#however this really does not convince me of that

[notquitecanon]

IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Third part of my Search History series (based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal minds) , the dinner party. The culmination of a month of knowing the boy's browser histories. Not much of a summary, it's pretty much dirty from start to finish.

18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warning: Fem pronouns and genitals, alcohol consumption, alcohol used during sex, porn, emulating porn, group sex, unprotected sex, tagging dub con just to be on the safe side but not really if you read the other parts you get it, Oral (M & F recieiving), fingering, penetration (F receiving) , allusions to penetration (male recieving), inappropriate use of cigar ashes. Genuinely this is just me being gross about these men for almost 12,000 words, proceed with caution. Say it with me one more time- irl this would be workplace harassment and NOT sexy. However, these are fictional war criminals who ARE sexy so we’re forgiving it. 

Original Idea First Prev My Masterlist

made a lil header for the first time these are the vibes of reader and 141 :) (not Penelope's psychical description just her vibes)

pssst see how they're all on their mics in the pics?? its cuz your the voice in their ears :)

When you pulled into a parking spot on John Price’s street thirty minutes early, you automatically feel squirmy and a little foolish. Foolish because you’d convinced yourself that you were reading too much into things. So much so, that, somehow, the boys seeking out your porn twin had circled back around to you feeling like the unprofessional one. Squirming because you’d found the video they’d all watched more than once (more than three times) in the last days of their assignment. Barrack’s Bunny Get’s Gang Banged! 

 (Of course it was a military inspired orgy video, with four men and one woman that looked almost identical to you. Because, JFC, why wouldn’t it be? Was this actress in on the torment? Was she taking requests or was this some sort of cosmic joke where the punchline was your own sexual frustration?)  

Ok, how the hell were you not supposed to read into that? 

You hadn’t been able to watch it all the way through yet, having to pause and take breaks to calm yourself down. The thumbnail alone of your doppelgänger with four sets of hands and… other extremities... was enough to tempt you put your car back in drive and go back home. Because you weren’t sure you could look any of them in the eyes, and also for the third time in the last hour, you were second guessing your outfit. 

Because what the hell does one wear to the porn-party with their boss and superiors? (Ok, maybe you should start by stop calling it the ‘porn-party’, because outside of your own finding in their browser histories, they’d yet to mention any actual porn to you in real life, but what else were you supposed to call this?)

After leaving work, you’d spent a long time debating if you needed to change and, if so, into what, and would it be delusional to put on a matching set? Johnny did say he liked seeing something soft… And were your work clothes too stiff? Was the skirt too presumptuous after that video Kyle liked titled Easy Access ? And was it just you or did your work blouse look slightly too much like the one from the office-scene Price had bookmarked? And why the hell was this all you could think about? Strewing your clothes around your bedroom like a teenager before a party, different combinations and options littering your bed and dresser until you got frustrated with yourself and your closet. With a what the hell moment of ambivalence, you’d settled on something comfortable, but switched into a lacy bralette, lying to yourself that it was more comfortable than the one you’d worn to work, and if the lacy strap happened to coquettishly accent your shoulder when your sweater sleeve slipped down your arm? Well, if it wasn’t a Porn Party, then no one would notice, and if it was, well it’d be sure to draw some appreciative eyes. 

Your car was still cranked as you sat slightly down the block from Price’s house in your casual sweater and hidden matching set, anxiously killing time by alternating between tik tok, instagram, tumblr, and oh yes,  the Barracks Bunny Gets Gang Banged video that you’d been working through thirty seconds at a time because any longer had your overheating and threatening to leave a snail trail on your upholstery. So enthralled and flustered, you’d barely thought of the fact you were quietly playing porn over your car’s bluetooth system, you’d made it to the official halfway mark, and each time you’d switched out to a different app, the ‘break’ was short lived as you went back for more, one hand white knuckling your steering wheel as if this was a particularly good movie with a plot twist you just couldn’t miss. 

So enthralled, that a sudden knocking on your window startled you so bad that you half-tossed-half-dropped your phone with a sound that could only be described as a ’squawk’  as you slammed the mute button to your car’s stereo. It was as you were turning towards the knocker, that you realized you could 100% catch a public indecency charge for this, and somehow were still only half relieved to find Johnny leaning slightly down so he could meet your gaze through your driver-side window. He had his raincoat on, and a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer as he looked in on you with a cheeky smile and raised brows. When you just stared up at him like a deer in headlights, mentally trying to figure out just how long he’d been there and if from that angle he could’ve seen your screen and how good was the sound proofing on your car…. As you ran those mental calculations, Johnny simply knocked again and this time added a downwards motion with his cigarette, requesting you to roll down the window. 

You’d never noticed how slow your windows descended as the two of you held eye contact (awkward on your side, delighted on his), until there was no longer a pane of glass between you. The cool, damp night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and some kind of Old Spice fragrance into your little car as you looked up at the Scotsman. He seem amused, but happy to see you, "Coming?" 

Your brain short circuited for a moment. Were you… cumming? You stared at him wide eyed, convinced you’d misheard him. 

"What?" Was all you managed to respond with, your brain still trying to scrub filthy, lewd images from between its lobes, like a community service volunteer cleaning graffiti off subway walls. Johnny’s eyebrows only raised higher with his signature, Can’t wait to tell Ghost about this look, as he took another deep puff of his cig. 

"Are ye coming inside, hen?" He clarified slowly with that shit eating grin after blowing his smoke away form you- what a gentleman, "Or are’ye planning to sit out here all night?" 

"Oh, right." You mumbled, resisting the urge to scrub your hands across your face to physically redirect your thoughts. Instead, you nodded and started gathering your things, "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming inside." 

"Good, Si was getting impatient." Johnny grinned, stepping back so you could open your car door after you fished your phone from the passenger floorboards and cut the engine. Si? You hadn’t head that nickname for Ghost before, hell, you still excusively called him Ghost to his face, because you’d not received permission for anything else. Simon was personal, Si… was intimate...  He watched you expectantly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and when you only responded in silent confusion, he reached inside the still open vehicle and tapped the buttons, "Window, bonnie, s'raining." 

Cheeks heating in mild embarrassment, you quickly cut the battery back��on so you roll up the window and then get out. You’d always been a little scatter-brained, prone to being in your own little world, but this was getting excessive. Maybe all the porn really was melting your brain… With the windows up and double checking the car was off, you finally got out of the car. Johnny immediately took the plate of brownies out of your hand in the guise of gentlemanly conduct, but actually snuck one from under the plastic wrap before you could scold him.  

"Why so grim? Y’look like yer marching off to war." Johnny seemed pretty pleased with his own little joke, his free arm resting in the small of your back to guide you up Price’s porch step and into the house like you might run off down the street without his guidance. You were considering it anyways. 

"I don’t look grim." You shot him a look but didn’t shake off his arm, nor could you prevent the smile that was fighting at the corners of your mouth, snatching the brownies back from him before he could snag another, happy to have something to fidget with as you smoothed the plastic wrap back into place. 

"No, you most definitely do not." And there was the other sergeant, Kyle, holding the door open for the two of you. Smiling as charmingly as ever, Kyle was already taking the dish out of your hands only to hand the dessert back to Johnny to carry off somewhere else. Then, he was on you, "Glad you could make it, love. Don’t listen to Soap, you look beautiful.” “Hey! Dinnae say she couldn’t be grim and beautiful.” Soap called back, already on his way deeper into the house. 

"Such a shameless flirt." You scoffed just loud enough to drown out Johnny with your own teasing smile, a more usual routine amongst all the overthinking you’d been doing, as Gaz helped you out of your coat. Maybe you were imagining the sensuality, but you were not imagining how his touch lingered, and how his fingers grazed the fabric of your sweater as it was exposed. Hell, he was basically unwrapping your raincoat like it was the gift wrap on a present, "Don’t look half bad yourself, though." 

All the boys looked good in their civilian clothes, hell they’d all look good in anything (or nothing… Focus. Focus.). But Kyle? In his stylish and tailored clothes? He always looked he’d walked off a J. Crew magazine cover when he wasn’t on base. His burgundy sweater looked like something you wanted to rub your cheek against, soft and warm and it fit him like a glove. Gaz grinned at your little praise, not speeding up his maddeningly slow pace of peeling off your raincoat and adjusting your hair for you afterwards, which distracted you just enough that you didn’t notice the others watching his little show. One of his lingering fingers seemed to all together abandon it’s mission, instead tracing the arced lace strap of your (meticulously chosen) lace bralette strap that had fallen off your shoulder. You watched Kyle’s finger follow the flowery lace pattern for a moment before fixing back on your shoulder with an audible snap! that made you jump a little from the sting. 

This time you did see Johnny’s amused grin and slightly devious eyes as your own went wide and you let out a little yelp, snapping your eyes over your soldier at the sergeant. Gaz was quick to soothe the ouch, humming at you before you could get disgruntled while his warm palm cupped the curve of your shoulder and rubbed the slightly stinging skin softly. And if you were still reading into things (you were) you could swear it was just for him to have a reason to touch you more.

"Sorry, love, had to fix it, was bothering me." Was the only explanation offered for his actions. Once your jacket was off, Gaz hung it on the foyer hooks, it looking comically small and feminine between all four of theirs. You knew your brain was melted from all the porn when the visual immediately reminded you of the stupid video’s thumbnail picuture… the pretty, feminine actress with four huge actors surrounding her… Fortunately, Kyle tugging you further into the house pulled you out of your dirty-thought spiral. 

In the kitchen, John Price was waiting, marinating a platter of steaks. You couldn’t help the amused quirk of a smile at seeing the apron tied over his civilian clothes, an unlit cigar in the chest pocket for easy access. The captain smiled first to Gaz with an approving nod, and then to you with a teasing smirk, "Thought you’d sit out in your car all night." 

"I’m early." You defended yourself, cheeks now must be permanently stained into a flush with how easily they managed to fluster you. Gaz parked himself right beside you, leaning on the counter but standing so close that his shoulder was slotted slightly behind you, half his chest pressed to your back, distractingly proving your early guess that his sweater was, in fact, very soft.  It took the steam out of your vehement defense, "You said, eight. It’s 7:50." 

"Yeah, but you’ve been sitting out there since 7:30, love." Kyle chided. You wondered if it was the whiskey he was sipping that gave him the courage to puncuate his teasings with a slight pinch to your hip that made you squirm. His closeness kept you from slipping away as he shifted his attention to his captain, that easy going smile still on his face, "She brought brownies." 

"I know. Johnny’s already had two." Price smiled, slathering another steak with marinade and massaging it into the meat with tender but deliberate ministrations of his long fingers that, for a moment, made you jealous of a dead slab of beef. His eyes caught yours staring at his hands, chuckling as he cleared his throat, "We had something else in mind for dessert. Very sweet of you though." 

Something Price said made Kyle chuckle like it was some kind of inside joke, his fingers still on your hip, tracing little circles that were almost as distracting as… whatever the hell it was that Price was doing to the steaks. 

"Now, go off and relax. I’m about to cut onions and we don’t want to mess up that pretty make up." Price ordered, shooing you off towards his stocked bar cart, before adding quietly enough you thought you might have hallucinated it, "Not yet, anyways." 

__

Later, after you’d been supplied a drink and deposited on the couch with Ghost to watch what you were pretty sure was a rugby match (you were a little distracted by his warm arm draped over your shoulder, fingers tracing the same floral lace Gaz had). 

"Gonna have to make some more room, love." Kyle grinned, looking down at you, holding his drink in one hand and one of your brownies in the other. You looked around yourself, already sandwhiched between the armrest of the sofa and Ghost who hadn’t closed his legs even a fraction when Johnny’d led you to the couch originally. Wasn’t much room to make room with. 

"Oh, I can just-" you started, standing carefully as to not spill the drink Kyle had made for you. Before you could step away to claim the plush arm chair by the mantle (a safe distance from Simon’s thigh against yours and Kyle’s lingering touches), a strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you right back down. Instead of your original seat, however, it was Ghost who had pulled you side saddle into his lap, his other hand steadying the drink in yours. Gaz chuckled, taking the spot you had been sitting in, both men unbothered by your startled yelp. 

Despite the fact that Simon had forecully and silently pulled you onto his lap, when you gave him a bewildered look, he seemed not to even notice the fact you were sitting on him, his amber eyes focused on the fame playing even as his finger’s kneaded distracting little circles into the plushest part of your waist, his arm still wrapped around you like you might try and escape. And when you just blinked at him, his only offering was, "Tha’s Price’s chair." 

"Ye look comfy." Soap chided as he came around the corner with a beer and a lo-ball glass of some sort of whiskey, beer for himself and the (presumably) bourbon was given to Simon, both however, were offered to Simon, "Crack that for me, Si?" 

You watched, wide eyed and enamored, as he lifted his mask over his nose and used his teeth to crack the bottle open before taking a long swig and then handing it back to Johnny in exchange for the whiskey. You had a front row seat to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the way a scar split the top corner of his lip vertically (you wondered if you would feel the scar if he was kissing you, focus, damnit, focus). Soap noticed your expression and the blush in your cheeks with a twinkle in his eyes, " ’s not nice to stare, bonnie." 

You stared a moment longer before forefully shaking yourself out of the stupor and taking a swig of your own drink, thankfully ice cold. The momentary pause allowed you to dip back into your usual well of sarcastic wit, offering the Scot a raised eyebrow, "You’re just jealous I’m not staring at you." 

Johnny only shrugged, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, making his broad chest only seem broader, his grin showing just enough teeth to appear wolfish as his thigh pressed into Ghost’s and therefore the round of your ass, "Aye, maybe I am."  

"Ignore him, he’s been watching too much…" Simon started swirling then sipping his bourbon before tugging his mask down again afterwards. You knew the answer to his trail off and your internal body temp went up five degrees, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Johnny elbowed the taller man, so Simon only shrugged and finished lamely with, "stuff." 

Porn. He’s been watching a lot of porn. You all have.  I know that. You know that. We all know that. You brain chanting in time with those stupid circles he was rubbing on your hip as Johnny took the liberty of adjusting the hair off your shoulder, his voice a challenging chide,  "What’s that look for, bonnie? What’d you think he was gonna say?" 

Your mouth opened, and then closed, and you were saved from answering by Price coming into the living room, declaring the steaks were marinating so they had a while to just hang out. He gave Kyle a shoulder squeeze in passing, and offered you a warm smile before settling in his chair by the mantle. The chair you’d tried to escape to earlier. 

For a get-together planned around watching the game, it occurred to you that not a single eye was on the TV at the moment. Instead, you realized they were all on… you. Price in his chair, smoothing his beard. Simon still had you on his lap, amber eyes carefully scrutinizing your expression as you flicked your eyes over to Gaz, who was watching you- or rather the rise and fall of your chest as he pulled your legs into his lap- with a slightly cocked head, a small smile on his lips. And finally, Johnny, who’d not stopped fidgeting with your hair and the neckline of your sweater. 

Once again, you were uncharacteristically at a loss for words, squirming a bit on Simon’s lap as you tried to figure out what to say or if to say anything at all, because all that was coming to mind right now were two options. Are y’all trying to fuck me? and How’s the weather?. Both options made you want to crawl in a hole and stay there. 

"You’re quiet tonight, sweet, something on your mind?" Price raised his eyebrows, still smirking, knuckles tapping against the armrest, "Something you wanted to tell the boys, right? What we talked about in my office?" 

How were you supposed to broach the topic of their internet history, essentially admit to knowing about your XXX twin, while sitting on your superior's lap, having your hair played with, and your calves massaged through your leggings… 

"No, no. Just… enjoying my drink." You muttered, draining the rest of the beverage before leaning over to place the empty glass on the side table, which was a mistake because it just had you practically sprawled over the three men on the couch, "What game are we supposed to be watching tonight?" 

"Never mind that, hen." Johnny shrugged, clicking the TV off before tossing the remote to Price, "We’ve been into a… different form of entertainment lately." 

Yeah. I know. The problem is that I know. You thought to yourself, now not even able to pretend to watch the screen, forced to focus on all the hands and eyes on you. 

"Let’s stop dancing around it." Simon gruffed, resting his head against the back of the couch, his fingers trailing from your hip to the top of your thigh, "She’s not daft." 

"Lieutenant Riley, always the subtle one." Gaz rolled his eyes before sliding his eyes over to Price who gave him an affirmative nod, not unlike they would do in the field, and then his eyes were back on you, "So, we know you aren’t blind, love, sure you noticed something going on here." 

You weren’t sure if he was talking about what you’d dubbed the porn party or if he was just talking about the general bond between the men that went deeper than just elite squad, so you just nodded, hoping he would proceed with some more context clues… any keep rubbing his thumbs around your calf. It was not helping you focus. Kyle just grinned, his hands gently roaming up your shins to your knees and then back down, "Well, we’ve noticed something, too, love. You." 

"Me?" You parroted, half sincere half forced faux shock, that sent you further back into Johnny’s chest, the Scot who was still fiddling with your hair had also pressed his nose into the crown of your hair to smell whatever products you used. "Don’t sound so surprised, bonnie." He murmured into your hair before leaning past you to Simon, planting an open-mouthed, 

wet kiss against the larger man’s mask right beside your own face. Your mouth dried out despite just finishing your drink, tongue seeming too big for your mouth, eyes flicking rapidly between them and Gaz. You were beyond flustered, your stomach twisting in a both nerve wracking and enticing way. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should look, or look away. You didn’t want to look away, seeing Soap’s tongue find Simon’s mouth even through the cotton. Did they want the illusion of privacy and if so, how were you supposed to give them that when Simon was half groping you at the same time Johnny was lapping at his tongue 

through the balaclava? Johnny slid his eyes to you, barely breaking from Ghost, "S’alright, hen, don’t mind you watching us. After all, s’only fair." 

