where you stand. If you sat, you'd be right in his lap. His hands twitch and his heart stutters in his chest. You're so fucking close, he could simply wrap one arm around you—
The ship hits an unexpected rough pocket and it jolts. It's small, nothing he would even wake up for, but you're not used to flying. Your knees give out and you fall back, right into his chest.
His arms circle your waist and you let out a squeak of surprise. Then your hands cover his. Instead of pulling them off your body, you tug them tighter and squirm a little in his lap, as if you're trying to get your bearings and stand, but it's taking just a little too long.
Din murmurs your name and you still.
"Cyar'ika, I'm a patient man. But you're testing me, and I think you enjoy it."
He can't see your face, only your back and shoulders, which tense at his words. There's a long pause as if you're trying to decide your next move and he holds his breath, hoping he didn't read things wrong.
Then, your shoulders drop.
Your fingers loosen around his hands but still remain in place, holding them to your stomach. When you tilt your face to the side and look at him over your shoulder, you give him a sly grin.
"Am I that transparent?"
He doesn't respond right away, but his cock does. It swells underneath you and a soft noise that has him forgetting how to breathe slips past your lips.
"Din—"
He shakes your hands off his so he can pull frantically at his gloves, one at a time. They drop to the floor, then his hands are back on you again. Your eyes flutter shut and you tip your chin up when you feel him — really feel him — for the first time as he explores the skin under your borrowed tunic. It has been so long since he's felt the warmth of another that it makes him weak. Under his helmet, his jaw drops open in wonder. You're breathing heavy, he can feel it, and it's making his vision blur.
He cups your left breast and you whimper before leaning into his hold. Stars, you're so soft and warm and perfect that he never wants to stop touching you.
Your body sags against his chest when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your back presses against his beskar and your head falls backward onto his shoulder with a loud thud. You wince and try to hide it, but he sees it.
"Sit up," he orders. He releases your breast and you whine but you do as you're told and lean forward so he can remove the metal that covers his upper body.
He eases you down so your back rests on his chest once again. Now, the only metal you have to contend with is his helmet and the plates on his thighs. When the back of your head comes to rest on his shoulder, you instantly twist so you can bury your face into the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply, like you're committing his scent to memory, before fumbling for his hand and guiding it down, past your waistline. His fingers dip underneath your pants and he bites back a groan. The fabric is oversized and loose, making it easy for him to find exactly what he's looking for.
"D-Din," you stammer when the pads of his fingers slide through your slit. Your head rolls and your lips part when you lift your hips off his lap, chasing his gentle touch.
You must hear how fast he's breathing. Even though the modulator muffles it, it's so loud it's impossible you don't notice.
"Maker, you're soft. So soft and wet," he murmurs. You preen a little in his lap, hips rolling so his two thick fingers slip through your cunt, spreading your folds and slick with each pass.
When he sinks both fingers past your entrance, your hand flies back, slapping loudly against the side of his helmet.
"Oh!" you cry out, fingers clutching uselessly at the metal. Your back arches off his chest with a wet gasp when he pushes in all the way to the knuckle, then he's shushing you. His distorted voice is trying to quiet you down but, as it turns out, you both want each other so badly that it's an impossible task, even for a Mandalorian.
"Do you know how long I've thought about this?" he asks, watching the way your eyes pinch shut and your jaw trembles each time his fingers drag in and out of you. Your backside writhes in his lap and he has to use his other hand to keep you still, wrapping it around your waist from behind and pressing his palm flat against your stomach.
"No," you shudder. You're coming apart so easily for him, heat blooming in your chest and cheeks the faster his hand moves down your pants — his pants. He's so hard, his stomach hurts.
"Years," he grits. "Each time I left, I dreamt of taking you with me. Dreamt of your perfect mouth, your beautiful eyes, your smile, your laugh—" He curses under his breath when you clench tightly around his fingers. He can't wait to feel you wrapped around his cock, squeezing him so tight and milking him for every last drop of his release.
