#i need to show his torso each time i draw him because he actually show it to everyone each time he can | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taeswolfie · 1 year ago

Text

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

☽︎𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏☾︎

Ch.15 - Ch.17

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.9k

Alan quickly grabs things while he talks to Scott in rushed tones. "They're coming back, so we don't have much time to talk."

He puts rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab. "Uh, what is that?" Scott asks.

"Rubbing alcohol. You don't want it to get infected, do you?" Scott shakes his head as Alan cleans the wound. "You'll heal the same." Scott grunts at the stinging from the disinfectant. "Just not as quickly, because of Derek."

"Okay, how do you know all of this? Actually, how do- how do you know anything? Is it because of Y/n? Do you know about her?"

Alan tapes a bandage over the wound. "It's a long story. What I can tell you is that I know about your kind and Y/n's kind. Your kind-" he tears another piece of tape with his teeth, "I can help." He puts the tape over the bandage and looks at the body on his table. "This... This is something different."

"Wha- well- do you know what did it?"

"No. But the Argents will. And this is the crucial part. They'll have some kind of record, or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things they've discovered."

"Wha- all the things? How many different things are there?" Scott asks, bewildered. Tires crunch on gravel and car doors open drawing their attention. Scott hides out of sight to listen in while Alan goes back to the body.

Chris and two other Hunters walk into the back room. Chris clears his throat to announce their presence. "I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'closed' sign." He turns to them with a friendly smile and Chris scoffs a bit. Him and the Hunters move more into the room as Gerard walks in after them.

"Hello, Alan." Alan's smile fades at the sight of the man and he takes a step back, glancing at Chris who gives him the tiniest of shakes of his head. He didn't tell Gerard about Y/n. "It's been a while. The last I heard, you had retired."

"Last I heard, you followed a code of conduct."

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours." Chris says.

"I did. I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips. So don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy just 'cause I'll answer a few questions."

"He was only 24."

"Killers come in all ages."

"All ages, sizes, shapes." Gerard agrees. "It's the last one that concerns us."

"How about you tell us what you found?"

Alan goes to the head. "See this cut?" He turns the head to show the thin cut on the back of his neck. Gerard puts on glasses and he and Chris look at the mark. "Precise. Almost surgical. But this isn't the wound that killed him. This had a more... Interesting purpose."

"Relating to the spine?" Gerard guesses.

"That's right. Whatever made this cut was laced with a paralytic toxin potent enough to disable all motor functions." He moves to the side and hovers his hand over the torso in display. "These are the cause of death. Notice the patterns on each side?"

"Five, for each finger."

"Each claw." Gerard corrects his son before Alan continues.

"As you can see, it dug in, and slashed upward, eviscerating the lungs and slicing through the bone and rib cage with ease."

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Chris asks.

"No."

"Any idea at all what killed him?"

"No. But I can tell you it's fast, remarkably strong, and has the capacity to render it's victims essentially helpless within seconds."

"If you're saying we should be cautious, we get it."

"I'm saying you should be afraid. Be very afraid. Because in the natural world, predators with paralytic toxins use them to catch and eat their prey. This prey wasn't eaten. That means whatever killed him only wanted to kill him. In fact, killing may be it's only purpose."

...

Since midday Y/n had been in her Spirit Writing trance, getting completely drawn into the influences of the other world. It's almost dawn when she finally comes out of it. She blinks as if waking up and her eyes dim to e/c as she sets her paintbrush down. She looked down at her hands to find dark paint smudged all over them. Her eyes then trailed up to the canvas in front of her, her possible answer waiting for her. What she finds wasn't what she was expecting. Granted she didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

A burned hand digs it's claws into a pale arm. Four lines of red blood starkly stand out against the skin. The scene is dark with only a bit of brightness, like moonlight is shining on them. Thin trails of purple energy swirl around the hand and arm, seemingly binding them. Drops of red stain them, blood dripping from another source unseen.

Y/n has no idea what this could mean. The energy is obviously that of a witch, but is it her or someone else? And the blood being drawn. This resembles blood magic but Y/n doesn't even broach the subject in her grimoire. One wrong move and things could go wrong. She's not powerful enough for that. Not ready. So it couldn't be her magic then, can it?

She sighs and slumps in her chair, exauhsted and drained. She got an answer all right, but what the hell is it saying? Deciding she's too tired to think anymore of it she cleans up her things, makes sure her incense is finished burning, turned off her music, unlocked her door and gathered her belongings she left just outside. She turned her phone back on but didn't bother to check if she missed anything. She's just too tired. She changes her clothes and climbs into bed.

It seems she only slept a few minutes when her phone ringing wakes her up. She groans and blindly reaches over to answer without seeing who it was. "Who the hell is waking me up?" She grumbled into the phone.

"I need your help." A gruff voice answered.

"Derek?" She furrows her brows and cracks open her eyes in confusion. "How did you get my number?"

"Doesn't matter. I need you to help me."

"With what?"

"Just get down here." And with that he hung up. A moment later she got a message from him about where to meet. She glared at the phone screen.

"Who are you to tell me what to do, mister?" She asked no one in particular. She thought about ignoring him, but he did come when she went to him to help Scott that one night. I guess I owe him at least a visit. She sighed as she got up and got dressed. Before she left she checked her phone for messages and found several, mostly from Stiles from his tendency to rant. Apparently while she was in her spell Scott and Stiles figured out Boyd was the next Beta, they each went to find him, Erica knocked out Stiles and messed up his Jeep enough to where he had to take it into the shop. There he had a paralyzing encounter with the new scaley creature roaming town.

So much happened in just one night and she wasn't there to help with any of it. She could have done something if she was there, she's sure of it. But sometimes she doesn't feel as sure as she did before. With what happened with Peter she's been feeling a bit powerless. She has these abilities but she doesn't use them. What good is a witch who doesn't use her gifts?

She sighs again and shuts off the screen. What's done is done. Just let it go and move on. She hopped on her bike and rode down to Derek's 'lair' which appears to be a railway depot. She watches from the sidelines as Isaac repeatedly runs the same path to get past Derek, each time being easily knocked back on his ass. Boyd and Erica watch from nearer to the pair until after another attempt from Isaac Erica jumps from the top of the train car, trying to get a sneak attack on the Alpha but he also knocked her down next to Isaac.

Derek rolls his eyes at the two. "Does anyone want to try not being completely predictable?" Erica jumps up and jumps onto Derek, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. She makes out with him for a few seconds before he throws her back down. He wipes his lips. "That's the last time you do that."

"Why, 'cause I'm a Beta?" She sasses.

"No. Because I have someone else in mind for you."

"I hope you don't mean my boyfriend or best friend." Y/n finally spoke up and walked into view, coming to a stop a couple feet from Derek. "Why did you call me here?"

"I need your help training them."

"And why should I?" She folded her arms.

"Because I helped you once."

"Yeah, you did. But then you sided with a homicidal maniac and then started turning teens left and right after you became an Alpha. Whatever I owed you became null and void. Me even coming here is more than enough."

"What would you even be able to do for us?" Erica suddenly spoke up making the two look at her. "You're not an Alpha. You're not even a werewolf. You smell different. What are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Y/n gave her a half smile before she turned back to Derek. "I'm sorry, Derek. I can't help you. This is your pack and your mess. They shouldn't have been involved in the first place." With that she left the depot and went back home to get ready for school.

...

"Stiles!" Y/n called once she spotted him down the hall. She quickly made her way to him and hugged him. He sighed and buried his face into her shoulder. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "I was trying to figure something out and I turned off my phone to focus better. I didn't realize it would take me hours."