Your eyes widened, owlishly turning to Gaz though Simon kept you from slipping off his lap. Was that them telling you that they knew you knew? Was this some confession about finding your doppelgänger and watching enough of her content to pay off her car? He rolled his eyes at the other sergeant, his easy going smile returning when his eyes came back to you. 

"They’re so impatient." He chuckled with a what can you do shrug, as if they’d simply skipped to dessert (innuendo intended) instead of started sloppily making out with you in their lap. He quit massaging at your calves, instead using his middle and pointer fingers to trace patterns (you could swear it was a mimic of the lace pattern he’d traced earlier). Your eyes flicked over to Price, who was still just watching, leaned back in his chair, jutting his chin back to Gaz as if telling you to pay attention. Sheepishly, you turned back to Kyle, "So, we’ve… discovered this person online, and she looks… so much like you. Genuinely, love, it’s uncanny. And there’s this video she made that really caught our attention-" 

"She knows the one." "Aye, She’s seen it." 

Both Price and Johnny answered at the same time. Price, because you’d brought up the issue to him in his office. And Johnny… had apparently been standing outside your car longer than you thought and could see your screen. Your cheeks had to be glowing by now. Kyle’s smile just grew, flashing perfect white teeth at you as he leaned in closer, "Perfect, then we can skip that explanation. But once we saw it�� well, it kind of got under our skin. You’ve gotten under our skin, love."  

Johnny and Simon hadn’t stopped though they had shifted and suddenly there lips were back and forth on each other, and also over your neck and shoulders as you tried fervently to keep your eyes on Gaz as he leaned closer, pulling the sleeve of your sweater off your shoulder to expose that lace strap again, "And, judging by how you’ve been acting lately, we’ve gotten under yours too." 

"Yeah. Yeah. That’s one way to put it." You admitted in a released breath, eyes flicked down to Simon who’d been kissing and sucking right at the curve of your shoulder for several long seconds, like if he wasn’t already under your skin, he’d supplant himself there personally. Johnny wasn’t going under your clothes, but his hands were tracing the line of your spine, finding the waistband of your leggings, nosing into your hair so he could kiss the shell of your ear. All while Kyle just kept that pretty grin on you, somehow putting you at ease and twisting your nerves even more. 

"And, truthfully, we could sit here talking about it all night, Or…"  And Kyle Garrick, with that unfairly, stupidly charming smile of his, made a veritable orgy sound as commonplace and sensible as going to the pub afterwork, and you found yourself dumbly nodding along to his easy words before you anxieties, logical and/or otherwise, could convince you that group sex with your coworkers was probably not the most professional way to spend a Friday night. But, damn, the sparkle in those pretty hazel-brown eyes was doing a good job of easing any worries that charming smile had missed… 

Price finally spoke up again, but stayed in his chair, "You're nodding, sweet, but we gotta hear it. Out loud. Do you want this?" 

When you looked over again, John Price was looking wholly the Captain he was. If you thought he was making a point to manspread in his office earlier in the day, now… Now he was just showing off. He looked like he was posing on a throne, legs spread, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he settled in, watching the three soldiers and you on the couch.  Seemingly completely nonplussed by his subordinate employees’ heavy petting on his couch. 

Your internal reflection was swift. You were already getting felt up. If going into the office was going to be awkward on Monday, it was going to be awkward regardless of whether or not you cut it off at groping. You might as well let them relieve the nagging itch in the back of your mind while you were at it. So after another dumb nod, you found your voice again, "Yes. Yes. I want it. Please." 

"So polite." Johnny murmured, taking you verbal confirmation as permission to slip his hands underneath your clothes, mapping your bare skin, "And you’ll say something if it’s too much?" 

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded fervently, turning your head to try and catch one of their lips, the sweater had been stifling for the past hour, but now it was itching at your feverish skin. Johnny just smiled, helping you out of the thing. 

"Good girl." Simon nodded before his amber eyes lit up a bit, "Well, would you look at tha’." 

His fingers dipped under the lacy band of the bralette you were wearing. Johnny had already run his hands over the fabric while Kyle just whistled lowly. Price was the one who spoke up about it, "Did you put that on just for us, sweet?" 

"Just in… just in case." You nodded in a breath, leaning back into Johnny as he started rolling your leggings down, exposing the complimentary lace waistband of your panties. Another round of appreciative comments and touches, Simon’s teeth nipping at the curve of your neck again. 

"Too good to us, love." Gaz shook his head, helping his fellow sergeant get your leggings all the way off and tossing them somewhere out of sight, pressing kisses to the top of your thighs, then your knees, and finally one too the inside of your ankle. " So you suspected all along. How’d you see the video?" 

"Go on, sweet, fill him in." Price prompted with that stupid little smirk, the one that tugged the corners of his beard up. The one that made you want to get on your knees and do anything to earn one of those approving nods. 

"I-I can see the websites y’all visit." You admitted breathlessly, watching as Kyle kissed his way back up your legs, how those eyes never broke contact with yours, "I have to clear them for security purposes. I’ve.. I’ve seen all the videos y’all’ve been sharing with each other." “

All of them. So 

that’s why you’ve been so quiet, bonnie?" Johnny hummed, a smile pressed into the base of your neck, watching Simon nip at your neck, teeth digging in harder every time, making you whimper which seemed to only egg Ghost on. 

"Flattered or offended?" Kyle asked, but his smile told you he already knew the answer. Because, with you sprawled over the laps of three men, if you were offended you had a funny way of showing it. 

"I should’ve been." You gulped after breaking off Johnny’s lips for a moment, adding on, "Offended."

"But you’re not?" Price prompted, head cocking to the side as he fiddled with lighting his cigar. 

No. For better or for worse, this roundabout workplace harassment approach had really worked on you. So you just shook your head, opening your mouth as Simon pulled his mask up and caught your lips, tongue domineering itself into your mouth almost instantly. 

"So cooperative, nice change of pace." One of them hummed, but you couldn’t place it, too focussed on the fingers kneading at your inner thighs, slowly working your legs open into a spread so your knee’s were hooked over each side of Simon’s wide spread legs, which exposed the dampened gusset of the deliberately chosen panties. 

"All right, deal’s a deal, Garrick," Simon all but growled into your mouth, your eyes fluttering open to see his amber eyes watching Kyle who was smirking like he’d just gotten away with something, "You get first taste. Warm ‘er up for us." 

Oh. Oh. Just diving right in. Though Gaz was ever the gentleman, charming through and through. 

"May I?" He asked softly, waiting with his fingers hooked in the lacy waistband as he sunk to his knees in front of you. Your breath picked up just from the sight, and it was only Simon holding you to him that kept you from leaning down and catching a kiss from Kyle as well. Since that wasn't an option, you jerked your head in a clumsy nod, punctuating with the cant of your hips towards him that just made him chuckle as your panties were discarded towards the same direction as your pants. 

"Please." You whined, the tone making all of the men snap their eyes up to you, the expressions all reading make her do it again. You didn’t even have time to adjust to the cold air on your exposed bits before Gaz’s hot mouth was covering the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp as you threw yourself back into Simon’s chest. Ghost only hooked his chin over your shoulder, lazily watching as Gaz licked a flat stripe, first dipping into your entrance, teasing a bit as deep as he could get. Your clit got a little attention from his nose bumping it, make you breathe sharp breaths with little clipped moans. But when he withdrew and  traced his tongue  back up, finding your clit and slipping under the hood, your attempts at demure noises were nixed by a sudden and echoing moan. 

"That good? Yeah, Gaz’s pretty skilled with ‘is tongue." Johnny nodded, nuzzling at your other shoulder as he watched on too, palming himself through his jeans, "Meticulous thing he is." 

"How’s she taste, sergeant?" Price asked, adjusting himself as well. Kyle surfaced for only a moment, replacing his tongue with his fingers when you whined in disappointment. 

"Better than the bloody brownies, that’s for certain." He hummed, his corners of his mouth glistening, eyes flicking up to you as he rested a cheek against the inside of your thigh. You tried to be offended at the diss to your baking skills, but as Kyle dove back in, a skillful swirl and lewd slurp killed any smart comment on your tongue, or rather on his. You weren’t sure if it was even possible to actually decipher, but you were certain he was spelling barrack’s bunny over your clit with his tongue, letter by unraveling letter. All four men seemed to delight in how your breathing sped up, how your head seemed so heavy to hold up that it flopped backwards into Simon’s shoulder. Kyle tolerated your hips rolling twice, but his chivalry ended the third time, reaching up and placing Simon’s hand at your waist to hold you still for him, while his hands kept your thighs from closing around his head. The message was clear. Anything you were getting would come from him and only him. You recalled how so many of his preferred videos revolved around control, pleasure dom, a term you had had to google. All you could do was stare down between your legs and watch him devour you. 

"If she tastes half as good as she looks…" Johnny trailed off, catching the corner of your mouth for a short kiss, his fingers tracing the lace pattern right over your perked nipples, at least Simon was lenient enough to let you arch your chest into the touch, "Right treat you are, hen." 

Your first climax was a quick thing, a full body clench and vulgar moan clawing its way out of your throat, your thighs trembling around Kyle as he licked and slurped his way through your high, collected anything you put out for him. His movements only slowing when your body relaxed back against Ghost. He gave your pussy a comedically sweet kiss before sitting up, and it was only then that he pulled you down to him for your first real kiss from him. It was tender and sweet, with the appropriate amount of tongue, almost the kind of kiss you’d give on a really good first date, if it wasn’t for the fact you could taste your essence on him, your cum making his lips slippery against yours. 

"Called dibs on that weeks ago." He grinned, breaking the kiss to watch his fingers to dip between your legs, collect some more of your wetness and pop it in his mouth, eyes closing like he was savoring a fine wine.  You watched him with mouth agape and eyes half lidded, "Alright then, Tav, surprised you held yourself back this long, go on then."

Johnny’s smile was all teeth as he descended upon you, kissing any of your slick off your mouth that Kyle’d left behind like he was getting a sneak preview. Though, for someone so often ridiculed for being impatient, he was anal about this kiss. Making sure to try every angle of his mouth against yours, then repeating his tests with tongue, and then once more splitting your attention with Simon. Ghost played along for a while, letting his sergeant explore your lips and your chest before he nodded down to the floor when Kyle’d been. 

"Keep yourself busy, Johnny." Was the clipped order, as he took over kissing you, one large hand splayed along your face to keep you drawn to him, as if you might try to get away. He had nothing to worry about, the whiplash of switching partners and desires had you craving attention anywhere you could find it. You were already putty on his lap with Johnny taking over Kyle’s place between you legs. While it was still overwhelmingly pleasurable, his actions were more sloppy than Kyle’s. His strategy was to barrage your nerves as opposed to Kyle’s precision attacks. It still had you whining and squirming, which was enough to short circuit your focus. Johnny didn’t seem to mind you instinctively grinding into his face, in fact it only seemed to encourage him. Simon’s job was to keep you from melting off his lap, which he did while his kisses became harder and harder, sometimes biting at your bottom lip, "Now you just taste like his shitty beer, you’ll lemme fix that, won’t you, lovie?" 

When you nodded, he smiled, tugging the balaclava all the way off. You didn’t even have time to properly admire how handsome he was under the thing, didn’t have time to pepper those scars with kisses or wax poetic about how all his unconventional features played together harmoniously to make him exceedingly handsome. Before you could do any of that, he’d taken a sip of his bourbon, swallowing as he watched you watch him. 

"Open." He directed, nodding when you obediently dropped your mouth open. He tipped your head back at the same time as he took a longer draw of his bourbon, holding it in his mouth for a moment before pulling your lips up to his and kissing the liquor straight onto your tongue, burning off anything and anyone else. When he’d given you every last drop, he pulled back and manually shut your mouth, "Go on and swallow for me, don’t waste it. ’s hard to get this stuff ‘round here." 

Bourbon wasn’t often in your rotation for drinks, the taste smoky and sharp just like the man that had kissed it into your mouth, but one look into Simon’s eyes had you nodding again. As you forced yourself to swallow it, the burn going all the way into stomach, stoking the fires the men had started in you. After he watched your throat bob, he nodded approvingly. 

"Good fuckin’ girl." He praised which made the burning sting worth it, catching your lips in another punishing kiss when you moaned from Johnny’s sloppy slurping. Simon hummed, finding that your mouth now tasted like his preferred pour, "Much better." 

After kissing the taste of his bourbon off you, he pulled back for a moment just to watch you whine and grind against the sergeant between both sets of your legs. After a moment of appreciation for the garment against your skin, the bralette they’d all liked so much was roughly yanked down,  the straps down your shoulders while the cups and band bunched up under your now exposed breasts. Johnny was watching from the floor, his big blue eyes crinkling and lips pulling into a smile against you, while Simon ran his hands over your bare chest, stopping to squeeze and pinch when he pleased. “Johnny- 

Ghost-" You almost shrieked not sure who to call too or thank for the electric static in your nervous system, arching your chest up into his hands, and when the movement moved your hips away from Johnny, he just took your legs off Simon’s knees and hooked them over his shoulders, keeping you firmly in place, "

Shit." 

"Language, sweet." Price teasingly scolded from his chair, still stroking his beard from his arm chair. Gaz and Simon just chuckled when you pouted through another throaty moan. Simon was nudging your cheek with his nose, skimming his teeth across you jawline between kisses that trailed fown your neck, sucking marks that would stay for weeks, always finding his way back to what seemed to be his favorite spot in the curve of your neck. “Should’ve seen the Sergeants when they first found that video, acting like they’d won the fuckin' lottery. Been wanting you for months but tha’ really sealed the deal, lovie, couldn’t even get through the first quarter before this one was panting and rutting. Like it was the first time they’d ever seen a dirty video. Ain’t that right, Johny?”  It was the most you’d ever heard Simon talk in one go, every couple of words grunted and groaned out between kisses across any skin he could reach with you sitting back against him, breath hotly fanning along your neck as he went. And when he finished the thought, he reached down between your legs and fished the sergeant up by his mohawk, leaving both you and Johnny whine at the loss of contact. Simon just laughed coldly and gave Johnny a prompting jerk, much rougher than he’d been touching you, “You gonna answer us, Johnny?”  “Aye. Aye. Knew I had to get ma’ hands on ye.” Was all he managed before diving in for another taste of you, surfacing briefly again to relay a message up to Simon, half moaned half growled, 

"This cunt's like fucking silk, I’ll tell you, Lt.” Strong hands clenching into the plushest parts your thighs holding them around his face like he was 

hoping he’d suffocate down there, "Ye gotta get in here, ain’t nothing like it."

"You want that, sweetheart?" Simon hummed, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, "Want me in you?"

"Fuck. Yes, fuck me." You rambled which just made them chuckle at you as one of your hands when into Johnny’s mohawk and the other palmed at your breasts. Johnny moaned when you tugged at his hair, sending subtle vibrations up with his tongue that almost sent you undone again. Simon easily pushed you down his legs, still supporting you with one hand as Johnny kept going, and freeing his erection with the other. Gaz and Johnny had worked hard to warm you up, to break you in for them, but Simon’s dick threatened to break you, period. He was just as thick as John, but almost as long as Kyle, cut, veiny, with a pretty pink tip. Como se dice, how you say… hung like a fucking horse.  

He must’ve seen your wide eyes, the subtle fear in your eyes that was chased away when Johnny drug his teeth over your clit with just enough pressure to make you choke on your own spit. Ghost reached down intermingling his fingers with your folds and Johnny’s tongue, "We’ll start easy. Just the tip, lovie. Johnny’ll handle the rest for now." 

They did just that. He held his hand out to Johnny, letting the man on his knees spit into his palm and then rubbed it against his dick, before pulling you back against him once more. Before he even attempted any sort of penetration, he slid his erection through your folds a couple of times just to collect some more slick,  "You are just like silk, Johnny was right." 

He grunted into your neck with another few slippery passes before reaching down as easing the tip into you. He was thick, enough so that it stung a bit as you tried to adjust. Despite his soft voice and unusually soft eyes, Simon’s control slipped, rutting a bit before you were ready. At you uncomfortable whine, Johnny mirrored the sound in disapproval of your upset, immediately going to remedy the hurt with his tongue, servicing both you and Simon with a flat lick up Simon’s exposed length and then up to your clit to help you relax. 

"Breathe for me, lovie." The Liutenant ordered, like he was trying to be gentle with you but his jaw was gritted, trying even harder not to snap his hips against yours and bully his too-big dick into your hole, "Try to relax for me." 

You were panting, cheeks puffing with your breaths, not sure if Johnny’s tongue was helping or just tensing you up more, but God, it felt good and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him to stop. Not yet at least. You got another inch in, which earned a kiss to your neck. 

" s’all I can take right now." You breathed, reaching back to support yourself against him. 

"Better than I did on my first go, eh, LT?" Johnny grinned up before kissing up the length of Simon’s cock that wasn't inside of you, flicking his tongue over the stretched rim of your entrance that was still trying to clench around the sudden intrusion, "She’s tryin’ so hard." 