"You came b-back for m-me," you stammer breathlessly. "Y-you — oh, f-fuck, Din—"
A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead. You're grinding down on his hand, back bowed and nails digging ruthlessly into his covered arm. You look so sweet, coming apart on his hand, moaning his name, that he wants nothing more than to kiss you, to taste you.
But, he can't.
So, he settles for driving you wild, for curling his fingers deep inside you, grunting in your ear, rubbing his palm against your clit until your lungs are empty and your entire body is pulled tight.
"Pl-please," you beg, "oh, please. Pleaseplea— I'm g-gonna come," you whine. You gasp hotly against his helmet, holding him so close with a hand still clutching at the back of his head that his visor fogs up.
"Come for me," he tells you shakily, even through the modulator. "Come for me and then I'll fuck this sweet little pussy, just the way I've always wanted."
That tips you over the edge. You moan his name so loudly that it echoes in the small room. You thrash your head around on his shoulder, body convulsing in his lap as he pulls every ounce of pleasure he can, and then your teeth find a small patch of exposed skin just above the collar of his shirt, below his ear. He swears when your teeth pinch him and his grip on you tightens, holding you steady until your orgasm slows and you relax in his arms.
He doesn't give you much time to recover. He can't. He's so pent up, it's making him dizzy. Sliding you off his lap, Din reaches down and pulls on his pants, lifting his hips and tugging the fabric down just enough to free his cock. You're still in a daze, slumped against his shoulder, chest heaving. When he tugs you back in place, leaning against his chest and sitting in his lap, he loosens your slacks, letting them pool to the floor.
In his crazed, lust-filled stupor, he manages to realize something through the fog. The position you're in — with your back pressed against his front — maybe...
His hand fumbles around until he finds the button he's looking for and he smacks it, probably louder than is necessary. You jump in his arms when the cabin goes black, the only lights filling the space are from some switches on the console, too dim to create a reflection. But, if you turn your head—
"Keep your eyes closed."
You open your mouth to ask the question, then clamp it shut and quickly obey. He regards you for a moment, just a moment. He trusts you. You wouldn't look.
A hand comes up to unclasp his helmet and it falls to the floor with a loud thud. You jump again but keep your eyes closed.
He says your name, voice clear to your ears for the very first time. You shudder in his arms and your brows pull together, like a blanket of warmth just passed over you. He smiles to himself, then his hand drops to grip his leaking cock. He presses the thick tip between your thighs and you twitch before spreading your legs as far as you can manage.
He can't wait any longer — his hips flex and you moan in unison as he slides inside your warm, perfect cunt. The way you clench around him, the noises you murmur in his ear — it all adds to the heat building at the base of his spine since you stepped foot in the cockpit.
"M-Maker—" he groans, "you feel so good."
Then you start to roll your hips, tight pussy gripping and fluttering around his length as you try to fuck yourself in his lap. Your legs drape over his thighs, feet dangling near his ankles, unable to graze the hard metal floor for support, yet you still try to work faster, just so desperate for him.
His hands grip your hips, helping you move. Your eyes are still squeezed shut but your mouth is open, gasping for air every time he pushes back inside to grind against a spot that makes you whine through your teeth.
"I've wanted you so badly, it hurts," you confess shamelessly. Something about not being able to see him makes you feel bold. "I would follow you anywhere, Din Djarin."
He groans and nips at your earlobe. You feel his chest rumble against your back and you smile. Your hand falls to where you're connected and your fingers spread, gasping when you touch him. He's thick and hard and soaked with your arousal.
"I always knew you must have had a nice cock," you whisper, still feeling emboldened with your eyes closed. "No one carries themselves the way you do without having the goods to back it up."
You cry out when his hips snap roughly against your ass, and your entire body is practically bouncing in his lap. If it weren't for his ironclad grip around your middle, you're sure you'd have fallen out of the chair.