"It's okay." His voice was a bit muffled against her.

"No, it's not. I should have been there. I'm sorry."

He pulled away and put a hand on her cheek. She turned into it slightly with a small frown. "It really is okay. You can't be there every time something bad happens."

"But-" He gives an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he cuts her off with a quick kiss.

She looks at him startled for a moment before smiling. "Better?"

"Much." She nodded. He smirked at her and put an arm over her shoulder as they walked together.

...

The magic trio sit on the steps together, Y/n and Scott facing each other, Stiles on the step above them looking between the two. "I'm so sorry about the other day." Y/n says to Scott. "I'm trying. We'll get through this. I know, because I love you." Scott smiles. "I love you more than-"

"Oh, my God!" Stiles interrupts. "I can't- you and Allison just have to find a better way to communicate."

"Come on." Scott pleads. "You guys are the only ones that we can trust. Is she coming to the game tonight?"

"Yes." Y/n nods.

"Okay? Message complete." Stiles seems to sigh in relief. "Okay, now, tell me about your boss." Y/n had been told what happened by Alan so she's unsurprised about the mention of her guardian.

"Uh, he thinks that Allison's family keeps some kind of, uh, records of all the things that they've hunted. Like a book."

"You mean a bestiary?"

"That's what I was thinking." Stiles pointed at her.

"What?" Scott asks.

"A bestiary." Y/n repeats.

Scott snickers as he smiles like an idiot. "I think you mean bestiality."

Y/n squints her eyes at him in wonder and confusion while Stiles speaks up. "Nope, pretty sure we don't. It's like an encyclopedia of mythical creatures."

"How am I the only one that doesn't seem to know anything about this stuff?"

"Okay, you know, you're my best friend, you're a creature of the night, my girlfriend's a witch, it's kind of like a priority of mine."

"Okay. If we can find it-"

"And if it can tell us what this thing is-" Y/n adds.

"And who." Stiles finishes.

"We need that book." All three chorus together. They all look at each other. Y/n smiles at the situation as Stiles grabs her hand and pulls her along.

Outside they stand in front of Allison who smirks up at the pair. "I think you mean-"

"No, we mean bestiary." Stiles firmly cuts her off. "And the two of you, I don't want to know what's going on in your heads."

"Okay, um, can you describe this thing?"

"Probably a book. Most likely old and worn." Y/n offers.

"Like, bound in leather?"

"Traditionally." Y/n nods. Allison mentions a book she had seen her grandfather with once. She gives Stiles another message for Scott and when he went to grab Y/n's hand she pulled away, instead sitting down next to her friend. "Yeah, no, I love you and all, but I'm not in the mood to run around." She smiles up at him and he sighs, leaving on his own to play messenger boy.

He comes back a while later panting. "Where... Does he... Keep it?" He gasped between breathes. Another set of messages and he's back with an inhaler that he takes a quick puff of. "You know, drug dealers have been using disposable cell phones pretty successfully for years."

"My parents check every call, email, and text message I send. Trust me, they'd find it."

"All right. Can you get the book?"

"Not without his keys."

Allison leaves soon after and Stiles all but collapses in the seat next to Y/n. "You know, now that I think about it, you could have stayed with Scott while I was with Allison and we could have texted back and forth for them."

Stiles groans and puts his head on the table. "Why didn't I think of that?" Y/n coos and rubs his back soothingly.

Later that night the teens plan to get Gerard's keys during the lacrosse game while he's busy watching it. The crowd groans in sympathy when a beast of a guy from the opposing team knocks two Beacon Hills' players to the ground. Coach blows his whistle angrily. "Come on! Is that thing even a teenager?! I wanna see a birth certificate!" He sits on the bench next to Stiles and Y/n. "Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?"

"Eddie Obomowitz, Coach." Stiles offers. "They call him 'The Abomination'."

"Oh, that's cute." Coach mutters.

"I feel bad for his girlfriend." Y/n winces, then tilts her head in thought. "Or boyfriend."

Allison glances at Gerard next to her and feigns being cold. "I knew I should have brought a warmer jacket." She lightly jokes.

"You're cold." He points out. "Here, take my coat." He stands and starts to take off the heavy clothing item from his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" She stands with him.

"Oh, yeah." He helps her put it on and they sit again. When his attention is drawn back to the game she carefully digs in his pockets for the keys. When she has them she hides them in her grip, noticing the flashdrive on his keychain. The Abomination takes down another player eliciting another wave of groans in the spectators. "Good God, is it always this violent?"

She doesn't answer his idle question as she carefully holds the keys to her side and off the stands. Stiles smoothly walks by and takes them, looking around before heading back to the school to go through Gerard's office. He runs through the parking lot, pausing when he sees someone still in their car. Lydia Martin, and she was crying. He has to go, but his concern draws him over to check on her. "Hey, Lydia, what's wrong?" He asks when he gets close enough and she immediately rolls up her window. "Lydia, come on." He knocks on the window.

"Just go away."

"What's wrong?"

"Look, I don't need anyone seeing me cry."

"Aw, come on, Lydia." She doesn't answer and he thinks for a moment. "All right, all right. You don't want anyone to see you cry, I get it. But what if I called Y/n over?" He raised his brows in question and she glanced at him in slight intrest. "She's at the game so I can call her now and she'd be here in two minutes. How does that sound?" She gives a tiny nod and he does as promised. He called Y/n and told her about Lydia. She told him to go look for the bestiary and she'd be there soon.

When she got there Y/n leaned over and peered into Lydia's passenger window, lightly tapping on the glass. When Lydia saw her she unlocked the car and let her in. Y/n sat down and turned to face Lydia. "Hey, Lydie. A little spastic birdie told me you were upset."

"That's fairly obvious." Lydia gestured to her tear-stained face.

"What's wrong?"

She was quiet for a moment. "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

Y/n shook her head. "Lydia, there is literally nothing you could say that would make me think you're crazy, okay? Believe me, I've seen crazy people. You're definitely not one of them."

Lydia looked over at Y/n's reasuring look and relented. "Fine." Lydia then told Y/n about the things that have been happening lately. Things like seeing a guy walk barefoot through school leading her to the trophy case where she saw a trophy with Peter Hale's name on it. And then seeing a flower stick up out of the ice at the ice rink and seeing Peter underneath it. Most recently her mom waking her up to find blood in her sheets from cut knuckles that she got when she apparently punched a mirror, something she didn't remember doing. "I just don't understand what's happening." She cried.

"Oh, Lydia." As best as she could she pulled Lydia into a hug. "I believe you. And I'm not just saying that. I've had some weird experiences as well. I don't know what they mean but I'm gonna figure it out."

"How?"

She chewed on her lip in thought as she pulled away. She couldn't tell Lydia everything now, there's just no time, but she could tell her a bit. "It's hard to explain without rushing and confusing you more. But I'm not normal, per se."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll probably think I'm crazy now," she lightly joked, making Lydia roll her eyes and gesture for her to get on with it. "But... I'm not exactly... Human."

"What?"

"I'm not like regular people. I can do things others can't."

"What does that even mean?"

"I know I sound insane, I just can't explain everything now. But I promise I will as soon as I can."

Lydia frowned at her. "You do sound crazy... But I believe you."

Y/n smiled in relief. "Thanks."

While Y/n was talking to Lydia Stiles was looking for the bestiary in Gerard's desk drawers. Unfortunately he finds nothing, sending a text to Allison to let her know. Erica soon finds him and drags him to the pools where Derek awaits to question him. "What did you see at the mechanic's garage?" Derek asked.