By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about you. The She in question was just your pussy. Simon nodded along, hissing curses into your hair. 

"Alright, lovie, alright, no more for now." He gritted out, " ‘m gonna move now, just try and stay loose as you can for me." 

Humming in agreement, you tried to let yourself be pliant against him, feeling his hips rock, the in and out of his movements pleasurable enough to draw out a keening moan despite the less than comfortable stretch. His lips were at your neck again as he continued his thrusts, slightly steadier, growing more confident. And then it was his teeth, nipping between sucks, though his words were still growled, "That’s it, doing so good for me, for us." 

Your mistake was losing yourself in the feeling, letting your hips rock because it shattered what little control Ghost had at the moment. He sunk in another few inches, teetering between painful and pleasurable, making you cry out, nails digging into his forearms as a tear slipped down your cheek. The dig of your nails only urged him on, the nip of your teeth turning into a full bite, enough to break skin just slightly. However, the moment your cry was one of actual discomfort instead of pleasure, he withdrew completely, kissing over where he’d bitten, "Sorry, sorry, lovie, got too rough, too quick with you." 

He slowly eased you off of him, nudging Johnny off as well, still kissing at the spot he’d bitten too harshly, fingers kneading comfort into your hips and then your thigh, "Y'alright? Need to stop?" 

You took a breath, let the initial shock of the stretch and the bite fade away, let him swipe the rogue tear off your cheek, let your body readjust…. and then shook your head, signalling you wanted to keep going, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you again for a kiss. Johnny was still at your knees, massaging your thighs, watching Simon deepen the kiss as much as you’d let him, and then pushing a little further, his fingers flexing hard into you again making you wince just a little. Honestly, you could’ve endured that, hell with another couple of kisses, you could’ve enjoyed it. But this time, he cut himself off, pulling back with a slew of curses that’d send a sailor to confession. 

"Fuck, ‘m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve never been good at taking it slow." Simon growled, jaw still clenched so hard you were afraid he’d crack a tooth., thumbs easing the irritated skin he’d clenched just slightly too hard, "You’re just too perfect, can’t keep my head on straight."

Ghost stopped to think for a moment, breathing hot and heaving against you skin, before flicking his eyes down to Soap who’d stopped massaging your thighs in favor of featherlight kisses where his stubble had chafed you. You’d seen this before, the internet called it cuteness aggression. 

"Price." He called, nodding to his Captain, a signal to take over. John nodded, and after meeting your still lust glazed expression, ascertaining you were alright, seemed rather amused by the tag-in.  It seemed, despite the civilian clothes  and whatever intimacy was shared amongst the group, rank hierarchy was still firmly present, because when Captain Price finally rose from his arm chair, the sergeants and Lieutenant wordlessly moved out of his way, presenting you along the way for him as his belt buckle jingled being loosened and discarded. 

Still, despite his evident imposition, his strength was gentle as he peeled you off his lieutenant who stood, manhandling Johnny off with him to the chair. Half dazed and panting, you were grateful for his patience as he asked with only a little teasing, "Can you stand for me, Sweet, just a little?" 

And when your legs were still jelly and trembling, he just chuckled, leaking cigar smoke into your mussed hair, "That’s alright, Sweet, you just let me lay you out all pretty." 

With that, you were bent over the arm of your boss’s sofa, callous hands traced slowly down your spine and then paused at your hips, massaging your flanks much as he had his cuts of steak. Price massaged his way from your hips, over and around your ass, and then worked from outwards to the inner most part of your thighs. Finally, he dragged a flat palm up your exposed sex, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was licking his tongue across that same hand, a deep rumbling growl shaking you to your core as you watched him taste not only you, but also notes of his boys, "Sweeter than fuckin’ sugar, love. Fuckin’ perfect." 

You just stared at him with wide eyes, limply spread over the arm rest, hips instinctively pressing back into him to find more touch, more friction, more him. Words failed, only high pitched whines made it out. Which made Johnny, off to the side, chuckle. 

"Think this is the longest I’ve ever seen her quiet." The scot chided, watching with great interest as Price took another swipe through your folds, coating his cock in whatever (whoever’s) bodily fluids he collected there. 

"Maybe you should take some notes, mutt." Simon gruffed, taking a fistful of the sergeant’s Mohawk and tugging it rather harshly backwards, exposing Johnny’s throat that his teeth descended upon almost immediately. Some time between being between our legs and being in Simon’s lap, Johnny’s shirt had disappeared, his jeans still on but unbuckled and Simon was fishing his erection out. 

"Ignore ‘em." Price chuckled down to you, physically redirecting your attention by giving your clit a bit of attention as he eased himself slowly in, all the way to his base, "Y’feel even better than you taste, sweet thing, y’know that?" 

You didn’t know that, but you’d take the compliment, if you remembered it, or your own name by the end of… whatever this was. He gave one slow and steady thrust, almost like an experiment, one hand holding your hips in place, the other holding his cigar up to his lips. 

"Dessert before dinner, how about that, lads?" 

There was a moment of recall to his earlier words, "Already had something else in mind for dessert" echoed with what he just said in your fuzzy mind. You had been dessert all along, and judging by the ravenous eyes with varying degrees of satiation,  the 141 intended to eat their fill, your online look-a-like was simply a taste test. A momentary taste of vindication on your tongue- you hadn’t been reading too far into things or fluffing your own ego, this was premeditated, and your matching set wasn’t presumptuous. Still, that only lasted a singular breath, the smug vindication was phsycially forced out of you with a rough snap of his hips, the first of many from the demanding, almost brutal, pace John set for himself. 

"There’s a girl, you just take it for me," He grunted between thrusts, seemingly pleased with your little cries and moans, "Just like that, sweet, you’ll be taking Simon’s cock in no time."  

John Price’s couch was not picked out with ‘being bent over the side’ in mind. Or perhaps, you were just a bit softer than the other’s that had had the pleasure of being bent over the arm like John had you at that moment. Taking mercy upon your ribs, or perhaps just for his own selfish purposes, Kyle slotted himself underneath your front and sat you up against his chest, throwing your arms over his shoulders. While John still had your hips over the couch arm, Gaz had pulled you chest up to his, his lips finding your lips, your cheek, jaw, and breasts as he went. 

"Poor sweet thing" Kyle cooed, his perfect pearly teeth nipping at your ear while is chest steadied you against Price’s onslaught that pushed a thought our of your mind with each quick, but deep, thrust, "Didn’t know what you were walking into, did you? And now look at what a mess we made you?" 

You couldn’t tell if Kyle was mocking you or praising you, kind words and little digs were both dipped in that sugary sweet tone that just made you nod up at him with wide eyes and a pouted lip. One of this thumbs reached up and swiped a mascara laden tear out from under your eye, the same thumb dipping into your mouth and holding it open in the pornographic O-shape after Price drew a vulgar moan out with a particularly deep thrust that also managed to scoot the sofa a couple of inches. Gaz didn’t even waver, just laughed a bit as he held you steady, "Mean, innit he?" 

Another moan blocked the chance at a snappy reply, not that you had the current brain power to make one. The sergeant just took the chance to swallow your noises with his mouth over yours, kissing you and biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. With what little fortitude you had, you grabbed the collar of that soft sweater and hauled him right back up to your mouth. It was aggressive kissing. Tongue and teeth and nails, sloppy and  dirty, your noses bumping together from the force of Price’s thrusting. 

When Price adjusted your hips, it forced you onto your tip toes to maintain the angle. And while the new angle provided incentive and reward in the way of relentless pounding of that delicious spongy spot inside you, that fact only made it harder for your already shaking legs to support you. 

"Hold her fast, Sergeant." Was the grunted order as he gave your ass a smack, like he was punishing you for the indiscretion of already having you legs fucked out from under your from the other men in his living room. Honestly, How dare you? Kyle took orders beautifully. The best multitasker on the squad, as he not only, held you at that perfect angle for his Captain, but also, trailed wet, hot kisses down to your chest, locking onto one of your nipples with devious precision, only sucking harder when you cried out. 

" ‘m gonna cum-!" It was strangled and whined into Kyle’s shoulder still fisting the collar of his shirt while your other hand posed serious risk of shredding the upholstery. 

"You gonna cum on me, sweet? Go ahead, but I’m not stopping." Price chuckled through his warning, leaning over your head and pulling Gaz in by the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss of his own. 

"Go on then. Give it to him." Kule urged in that sickly sweet tone, "The captain’s working so hard back there for you, least you could do is let ‘im feel how pretty you fall apart." 

Another moan, a garbled cry of both of their names mashed together when they pushed you over the edge in tandem with a well timed deep thrust and light smack to your clit from Price at the same time that Gaz tweaked both of your nipples.. 

"You feel that Cap? That flutter?" Gaz called, talking (literally) over your head as you sagged, twitching against him, unlatching from the hickey he was sucking into your collarbone, "That’s fuckin’ magic, that is." 

"Flutter? She’s wringing me dry in there." Price groaned, his pace only slowed by the vice like grip your core had as your eyes rolled back, "Sweet’s cunt’s practically swallowing me, bloody hell, greedy thing, aren’t you?"

The only reprieve you had was Price leaning forward so his warm chest pressed to your back, his big hands circling your clit like it might encourage you loosen back up for him so he could resume his movements, "C’mon, love, you gonna answer me?" 

"Yes…" You drawled, flopping your head over so you could meet his eyes over your shoulder, that signature mirthful smile twitching the corners of his beard of as he tweaked the little bundle of nerves to correct you. With a little cry, you answered once more, "Yes, sir." 

"Atta girl." Price nodded approvingly as he took a long draw of his cigar his pinkie shaking off little bits of ash onto your raised posterior (which should’ve made you feel degraded, or maybe it did which is why it made your eyes flutter again), both at the answer and at the relaxing of your muscles allowing him to build his pace back up.  

"Hear that, love?"  Kyle’s attention returned down to you when your face dropped back down into the curve of his shoulder, "what a good pussy, taking us all so well, and she just keeps wanting more." 

"More?" You croaked out through another moan, panting and trying to count the stars dotting your vision, not sure if you were requesting or parroting in disbelief. Though with a clearer mind, you wouldn’t have been so shocked. Price had barely stuttered in getting his rhythm back up to it’s pace, riding you all the way through your orgasm. 

"Told you, ‘m not fucking stopping." Price growled with another smack to the round of your ass. Something between a moan and a cry crawled out of your throat, but tapping our hadn’t once occurred to you. 

"You can take it, love, bet you can even give us another big finish, yeah?" Kyle encouraged. It occurred to you the Gaz had now coaxed you through two orgasms, and really hadn’t even asked for anything in return from you. And while you were sure, between the four of you, someone would throw him a bone(r), you decided to take that cross upon yourself, reaching down between him and yourself and wrapping around his dick. From what you could tell, he was on the leaner side, but he was the longest in the group, slightly curved. Which gave you plenty of room to rub and squeeze, from base to his tip where you thumbed the slit, spreading the precum back down as you followed the vein on the underside. Kyle tried to chuckle through a moan, "Bloody hell, love." 

Jerking off took on a new meaning as your movements, meant to be languid and smooth, turned jerky and choppy with the force of Price’s increasing speed, his rythym stuttering as he chased his own release. Kyle leaned down using one of his free hands to roll a nipple in his fingers, catching the other in his mouth as you continued to pump him. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to come close to the edge once more, and you didn’t even have time to be proud of bring both of them over with you in tandem as your third orgasm tore through you, leaving all three of you dazed and breathless. You were vaguely aware of Gaz’s cum on you chest, kind of feeling the warm, sticky trail it left as it leaked down your front while John gave a few more lazy strokes as he softened inside of you. Though Gaz twitched hard again just watching your eyes roll back, and when Price was finally done, he gave your thighs a gentle, almost proud squeeze, watching his spend leak out for a moment before gently collecting you upright once more. With a sweet forehead kiss that contrasted so heavily from the cigar ashes and ass slaps, he gave your cheek a little pat, "Still with me, sweet?" 

"Mmmhm." You nodded, eyes only half opned as Gaz sat up behind you and sucked kisses across the back of your shoulders. You’d be wearing turtle necks for weeks. John’s attention shifted over to Simon, who you now realized had been watching the show with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen with poor Johnny taking the brunt of whatever storm Ghost had brewing. Your eyes fluttered watching the liutenant’s hand tighten around Johnny’s throat. Despite the tears on the Scot’s face, he didn’t appear to be too upset with his current predicament, in fact giving you a groan through a watery smile as Simon’s other hand tightened even more around Johnny’s leaking dick. 

"Got it all out of your system, Lieutenant?" Price asked with a raised brow, both him and Gaz still keeping you upright with gently roaming hands. Simon gave both his hands another squeeze making Johnny pant. 

"I’m solid." He nodded, surprisingly tender as he released Johnny, the sergeant stumbling off his lap.  Simon rose behind him, both men approaching the couch. You weren’t positive what ‘it’ was or why it needed to be out of Simon’s system, but Gaz nodded and pressed one last sweet kiss to the curve of you shoulder before letting Simon slide into his place. The largest of the men simply laid down on the couch, taking up most of the three-seater, efficently pulling you backwards so you straddled his lap facing away from him. 

"Nice and slow for me, lovie." Simon directed, lining himself up with your entrance after bumping your clit with his tip. Thank god for his strong hands guiding your hips down at the pace he set. Though Price had thoroughly broken you in, and you’d already partially taken Simon once, you still tensed up nervously but set your jaw with determination to do it again and get all of it from this new angle. With your back to his face, you had a front row set to the others watching hungrily. Kyle was leaning back against Price’s chest, the older man reaching around to palm the sergeant’s erection as Gaz pressed his back to Price’s front, grinding backwards. But Johnny, poor Johnny, with his cock almost purpled by Simon’s earlier teasing, rocking on his heels like he was just waiting for permission to join in, sapphire eyes bouncing between Simon’s face, your face, and the stretch of you pussy around Simon’s cock- like he couldn’t decide who was most jealous of. 

Inch after deliciously painful inch, Simon helped you ease yourself down until your ass was flush with his hips. From this angle, though Simon could still rut up against you, the pace was all your decision, making it harder for him to lose control again. With your hands braced against his tree-trunk thighs. Simon gave you a minute to adjust, to pant and try to focus your eyes. The soldier underneath you grunted, fingers flexing on your waist as he adjusted himself making you whimper and almost fall forward. 

"Si-" Johnny whined, his hands twitching forward like he wanted to help you, or maybe just touch you, his cock leaking down his leg. Simon’s voice was not as gentle to his sergeant, a gruff order. 

"No’ yet."  Before returning his attention to you, voice softening slightly, "Take your time, sweetheart, move when you want, I want you to feel good." 

Giving a jerky nod, you gave an experimental wiggle that nestled him somehow even deeper. Your moan was lodged in your throat as your eyes shut, but the movement earned a deep groan and hiss from Simon. With a deep breath, you managed to move past the acclimation stage so the actual pleasure started building again, which felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Next, a roll of your hips that genuinely blurred out your vision, feeling so good that our body instinctively did it again to chase the feeling. And then again, and again- head falling forward and then rolling back. 

"That’s it, lovie, find your rhythm." Simon tried to prain but it sounded more like a growl as his hands flexed again into the softest parts of your waist, his long fingers spanning so far that they kneaded into the plushness of your stomach, "Fuckin' hell." 

"Si-" Johnny whined again, drawing the clipped nickname into two syllables, this time his twitching fingers finding purchase in the arm of the sofa you’d been bent over earlier. If you weren’t so focused on Simon’s cock rearranging your internal organs, you might’ve heard the ominous creak of the fabric under his strength. When your eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Johnny’s bright blues, darkened to a stormy hue with impatient want. His Scottish brogue thickening deeply, "Ah keened you’d be better than the lass in the fuckin’ videos, so fuckin’ sweet and pretty-" 

"Alright." Simon gruffed  before his voice softened down again, "Go on, sweetheart, show the mutt some love, won’t you? He won’t shut up until you do." 

Even though the permission had been given to you, Johnny was immediately upon you. Much like Gaz, Johnny took up the job of supporting your upper body as Simon had your hips firmly in his grasp. With one knee pressed into the couch cushion, he hugged your chest to his, his hands groping and feel any part of you he could get his hands on like it was the first time he’d touched you or any other soft and pretty thing. Unlike Gaz, his mouth on your started out aggressive and when you would moan, he’d mirror the noises, groaning them right back onto your tongue. 

"And soft. Ye sound better too." Johnny groaned when Simon suddenly rutted against your rocking, leaving you crying out and digging your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. With strong but surprisingly gentle grip, your fingers were removed from his shoulders. Johnny led one of your hands in an exploratory trail down his chest, following the path of thick, dark body hair, past his abs, until he wrapped your hand around his cock which twitched even at your slightest touch. 

"So fucking soft, bonnie," he breathed, coaxing your hand into movement while kissing your other palm, before looking over to Simon, "Not a callous on her hands, Lt, dinnae even think about that." 

Simon merely grunted in acknowledgement of Johnny’s discovery, seeing as his focus was an entirely different part of your anatomy. The larger man seemed content letting his sergeant be the vocal one, sometimes rewarding you with a hiss or a strangled groan. He’d given up on letting you control the pace now that you were acclimated and half bouncing against him, rutting and grinding against you in time with your own rolling and rocking as you sped up. It was only natural for your hand on Johnny’s cock to speed up as well. 