"Keep — talking," he grunts. His wet tongue slides slowly up your neck before his lips pucker and he begins to suck a mark that will take days to disappear.
"I— I —" you stammer. He's fucking you so fast now, it's hard to think, let alone form a sentence. "I used to — to think about you — oh, f-fuck, right there—"
"Think about me?" he repeats, ignoring everything else.
"Yes," you hiss, then your hand reaches back to slide through his hair — it's thick and a little curly and you commit the feeling to memory before it's taken from you.
"I would think about you — wh-when I... when I would touch myself."
Your stomach muscles begin to bear down and your thighs go rigid. You're so fucking close, you can taste it.
"Yeah? You thought about me when you made yourself come? Thought about my cock in this tight pussy, just like this?"
His deep voice in your ear makes you shudder.
You nod with your mouth hanging wide open.
"Oh fuck," you whimper when the tip of his cock finds a sensitive spot deep inside. You writhe and roll your hips, eager to find the angle again, but Din knows. He knows what you need and he wants to be the one to give it to you, so his hands still your movements and he rocks upward. You're both breathless and sweaty, but it doesn't matter because he's there — he's right fucking there, right at the spot where you need him the most.
Your mouth creates a combination of noises and melted words. There's no sense to be made when he's fucking you like this. You push back, deepening the angle. You both moan so loudly, it echos, but you barely register it.
His fingers fall to your clit and he starts to swirl messy circles over the throbbing bud. Three, maybe four passes. That's all it takes.
You throw your head back violently, his name ripping from your throat as you cunt clenches around him, pulsing and squeezing. Your stomach flutters, the released tension rippling across your muscles.
He doesn't stop. His fingers move frantically and he fucks you through it until your body sags and you whimper when swatting weakly at his hand.
"That's it, that's my g-girl," he groans, abandoning your clit. He wraps his arm around you instead, keeping you upright so he can thrust into you as hard as he can. You moan and bite at his neck, his ear, his cheek... any part of him that's normally hidden by his helmet. You feel the stubble under your lips and you lick his skin, reveling in the sharp prickle across your tongue.
"Come inside me," you whisper. He makes a choked sound and shakes his head.
"Can't."
"Please?"
His movements grow erratic. He's losing rhythm.
"No, it's — too risky."
"Would that be so bad? Don't y— don't you wonder what it would — be like?"
You're babbling. You sound insane. You don't care.
"Please stop," he begs, then his teeth sink into your shoulder and he pulls out of you roughly, just in time to shoot hot cum all over your inner thighs. He's groaning your name into your skin and he's panting so heavily, you fear he may pass out.
"I'm not —"
Din swallows and then he drags in a deep breath. With your eyes still closed, you start blindly peppering kisses across his cheek.
"I know," you mumble, "I'm sorry."
Suddenly, his fingers pinch your chin and he tilts your head so his lips press firmly against your own. Your heart stops when you first feel what it's like to kiss him — never in your wildest fantasies did you think you would know what his lips felt like. The trust he must have for you makes you weak and you melt, getting lost in the taste of him when his tongue slides into your mouth.
"I wasn't going to give you my child without kissing you first," he murmurs when he pulls back, but he doesn't go far. His forehead rests against yours and he sighs when your hand lifts to get lost in his messy hair.
"Really?" you whisper in disbelief, but you're smiling like a fool.
"Is that something you really want? With me?" he asks. You don't need to see his face, you can hear the doubt — the shock — that you would pick him out of anyone in the galaxy.
You nod and peck a kiss to his lips. "I'm tired of waiting," you tell him. "We almost lost our chance... I don't want to waste another second with you."
He laughs and you grin when his soft exhale fans across your face.
"I will gladly devote my life to you, if you'll have me," he says.
And yes, it feels fast. But what's the point in waiting when everything you want is right in front of you? You very easily could have died, but you were given a second chance.