"Uh, several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting." Derek smiles and looks down at the basketball in his hands, soon punching holes in it with his claws. "Holy God." He tosses the deflated ball to the ground.

"Let's try that again."

"All right, the thing was pretty slick looking. Um, skin was dark. Kind of patterned. Uh, I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Okay? Because there's something I really have to get back to." Derek gives him a look and he grunts in frustration. "Um, all right, fine. Eyes. Eyes are, um... Yellowish and slitted. Um... It has a lot of teeth. Oh, and it's got a tail, too. Are we good?" Suddenly the wolves are looking up at the balcony as the creature Stiles described looks down at the three. Stiles notices the change in their expression. "What? Wait, have you seen it? You guys have this look on your faces like you know exactly what I'm talking about." A hissing sound makes him look over his shoulder and the creature screeches at them. "Whoa." Stiles jumps and backs up next to Derek.

It jumps down where Stiles was and Derek growls at it in defence. It swipes at them and knocks Erica into a wall, knocking her out. Derek turns and pushes Stiles away. "Run!" The creature swipes at them again, this time nicking Derek on the back of the neck. He reflexively ducks away and looks around for what happened.

"Derek, your neck." Derek reaches up and soon starts to fall as he's paralyzed. Stiles quickly catches him. "Come on. Come here." He puts Derek's arm over his shoulders and stumbily hauls him away. "Where is it? Can you see it?"

"No, just hurry. Call Scott and Y/n!" Stiles digs into his pocket for his phone, but it fumbles and slips out of his grip onto the floor. His attempt to catch it made Derek slip from his grasp. "Stiles, you son of a-" Derek yells out as he falls into the pool. Stiles looks between Derek and the phone for a moment, weighing his chances of getting it before he drowns. Ultimately he goes for Derek first. He dives down, grabbing ahold of Derek and holding him up above water.

"Where'd it go?" He looks around. "Where is it? Do you see it?"

"No."

"Okay, maybe it took off." At that moment the creature screeches again letting them know that, no, it did not in fact take off.

"Maybe not." They wade in the water for a while trying to figure out how to get out. "Will you get me out of here before I drown?"

"You're worried about drowning? Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?"

"Did you notice that I'm paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water?"

"Okay." Stiles pants as he looks around. "I don't see it." He starts paddling to the edge of the pool with one arm.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Stop, stop." Derek warns. Stiles does so and follows Derek's gaze to see the creature stalking around the pool.

"What's it waiting for?" It circles the pool a while before going to the edge and trying to put it's hand in, but it hisses and jerks away as soon as it makes contact with the liquid, scuttling as far back as it can. "Wait, did you see that? I don't think it can swim." Stiles watches as it circles more. "Okay, okay. Okay, I don't think I can do this much longer." Stiles stares at the phone on the ground and Derek quickly catches on to his idea.

"No, no, no, no! Don't even think about it."

"Could you just trust me this once?"

"No!"

"I'm the one keeping you alive, okay? Have you noticed that?"

"Yeah. And when the paralysis wears off, who's gonna be able to fight that thing, you or me?"

"That's why I've been holding you up for the past two hours?"

"Yup. You don't trust me. I don't trust you. But you need me to survive, which is why you're not letting me go." Stiles stares at him for a moment and then throws his arm off of him. "Stiles!" His voice is cut off by the water as he sinks.

Stiles quickly swims to the edge of the pool, hesitating when the creature is in front of him. Stiles rushes and grabs the phone as the creature gets closer and pushes himself away just as it reaches him. He swims back to be over Derek, keeping the phone above water, and dials Scott.

"Scott!" He yells out as soon as his friend answers.

"I can't talk right now." Is all Scott says before he hangs up.

Stiles looks at the phone in disbelief. He looks down at Derek in the water and the phone, debating calling Y/n. He decides it's no good as Derek's been down there long enough already. He grunts in frustration and tosses the phone away before diving down and retrieving Derek once again. They both gasp for air when they breach the surface.

"Tell me you got at least one of them!" Derek asks. Stiles' silence answers that for him.

"I'll see you later!" Y/n calls after Lydia as she starts to drive away, both girls feeling a bit lighter after having opened up to each other a bit. Y/n smiled after her and gave a light wave. Suddenly she heard a God awful screech, looking towards where it came from in confused shock. "Stiles!" Now very alarmed she quickly runs into the school, but she had no idea where the sound had come from. She focused and reached out with her magic, feeling for something to guide her in the right direction, and found she could vaguely feel Stiles' presence in the school. She hurried to follow the feeling, skidding to a stop near the pools. There she finds Stiles holding up Derek in the middle of the water. "Why are you in the pool? What was that sou- WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" She cuts herself off when she spots the creature on the opposite side of her.

"Derek paralyzed. That, very bad. Doesn't like water." Stiles quickly explained with short breaths.

"Good enough for me." She nods and turns her focus on the creature. "So, you don't like water?" Her eyes glow and she raises her hands palm up, manipulating the water into two tendrils that sway in the air. "Lucky me." She jerks her hand forward and the water tendril snaps like a whip at the creature making it shrink back with a screech. She keeps doing this each time the creature moves closer to keep it at bay while she tries to think of a better way to help.

"I can't stay up any longer. I need something to hold on to." Stiles pants.

"The diving boards." Y/n offers as she keeps looking at the creature. Stiles looks over at them and starts to make his way over. With a quick wave of her hand, Y/n helps him out by giving him a boost, getting him to the diving boards with less effort before going back to her original task. He reaches for the handles, but his hand slides off. The pair sinks for a moment only to be pulled out by a wolfed out Scott who tosses them on dry land and roars.

Angry, the creature dashes up the wall and dodges Y/n's water whips, tackling Scott to the ground. They growl at each other and it wraps it's tail around Scott's ankle, throwing him behind it and into a mirror. It shatters and Scott falls to the ground, the creaute hisses at him. Scott gets up and grabs a long piece of the mirror, brandishing it as a weapon. The creature slowly stalks forward, then stops in its tracks. It tilts its head in confusion as it stares at its reflection in the mirror shard. Scott looks at it in confusion until the creature scales the wall, hops up in the rafters, and crashes through the skylight, running away.

…

Gathering around the hood of a car Scott tells Y/n and Stiles how he and Allison has figured out the bestiary was actually a flashdrive on Gerard's keys. The flashdrive was now plugged into a computer that was propped on the hood of the car, Scott flipping through the pages. "Is that even a language?" Stiles asks.

"I think it's Archaic Latin." Y/n muses.

"You know Archaic Latin?"

"No, but I know a bit of classical Latin. Just a handful to translate some pages in my grimoire."

"How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?" Scott wonders.

"It's called the kanima." Derek speaks up as he, and a now concious Erica, walk towards them.

"You knew the whole time." Stiles accuses.

"No. Only when it was confused by it's own reflection."

"It doesn't know what it is." Scott realizes.

"Or who."

"What else do you know?" Y/n asked.

"Just stories. Rumors."

"But it's like us?" Scott wonders.

"It's a shape-shifter, yes. But it's- it's not right. It's like a..." He trails off trying to find the right word, one that Stiles supplies.

"Abomination."

Derek nods. He goes to walk away, but Scott stops him. "Derek. We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents."

"What?" Y/n looks at him in slight shock.

"You trust them?" Derek asks.

"Nobody trusts anyone. That's the problem. While we're here arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger, and faster than any of us, and it's killing people! And we still don't even know anything about it!"