"Sweetheart, why don’t you show him something even softer than your hands? He went through a lot for you, after all." He didn’t give you time to ask what that was supposed to mean, but you figured it had something to do the vicious series of bites and hickies on the man’s neck. You could tell Simon was moving because his cock was shifting angle inside of you, making you gasp. One of his large hands splayed against the small of your back, pressing you firmly forward and down. A sudden thrust as he applied pressure to your back made you go boneless, letting the men push your cheek first into Johnny’s stomach and then down to where your hand was still pumping Johnny’s cock. 

"Look at that, a multitasker. ’s why she’s such a good analyst for us." Gaz chided from the sidelines like he was commentating on a sports match, watching as you were stroking Johnny, holding your cheek against him while trying to catch your breath from Simon’s thrusts. Johnny helped guide himself into your mouth. It wasn’t so much length as the girth, even thicker than Price, that stretched your jaw uncomfortably. But the way that Johnny moaned sinfully above you when your nose pressed into the dark curls at his base, the way he all but melted over you like butter, encouraged to breathe through your nose and keep going. 

"Steaming Jesus, Si, I cannae last like this-" Johnny moaned, seemingly not even noticing how loud he was. Simon only laughed lowly, reaching around your thighs to dip between them, circling your clit. Your thighs were trembling, moans getting louder and less restrained, nothing about this was restrained anymore. 

"That’s alright, Johnny, neither will she, will you, lovie?" He asked with another deep thrust, "feel ‘ow she’s shaking?"  

You were shaking your head still with a mouthful of Johnny’s cock, because you weren’t going to last much longer, eyes rolling and fluttering, landing on the arm chair again where Gaz being treated as well, both him and John watching appreciatevly as Ghost and Soap had you in lopsided Eiffel tower. You were pulling out any trick for Johnny that you managed to remember between Simon’s thrusts, swirling tongue and bobbing heads. But what did him in was actually Simon’s doing. When Simon rolled his hips into you just right, hitting every good spot and giving your clit a swipe, your eyes crossed and you moaned, practically screaming around Johnny’s member, the vibrations and look on your face enough to finish him. His hand tightened in your hair, hips snapping, pushing your nose into his pelvis, and holding you there as he came with what some might call a battle cry.  After everything Simon had put him through earlier, he was pent up, leaving him cumming. and cumming, and cumming, until you had to swat at his thigh because you couldn’t take anymore. 

You swallowed what you could, taking a couple more spurts to your face and chest before Johnny crumbled onto the couch against you, kissing the taste of himself right off your tongue as Simon continued his thrusts, getting incrementally faster and harder as you proved you could handle it. The scot took over the praising and encouragement as his superior fell back into the quiet grunting and groaning against you, though you could barely make out any of the words as you approached your fourth finish. For the first time in your life you understood the phrase "fucked stupid". You were somewhat sure you were rambling gibberish accolades to the men, cries of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ’thank you’ intermingled with moans and curses that put your over the top XXX twin’s to shame. 

"C’mon, sweetheart, one more f’ me." Simon growled out, switching positions so quickly and effeciently that you didn’t even realize it until you body was pressed face down into the couch cushion, Simon still behind you, drilling into you with a pace that put mechanized machinery to shame. You weren’t even sure how you were taking it just that you were and if he stopped you might start crying, "I know you’re close, just lemme have it-" 

Johnny was back on his knees in front of the couch, catching your nipple in his mouth. And you turned your head towards John and Kyle, locked in their own encounter, and then it just snapped. Your orgasm not just washing over you, but a tidal wave crashing over you and frying every nerve a long the way. For a moment your vision whited out, the only thing you were aware of was Simon’s strokes slowing and working you through it. With your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, you let your unseeing eyes roam to to the cieling fan and let your mind wander as you floated somewhere above reality for a bit, enjoying the electric feelings between each neuron firing. Every noise and sight becoming background information as overstimulation fuzzed it all out except the aftershocks and twinges in your core. 

You weren’t sure how long it was before you came back to yourself, but you heard Johnny’s voice first, "C’mon, bonnie, float back down to us."

"There she is." Kyle cooed in tandem with the other sergeant while your cheek, "Lost you for a bit there. Alright?" 

You were more than alright, body more sated than it’d been in years, still thrumming and twitching with the aftershocks, so you just nodded slowly, trying to focus your eyes in on one thing at a time, voice slightly slurred with nothing to do with the drinks, " ‘m alright." 

"Was worried I broke you." That was Simon, who’s lap your head was in. You only offered a dopey smile and a lazily blink.

"You might’ve, but I’m ok, more than ok." You sighed with a dry laugh, turning your head so your cheek pressed to his thigh, though you noticed he’d slipped his sweats back on. 

"Si’s gotta work on being gentle, we don’t make him practice enough." Johnny teased, running soothing hands along your sides. Suddenly, a cup of water with a straw was placed in front of your face, and when you looked up it was Price holding it down to you before Kyle took it and held it steady for you. 

"Never see you complaining about it, McTavish." John teased right back, trading off the cup so he could smooth hair off your sweaty forehead, "Take as long as you need, sweet, y’did good for us. So good." 

His praise nestled deeply, right between your ribs, making you smile softly as Kyle coaxed the straw into your mouth, letting you sip on the water as he ran a caring thumb over the apple of your cheek.

— 

You must’ve dozed off, because when you woke up, you were still on the couch, but everyone else had moved around you liked you simply always been nestled amongst them. The thought made your lips curl in a dopey grin as you looked around them. Half upright and wrapped in someone’s hoodie, you were laying against Price’s chest, head tipped back into his shoulder as he worked around a plate filled for two, the atmosphere was cozy now, the electric  frantic tension from earlier had morphed into something warm and intimate. 

“Evening. Hungry?” His chest rumbled as he held the plate closer to your field of view. Two very juicy ribeyes, baked potatoes, green vegetable- the stereotypical macho man plate. John seemed all too proud of himself when you opened your mouth to accept a fork of perfectly cut bite-size steak, laughing when you hummed in approval, “There we go, sweet, worked up an appetite, yeah?” 

“Really? Thought we already stuffed ‘er pretty good.” Kyle teased, still gently swiping warm rags over your body, wiping away any evidence that wasn’t etched or sucked semipermanently into your skin, occasionally following his ministrations with gentle kisses and soft praises, “Feel ok, love? Need anything?” 

When you shook your head, gently squeezing his wrist in gratitude, he only smiled, giving you a tender kiss to the forehead before retrieving his own plate and sitting on the opposite side of Price, claiming the captain’s other shoulder for his own head.

Johnny was in the same boat as you, though whatever the hell Simon had done to him made his attention to you look like princess treatment, having obviously reigned himself in with you. Was that what Ghost was getting out of his system before coming back to you? Still, the scot didn’t seem to have many complaints after Simon sat him down between your legs on the couch, letting the sergeant lay facedown against the softest part of your stomach, where he’d nuzzled the hoodie out of the way so he could rest against your bare skin. It was then you noticed that you and Johnny were the only ones still in a state of undress which if your mind wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace, you might’ve tried to read into. 

Like you, he seemed half asleep and fucked out, a couple more bites around his neck that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been touching you. Soap’s mohawk gave you something to gently fidget with as Price nudged another bite against your lips. Simon took his seat on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of your hip. One of his arms wrapped around the leg that Johnny had dangling off the couch, massaging gentle circles into the mans calf muscle. His other other arm was propped on his knee so he could catch your wrist where it flopped down on his shoulder. He was tender as he ran his ungloved hand over yours, massaging your fingers and comparing them to his much larger hands, murmuring himself, “No callouses.” 

“Told you, Si.” Johnny sighed almost dreamily into your bare stomach, leaning into your fingers in his hair. With the rest of the men doting on you and Johnny, Simon didn’t even retaliate or tease something back, just snickering quietly and fondly, offering straw topped water bottle to the sergeant. 

Another bite of food was offered to you, along with water, and something struck you funny, drawing a quiet chuckle out of you as you turned your face into Price’s neck to stifle the noise. It drew the group’s eyes, clearly waiting for you to divulge. “C’mon, hen, share with the class.” Johnny prompted with grin, always down for a laugh, propping his chin up on your belly so he could look at you through the valley of your cleavage, eyes shining like you’d hung the moon. 

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” Price rose his eyebrows, cutting another bite of meat for you. 

“Nothing, it’s dumb.” You snicker a little more, earning a expectant but amiable tug to your fingers from Simon, “It’s just all a little backwards, s’all.” 

“Backwards?” The liutenant parroted in that deep Manc accent, making you giggle a bit more, nodding against Price.

“I let y’all fuck me every which way from Tuesday, and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.”  You mused, ironically before taking another bite of one of the best steaks you’d ever had, which could be an effect of the post-sex endorphin rush, or maybe John was just a grill master. “Our apologies, sweet thing.” John rolled his eyes playfully, his apology deeply sarcastic as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“In our defense, dinner and a very nice bottle of wine were on the agenda before, but some people,” Gaz’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Simon who didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Simon was stone faced as usual, still playing with and kissing at your fingers while Johnny just smiled into your belly, “got impatient.” 

“Hey, the first time Simon fucked me all I got was the drink mix and wet nap from his MRE.” Johnny whined which only made you laugh harder. 

“Y’didn’t ask for anything else.” Simon shrugged tilting his head to press an uncharacteristically romantic kiss to the curve of the Scot’s knee. “ ’sides, I got your mouth on her didn’t I? think I made up for it.”  And before you could question if Simon was really the one to orchestrate all of this, Price quieted you with a bite of potato while Gaz leaned over to distract you with his lips on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

  And for the first time since you’d seen their search histories, you weren’t worried about much of anything other than when this might happen again.

 ____ 

me, who doesn’t ever really write smut: yes i will enjoy writing a fivesome with at least ten hands, five mouths, ten arms, and four penises to keep up with. 

Y’all should see the notesapp where I had to like draw out stick figures to see if what I was writing was anatomically possible. I feel like this has gotten me on some kind of watchlist. 

Taglist in Comments because there were too many of y'all!! Thanks to anyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired, I just scroll through y'alls comments and they make me smile so so much!!!

[ghouljams]

I’m really trying but you’re not making this any easier on me Ghoul D: Because after this:

"So," Price says over the rim of his glass, "'O else is fucking the girl?" It's only too bad that the sergeants both stiffen at the same moment Ghost does.

Not only is my mind reeling with what the others do, which trust me it is. Because the implication of the Captain finding you dripping with Ghost’s cum… However, I’m also thinking about how everything clicks for Ghost.

How you took his cock so well every single time, how you seemed to get that victorious little glint in your eye and a self-satisfied smile every time you walk with shaky legs out of whatever bathroom, supply closet or wherever his fucked you within an inch of your life. That goddamn sweet voice you use every time you call him sir.

This whole time he has been played by his plaything.

And his NOT going to let it stay like that.

He’s 100% teaming up with the others to teach you a lesson… maybe falling for exactly what you had been hoping for this whole time…

- Morph

You snag a champagne flute off a passing tray, if only so you look like you're doing something. Faux social as your mother would say.

You don't get a chance to drink it. Thick fingers grab the rib before you can press your lips to it and pluck the glass from your hand, passing it off to another server. You pout at the oldest of the four men that seem to orbit you, mostly because he always seems to enjoy it. This one likes when you're girlish. You think he'd ask you to call him daddy if he ever let you say anything, probably gets off on you being young and pretty.

The hand he slides over the small of your back is insistent, but the words that drip from his smiling lips are meaningless. Fancy things that sound like he's saying something important and not leading you to the nearest locking door.

They're all so easy to figure out. The older one wants to humiliate your father by placing himself in a position of authority over you, mohawk wants to humiliate your father by dirtying you up, the big one wants to humiliate your father by taking something from him, and the pretty one... ok you went after the pretty one, but he's just as happy to try and convince you to whisper in your father's ear. Really if they're all so obsessed with your dad you don't know why they aren't fucking him, but you're not going to complain about free sex.

You are going to complain about the way you're pressed hard against a utility shelf in a supply closet. A package of urinal cakes digs into your back and you make a face. The older one knocks your legs apart with his foot as he rolls your skirt up.

"Lemme see those eyes sweet'eart," He coos at you, "want to see my favorite pet f-" His fingers rub over your wet panties. Oh right, you forgot the big guy came in them. You meant to change your underwear but you haven't had a moment to get away. You're already fantasizing about the fresh pair you have in your purse.

You only squirm because he's rubbing your clit each time he dips his fingers into your cunt to dig the still leaking come out. If he wants to keep doing that-

"Someone get here first?" He asks and you hum noncommittally. Mohawk doesn't ever seem to mind. "Who?"

You blink and squint at the hanging ceiling light trying to remember if the big guy ever told you his name.

"Dunno," You conclude, "All of you look the same."

You don't think he likes that answer.

[cheerysmores]

My wife once told me she would never play Baldur's Gate 3 because 'it's that slut game.' One year later she finally caved and did her very first playthrough.

May I present: Mrs. Cheery's chaotic gremlin adventure to Baldur's Gate.

Act 1

Our hero is the drow fighter, Lady Coolio. To this day we do not know whether Lady is her name or her title. She has a big sword, big tits and one goal: get to The Baldur's Gate with no distractions.

Escaped the 'Meat Bus' (Nautaloid). "Right how close am I to Baldur's gate? Like three hours?"

Sold her camp clothes by accident and was very sad that all she had to run around in was a grey hobo sack. (No mods. Sorry wife)

Asked if Withers was Solas's Dad.

Lady Coolio calls Astarion rat boy. In Wifey's words “he told me ‘when I was a little lad Cazador made me eat rats.’”

To be fair she isn't great with names so Halsin = Hoisin Sauce, Lae'zel = onion lady, Volo = Volvo, Cazador = Calzone (sometimes)

In camp: Gale "I'd like to show you something rather magical". Lady Coolio: "I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR MAGIC PENIS"

“There are so many dead bodies everywhere this entire place has got to stink” (just act 1 generally)

Act 2

Ran into the shadow cursed lands very under levelled and Last Light inn instantly got sacked. Bad news as she was romancing Karlach and now can’t get her second upgrade. Lady Coolio firmly blames Isobel for "triggering like three opportunity attacks when she could have... not done that."

Died to the shadow curse a LOT. Her: “Why is everyone dying????” Me: “Remember the moon lantern?” Her: “The what?” Me: “… that thing with the swearing pixie in it” Her: “ I still have to use that????” Me: “ yes, because Isobel is dead” Her: "WHY IS SHE STILL CAUSING PROBLEMS."

Hates the Gauntlet of Shar. Asked Shadowheart, “Is Shar the only goddess with an Olympic qualifier to join her religion?”

And now a series of comments on the Dead 3's chosen: “so the bad guys are evil undead Santa, Lady Gaga and the ugliest man I’ve ever seen?”)” “Is Gale… horny for that crown??” “Maybe Myrkul would be more threatening if he wasn’t standing in an giant toilet and not moving”

On discovering the Emperor) “wait my fairy god mother is a SQUID??? oh :( ”

She did however become half illithid but hated that she ended up with varicose veins on her boobs.

Gale and Astarion then graduated to “those weak pudding men” because they kept getting stuck halfway across the map by missing jumps. Act 3

Said “Brexit means Brexit” every time she met someone who was complaining about the refugees.

Went to see Raphael at Sharess's Caress. Didn’t sign his contract “ I trust neither Lord Farquad nor squid man but I’m not selling my soul to someone who has such bad vibes.”

At Gortash's coronation. "I thought he was popular? Like seven people turned up to watch it. Is it because he's really ugly and smells like Lynx (Axe) body spray?"

She wanted to eat Orin's outfit because it looks like delicious bacon.

Walking around the city: "so where do I go??" "Anywhere you like." "I hate this."

She would not stop stealing things. I think she murdered the entire battalion of flaming fist in the lower city because "a lady's gotta eat." She also killed everyone in sorcerer’s sundries including Rolan.

Had the prototypical stress aneurysm while doing the iron throne but somehow managed to get ALL the hostages out.

Lae’zel was kidnapped by Orin for 9 in game days . When I asked about this she said “FINDING CLOWN MEAT IS MORE IMPORTANT.”

“Why does every door here lead to the sewer????? And why are there so many live mines in the sewer??”

(in the basement of the elfsong) “soo because the Emperor has a shitty basement I’m supposed to be best friend with him now? This soup recipe does not make me trust you squid man”

Halsin “nature used all its powers when crafting you” Wife “well it also crafted bacon lady (Orin) so swings and roundabouts”

Astarion stayed a spawn and she convinced Gale not to use the crown. “No one is becoming ultimate bitch on my watch”

Despite her distrust of the Emperor she still allied with him in the final fight. Because, and I quote, "Lady Coolio's goal is to stop the Absolute. The Emperor has the same goal. I don't know when I became everyone's therapist and in charge of them making better choices but I'm putting my foot down at replacing dehydrated onion queen with baldy prince king over here. The Gith's religion is not my problem."

In her canon Lady Coolio and the Emperor high fived when they won.

85 hours later and Lady Coolio is the hero of Baldur's Gate. Please enjoy this picture of our heroine.

[jetii]

Warm

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 10,262

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, first date cuteness, accidental love confessions, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral (m recieving), fingering, dirty talk, creampie, inappropriate use of scomp, very loving soft sex actually

Summary: For the first time since the Republic fell, you and Echo find yourself on Pabu with nothing to do but relax, and you're determined to make the most of it. You just have to convince Echo.

A/N: I said this was pwp but I lied, the plot got me girl. This is some of the sweetest smut I have ever written. Echo deserves nothing less.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

"What are you doing?"

You barely pause to look up as you shove another bottle of sunscreen in your bag, casting Echo a wry smile. 

"We're going to the beach, so I'm making sure we're stocked up on sunscreen." You give the bottle in your hand a little shake, as if to illustrate your point. Echo's eyes flick down to it, then back to you, and he crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight and making the muscles there ripple distractingly. But you're not going to let him derail you.

"And... why are we going to the beach?" he asks, his tone bemused. You frown at him.

"We're supposed to be taking a break, right?" you ask. "And it's a beautiful day. I figured that we could enjoy it."

The two of you had arrived on Pabu last night, after what had seemed like the longest journey of your life. The moment you'd finally docked, you'd immediately felt the tension in your body start to bleed away, and it only took a few more minutes for Echo to follow suit, his shoulders relaxing and his expression going soft as the two of you walked down the streets toward where the rest of the Batch had made their home.

Now, the two of you are in the kitchen, with its cramped counters and low ceiling and ancient appliances, and for the first time in weeks, neither of you have anything to do. It's a strange feeling. You've been here for less than a day, but already you can feel the weight of all the work and stress and anxiety slowly lifting off your shoulders, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Echo, however, does not look particularly pleased at the prospect of having some time to himself. You know he'd rather be working, or training, or just about anything else, really. It's the exact opposite of what you're hoping for.

"Come on," you coax him, "don't you want to have a little fun? You deserve it."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you see him glance out the window toward the beach.

"I don't... think that's a good idea," he says, his voice hesitant. "It's— we're here because—"

"I know why we're here," you cut in. You set down the sunscreen, crossing your arms and leveling him with a look. "And I'm not asking you to swim, or even go near the water. Just sit in the sand, maybe enjoy the sun for a few minutes. I'm sure there's a place to get a decent cup of caf nearby, or maybe one of those little pastry things you like."

He's still looking skeptical, and you know you need to change tactics, so you step closer to him and slide your arms around his neck, tilting your head back and smiling at him coyly. His gaze drops down to your mouth, then flickers back up, and the corner of his lips tugs upward.

"I mean, if you're too scared to come outside with me..."

Echo scoffs, the sound almost offended. He pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, and his voice is a low rumble in your ear.

"You really think that'll work on me?"

"No, not at all," you say with a smirk. You press a kiss to the spot just below his jaw, and he shivers, his fingers flexing against your back. "But I did just get a new swimsuit, and I thought maybe you'd want to see me in it."

The reaction is immediate. You feel Echo's whole body go rigid, his grip tightening around you, and you bite back a smile, trying not to laugh. You look up to see his ears are tinged red, and his eyes are fixed firmly on a point over your shoulder.

"Really?" he says, his voice strained, and you nod.

"Mhm."

You can see him considering it, and when you tilt your head a little more, leaning closer and making sure his attention stays fixed on you, you spot the exact moment his resistance breaks.

"I think you'll like it,” you continue. You're grinning now, knowing that you've already won. "But I guess if you're not interested, I can go to the beach by myself. I'm sure plenty of people will appreciate it."

You step away from him, already starting toward the bedroom the two of you had shared the night before. Before you can get more than a couple steps, though, Echo's arm shoots out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you back against him. You turn to find him smiling down at you, his eyes dancing with amusement, and he leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

"That's not going to happen," he murmurs. He leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, all the stress and tension seems to melt out of his body. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours and letting out a little sigh. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a little fresh air. But if I get sand in my joints, I'm not going to be happy."

You smile triumphantly and lean forward to peck him on the cheek.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," you murmur, and his ears turn bright red. You grin and duck out of his grasp before he can reply, and Echo lets out a little huff as you head for the stairs, tossing a "get your sunscreen, you're going to burn!" over your shoulder.

When you return a few minutes later, your new swimsuit snugly in place under your clothes, Echo is standing in the doorway, and you stop, staring at him. He's wearing a pair of board shorts, a navy-blue color with a white stripe along each side. They fall a couple inches above his knees, and his broad chest is bare, his skin glowing in the sunlight. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but there's something about him wearing these casual clothes, something about the way he looks, relaxed and at ease and not quite as tense, that makes your heart do a funny little flip in your chest.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and you realize you've been staring at him. He has a button down shirt in his hand in an obnoxious floral pattern, one you know he got from one of the boys as a joke. You hadn't expected him to actually wear it, but it makes you smile to think that he's actually embracing the beach-vacation vibe.

"You look good," you say, and your voice comes out a little bit breathy. You clear your throat and try again. "I mean, it's fine. You look fine. Great. I'm—we should go."

You can't read the expression on his face, but his lips are twitching as he tugs the shirt on over his shoulders, and you grab the bag of supplies before turning toward the door.

"Come on," you say, jerking your head for him to follow. "Let's get out of here."

He follows you out, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time, his gaze lingering on the skin that's visible between the bottom of your cropped shirt and the top of your shorts. When you catch his eye, he grins, not even trying to hide the fact that he's ogling you.

"Shut up," you mutter, but he only grins wider.

The two of you have never done anything like this before. There'd been a couple nights, during the brief respites the two of you had gotten on different missions, where you'd both gone out and had a little fun, but that had always ended the same way, with you heading back to one of your rooms or to a secluded corner and spending the rest of the night wrapped up in each other.

But this, the two of you wandering down the streets together, stopping at a café to get something to eat, laughing and joking together like a real couple... it's nice. Really nice.

You can feel Echo relaxing the longer the two of you walk, and he doesn't hesitate before ordering a caff for the two of you, getting yours the way you like it without having to ask. He holds the door open for you and pays for both of your meals, and by the time the two of you are walking down the beach toward the spot you'd had in mind, his arm slung over your shoulders, you're practically beaming.

The spot is far enough away from the main strip of shops and restaurants to avoid most of the foot traffic, but not so far away that the two of you will have to walk for miles to get back. It's quiet, with most people including the rest of the Batch at work or school or who knows where, and the sound of the waves is soothing.

Still, Echo stays close, his arm hovering near you as if he expects you to suddenly collapse, and he tenses a little whenever someone passes. When the two of you finally reach your spot, he pulls away, turning his back to you while you lay out the blanket.

"Checking for traps?" you ask dryly, and he shrugs, not looking at you.

"Or enemies," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Just because we haven't seen any doesn't mean they're not out there," he argues, and you can tell he's about to launch into a full-blown speech, so you reach out and wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him down to the blanket.

"We're fine," you say. "Really. It's the middle of the day, and I don't think any undercover Imperials are going to try and jump us in the middle of a public beach."

"You never know," he says, and the look on his face tells you he's completely serious. "It wouldn't be the first time."

You roll your eyes and settle down on the blanket, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be safe with a big, strong ARC trooper protecting me," you tease, and his expression turns sour. You wink, and his scowl deepens.

"Ha ha," he says, not looking amused.

"I'm kidding," you say, nudging him with your shoulder. You tilt your head, and Echo's eyes are drawn to the long line of your neck. "Let's just... try and forget about that, okay? Let's pretend, for just a little while, that we're normal. We're just a normal couple, and we're having a normal date. Okay?"

He's still frowning, his brow furrowed, but after a moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little.

"Okay," he mutters. "I can do that."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, and Echo turns, his mouth finding yours. His hand comes up, his thumb brushing across your cheek, and he pulls you closer, kissing you softly.

You let yourself sink into it, the sound of the ocean and the feeling of the sun on your skin making everything feel a little bit like a dream.

When you break apart, he's smiling, and some of the tension has finally melted from his body.

"So," you say, grinning, "what do you think? About this normal-couple-on-a-date thing?"

"I think... I could get used to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners, and the sight of him, relaxed and smiling and looking happier than you've seen him in weeks, sends a flood of warmth through your chest. "It's kind of nice, actually."

"Good," you say. "Now take off your shirt. You're going to need a little sunscreen."

Echo's eyebrows lift. “What?”

"Come on," you wheedle, shaking the bottle at him. "Don't worry, I'll help."

"That's not—" he begins, but he doesn't seem to be able to find the words to finish. Finally, he sighs and shrugs out of his shirt, folding it and placing it on the blanket. Before he can say anything else, you move behind him, squeezing a generous amount of the lotion into your hands and rubbing them together.

"I'm going to start with your back," you tell him. You smooth your hands over his shoulders, feeling the soft skin beneath your palms, and his muscles flex beneath your touch. You move your hands over his broad back, covering every inch of exposed skin, and Echo groans as you hit a knot just below his shoulder blade.

"Right there?"

"Yeah," he says. He's practically melting under your touch, and you keep working, kneading your thumbs into the spot. "Force, that feels good."

You don't answer, focusing instead on getting the last bit of sunscreen in his skin. After a moment, he seems to gather himself, and you see him glance at the bottle, his brow furrowing.

"Why do I need sunscreen?" he asks.

"To keep you from burning."

He looks confused.

"You have sensitive skin, remember? And we've been traveling a lot lately, which means you haven't gotten much time in the sun. You don't want to burn."

Echo opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already climbing into his lap, your hands skimming over his shoulders.

"I should get your front, too," you murmur, and his eyes darken. His hand finds your hip, his scomp skimming up your back, and he's looking up at you, his expression open and vulnerable. You can feel the warmth of him through your clothes, and a familiar heat starts to coil in your stomach.

"You're distracting me," he mutters, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

You smirk and lean in, brushing a kiss against his mouth before smearing a line of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose. He yel and you pull back, laughing as his face scrunches up in distaste.

"What—"

"That's what you get," you say, grinning. "Come on, let's get the rest of you covered."

Echo grumbles a little but settles back against the blanket. You're thorough, taking care to spread the lotion across his arms and legs, over his broad chest, and down the smooth planes of his stomach. He's warm and pliant under your touch, letting out little noises of contentment whenever you find a particularly tight spot. By the time you've covered the last inch of skin, he looks thoroughly relaxed.

"There," you say, smiling at him. You run your hand down his side, and Echo shudders. "All done."

"Thanks," he says. He opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, and frowns. You’re already standing up, dusting sand off your legs, and you see him tense.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

You pause, your hands on the hem of your shirt.

"What does it look like I’m doing?”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows.

"It looks like you're taking off your clothes."

"I am."

You strip off your shirt, and you toss it over his head, smiling as he pulls it away. He freezes, staring at the scrap of fabric in his hand, and his eyes drop to your chest.

"This is..."

"I told you I had a new swimsuit," you remind him as you drop your shorts and step out of them, "and now you get to see it."

He looks like his brain is short circuiting, and his gaze rakes across your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin and the tiny bits of fabric covering the parts that aren't. You grin and turn around, slowly bending over to pick up the discarded shorts. You look back over your shoulder and his eyes are wide, and he swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"See something you like?"

"Uh huh," he says faintly. He licks his lips and tries to drag his eyes up, but they're fixed firmly on the swell of your ass, the way the fabric hugs the curve of it and leaves the skin exposed. His mouth opens, and you know he's trying to find the words, but instead, all that comes out is a faint croak.

"Good," you say. "I'm glad."

You grab the bottle of sunscreen and settle down on the blanket.

"I'm going to need a little help, though," you say. "I can't get my back."

You tilt your head back and Echo nods, the motion slow and almost hypnotized. He stands, crossing the blanket and kneeling down behind you. He waits for you to dispense some into his hand, and his fingers trail across the nape of your neck as he smooths the lotion over your skin. His touch is warm, and gentle, and the feeling sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

It’s rare for the two of you to have this much time alone together, and you can't help but let yourself enjoy it, leaning into his touch. You're not even trying to tease him, but his breath still catches every time his hands sweep lower, his fingers tracing along the waistband of your swimsuit. He takes his time, making sure that not a single inch of skin is left uncovered, and by the time he's done, the tension between the two of you is practically crackling.

He sits back, his hand still lingering on the small of your back, and the two of you are quiet. He's staring at you, and there's something different about the way he's looking at you, something almost... reverent.

You've always known he wants you, have been able to read it on his face and in his touch, but this, the way he's staring at you now, is more than that. It's desire, yes, but there's something deeper, something softer and sweeter, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The two of you haven't done anything like this before. Even your previous trysts had been frantic and rushed, a matter of stolen moments in darkened rooms and shadowy corners. But here, the two of you are exposed, out in the open where anyone could see, and yet the thought doesn't fill you with dread or worry. It's thrilling, in a way, and the fact that Echo doesn't seem to care either way just adds to it.

But despite that, neither of you make a move. You sit there, both of you watching each other, and you know that if you gave the slightest indication, he'd pounce, and the two of you would be wrapped up in each other, just like all those times before. But for the first time, you don't want that. You want him to stay just like this, watching you, and for you to watch him in turn.

So, instead, you reach out and brush your thumb over his bottom lip, and he sighs, his eyelids fluttering closed. He's warm under your touch, his lips slightly chapped from the wind, and he leans into you, pressing a kiss to your palm. His scomp skims up your back, the metal warm from the sun, and he pulls you close.

You press yourself against his chest, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder, and his arm comes around to wrap around your waist, holding you there.

It's peaceful, the two of you sitting together like that. It feels normal, and right, and the feeling that settles over you is warm and comfortable, like being wrapped up in a blanket. It's perfect, and you never want it to end.

But, like all good things, it eventually has to, and Echo's comm chirps. The noise seems to echo across the sand, shattering the fragile bubble of peace the two of you have found. He pulls away, digging through the pockets of his shorts, and he swears under his breath.

“Rex,” he says as he holds up the comm. You nod, and he activates it, and the captain's voice crackles through.

"Echo, I just sent over some new intel. Can you check it out? It might be a lead on the ship."

"Yeah, of course," Echo replies, though his tone is a little hesitant. He glances over at you, his brows drawing together, and you force a smile, ignoring the way your heart has plummeted into the pit of your stomach.

"Duty calls," you say, trying for levity.

Echo hesitates, glancing at the comm and back at you, and he lets out a sigh.

“Everything okay?” Rex asks.

Echo doesn't answer, not looking away from you. You give him a reassuring smile, and his expression clears, his mouth twitching a little as if he's thinking.

"Everything's fine," he says finally. “I'm a little busy right now, but I'll look over the intel and get back to you later."

There’s a moment of silence, and you hold your breath, wondering if Rex will call him out. But instead, he laughs.

"Busy, huh?"

Echo rolls his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. He shifts, pulling you closer, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Something like that."

"All right, fine," Rex says, and he sounds amused. "Glad you’re enjoying your vacation."

"I'm— yeah. Thanks, Rex."

"Bye, Rex," you add, leaning closer and raising your voice a little. Echo smirks, and he cuts the transmission.

"So," you say, "you're just going to ignore the fact that we got called in for work, huh?"

"No," Echo replies, looking defensive. He sets the comm aside, reaching out to take your hand. "We're on a break. They can handle things without us for a day or two."

You smile at him, and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, his eyes soft.

"Who are you and what have you done with Echo?" you tease. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, but when Echo's grip on your hand tightens, you freeze, a jolt running down your spine.

He scowls, his mouth twisting, and his eyes flicker away from you, looking out across the water. His hand falls away from yours, and his shoulders slump, the easy happiness that had surrounded him moments ago bleeding away.

"Don't say that," he mutters.

"What? Why not?"

"I just..."

He looks frustrated, and a little lost, and you wait, giving him time to find the words. His mouth is open, but he closes it, letting out a harsh sigh through his nose. His brow furrows, and he stares down at his lap, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your hand finding his. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I—" he stops, closing his eyes. "I know."

He takes a deep breath, his hand turning to lace his fingers through yours.

"I'm tired," he says finally, his voice small. "I'm tired of... not getting to be with you, because we're always running, or on a mission, or just never in the same place. We never get a chance to be alone, and it's..."

His brow furrows, and his lips press together, as if he's frustrated.

"It's not enough," he says, and there's a note of finality to it, like the decision has been made. "And I'm done with it. So unless the galaxy is literally ending, I'm not leaving until we've had a chance to enjoy ourselves a little."

"And what if the galaxy is ending?"

"Then I'm sure Rex and the rest of the boys will take care of it," Echo says. He grins at you, looking proud of himself, and you laugh, shaking your head. "Until then, I'm staying here with you. And," he adds, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of your jaw, "you can distract me from thinking about work, if you want."

You lean into him, letting him press another kiss to your neck.

"Hmm," you murmur, pretending to think. "I guess I could do that. After all, we are supposed to be on a date."

"Exactly," he says. He smiles against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver. "Come on, we can't let the day go to waste."

"I mean, there is one thing we can do," you say, grinning mischievously.

Echo's eyes darken, and his voice is a low rumble.

"What's that?"

You smile and stand, reaching down and tugging him up.

"Swim!"

He groans, and you laugh, ducking out of his grasp and darting for the waves. He's faster, though, and he catches you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you off the ground.

"Echo!" you yelp. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, and you struggle in his grip. "Don't you dare! Don't you—"

"Sorry," he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic, and you shriek as he tosses you into the surf. You land with a splash, the cool water enveloping you, and you break the surface, pushing the wet strands of hair out of your face.

Echo is watching you, looking smug, and you glare at him.

"What's the matter?" he asks, feigning innocence. "Not having fun?"