"I know one thing. When I find it..." He turns and starts walking away. "I'm gonna kill it."

Ch.17

#taeswolfie #Just a Feeling #JaF #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x fem!reader #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x you #fanfiction #fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x y/n #x female y/n #x you

12 notes · View notes

kimnjss · 5 years ago

Text

how sticky | kth

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader // taehyung focus. ⇢ genre: smut. // pwp. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, poly relationship, handjobs, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), public sex, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up lovelies), all the boys wanna kiss yn, cum inside/stuffing, slight over stimulation if you squint. ⇢ A/N: literally this idea came to me while watching the first episode and seeing tae washes the dishes sooo, here you goo!! lmao x also if it seems messy or all over the place, that’s bc i wrote this while streaming dynamite and obvi got distracted .

Namjoon is the first to spot you, just as you're tugging your suitcase from the trunk of your car. The large grin that takes over his features as he makes his way over to you, brown hair flopping in the wind with each step he takes. A silver pot held in his hands that he must've forgotten the purpose of upon setting sights on you.

“You're here.” He says with a large smile, dimples showing while he leaning down to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips. “Did you eat?”

Just with one look around the backyard, you can tell that they just finished eating. Had hoped to arrive a bit earlier so you'd be able to eat with them. “Not yet,” He looked good, as usual, but oddly more attractive in this outdoor environment.

The blue two-piece outfit, which you had quickly realized was a favorite of his, hung loosely around his body. The muscles in his arms flexed as he kept his grip on the pot in his hand. Eyes turn to half-moons with the way he was smiling at you.

It had been a few weeks since you saw them last. What with their jam packed schedule and you keeping up with the things going on in your own life, there wasn't really time to be together the way you wanted. A constant long-distance relationship with the seven of them, even if they were only a few miles away.

Which was the biggest reason you were jumping on the chance to spend this week with them. Secluded with nothing to do but be together. It had been Jin who had suggested it, finding out that you had the same week free. What better way to spend it then with your boyfriends? Agreement coming from his younger members instantly and to your surprise, the staff was quick to agree as well.

Most times riddled a distraction, but it seemed that you being here sort of fit the relaxation, recharging theme of this entire trip. Zero complaints from you, of course, you were packing your bags the moment you got the green light.

“I'll make you a plate, wait.”

All of a sudden remembering he had been in the middle of doing something before seeing you. Quick steps are taken into the house with the pot in hand and you're right behind him, marveling at the huge land they had rented out for this. All of the greens of the mountains and grass was a pretty contrast to the bright blue sky, the sparkling lake that you couldn't wait to try out.

And there was so much stuff! Placed all over the place from where you can see, each item matching a different member's personality so well that you could guess who asked for what.

Joon is coming back, hands-free, but only to grab your suitcase, wheeling it into the house. He's gone talking to whoever is in the kitchen before he's returning, arm easily wrapping around your waist as he leads you down the hill.

“You came here looking refreshed,” He notes, finally saying out loud what he had been thinking since you were pulling the suitcase from the car.

Out of all of them, Namjoon seemed to pay a lot of attention to the way you looked. And no, not just the clothes you wore and how they fit – but like deeper. He paid a lot of attention to your facial expressions more than anything, reading your demeanor as if it was his latest page-turner.

A blessing and a curse, because although he knew when something was bothering you and tried his best to fix it without you saying a word. It was also really, extremely hard to hide things for him. Not that you tried to often.

“It was a nice drive and I'm excited to spend time with you guys,” The smile that takes over your features is causing a flutter in his heart, his large hand landing on your arm that you've wrapped around his torso – walking the rest of the way like that.

Jimin is whipping around at the sound of footsteps approaching, and you're eyes are widening at the sight of him. Unwrapping yourself from Joon's body, you're rushing the rest of your steps hands outstretched to touch the edge of the gat hanging from his neck.

“You actually wore it?” Speaking through a slight giggle and he's grinning, hands finding home on your torso as he playfully rolls his eyes. “Of course I wore it, so you better deliver,”

The result of a drunk game of Truth or Dare between the two of you. He spent the entire night choosing truth, but as soon as he was picking dare you were telling him to wear his new hanbok for the first day of shooting. He was agreeing with a roll of his eyes, boasting about how easy it was.

Then on your turn, he was hitting you with that sly grin of his. 'If I wear my hanbok for shooting, then you need to let me...' Words trailing off as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows in your direction. You were quick to put two and two together of what he wanted. And you were agreeing because of course, you wanted it too.

With a distracted nod, your eyes are shifting to the moving figure behind him. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” Breaking from his grasp just as Namjoon is extending the full bowl in your direction.

You thank him with a wide smile, which he acknowledges with a short nod – going back to cleaning up while you take a seat at the table. Sat eating the food that you can tell was made by Jungkook as you watch your two men move around the yard until Joon is disappearing into the house again. Someone else exiting at the same time.

“I thought I heard your voice!” There's a smile in his voice that you can detect without having to listen very hard. And you're proven right as you lift your head, being met with Hoseok's bright smile. “When'd you get here?” He wonders once he's closer, taking the empty spot beside you.

“Not too long ago,” You speak through the mouthful of food in your mouth, the words you're speaking coming out a murmured mess.

The smile on Hoseok's face only grows, his hand lifting to push his hair back on his forehead. “I missed you.” A random confession that has heat rising in your cheeks. He always did this. Knew what a few simple words did to your mind and took pleasure in making you flustered whenever possible.

This time was no different. Just three words and you were forced to put extra focus on your noodles. He missed you. Obviously, you missed him – that's a given. But the fact that he, Jung Hoseok actually missed you and was just telling you about it casually. With that smile on his face. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I missed you too.” A delayed reply, but he's not faltering. Doesn't even think twice about what you could have been thinking about in the time it took you to answer. Instead, he's reaching his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body into his so he's able to press a dozen chaste kisses to the top of your head.

And then just like that, he's releasing you. Not even giving you a moment to react before he's standing from his spot beside you and moving to help Jimin clean up the outside area.

After the third time, you're asked to scoot over, you're standing feeling as though you're in the way of the cleaning. So, you go to find the others that you haven't seen yet. Thanks to a FaceTime call from Jungkook while they were going through the tour, you had a pretty good understanding of the layout of this place.

Heading over the hill to the Upper House, bowl in hand. And you're grinning when you spot Jin standing out front, staring at the line of delivered groceries in front of him. “Jinnie!” You're calling with a wave of your hand, and he's turning around.

“Yn!” He calls, just as loud – waving you over with one frantic hand.

Easily speeding up your footsteps, it's not long before you're standing in front of him. Arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug. “What are you doing?” He's out of your hold now, bending to lift the bags off the ground.

“Putting groceries away.”

Following behind him, you shovel mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth while sinking down at the island. For a little while, you're able to enjoy your meal and engage in broken chatter was Jin moves in and out of the house.

He's filling you in on all the plans he has for this trip and the things he's excited about and you listen with a smile on your face. Loving the way he looks when he's completely in his element, eyes sparkling as he talks about being able to fish with Yoongi.

Speaking of Yoongi. Sauntering out from God knows where, white tee hanging loose – revealing a bit of his chest, baggy black jeans that you've now decided is the only thing you ever want to see him in. His hair is unkempt, laying messily over his forehead and only slightly covering his eyes.

There's a smirk on his face when he notices the blatant way you're gawking at him, sinking into the seat beside you – his cold hand not hesitating to reach for your thigh. “You're here?” He speaks in the bored uninterested drawl that you've become used to. Use to read too much into it before you were realizing that just the way he talked.

Now it had the ability to have heat rushing through your veins, especially if he was using that voice when telling you just exactly he wanted to do to you. Never failed to have you basically salivating, putty for him.

“I just came...” The patterns he draws on your inner thigh stills as he lifts his eyes to look at you, a chuckle falling from his lips. “Did you?” He asks teasingly and you're too dazed to pick up on the double meaning of your words.

His hand inches further up your thigh until the tips of his fingers are just inches from reaching the hem of your mesh shorts. Without a thought, your legs are opening for him – giving him as much room as he needs to do whatever he wants.

Yoongi's grinning at your compliance, his lips are just inches for yours. He takes a moment to study your features. Lips shiny with grease, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes staring unfocused. A slow grin lifts the corners of his lips moments before he's leaning in closer.

Yoongi kisses you once as if he's testing the waters before diving in. Grip tightening on your thigh, pulling your body closer to his while he slowly moves his mouth over yours. Soft tongue slowly tracing over your lower lip and you're instantly opening up for him.

The groan that leaves his lips from the feeling of your wet muscles meeting as arousal rushing through your veins and pooling between your legs, fingers reaching to grasp the rough material of his pants for some type of grounding.

And he grins, teeth gently tugging at your lower lip as his hand slides up your thigh toward your waist. So sure he's fingers are about to sneak underneath your shirt, so you giddily wait for the contact.

But it never comes. "Would you let the girl breathe, she just got here." Is what you hear.

Jimin, into the Upper House to change into something comfortable. And all too ready to scold his Hyung for trying something with you when it hasn't even been an hour. With a roll of those dark eyes of his, Yoongi is leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips – much different from what he had initially planned.

Moment ruined, he's standing from his spot beside you. “I'm gonna go help Jin,” He announces to no one in particular, cheeks darkened with pink from having been caught. Yoongi talked a big game, but he was the most private out of the boys. Wasn't one for an unwarranted audience and preferred to have you to himself rather than sharing you.

“Tae's washing dishes if you're done with that.” He's jutting his chin out to point at your empty bowl on the island. As he speaks, he undoes the tie of his top letting it sag at his shoulders before he's shrugging it off. And you watch his fingers carefully, allowing your mind to wander to just how skilled he was with those fingers.

Playing the same notes for the past eight years on the piano wasn't the only thing he was good at. It's a moment before you register his words enough to stand to your feet, plucking your plate up and exiting the Upper House to find Taehyung.

Back to you as he scrubs the inside of the bowl, you watch as his hips sway to whatever song he's got going in his head. No idea that you're entering the kitchen or that you've arrived – just in his own world.

Taehyung looks handsome even from the back.

His broad shoulders were still visible underneath the brown top that was just so him. He wore a pair of olive green shorts, giving you a perfect view of his strong legs and the way they flexed with the movement of his feet. Thoroughly riled up from Yoongi's interrupted touches from before, you're struck with a very mischievous thought.

Light steps are taken in Taehyung's direction, quickly setting your bowl in the sink before reaching your arms to wrap around his waist. Palms sneaking underneath the fabric of his shirt so you're able to touch his soft belly. You feel him still against you, taking a moment to put together that it's you back hugging him like this.

He's turning just enough so he can look down at you, a large smile spread across his lips as his eyes take in your face that looks brighter for some reason. “How long have you been there?” Tae tries to hug you back but gives up because of the awkward position.

“Not long,” You answer, nose pressed in the dip of his back after he's turned. Your lips place soft kisses against his covered back, the tips of his fingers brushing over the skin of his stomach. “I missed you.”

And you had. There was just something about Taehyung that drove you crazy with little to no effort. Had to be his aura. The way he carried himself. The unreadable expression that always decorated his features. How he was able to smile with his entire face, pulling large smiles on the lips of the people around him.

All of that and the simple fact of how well the boy could fuck. Of course, all of the guys knew how you make you feel good. All in their own ways, different and unique and still good. But Taehyung. Fuck, Kim Taehyung. A living Sex God, with a thick long cock that he knew how to use. Long fingers that could bring you to climax over and over again with very little time in between. And that mouth. God, that mouth.

Porn stars would blush at the dirty things that came out of that boy's mouth.

Taehyung's eyebrow is lifting at the mindless way your fingers are dipping lower down his body, flinching just slightly when the tips of your fingers are grazing his quickly hardening cock. “That type of missed me, huh?” He's grinning, you can tell without having to see his face.

Head nodding slightly, you continue placing gentle kisses against his back – fingers drawing teasing lines over his cock through the fabric of his shorts. “Don't be a tease,” He hisses.

His wet, glove covered hand is wrapping around your wrist – forcing more of his cock underneath your palm. A soft moan falls from your lips at the feeling of it twitching with the new friction. Tae's hips rock slowly with the movement of your hand, half of his attention still on the dishes he washes.

And you pout. Want to turn his mind to mush like he's done to you many times before. Until the only thing he can think about is you and how you're making him feel. Fuck the dishes.

Even on your tiptoes, you're only able to reach the nape of his neck. But it's the first bit of bare skin you're able to press your lips against so you settle for it. Leaving open mouth kisses on it while your fingers slowly make their way underneath the waistband of his shorts.

Pleased to find he had decided to forego underwear, you're instantly met with the warmth of his shaft. A low cruse falling from his lips when your cool palm is wrapping around him. And you hold it there. Waiting to hear the scoff that falls from his lips as he starts to rock his hips again – his cock sliding through your grip easily.

The sound of his breathy groans fills the kitchen, egging you on. You can feel him growing harder in your hand and the slow drag of his hips is quickly driving you crazy until you're giving in to the tiny game you were playing and moving your hand.

“Oh, fuck.” Tae hisses, the dish he had been holding crashing into the sink as his fists reach to grip the edge of the sink. Voice gruff and it's usual deep, it has a wash of arousal flooding your body and fueling your movements. Free hand lifting to grasp his hipbone, holding him steady as you bring your hand up toward his tip.

A simple swipe of your thumb over his bulbous has a shiver running down his spine and a grin pulling on your lips. Strokes on his shaft speeding up as the sound of his breathy groans tickled your ears. Hips stuttering underneath your grasp in an attempt to take more than what you were willing to give him.

Always so greedy.

“Does it feel good?” Voice hushed where he can just barely hear.

Taehyung is quick to nod his head, though. “Your hand feels so good on me, Yn. Faster,” He whines, something that you're not quite used to hearing from him. Especially over a simple handjob.

He must've missed you a lot more than he was willing to admit.

And because your soul purpose is to give Taehyung any and everything he asks for, you're rubbing down on him quicker, squeezing him a bit harder. His cock twitches and jumps in your hold and you're fastened by the effect you have on him that your grip on his hip is loosening – allowing him to freely roll his hips upward.

A strong arm is reaching back while his body twists, large glove covered hand tangled in your hair to hold your head steady. For the first time, you're getting a good look at his face. Eyes blown and unfocused, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten. He looks so sexy staring at you as if it's taking all his restraint not to devour you.

The way he leans in, crashing his lips into yours for a sloppy hungry kiss only validates your thoughts. Grip tightening in your hair to hold your head still while his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth.

You try, desperately, to keep your focus on the movement of your hand. Letting him lick into your mouth and kissing him just as much as you can without completely losing your mind. Taehyung, like his six other teammates, worked really well with his mouth. In all ways.

He's nibbling on your lower lip, harsh breaths exiting his nostrils as your thumb runs over the underside of his cock. So close and you can tell from the now frantic roll of his hips. And you're more than ready to bring him there, loved watching him fall apart for you, because of you.