You splutter a little, wiping the water from your eyes, and you launch yourself at him. You can't actually pick him up, and he doesn't fall, but the move does throw him off balance, and he stumbles backward, almost falling into the water. You laugh and try to shove him again, but his arm comes around your waist, holding you steady.

"Is that how it's going to be?"

You grin, and the two of you wrestle, the sounds of your laughter carrying over the waves.

"Oh, no, please!" Echo yelps. He tries to fend you off, and you laugh, ducking around his arms and splashing water up at him. "Mercy!"

"Never," you declare. You grab his shoulders, and he lets you push him under the waves. He comes up sputtering, and his arm comes around your waist, dragging you down with him.

You both surface, and Echo is laughing, the sound loud and free and happier than you've ever heard him. It sends a surge of warmth through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you're leaning in and kissing him.

Echo kisses you back, his hands finding your waist. He's warm against you, even with the cool water lapping around your bodies, and his lips are soft and gentle. It's the opposite of the way you usually kiss him, all tongue and teeth and bruising hands, and it makes your chest ache, makes the longing that's always present whenever he's around swell a little bigger.

He must feel it too, because his grip on you tightens, and he hauls you closer, the two of you clinging to each other like your life depends on it.

When you break apart, he doesn't let go, and neither do you. The two of you stand there for a long time, breathing in sync, and for a moment, everything seems to slow. There's no war, no missions, no responsibilities or tasks. There's just you and him and the feeling of the ocean around you, the two of you pressed so close together it's hard to tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

“So,” he starts, his forehead pressing against yours. “What else do normal couples do on dates, anyway?"

You grin and step back, taking his hand.

"Come on, I'll show you."

And you do. The two of you spend the afternoon walking along the beach, collecting shells and talking, and occasionally, the two of you find yourselves making out like a couple of teenagers, hands roaming over each other and mouths moving frantically together. It's not until the sun is beginning to set that the two of you finally wander back up the hill to the house, and by the time you're back in the kitchen, Echo has you pinned against the counter, his mouth hot and demanding against yours.

"We're supposed to be getting ready for dinner," you mumble, even as you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck.

"Fuck dinner," Echo growls. He nips at the skin just below your ear, and you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

You're both still wet from the water, and you can feel him, hot and hard and pressing insistently against your hip. Your own desire surges, and suddenly the thought of a crowded restaurant or a stuffy dining room is the last thing you want.

"I've got a better idea," you murmur, and he groans against your neck.

"Tell me," he breathes, and the feeling of his breath against your skin makes you shiver.

"Shower," you manage. The word has barely left your lips before he's pulling away, tugging you after him as he heads for the stairs.

The two of you don't make it far, and neither of you seems to care. As soon as the door to the bedroom is closed behind him, he's crowding you up against it, his hands sliding under your shirt and his mouth hot on yours. You can feel him, hard and insistent against you, and he groans, grinding his hips against you.

"Gods, I missed this," he pants. He nips at your ear, his teeth scraping across the skin. "Missed you. Missed touching you and kissing you and—"

"Shower," you repeat, gasping as he bites down on your shoulder. "Now.”

"Whatever you want," he mumbles.

He pulls back, and the two of you race down the hall, stripping out of your clothes as you go. He's in the fresher before you, the water already on, and by the time you step in behind him, he's got his back pressed to the tile, his cock hard and heavy between his legs.

You step inside, the water cascading down around the two of you, and Echo's gaze drops, raking over your body. You can see him, taking in the way the water streams over your skin, and the way his eyes darken sends a thrill through you.

You don't bother teasing him. Instead, you push him up against the wall, dropping to your knees and pressing a line of kisses down his stomach. His hand drops to your hair, tangling in the wet strands, and he lets out a choked moan.

"This is a date, right?" you ask, smiling innocently up at him. He nods, his gaze fixed firmly on you, and his grip on your hair tightens. "Good. I've always wanted to give someone a blowjob on a first date."

"Oh, fuck," he moans, and his head thumps back against the wall.

You take him into your mouth, and his fingers tighten in your hair. You look up at him, watching as his expression twists, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching, and the sight sends a thrill through you.

Echo isn't big on talking during sex. Most of the time, it's just groans and whines, with the occasional curse or muttered endearment. But now, his words seem to be spilling from his lips, the filthiest things you've ever heard pouring out as you suck and lick and take him deeper into your mouth.

"Yes, just like that," he groans, his hips jerking a little. His scomp slides up the wall, searching for purchase, and the sound of the metal scraping against the tile sends a rush of heat through you. "Your mouth is so good, sweetheart. So perfect. Fuck, I can't wait to get inside you."

His fingers are tangled in your hair, not pulling or tugging, just holding you in place. You're practically dripping, and you can feel your cunt clench, the ache in your core growing with every filthy thing that falls from his lips.

"Look at you," he mutters, his voice ragged. His eyes are fixed on the spot where his cock disappears into your mouth, and you hum, the vibrations making him shiver. "Gorgeous. Look so good on your knees for me."

You keep going, working him over until his voice is cracking, his words dissolving into incoherent moans and gasps.

"Fuck," he hisses, his hips stuttering a little. He's close, you can tell, his muscles trembling and his breathing ragged. "Stop. Need— want to—"

He tugs at your hair, trying to pull you off, and you ignore him, keeping up the pace. His words dissolve into a string of curses, and you look up at him, blinking innocently and hollowing your cheeks.

That's all it takes.

"Shit," he manages. "I'm— I'm gonna—"

His cock twitches, and his eyes squeeze shut, his face twisting as he comes, his mouth falling open. He shudders, and you swallow, keeping your eyes on him as his chest heaves, his muscles quivering.

You keep going until he's trembling, his hand pushing weakly at your head, and you let him slide from your lips, sitting back on your heels and grinning up at him. He's slumped against the wall, looking absolutely wrecked, and you smirk, reaching for the bottle of shampoo and standing up.

"Feel good?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes glazed and his lips parted.

"So good," he mumbles. "Need a minute."

"Take your time," you say, stepping around him and putting a generous amount of shampoo in your hands. You work it into your hair, feeling him watching you, and you smile to yourself, humming as you wash the salt from your skin.

"You're evil," he murmurs. He presses up behind you, his mouth dropping to the side of your neck.

"I think the term you're looking for is generous," you tease.

"That, too."

He kisses the spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing against the skin. His hand finds your waist, and his scomp slides up your arm, tugging your hand away from your hair.

"Let me," he murmurs, and you nod. He gently works the suds out, his hand running through your hair and sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His scomp slides down, brushing over the side of your breast, and his other hand joins, the water raining down on the two of you.

"You're beautiful," he says, and you turn your head, looking back at him. He's watching you, his expression open and unguarded, and there's a look in his eyes that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I'm so lucky."

"Echo," you start, but the words die on your lips as his scomp skims lower, brushing against your hip and slipping between your legs. The tip finds your clit, and you gasp, arching back against him.

"So beautiful," he repeats. He rubs tight circles over your clit, his scomp moving slowly, almost lazily, and you lean back, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm comes around your waist, and his hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing against the nipple. "You're amazing, sweetheart. I love watching you."

You moan and turn your head to press your mouth against his. He kisses you, his hand cupping your jaw, and you gasp as his scomp moves a little faster.

"I love the noises you make," he murmurs. He nips at the corner of your jaw, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting. "Love the way you taste, the way you feel."

He's everywhere, his lips pressing against the side of your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach and between your legs, his fingers brushing against where you're aching for him. He presses them into you, and his thumb replaces his scomp, the tip  tracing patterns over your thigh as his fingers curl, finding that spot inside of you that makes you shudder.

"Echo," you gasp, the sound practically a sob. You reach back, grabbing onto his neck, and he hums, his arm tightening around you.

"I love being inside you," he says, and his voice is ragged, the sound sending a pulse of heat through you. His cock is hard again, pressing insistently against your ass, and his hips grind forward, the feeling of his body against yours sending a rush of warmth through you.

"Want that," you gasp. "Want you."

"You have me," he murmurs. He adds a third finger, and you whine, your nails digging into his neck.

"Not enough."

He grins against your skin, and the motion makes something inside you snap. You're suddenly desperate for him, for the feeling of him filling you up and driving away the ache that's been building for weeks. You try and turn, but his arm keeps you in place, and he chuckles, his thumb moving a little faster.

"Wait," he says.

"Echo, please," you beg, and he groans, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"Patience," he murmurs. "You can wait a little longer."

He presses his lips to the side of your neck, and his fingers work, curling and thrusting and making your whole body go tight. His arm is solid around you, holding you in place, and the thought of him, surrounding you, pinning you to the spot and taking what he wants, sends a rush of heat through you.

"Please," you whisper, and his fingers twist, his thumb moving faster. "I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he breathes. "That's it. Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see you."

The sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers moving inside you and his cock pressed against you is too much. You break, coming with a loud cry, and he keeps going, working you through it. Your body goes limp, and Echo holds you, keeping his fingers buried inside you and his scomp drawing tight circles over your clit. You whimper and try to push him away, the sensations too much, but he doesn't stop, not until a second wave hits and you're writhing, clinging to him for dear life.

By the time he finally pulls away, your legs are trembling, and you're panting, slumped against him and unable to do anything but whimper as he turns the water off and steps out of the shower.

You don't register him drying you off or lifting you and carrying you down the hall, and it's not until the door to the bedroom closes behind him that your brain finally clears enough to form coherent thoughts.

"Echo," you say.

He looks down at you, smiling softly, and he kisses you, the press of his lips warm and gentle. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. He lays you down on the bed, his eyes drinking in every inch of you, and it's so tender, so sweet that the emotion wells up, filling your chest until you're sure it will burst.

It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. The longing, the worry, the fear... it's been eating away at you, and being here with him, like this, makes the stress and anxiety from the past month melt away, leaving you feeling more at peace than you have in weeks.

He's always been the calm in the storm. You've lost track of the number of times you've lain awake at night, wondering if this was the last time, if this would be the one where something went wrong and neither of you came home. He's always been there, a solid presence, an unwavering support, and the thought of losing him is almost too much to bear.

But here, in this moment, there's nothing but the two of you. There's no war, or missions, or fighting or running. It's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, safe and warm and together.

And in that moment, you're so happy, you think your heart might explode.

He lays down next to you, his hand finding your waist, and you kiss him, your hands cupping his jaw and stubble scraping across your palms. It's gentle and unhurried, the two of you taking the time to relearn each other. The feeling of his mouth against yours, his skin under your hands, his body pressed against you is almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clinging to him, holding him as close as you can and trying to commit the feeling to memory.

It's not until he rolls on top of you that the slow, lazy pace breaks.

You gasp, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, and his cock presses insistently against your thigh. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans, grinding his hips down.

"Want you," you manage. Your hands run over his back, sliding down and gripping his ass.

"You have me," he says, his voice rough. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the soft skin.

"Inside," you gasp, and he moans, his mouth dropping lower, his lips moving over the swell of your breasts.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I want that."

"Come on," you say, pushing at his shoulders. He sits up and kneels between your legs, and he reaches down, stroking his cock and giving it a firm squeeze. He looks massive from this angle, his broad chest and shoulders towering over you, and the sight makes something clench deep in your core.

"I don't want to rush," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to the apex of your thighs. "Want to take my time."

You sit up, and his hand finds your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap. Your arms wind around his neck, and his scomp slides up the length of your back, pressing you closer.

"We have time," you tell him, and his eyes are dark and soft and full of a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.

"Yeah," he says. "We do."

You press a kiss to his cheek, and his hand drops between the two of you, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. His mouth finds yours as the thick head slides into you, and it's slow, so agonizingly slow, you're sure he's trying to drive you insane.

You don't remember him being this big.

You know that's ridiculous, that of course he's still the same size, but the thought has a whimper falling from your lips. You try and grind down, needing more, but his arm comes around, pinning you to his chest, and he shakes his head.

"You're killing me," you mutter, and his teeth flash in the fading sunlight, his eyes dancing.

"I can stop," he teases.

"Don't you dare," you say, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He keeps going, the steady, agonizing pressure of his cock pushing inside making your whole body go tense. You can feel the way he's stretching you open, the way your body has to make room for him, and the thought makes your mind blank, the ache in your core growing.

By the time he's finally, finally all the way inside, the two of you are breathing heavily. He’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been, and the stretch is just shy of painful. It makes your hips jerk a little, and Echo lets out a moan, his hand finding your hip and his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"You're perfect," he mumbles, and you laugh, the sound turning into a moan as he grinds his hips up, pushing a little deeper.

You cling to him, his arms coming around you and pulling you closer. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pull you closer, as close as possible. The two of you stay like that, holding each other and letting the sensation wash over you.

Eventually, the pressure becomes too much, and you start to squirm, shifting and rocking your hips. Echo takes the hint and starts to move, and the first slow, lazy thrust makes the both of you moan.

He starts a rhythm, and it's like the entire galaxy has narrowed down to just the two of you. Nothing else matters, just the feeling of his cock sliding into you, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the feeling of his heartbeat against your skin.

You know how much he loves being inside you. He's always told you, whispered it against the skin of your neck, moaned it in the dead of night, panted it while you rode him, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. He never seems to tire of it, always desperate to get as deep as possible, and sometimes, you've wondered if there's a part of him that's afraid this will be the last time.

But he's never done it like this.

He's never held you in his arms and pressed kisses to your skin, his hand and scomp running reverently over every inch of your body. He's never taken his time, his hips rocking forward in a steady, measured rhythm, his mouth finding yours again and again. He's never let himself drown in the feeling of it, his eyes half-closed and his face twisted in an expression of pure bliss.

He's never made love to you before.

You've never put a name to it, the way the two of you are together. You've always been careful not to call it anything, knowing that doing so would cross a line neither of you wanted to. It's dangerous, the sort of thing that can break hearts and destroy lives, and you'd both known it. So you'd never said it, never acknowledged it, and had kept it to yourselves, locked away where no one else could ever see.

But now, with his arms wrapped around you, his touch tender and his mouth soft against yours, there's no other word for it. It's the only explanation for the feeling, the one that's welling up inside of you and threatening to swallow you whole, and the realization sends a thrill through you, settling in the pit of your stomach and burning like a sun.

He's making love to you.

You hold him closer, your hand gripping the back of his neck, and his lips find yours, warm and soft. He doesn't say anything, his gaze fixed firmly on your face, and his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning.

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His hand runs over your waist, squeezing lightly, and he lets out a shaky breath. "I love this. Love you."

Your breath catches, and for a second, it feels like the world stops. The only sound is his breathing, the only feeling is his hand on your skin, and the only thing that exists is him.

"Echo," you whisper, and his name is a question, the only thing you can manage.

He doesn't seem to hear you, or maybe he doesn't understand.

"Love seeing you like this," he mumbles, his gaze flitting over your face. "Love touching you, love being with you. I don't—"

He breaks off, and his head drops, his nose brushing against your jaw. His breathing is ragged, and his grip on you tightens, and something tells you he didn't mean to say that, didn't mean for those words to fall from his lips.

His hips slow, and he holds you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck and taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can feel him, his entire body trembling, and you pull him closer, your fingers cradling the back of his head and holding him against you.

"It's okay," you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His scomp skims down your back, the metal still warm from the sun and the warm water. It's a tender gesture, and the fact that he's using it to hold you, instead of his hand, is a testament to how far the two of you have come.

"I love this," he murmurs, and you know what he means.

He doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to go back to the war and the fighting and the constant struggle. He wants to stay, with you, just like this, forever. And as much as you want that, the two of you both know it's not an option.

"Me too," you murmur.

"I wish..."

"Yeah," you breathe. "Me too."

"I love you," he says again.

You swallow, and there's a lump in your throat, a feeling that seems to settle over you, making your skin feel warm and your pulse thrum. You're not sure what it is, but you know that this, whatever it is, is important, that it means something, and the sudden urge to run from it, to shove it down and push it away, is strong. But Echo’s always been there for you, a steady, unwavering presence, and even though you're terrified, the knowledge that he's here, that he won't leave, settles something in you, and the feeling starts to shift.

Instead of the warmth, it's like a fire, burning away the anxiety and the fear, and the knowledge that comes with it makes you feel lighter than you have in months. You're not sure what it means, or what you'll do with it, but there's a sense of comfort in it, and the smile that stretches across your face is genuine.

"I love you, too," you say.

He makes a strangled noise, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into the skin.

"I love you," he repeats, the words falling from his lips. "Force, I love you. So much. I love you."

He says it over and over, the words spilling out of him. He's still hard inside you, and the feeling sends a bolt of heat through you, your cunt clenching around him. He gasps, his hips grinding forward, and he moans, the sound muffled against your skin.

"Please," you whimper, your nails scraping against the back of his neck.

"Anything," he gasps, and his hips start to move, slow and steady.

It's not frenzied, or frantic, and it doesn't need to be. You have time, all the time in the world, and for once, neither of you are trying to race the clock. He's gentle, his movements languid and unhurried, every thrust like a wave, pulling you deeper and deeper.

He's murmuring the whole time, his voice low and rough, the words tumbling from his lips. He's talking about everything, about the way he feels about you, about the things he wants, the places he wants to take you. It's filthy, and sweet, and so perfect, and you let the words wash over you, reveling in the feeling of him inside you and the way his voice makes your stomach clench.

"Echo," you whine, your thighs tightening around his waist. "Close."

"I've got you," he murmurs. His hand slips between the two of you, his thumb finding the swollen, slippery bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles over it. "That's it, sweetheart. Come for me."