More than ready to have him explode in your palm so you can like it up when the sharp knock on the glass behind you is stilling your movements. Head turning to peak behind you, but Taehyung does stop his head tilting so he's able to suck wet hickeys into your warm skin.

Hoseok stands on the other side of the door, looking extremely impatient. You move to pull your hand from his pants, but Taehyung is quick to grasp your wrist. “Yn, I swear to God.” He speaks through gritted teeth and you're flashing a bright smile up at him.

“It's Hobi,” There's another knock on the glass, “He can't just stand out there,” Laughing, you manage to wiggle yourself out of Taehyung's grasp. He watches you with squinted eyes as you pull the door open for his Hyung.

Cued in on what had been keeping you, a teasing smirk plays on his lips. “What? You're just in here giving Taehyungie all the attention?” Both hands knit into your hair from underneath, slowly closing the space between you two.

“He's working hard in here,” You defend with a slight pout. Upon realizing he wasn't going to be getting off any time soon, Tae turns his attention back to the dishes. Scrubbing the gunk off with much for strength than needed, quiet grumbles leaving his lips.

“I worked hard too, cleaned up outside all by myself. What do I get?” Lips a mere inches from yours, all you'd have to do was lift up onto your tiptoes to feel their softness. “I saw Jiminie helping you.”

Hoseok is rolling his eyes at the slight detail. You're teasing him, he can tell from the way you're gripping his shirt in your fists. Like you're desperate to feel him but at the same time seeing how much you can hold back.

What you failed to realize was, he was much better at teasing than you. Without a second thought, he's leaning down to press his lips against yours. Kiss much different from Taehyung's. More controlled. More intense. Strong hands reach for your thighs, easily lifting your body off of the floor and setting you to sit on the countertop.

He's taking up space between your legs, large hands set on your thighs while he sucks your lower lip into his mouth. You can feel the smirk that plays on his lips from the sound of your moan.

Hoseok responds by reaching back to give your ass a firm squeeze, pulling your body toward his. He's hard. You can feel it through the fabric of his neon shorts, but the moment you're angling your hips to feel more of him – he's pulling back.

“Jimin should finish up, hm?” Recalling your earlier comment with a teasing glint in his eye. Planting a soft kiss to your lips, he backs away attention now on Namjoon who had entered with a bag of groceries. As if nothing had happened.

Body buzzing and senses fogged, you're left to wonder just how many times you'd be denied the release you craved.

The two men chatted amongst each other mindlessly, surveying the contents of the fully stalked fridge in front of them. Joon is pulling a bottle of coffee from the bunch, handing it over to you with a soft smile before twisting the cap on his own. You watch as he wraps his plump lips around the edge, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the liquid down.

Plopping down on the soft red cushion, you watch as Joon moves to offer Tae a sip of his drink. Which he's denying with a pout of his lips. From where you're sitting, you can see that his bulge has gone down a bit – but the foggy need for sexual release stays. You know the feeling. Had half the mind to get on your knees for him right then and there, not like either of them would complain.

They did share you, at times. And those were the times that you secretly hoped for each time you were being interrupted with one of them. But, all of them were so different from their interests and really liked the idea of being alone with you – it didn't happen as often as you'd like.

You could simply suggest it and no doubt they'd agree to the idea. Ready to do whatever you asked to fill your desire. But you liked the surprise of not knowing just when you'd be taking two cocks, or three, or maybe even four. All seven if the weather was right. The suspense had a great effect on you.

Jimin is entering the main house just as halfway through drinking your chilled coffee. Fully changed out of his hanbok, standing in a pair of loose-fitting black shorts and a white SAINT LAURENT tee. Dark hair floppy messily at the top of his head, evident that he's been running his fingers through it.

He looked good enough to eat and if he kept looking at you with those bedroom eyes, you were about to do just that. Beeline made in your direction, settling in the spot beside you. An innocent hand lands on your thigh and your brain short circuits, registering it as anything but.

Without a word, he's reaching for your bottle, taking a long sip from it before licking the drip from his lips. “Where's Kookie?” You ask, forcing your thoughts not to wander too much. And realizing you had yet to see that bunny smile of his, hear the cute way he say's 'Noona' as he wobbles in your direction.

The same age as Namjoon which made you older than Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook – yet Jungkook was the only one out of the three that actually referred to you as Noona. No matter how many times you'd tell him to speak comfortably with you, he'd refuse with blushed and a shake of his head.

The others believed he got off on it, the subtle reminder that you were older than him but he was still able to turn you to make you fall apart with the simple flex of his thigh. “You haven't seen him?” Hoseok speaks with his head inches deep in the fridge and you shake your head despite the fact he cannot see you.

“He’ll come running the moment he hears you're here,” Deciding that your drink is his now, Jimin stands from his spot beside you heading further into the house. Steps cut off by Jungkook turning the corner, as if on cue.

“What!?” A large grin on his lips as his sparkling eyes land on you. Soft hair bouncing as he skips over to you, leaning over the counter so you're face to face. Tattooed hand reaching forward to enclose the back of your neck, gently pulling you forward until your foreheads are touching. “You didn't tell me you were here, Noona.” Eyebrow arched and head tilted to the side.

You can barely see his face with how close you are to it, but there's no doubt that he looks attractive as hell right now in his attempt to be intimidating. Lower lip poking out in a slight plea, “I'm sorry, baby. I was asking about you, though.”

Jungkook only half listens to your words. Some space put between you and he takes advantage of that by allowing his eyes to take in your appearance greedily. Aware of the warmer temperature, you had decided a simple v-neck crop top would suffice. From this angle, he could see straight down your top. And he was doing very little to hide the fact that he was looking, respectfully.

“I'm sure you can think of some ways to make it up to me. Right, Noona?” Hand slipping from the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers brushing over the collar of your shirt. Lips suddenly dry, your tongue is jutting out to wet them. Thighs squeeze together instinctively at the promise his words held.

A contrast to his demeanor, Jungkook is placing a sweet kiss on your lips. One that lingers for a second shorter than you want, but the small smile on his lips upon pulling away is enough to make your heart melt.

All at once, he's releasing you and moving on to follow Jimin out of the kitchen. Taehyung is finishing up he dishes at the same moment, shaking his hands of the water droplets before wiping the excess onto his shorts.

Alone in the room with him again and you feel the atmosphere shift as soon as his eyes settle on you. Finally able to get a good look at you and taking in just how short your shorts are and how thin the material of your top is. But Taehyung is a gentleman when he wants to be.

His hand rests on your back, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin your shirt leaves exposed. “Want to go for a walk?” Teeth biting into his plump lower lip. Instantly, you're sliding from your seat head nodding at his words.

Taehyung's arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body into his chest and you just faintly see the grin on his face before you're being enveloped in his sweet scent. Guided steps are taken into the game room where Namjoon sits, a laugh leaving his lips at the weird way the two of you are walking.

“What are you making?”

“A boat,” Joon says with a wide smile, lifting the plastic boat to show you. Cutie. Impatient, Taehyung is pushing his hips forward into yours. Even through the layers and with the small fact that he's not exactly hard at the moment – you can still feel his bulge against your ass cheek.

But he doesn't stop there, slowly dragging his hips up so you can feel his entire length. A strangled gasp is leaving your lips that has Taehyung smirking, Namjoon too focused on whether or not he just broke his model, doesn't notice.

Arms tightening around your waist, Taehyung takes a step forward – urging you to do the same.