The pleasure builds, slowly and steadily, until you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel. It's intense and intimate, Echo's eyes fixed firmly on your face, his lips parted in awe. You feel open, exposed, vulnerable, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the fact that he's right there with you, his expression twisted and his muscles trembling, his control slipping more and more with each passing second.

"Please," you beg, and his hips speed up, his rhythm faltering as he starts to lose his grip.

"Come for me," he gasps. "Let go. I'll take care of you."

And you do, his words sending a flood of warmth through you, spreading out until you can feel it everywhere, in every part of your body. Your cunt pulses, clenching around him, and Echo groans, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth dropping open.

"Fuck," he chokes out. He doesn't slow, doesn't stop, just keeps fucking you through it, and you're shaking, clinging to him and shuddering as the pleasure keeps building. "Shit, sweetheart. You feel so good."

"Love the way you feel," you manage, your voice hoarse and strained. "So full. Love your cock, love you."

He curses, his hips jerking, and his scomp digs into the skin of your back, holding you tighter. His hand leaves your clit, and he grabs your thigh, wrapping his arm around your leg and hiking it higher. The angle changes, and he hits something inside of you that makes you sob, his hips snapping forward.

"Again," he grunts.

You nod, the feeling so intense that you can't manage words. You're practically sobbing, the sounds falling from your lips without thought, and Echo's gaze is fixed on you, his expression hungry and awestruck.

"Fuck," he growls, his thrusts getting more and more erratic. "Come on, sweetheart. Want to feel you. Wanna watch you come. Gonna fill you up. Make you mine."

It's filthy, the things he's saying, and you're lost in him, his hand gripping your waist and his scomp pressed into the small of your back. His gaze is burning, and it feels like the room is spinning, like the world is coming apart at the seams and there's nothing left but the two of you, moving together.

"I can't—"

"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough. He's shaking, and you know he's close. "One more. Come on."

You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, and his eyes are wide, his expression stunned.

"Please," you gasp. "Echo, please."

"Fuck," he breathes.

It's like a switch has been flipped, and the slow, steady pace falls apart, his thrusts hard and fast. He surges forward, your back hitting the bed, and his scomp slides under your back, lifting you off the mattress.

It's too much, the new angle and the way he's staring at you, and a sob breaks from your throat, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Gorgeous," he breathes. "You're perfect. I love you."

There's a moment, a heartbeat where it seems like everything is suspended. His eyes are wide, and he looks almost... shocked, as if he can't believe what's happening, and something tells you that it's not just about this, about the two of you. It's bigger, somehow, deeper and more profound and the feeling that washes over you is pure, unadulterated joy.

And you can see it on his face, in the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. He looks like he's about to burst, and it's so raw, so perfect, and the realization hits you like a blaster bolt.

He's happy.

He's the happiest you've ever seen him, and the fact that it's because of you is overwhelming.

"Love you," he murmurs, and it's the last thing either of you say before the feeling crashes over the two of you.

You cry out, and the dam breaks. The pleasure rushes through you, hot and cold, and the waves break, sweeping over the both of you and carrying you away.

You come with a choked gasp, his name on your lips and his fingers digging into the skin of your thigh. His hips snap forward, and he grinds into you, his face twisting and a loud moan falling from his mouth at the way your body pulls him in, squeezing and pulsing around him.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes.

You cling to him, your eyes fixed on his face. He's beautiful like this, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, his expression twisted into an expression of pure ecstasy. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt inside you as he starts to come, the first pulse of heat making you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitch, and his brow furrows, a broken sob falling from his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens, and his hips start to stutter, grinding into you and filling you up, his come dripping from you. He lets out another choked noise, and he falls forward, his weight settling on top of you and his mouth finding yours.

"So perfect," he pants, his hips rocking forward a few more times, his movements lazy and slow.

You can't respond, still gasping for air, and you can feel the way he's twitching, the way his body is shaking. It feels like forever before the feeling finally fades and Echo pulls back slightly, mindful of his weight. You can feel him dripping from where the two of you are connected, and you bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Hi," you whisper, and he laughs, the sound breathless and a little giddy.

"Hi," he replies, grinning.

Echo's chest is heaving, his muscles quivering, and he looks absolutely wrecked. He's staring at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide, and he's looking at you the way people look at the sun after they've spent too long in the dark, like he's seeing something for the first time and never wants to look away.

"I love watching you," he says, his voice raw and hoarse. "Wish you could see yourself."

"Yeah?"

He nods and reaches up, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs. "Perfect. Wish I could stay inside you forever."

You hum, and his gaze drops, watching as he finally slides out, a trickle of his release following. He swallows, and he reaches down, his thumb slipping between your folds.

"Echo," you whine, your hips jerking a little.

"Gonna miss that," he mumbles, his tone almost dreamy.

"We've got a few days," you remind him. "And I'm not done with you yet."

He grins, and it's so boyish, so genuine and unguarded, that you find yourself reaching for him. Your hands slide up his chest, over the broad expanse of his shoulders and his neck, and your fingers brush over the spot just below his ear, tracing the edge of his jaw.

Echo leans into your touch, his eyes closing, and his head turns, his lips pressing against the inside of your wrist. You shiver and lean forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He wrinkles it, his eyes still closed, and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," you say, and he cracks one eye open, looking suspicious.

"You're laughing," he accuses.

"Because you're adorable."

His lips part, and his eyebrows rise. He doesn't say anything, but his face flushes, his cheeks going pink, and you grin.

"That's the last word I'd use to describe myself," he mutters. “Especially when I’m still inside you.”

"I think I'm the best judge of that," you point out, and he smirks, his eyes glinting.

"Well, if that's the case, I'd have to say the same about you," he teases, and he leans forward, nipping at the soft skin just below your ear. You yelp, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before he pulls away, searching for his pants.

"Where are you going?" you whine.

"To order food," he says. He tugs his pants on, and the sight of him, completely naked except for the loose fitting black cargo pants, is enough to make your mouth water. "I'm starving, and if I'm going to keep this up, I'm gonna need my strength."

"You mean it?" you ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Did you really think I'd pass up the opportunity to have sex with the woman I love all day? In an actual bed? With an actual door that locks?"

Your heart flutters, and you grin.

"No, but I'm still glad to hear it."

"Good," he says. He walks back over, leaning down and kissing you, his lips warm and his stubble scraping against your skin.

"Order some food," you murmur, and he nods. "And maybe a bottle of wine."

"Whatever you want," he says. He steps away, and his gaze flits over you, taking in the way you're sprawled across the bed, still naked and covered in sweat and your combined release. He swallows and shakes his head, backing toward the door.

"I'll be back soon," he promises. He points a finger at you. "Don't move."

You give him a salute, and he grins, his eyes dancing.

"I love you," he says, and it's so easy, the words falling from his lips like they've always been there.

"I love you," you tell him, and the smile he gives you is enough to light up the entire room.

The door closes behind him, and you collapse back onto the pillows, closing your eyes and letting yourself revel in the feeling of the bed beneath you, the cool air drifting over your heated skin, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

This isn't how you imagined this week would go. You'd thought that it would be a brief respite, a chance to relax before heading back to the fight. You'd expected a week of stress and anxiety, of wondering if it would be the last one, and whether or not you'd get to spend any of it with the man we’re falling for despite your better judgement.

Instead, you're here, lying in a bed, in a place where there's no war and no missions and no responsibilities. For the first time in months, there's no one depending on you, no one waiting for you to save them, and no one demanding things from you that you're not sure you can give.

It's peaceful, and it's perfect, and the thought that Echo, the man who's seen and experienced more than anyone should ever have to, feels the same makes you smile.

For the first time since the war started, everything is good.

You let your eyes fall closed, and the sound of the waves is soothing, the faint noise carrying up the hill.

In the end, it's not the ocean or the house or the fact that for once, you have nothing to do.

It's him.

Echo.

He's the reason this feels like home.

And in the end, you know that's the only thing that really matters.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

[azaharinflames]

Hello! I apologize for any awkward expressions, as I'm not American and not very proficient in English.

I wasn't part of the 9-1-1 fandom and watched it whenever I had time. It was a light show for me, but while watching 9-1-1, I hoped that Buck would find a partner to settle down with and be happy. (And I never felt even 1% of romantic feelings between Buck and Eddie.) When Buck broke up with Taylor, I understood the reason but felt regretful. After that, Tommy appeared as a meaningful LI. I sincerely cheered for Buck, seeing him happy.

I had high expectations for S8, but in 801, Tommy appeared briefly, and until 804, no one mentioned Tommy, which I found strange. Then I watched 805 and thought Henren's story was forced, but I liked Buck and Tommy's story. Then I watched 806, and... Buck and Tommy can break up. If it had been for a convincing reason like with Buck and Taylor, I would have been sad but understood. However, I couldn't understand the story in 806 at all, and the characters felt unfamiliar, as if they weren't the characters I knew. And the interviews with Tim and OS gave me trauma after enjoying watching 9-1-1 all this time.

Only Lou understood and empathized with me. I didn't know Lou and didn't remember Tommy from S2. I supported Buck and Tommy solely because Buck was happy... Especially OS's interview made me feel like Buck and Tommy were ignored as if they didn't exist. I don't usually have expectations for actors, but I was really disappointed. So, even though I subscribed to Disney+ annually because of 9-1-1, I no longer watch 9-1-1. I know that my not watching won't change anything. And I know that Tim doesn't have the ability to create good, creative stories. Knowing that Buck will just keep running in the same hamster wheel, I really lost expectations for Buck. Of course, knowing that other 9-1-1 characters besides Buck will also run in slightly different hamster wheels without development, I lost interest in the show itself.

Furthermore, I was honestly disappointed with the production team and the broadcasting company for not thinking of protecting the actor who was insulted and attacked in all sorts of ways just because they were Buck's LI. In the country where I live, if such a situation occurred, there would have been an official message from the broadcasting company and production team to stop the attacks and hatred.

I'm sorry for sending such a negative and pessimistic message. I wanted to confide in someone. Even if Tommy doesn't appear again, I plan to continue enjoying BuckTommy content on Tumblr and AO3, but I really miss the time when I was looking forward to and waiting for S8.

Hi, Nonnie! Sorry for taking a bit, physical therapy is kicking my ass rn lmao (kids do not tear your meniscus)

Okay by points. First of all - your English was perfect, don’t sweat it. English is my third language so Iunderstand where you come from, but you’re good!! Now:

you🤝me with this whole post. You were on my mind fr because I do share all of your thoughts.

Perhaps confession time: I liked Taylor! I ultimately understood why it wouldn’t work between Buck and her, but I liked her and I thought they were really cute. I was sad to see her go (although I’m glad by leaving we were able to eventually get Tommy)

Season 8 is the perfect illustration of something I’ve been thinking about 911 for a while - it is the land of missed potential. I’ve gone about it a few times so I won’t go over it again, but Season 8 is the perfect example of having lots they could do yet refusing to attempt to do it.

Your point on the break up is 100%. I would’ve actually understood and accepted it if it made sense in a larger scale, or if we had been introduced to it better. As it is, you do understand Tommy’s motives, but only if you look at the episode. Meaning: everyone acted so out of character during 806, it seemed like a different show. Therefore the break up (to me) does not make sense in a broader, more general view.

Your point on interviews: yeah I get it, sadly. The interviews left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth, because it did seem like Lou was the only one who truly cared for the couple and its fans. And for everyone who had been harassed for months for liking them, the nonchalant attitude of nearly everyone felt cruel and hurtful. It’s more than normal that many people felt like stop watching the show after it (me included). It does seem like OS has started to realize how big Bucktommy actually was and how liked they still are. So, progress? But it feels too little too late. Idk.

I also understand it does feel bad to see how they’ve ignored the bad treatment LFJr has received. Ofc we lack a lot of context (meaning: perhaps Lou himself asked them to ignore it, perhaps he did have a lot of support BTS), but the fact is that they let a group of deranged ‘fans’ bully and threaten an actor, and did nothing. No, instead it very much felt like those fans were being rewarded. It’s normal for us to not want to support that. I know I feel uncomfy with the idea of doing so.

We are lucky (infinitely lucky) that the Bucktommy fandom is filled with truly lovely and amazing people - people that are lovely to read, discuss with, and enjoy their art from!! If 911 doesn’t got my back, I know the BT fandom does ♥️

I hope you can continue to enjoy fandom life, anon! Ultimately they cannot take away what we enjoy!

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving opinions and confessions! And if you do not want them publish, please say so in your message 🥰 it’s cool with me, but I do need to know!

Take care <3

[girldriveroscar]

i have a very important question for you— long or short hair oscar? What length do you like best?

OSCARO HAIR DISCUSSIONNNN guys. I think I have a controversial opinion here... FROM THE FRONT. I think The best he's looked (eliminating post-race because that's a Diff Category) was Monza 24, post Charle's mom cut.... Yah. speaking w my chest this is The cutiest Oscar look. I think I like it sm because its just like. Prema Oscar but beefed up. like he looks so innocent and boyish idk corruption kink go brrrrrrr. truly a mother's vision... not interrogating what that means for me....

that being said Obviously there's a very convincing case to be made about his long prince hair.

and Yes I do like it. but. I have three qualms. one. the longer it is the more obvious it becomes he doesn't bother with styling- its Really hit or miss... occasionally he'll grate on my ur a millionaire pls put urself together nerve. SORRY! Secondly. and kinda building off that. sometimes the conditions are Not There. and the back becomes such a solid thick block of hair. reminds me too much of ur first masc haircut when the hairdresser Doesn't get u Don't wanna look Like a Girl and she fucks ur shit up. LIKE im not asking for a taper fade just don't leave it so thick... example below...

and final qualm. idk. sometimes it wigs me out when he's too hot. like crossing the border into Formula One Driver People Thirst After territory. I like. his Some Guy-ness. sorry #parasocial.

kinda why even tho Charles is Arguably. my favorite driver (gasp) I don't rly care abt ogling him because physically its like Duh hes attractive. but hes attractive to me 9/10 times in the like. Lucky Blue Smith Wattpad face claim way. insert Wow that sure is a shirtless man meme. Oscar has a certain.. how u say. penis say qua .... about him when hes got RA narc hair.

GOING BACK. the reason However,,, that I'm clarifying from the front on the Monza cut. is because.. the back... is... uh. a different story. you need a Bit of a fade or Texture or something.. so its not just. a Line. in the back. to me the ideal Oscar cut wld be short with the back thinned out and faded a Bit. whatever it is. as long as it's not A. sitting like a Thick helmet on the nape. or B. a flat line... it's Good to me... THIS PRESENTS. the other thing about oscar's hair which is Very Enticing.

my final talking point- his hair texture post-race or in sweaty conditions. 50/50 the sweat/moisture makes him Insanely hot or uh... a lovely contribution to my oscaro gatekeeping. but when it does curl up. and he's all red faced and slick. Peak.

all that being said. nothing can be worse than this.

a whole mess. ur excused go home.

[nerdranttheories]

Reasonable Expectations for what Larian will add regarding some fan favorite characters:

I’ve been thinking about the requests for npc romances and I think I’ve got an idea of what may and what probably won’t happen. (But there’s always modders so maybe some lovely soul will help provide the stories we want!)

Raphael: Possibly a short-lived romance. I don’t think he would join the party, even if Larian had all the time in the world given that it would be very time-consuming to give an actual Devil enough of a redemption arc where he’ll fight for others.

Gortash: I don’t think they’re going to give him a romance at all but he would be so much fun for a dark urge-exclusive love interest.

Dammon: It could be really sweet to have a little romance in Act 3 with this guy, and maybe flirting in Act 1. I could see it possibly getting pulled off as it would be less work than some of the others. (I mostly want a Dammon romance so I can do a Karlach-origin playthrough Larian PLEASE)

Rolan: As much as I’d love to have this guy as a party member, he also has his own story he has to go through. I think it would be fun if he could be a temporary companion in Moonrise/the shadowlands though, since we already pretty much have mechanics for controlling him, and it would give him a reason to join the camp by himself. But he would have to leave when you get Cal and Lia back, so he can continue on his plot to Act 3. Then in Act 3 he has his own things going on so he probably wouldn’t be a party member. However I think a romance could definitely be slipped in, as an act 3 only thing like Dammon. And maybe Rolan thanking the player character when his siblings are saved /wiggles eyebrows/

Zevlor: this man’s story has been through so much. I’ve seen fans complain that his act 3 role now feels half-baked and yeah it does, but I completely understand why. As far as I understand it he has half an hour plus of cut lines from betraying the tiefling refugees — it is extremely unlikely that Larian is going to pull Glen back into the studio *again*. However, I do think it would be cool if they pulled the Zevlor betrayal back into the story, using those lines as a specific result of the player character’s actions. Like if the player character kills Kagha, then he’s convinced to follow his darker urges (ha, see what I did there?) and he actively betrays the other tieflings, but otherwise he is only enthralled. I would *love* a Zevlor companion, as we already have the option to invite him to join us, and of course a Zevlor romance would be the cherry on top. But as I said the amount of voice lines he’s already gone through, plus the fact that we could recruit him in Act 2, also he would probably need a proper arc in Act 3 where he rebuilds faith in himself and others… It would be too much work. So unfortunately, I imagine if we ever get a Zevlor romance it will be at the hands of dutiful modders.

However these are just my thoughts! I’m more than happy if Larian surprises me with Patch 8.

[frostbiteisthenewjackieshauna]

Hiiii, can you please write your dating shauna hc please? thank youuu 🤓

shauna shipman my cutiepie!! (sfw, pre crash/no crash!au)

Lemme take it from the top

she’s wayyy too shy to ask you out

she kind of eyes you all the time and can barely pay attention in classes that you have together

and Jackie bugs her to just ask you out!!

what’s the worst that could happen? you saying no?

but that is what she feared most

yearning was something she did great, and she’d rather do that then deal with rejection, so she just stays quiet

which does turn out to be very difficult once your history teacher assigns seats to everyone

and just her luck, she’s right next to you!!

believe me, paying attention was hard at first too, but now it’s downright impossible

that’s why she starts doing worse in history

which is surprising, she’s a straight A student

so the teacher gives her a tutor

you!

your guys’ first tutoring session was awkward as hell

you thought she was rude (even though she never seemed that way to you) since she barely talked or memorized anything you said

or tried to teach her

she’s a little embarrassed too, it’s usually her that tutors others

however with a big push from Jackie she does apologize, saying she’s always weird around new people

which is true, but this was a bit different, definitely

still, the tutoring gets funner and less dreaded, and it ended pretty fast- as soon as Shauna broke the ice with you, she could finally pay mind to class

and you two do become friends

you’re one of her only friends, really

until she blurts it out while you were having coffee

“I mean I do like you. Not as a friend.”

she said, trying to convince you she was joking

it was obviously not supposed to come out, but you guys were rambling about falling in love with friends

and she YAPPED

which made that thought that was supposed to stay buried deep come out

and you went through with it until the rest of the date hangout

and then kissed her before getting out of her car

it was a hurried peck, neither of you being all that experienced

she gave you those eyes.

you know the ones.

which made you kiss her again

I mean how could you not??

this time it was deep and passionate, and it turned into a full blown makeout session with you in her lap

the kind of sesh that you both enjoyed so much you felt no need to go further

after that day, she was officially your girlfriend!! yay!!

“I’ve wanted to make you mine for a long time.” you said

“You- yeah uh, sure! Of course, yeah, yours.”

you and Jackie became total besties, playfully making fun of Shauna together

you probably heard Jackie saying “Get a room!” more then any other words in history

but on a serious note, you knew how important their friendship was and made no effort to get in the way of it

but Shauna just wanted to be around you always

calls you over to just chill and do nothing

she just relishes being in your presence, no matter what you do or who else you’re with

short lil makeout sessions while waiting for Jackie to emerge from the house when you go to pick her up for school in the morning

also I cannot stress this enough: wearing. her. flannels.

she has a bizarre amount of them

and she notices that they keep going missing…

doesn’t even try to ask for them back, because she melts as soon as she sees you in one

plays you her “weird” music

is ecstatic when you end up liking it

baking together!!

i have a feeling she’s an amazing baker

you guys do it for fun, to try out recipes or sometimes for charity!!

in the beginning she only lets you measure dry ingredients but relents as soon as you pout

most of your dates are intimate like that

she loves being personal, maybe not secret but does like privacy

not big on PDA at all

the most she’ll do is hold your hand

back to date night though

since dating you, she got so much closer to Tai and Van because you keep going to double dates!!

omg Tai and you listening to them ramble about their nerdy shit

it’s so cute really, you guys shoot each other knowing looks across the table

other then them, you meet all of the team

but still, Tai, Van, and Jackie stay your favorites (other then Shauna obviously)

also! half her journal entries are about you

how pretty you looked, something you’d told her, writes down little details of the stories you tell her that she knows you’d appreciate her knowing

she’s completely devoted to you, and can do nothing to help it

(you feel the same way)

and you love how cute and shy she is around you

especially in the beginning

but later on, she can be more then bold, trust

overall, dating Shauna would be super soft and intimate in every way shape and form

it’s not all that thrilling, but cozy and comfortable

[rypnami]

Theiara Drabble

self- indulgent theiara drabble about a time they see a dragon, feat. some stuff i made up on the fly (hehe get it) about the hebridean black. not beta read or edited so keep that in mind heeh. literally no plot i just wanted to write them.

word count: 1081 no warnings, just fluff and the classic theiara bickering lol. established semi-new relationship <3 idk if any of this makes sense byeee

tagging @amethystandemma since chatting w/ you about the dragon pics inspired me lol

The Scottish highlands are, in Chiara's opinion, the most beautiful place in the world. Granted, she hasn't been to many places in the world, and perhaps being a Scot herself, she's biased, but simply nothing can compare to the rolling green of the mountains or the glistening water on the scattered lochs. Now that winter is, for the most part, over, and spring is finally showing its face, it’s the perfect time to take a long walk and enjoy seeing the sun for the first time in ages.

The only thing that could make the day better would be if she had someone to share it with- as luck would have it, she does. After quite a lot of convincing, she has brought Theseus Scamander in tow for this mini-adventure. They’ve been coworkers for a few years now, but recently it’s developed into something more. They haven’t technically labelled it yet, but it is certainly more than just friends, or coworkers that drive each other mental at any given opportunity. 

Where she has opted for more casual clothes for once- a simple white blouse and knee-length grey skirt, he is in his full blue overcoat, the grey blazer she’s rarely seen him out of, and his incredibly fancy shoes; perhaps not ideal for a trek in the highlands. It’s hardly different from what he would typically wear to work, as if they are about to be called on a very important case, and not out trying to enjoy themselves on one of their few days off. He does look good, however, so she can’t complain too much. 

They’ve stopped in an open meadow-like area, surrounded by hills and dotted with purple flowers. She flops down in the grass, just off the well-worn dirt path, and breathes in the freshness of the air. Her pale blonde hair spreads out amongst the green.

Theseus leans over her, eyebrows raised. “You’re going to get insects in your hair doing that, you know.”

“Spoilsport.” 

“I’m only sayingggg, I don’t imagine you, of all people, want crawly things all over you.”

Hm, true. Chiara hates just about anything with more than 4 legs. Honestly, who needs that many? What are they even used for? “You’ll pick them out for me.”

He sits down beside her, smiling slightly. “Of course I will. But… is this really what we came all the way out here to do? Have you lay on the floor?”

“It’s called appreciating nature. Try it sometime.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “And ‘all the way out here’ is an exaggeration. You can still see the hamlet.” Chiara points left, back down the dirt path, where just peeking over the rise of the hillside, the thatched roofs of Bainburgh are visible.

 

“Yes, but we could appreciate nature from there.” 

“If you’re going to whinge the whole time, you can just go on back and I can enjoy myself.”

“Hey, now, I didn’t say I want to go back.” Almost absentmindedly, he reaches over and starts playing with her hair. “Just pointing out that someone truly in awe of the natural world could do it anywhere.”

“Have a sense of adventure, Scamander,” Chiara huffs, sitting up and crossing her arms. “There’s more to see out here than at a mouldy old hamlet!” She gestures as a couple shaggy, long-horned cattle that meander by. "See?!"

“Ah, yes, we can see all the cows. I love cows. Very interesting.” A grin spreads across his face, and accompanied with the twinkle in his eyes, it would be obvious to anyone that he’s only trying to rile her. Unfortunately, Chiara has never been one for attentiveness to such things- or emotional regulation, honestly. 

“Cows are brilliant!” 

“Have you seen their expressions? It looks as though they operate on about 2 brain cells.”

Chiara narrows her eyes. “Two more than you have.”

Theseus chuckles. “Alright, alright. You know I’m teasing. I love spending time with you, wherever. Even amongst the livestock.” He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in so she’s sitting in his lap. He rests his chin on her shoulder as Chiara leans back against his chest. “I’ll admit, it is nice to be just us.”

“Mm.” Chiara sighs. Yes, he might drive her up the wall sometimes, but she truly can’t imagine her life without him. “There’s not just farm animals around, anyhow. Could see… I dunno. Hippogriffs, maybe some Puffskeins, or- a dragon?!”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up about a dragon-”

“No, look! A dragon!” Chiara gapes.

Overhead, a handful of kilometers away, is, in fact, a dragon. It is positively massive- so big, in fact, that she can still make out what it looks like rather clearly. It has a massive wingspan with orange membranes spreading between long, finger-like segments. It seems to have dark brown or grey scales, but a lighter underbelly. As it flies even closer, close enough that they can almost feel the wind from its wings, she can see what looks like a large, vibrant purple eye. 

Although there is something incredibly unnerving about such a powerful, dangerous predator so close to them… it’s also oddly mesmerising.

“It’s beautiful,” Chiara murmurs.

“It is.”

“What species do you think it is?”

Without missing a beat, Theseus answers. “Hebridean Black. Looks like a female, too. See, she’s got two sets of horns, one curling forward. Males have three, and they all curve back behind the ears.” He squints at the dragon as she flies away. “Her tail is also pointed- a male would have more of a club shape, for defence.”

Chiara stares at him, her jaw hanging open. “How in the hell do you know that? Just off the top of your head?”

“Oh. Er, I dunno.” He runs his fingers through his hair, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I- suppose it’s my brother’s fault. He’s quite passionate about magical creatures. My whole family is, really, but him especially. When we were younger, he used to always talk my ear off about beasts and creature identification…only ever listened to humour him, but I reckon I was paying more attention than I thought.” 

“That’s… unexpectedly sweet.”

“I beg your pardon? I am plenty sweet. All the time!” 

“Of course you are.” 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes, well. Perhaps we ought to go back inside, on the off chance she comes back around and spots us… I don’t fancy being dragon food today.”

“...Fine.”

[yogurtbird]

a cannibalistic reading of fool's table (sloppily glued together) because they're sending me to the psych ward soon /ref

[cannibalism, blood, so on and so forth]

original mv thoughts

the original and the drdt mv differ a lot but drdtdev did pick the song -> there are thoughts to be had rattling around my brain

natori notoriously uses the same character for the majority of song mvs, so despite the difference in hairstyles, the two human characters are likely the 'same'

fool's table is (presumably) about natori's bitterness towards shallow and negative sentiment towards his work and how he feels about his success despite them

guy on the table is dressed as seen in overdose (natori's most popular work)

fool's table is, in essence, natori's self-expression of frustration, conflicting forms of creativity, agony of having to serve 'an audience of pigs', and triumph

end of mv ->

pigs are gone! and so is overdose guy.

suspicious glass of wine that (from the rest of the mv) is very likely blood of some form

could be argued that the blood is from the pigs, but given that the pigs seem to be deflated with no blood in sight and with the shot of the wine (alleged) getting onto the tablecloth, i'm choosing to read it as overdose

the pigs also did get their montage shot of being food earlier so for the sake of consumption economy management it's probably overdose /j

hey why'd he eat that guy ->

a lot of artists feel limited by their 'one hit wonder' songs - it brings them fame, as well as more negative opinions and expectations for future songs

overdose is being 'served' to an audience of pigs and despite his distress, he's being eaten <- this is perpetrated by the server, because natori is constantly serving his own music to a hungry audience, even if the original feelings behind it are trampled in the process

server relishing a clean and isolated glass of 'wine' (not really) is representative of natori moving on from the fame that 'defined' him in spite of the audience

so what's with this shot ->

with the prior context in mind, this reads as a mocking invitation to the audience watching the video to participate in the consumption of overdose

the song is about his frustration with the audience; he wants to remind them that they have a part to play in how his music is interacted with

in terms of visual evidence; this shot is always paired with the pigs in position to eat around the table + the cutlery used by the pigs and offered by the server is the same

2. drdt mv

hey man what the hell ->

as one of the only shots that the drdt mv shares with the original, there's a significant possibility that drdtdev just liked the composition and had a different meaning in mind

however, because yogurtbird is crazy,

reading this as a metatextual invitation from mai to 'us' to participate in the consumption of teruko

the audience doesn't have nearly as much of an influence in-universe as it does in the original mv so far, but there are a lot of signs for 'audience' being central to the series (killing game being broadcasted, monoTV, the fact that v3 is one of the medias directly inspiring it)

if it is about the audience (us), this seems like a straightforward metaphor for how the audience is consuming the story through teruko's point of view (maybe on a more meta v3 level, 'perpetuating' teruko's suffering by engaging with the media (BUT THESE ARE JUST MY CRAZY THOUGHTS ...) do not go developing guilt about consuming the media because of tumblr user yogurtbird's crazy one off thought)

the audience might not also be 'us', but rather a different group of people (drdt cast?)

the first stab is a parallel to xander's initial attack on teruko

why would mai do this ->

mai is commonly portrayed as someone nice and kind; it seems contradictory that she's portrayed doing something so cruel

however, considering the fact that mai was involved in an Incident with xander that had catastrophic effects + xander was able to be convinced to stab teruko despite being adamantly against the action + teruko's hypothetical secret, it's in the realm of consideration

this 'mai' might not be mai akasaki as she was alive - there's the xander knife parallel which temporally occurs after her theorized death + this 'mai' might be a haunting of her (dead wife haunting the narrative isms)

why so yurious ->

i'm sorry happy yuri community please fly free from the post now for the sake of your happiness /lhj

they're both happy here, and i am concretely of the opinion that this part of the mv is probably just joyous terumai. but i'm not gonna leave a cannibalistic analysis half-assed

on giving up ->

mai and teruko are posed as direct foils here, and neither seems particularly genuinely friendly about it

staring each other head on, they're both rejecting each other's 'ways of eating' with how messy teruko is and how pristine mai is

i don't think that this means they were never close or that they never connected - i'm pretty sure the drdt mv is supposed to be read as terumai growing closer over time despite this conflict. what i really mean is that conflicting ideals existed

owie ->

teruko's expression in these shots noticeably goes from slight unease to crying while smiling

through this lens, teruko isn't crying out of relief -> it's a bittersweet sense of letting go of something (hyper-independence? isolation? freedom?)

she's 'conceding' to mai in that she signs up to mai's ideals and they become "fools dancing on the same table"

'nothing will be taken from us' 'our pain and everything is spinning'

things were in fact taken from them

foreboding and ominous nature

more thoughts to be had but i have to do things . uhm. read @/1moreff-creator's post on the mv for a more canon-accurate opinion

guys this is at least $30 in macarons can we at least spare one dish

[ratatatastic]

at this point im convinced he says yes to everything hes asked

[moeblob]

Capri Sun... I miss you... (it still exists).

[gingermintpepper]

Absolutely the funniest thing about my current corner of tumblr is that pretty much everyone I've recently followed for Apollo-Appreciating Purposes are either genuinely Hellenist or just rather very into Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series which is wild because I know a net zero about both of those things.

[doctorwhoisadhd]

hmm thinking about the idea of love songs. i think the idea of what a love song is that we have in our culture is inherently a little bit flawed because we have the idea that any song written about romantic feelings is a love song and im thinking thats not exactly true because there is a difference between "romance" and "love". what i'm saying is not that love is a broader category and applies to things that are not romantic in nature. this is in fact true, but it's not what makes the important distinction here. the true distinction between "romance" and "love" is that romance is a societally defined type of interest in another person, whereas love is, essentially, a promise that you make when you build a relationship.

as such, what i call "love" here might be better defined as "care", as that implies more time and effort, but that's a different suitcase to unpack and largely unimportant to my point here, which is more about the societal conventions of what we call love songs. the point is, relationships can be built with other people, yes, but also animals, places, organizations, ideas, so on and so on, whereas romance requires another person, hence the difference between the ideas of "romance" and "love".

with that in mind, there are two types of songs we in western, english speaking, society call "love songs":

1) songs that are about a person's romantic interest in someone that is either definitively known to be unrequited (existing monogamous relationship, sexuality that doesn't align, etc) or simply not requited (aka romantic interest being unknown); and

2) songs about an existing relationship (keeping in mind my points about relationships not just being with people, but also places, things, etcetera) as is.

(some examples of the latter category: mountaintop by relient k, which defines the relationship in question as non-romantic; or i miss my mum by cavetown, which is - as the title implies - a song about the singer missing their mother.)

now, the thing that makes distinguishing these two difficult is the fact that songs about an existing relationship CAN be about wanting certain aspects of that relationship to change. in these cases, determining that a song is one or the other will hinge either on a) authorial intent or b) whether the song is more about what the singer wants (thereby implying #1) or the lack thereof in that relationship (which would imply #2).

to get back to the subject at hand: the term "love song", as we think of it, is an umbrella term that include both of these two categories, and i think that perhaps it is reductive to do so. with that in mind, i think perhaps it would be more appropriate for "love song" to mean only the latter, whereas the former is a category of its own. WHICH is not to say that the two can't overlap — just that if a song is about a person with whom the singer has no relationship, it cannot be considered a love song due to the fact that it is a song about infatuation, not love.

(another interesting wrinkle this provides is the fact that a song might start out in the first category and, as the writer develops a relationship with a person, might move into the second category as they write more.)

[bitegore]

for like multiple years now ive been using tonymoly toner and face lotion bc its the only shit that doesn't burn like fire and make me have worse acne after using it as compared to not using any face cleaner at all. And like six months ago i had to replace my 5-years-old bottle of toner so i picked up the face soap-toner-lotion combo from the same line because it was on sale and i'm pathetically easy to get with A Deal even if it means im spending a shitload more money. Anyway holy shit. Didn't realize it was possible for face soap to feel good on my skin.

[poppyseed799]

I feel like life series fanon jimmy is kind of mischaracterized and there’s an easy way to make sure you’re doing it right: he has a lot of unearned confidence