When Tae said he wanted to take you on a walk, he wasn't speaking in sexual innuendos. You had actually gone for a walk around the land. Hand in hand making comfortable chatter as you soaked in the nice weather.

Somehow, you managed to convince yourself that he hadn't been itching to get you alone to fuck you – but really just wanted to spend some time alone with you. It's sweet when you think about it. The gentle way he's talking to you about the nervousness that surrounds working on his new mixtape. His soft thumb brushing over your knuckles as you assure him that everything will turn out alright.

It's not until you're reaching the picnic table just a few feet from the water, is he wrapping his arm around your hips. Lifting you from the ground as if you weighed nothing and setting you down on the table.

Blunt nails lightly dragging over the back of your knees as he gently spreads your legs so he's able to stand in the middle of them. He's easily hooking your legs around his waist, ankles instantly locking to pull him closer to you. “You know what I want to do right now?”

“What?” You humor him, even though you could probably guess. Arms lifting to wrap around his neck, head tilting to the side as a slight smirk plays on your lips. His mouth hovers over your ear, wet brushing over the shell of it as he speaks.

“Wanna taste that sweet little cunt. Bet you're already soaked from all the attention you've been getting.” To prove his point, Tae's fingers trail up between your thighs. Your body shudders as he drags a single digit over your slit through the fabric.

He wasn't wrong, had started to feel the heat pool between your legs when Yoongi first kissed you. Mind driving you insane with being able to be with them for this entire week. All of them. It was safe to say it had gotten to you in a very obvious way.

Not one to tease, Taehyung is using his long fingers to push both your shorts and panties to the side so his fingers can press against your bare skin. A surprised gasp leaving your lips with the nudge on your clit, hips bowing toward him. He grins.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He's a little breathless, but his fingers never falter. A single digit slipping past your folds and pushing through your walls. “Shit.” He chuckles at the enthusiastic way you nod your hand, tongue rolling over his lips before biting down. “Yeah? Gonna cum all sloppy on my tongue, baby? Let me hear you.”

At the end of his words, his thumb is pressing into your clit, rolling it around lazily as his finger moves slowly inside of you. “Y-yes-” Words breaking on a loud whine, he slows his fingers – waiting. “Wanna cum on your tongue, Tae... p-please.” Hips lifting to rock into his hand but he's pulling back, leaving you feeling empty.

It doesn't last long because he's quick with lifting your leg. Fingers wet with your arousal and wrapped around your thigh, bringing it up to his shoulder. Tae lowers himself to his knees in front of you, at the same time pushing the useless material aside before diving in.

Taehyung watches you through his long eyelashes while dragging his tongue along your folds. Always loved the way you looked when he was between your legs. The way you tried to keep your eyes open to watch him, biting your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, fingers tangling in his hair – holding him close. Hot.

Tongue dragging up to flick against your clit, Taehyung reaches for your other ankle. Lifting your leg over his shoulder so he's completely enclosed by your legs. Plush lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, sucking gently while he's pushing two fingers past your walls.

“Oh! Tae, fuck...” Panting at this point, grip in his hair used to pull him tighter against you. His free hand reaching around to sneak underneath the hem of your shorts, palming your ass while pulling you closer. Fingers angled to brush against the sweet spot inside of you, loving the way you squirm underneath him.

Just faintly, you can see the outline of his hard cock through his shorts. Straining against the fabric begging for some attention. Having you spread out for him, hearing those pretty moans fall from your lips is enough to drive anyone mad. And it doesn't help that Tae's been waiting for this for weeks.

Sharp teeth nip at your clit just as he's pushing another finger inside of you. “Taehyung!” You're crying out, in half pleasure – but also a warning. If he continued like this you'd be cumming before even getting to feel him inside of you.

“Close, baby?” His words are delivered into your throbbing cunt, sending vibrations through your body that has your back arching. Fingers tightening in his hair as you grind your hips desperately into him.

So close you can practically taste it, no longer able to worry about not being able to feel him. Just chasing your release. A breathy chant of 'keep going' falling from your lips as you hold his head in place.

Heat spreads throughout your body, a dull ache starting in your core and spreading throughout your body. Walls clenched so tight around his fingers that it's almost hard for him to pull back, so he doesn't, instead pushes deeper – pressing all three fingers against your sweet spot. In that exact moment, his lips are wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly and you feel the band snap.

Body tightening and legs shaking as incoherent curses fall from your lips. Taehyung watches your pretty eyes roll back, head tipping too. And once he's sure you're at the peak of your climax, he's pulling his fingers from inside of you and standing to his feet. Quick with fishing his cock from inside his shorts, you just barely notice the absence before you're being filled again.

A drawn-out whine falls from your lips at the new stretch, a thick groan from his from the tight squeeze. The wetness from your release makes it easy for him to move, though and he's thankful – too eager to wait longer than a few seconds to have you.

Your fingers struggle to find something to grasp as he ruts against you in an almost brutal pace. Each snap of his hips pushing your body further up on the table, only for him to drag you back down toward him. Loud cries and incoherent sentences fall from your lips that you're sure anyone in a 50-mile radius could put together what the two of you are doing.

Taehyung loves it, though. It's like fuel to his ever-growing ego. Chants of his name falling from your pretty lips, nails clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you beg for him. Just the knowledge he's able to make someone like you, like this. Yeah, he loves it.

“Fuck. This greedy little cunt,” He nearly grunts, eyes flashing up to take in your fucked out expression. His thumb is easily finding your clit through the wet mess between your legs, rubbing it slowly. “You wanna cum again? All over my cock this time?”

A frantic bob of your head and a whiny 'please' is prompting him to reach for your hips. Easily, he's lifting your body from the table, securing your legs around his waist. His hips rut against yours with much more fervor in this standing position. And you attempt to meet his thrusts but you're so delirious that all you can manage is a lazy bounce.

Arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in the crook of his neck, your walls squeeze around him as you feel the pressure build in your stomach again. Sloppy, wet kisses sucked into his skin. Teeth scraping against the tanned flesh before you're crying out your orgasm, body shaking in his arms.

You're positive if it weren't for the rough grip he has on your ass, you'd be sprawled out on the floor from the power of it. Taehyung fucks you through the entire thing, not slowing down until he feels his own release approaching, just second after yours. Thighs tightening and thrust becoming sloppy while he pulls your body down tighter against his.

The feeling of his thick ropes of cum coating your insides has your senses waking up, that paired with the slow drag of his cock inside of you has your legs stiffening again. Hips rocking slowly against his as another tiny orgasm washes over you. So small Taehyung wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been paying attention – but of course, he was.

“Did you just cum again?” He says with a laugh, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Lips sucked into your mouth to hide the sheepish grin that fought to take over your features. “It felt good... you cumming, inside.”

A triumphant grin takes over his features and he's leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Let's keep it in then,” He's mumbling against your mouth and you're not sure what he means until he's pulling out – fingers quick to meet your entrance, pushing his cum back inside of you.

Body twitching with overstimulation, but you let him stuff you with his cum, not able to deny how hot it was. Especially the look of concentration on his face, careful not to miss a drop. Once he's satisfied, he's secured your shorts back in place patting his hand over your crotch playfully.

“You better keep it in there, too. Gonna fuck it out of you later,” He promises with a large grin, head tilting up to nibble at your jaw. He's got one hand resting on the curve of your ass, the other gripping your thigh. Zero plans to put you down any time soon, loving the way you're wrapped around him.

He'd stay like this with you forever if he wasn't for the distance shout he's hearing from the main house. Trying to ignore it and praying that you don't hear it, but as it grows louder your ears are perking up.

“Taehyung-ah!” It's Namjoon's voice and you're immediately pulling back when you register it. “Think Joon is looking for us,” You say through a giggle, the kisses he's leaving on your skin starting to tickle.

“He'll give up.” Tae murmurs, trailing a wet line of kisses down the length of your neck. And you almost agree with him, but you hear Namjoon call again and figure it would be best to just go see what he wants. So, despite Taehyung's reluctance, you're unwrapping your legs from around him.

“Or we can go see what's up.” Taehyung's changing his tune once he's realizing you weren't going to change yours.

His arm is easily sliding around your waist, pulling your body into his as the two of you make your way back into the main house. It's a little weird walking with his cum stuffed inside of you. Like a subtle heaviness between your legs that you just barely go without noticing. And if you moved too fast you could feel a bit of it start to trickle out, forcing you to pay much more attention to your movements than usual.

When the two of you are reaching the sliding door, it's locked. Your other six men are sat in the room, snickers falling from their lips with one look at your frazzled state and the fact that you're locked out.

“Ooh, what were you guys doing out there?” You can hear Hoseok's teasing tone through the glass. As if it weren't obvious. As if they didn't hear what you guys were doing out there.

Taehyung doesn't miss a beat, hand dropping down to grasp your ass. “Stuffed her full of my cum.” He says with a wide grin that has hollers of amusement falling from their lips. “Tae!” You're gasping, face heating up as you lift your arm to punch at his shoulder.

“What it's true?” Sparkling eyes turned to you, lips shaped in a soft pout that you'd lean up and kiss if you weren't sure it'd have a glob of his cum rolling down your leg.

Namjoon, your perfect little angel, is the one to pull the door open. And you're thanking him as you walk past, carefully taking the vacant spot beside Jungkook. “Do you really have cum in you, Noona?” He wonders. Eyes dark while a curious hand reaches to brush over the waistband of your shorts.

“Only a little bit,” Fingers lifting to just barely pinch your fingers together to show him. “Prove it,” He says with a tad bit of playfulness in his tone, tugging at your shorts just slightly.

You have half the mind to do just that. The thought lingering in your mind long enough for both Hoseok and Yoongi to notice. Intrigued, Hobi waits to see if you'll actually do it – but Yoongi speaks up before the tension can grow any thicker.

“We're choosing rooms,” Changing the subject completely acting as if an eight-way orgy wasn't just on the table. “Oh, right!” Joon, who had been subtly watching to see if you take Kook's dare is all of a sudden the reason he had gathered everyone.

A few moments are granted for conversation to bounce around the room, choosing where they'll sleep for the next seven days. And once they've settled their arrangements, attention is back on you – but for an entirely different reason now.

“Noona can share the floating house with me,” Jungkook is saying with a wide grin, keying you in on the fact that this conversation had been going on a bit longer than you had been paying attention.

With a quick nod of your head, you're assuring the young boy that you'll share the room with him. “I figured I'd just bounce around? If you guys don't care.” Much easier that way, whoever wanted you to spend the night in the room – you would. But to keep things tidy, you'd keep your stuff in the floating house with Jungkook.

“Of course we don't care-” Jin starts, but his words are being cut off by Taehyung's haste. “My room first!” Hand raised in a cute schoolboy raised, the look that he pins you with washes all remnants of the word cute out of your mind, though.

With a thick roll of his eyes, Namjoon's standing. “If she wants to. You choose, baby.” His attention now on you and the pet name has shivers running down your spine. There was just something about the way Joon called you 'baby' that had you keening.

He doesn't act on it, though. Not right now. And neither do you. One by one, they each break off to do their own thing until dinner time. You find yourself following Jin out to the dock after hearing he was going to fish for a little bit. You had gone on quite a few fishing trips with him, never did it but liked to keep him company when he went.

It's hard to ignore how at ease you feel here, with them. Not a single worry in mind in this secluded spot with your favorite guys. Where they're able to be themselves and be with you and be happy. Thankful that you were able to join them. And so ready to be apart of the memories this next week holds.

No matter how sticky.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

masterlist ⤐

⇝ taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hehehehahahohohuhu @sw33tnight @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @soulstaes @bangtansonyeondayyyum @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @marifujioka @tae165 @uxwi @jinhitwhore @preciouschimine @yeontanie21 @aa-ronpa @taefect94 @lee-karliah @codeinebelle @mochibabycakes @diminieshoe @fuddyize @soloikeadates @0xmysticx0 @bbyjoonies @amoreguk @tricethecharm @diminieshoe @jayyayyy17 @softlyjins @bangtan-noona @fan-ati--c @fuck-expectations-people @paradisetaemin @nyamjinnie @lilacdreams-00 @vsugakookie0104 @koostime @la-evforia @betysotelo18 @chocobetterknot @simplysanha @delicategukkie @kookieswithtaeq @jeon-ggukkie @angjeon @bangtansbun @flamboyant-louie @elliemeetsevil @angiexyoung @stonyiscanon @strawberryforever25 @mipetronella @rageyoudamnednerd @hellotherehoneybee @joonies-babyy @mypurplelamp @jikooksgirl19 @sushi-date-ghost @bigimpression @kookiesjoonies @amour-quinn @diamonddia-mond @alterlovess @gemad08 @daydreambrliever @acc3ssdenied @silentlyimpractical @bella-victoria002 @ashleyjoyx @yoooonie @diamonddia-mond @btsbed @sungieshines @thia-aep @taeshuworld @hopiebabie @trynavibewhileicry @illwritetomorrow @kookoo-kachoo @prettxyliies @triviasjms @ratking101 @elephantdoors @feel-like-gold @kelitt @itsponybeaches @alpaca1612 @jeonkookiebangtan @rather-not-sayy @kimsouthjoon @beeeb05 @dreamcatcherjiah @yoongiverse

9K notes · View notes

no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part. Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid. It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help. You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day. There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great. At least for you. It’s sluggish. Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in. Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle. As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore. Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate. Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side. There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time. Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally. You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened. You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it. You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys. They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up. There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured. They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso. The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands. You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet. You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly. You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving. You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you. You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching. Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you. After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip. “Seriously. That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring. Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away. You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now. You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup. Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself. “We…” Your voice sounds absolutely shredded. “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you. “But we are alive. Hey.” He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand. “We’re alive, right? Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative. A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence. You’re alive. Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering. Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back. But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking. Full of light, and hope. It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death. Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies. Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife. You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort. For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that. “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!” You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?” Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position. Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them. “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him. “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with. “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too. These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?” Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close. Why is he so close to you? You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space. Since when did he have that effect on you? You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in. You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness. Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though. Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands. Hey. Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips. “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under. Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement. You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though. His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head. Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else. Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

***

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and. Well. Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him. But like, fuck him. You know. In the negative sense of the word. The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it. Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here. Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall. You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today. You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again. So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him. Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now. You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots. He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you. What have you done to deserve this torture? Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay? No, you’ve decided. It’s not okay. He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him. In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie. Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues. “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps. “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly. “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?” You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite. Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug. “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question? It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache. Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in? “Ever. The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?” You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more. Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies. “Maybe some Reds. Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear. Where are stress headaches localized? Are those the ones right under your brow bone? Because stars, you feel it. “Fucking… why? Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?” Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you. “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what? No. I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit. This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that? It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him. The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you. “Quit being so sensitive. Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering. You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset. You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell. But today was… a lot. You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names. These people aren’t your friends. Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it? You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle. You almost died today. You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit. This is your squadron. These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs. You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that? You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine. How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you. No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?” You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy. Ooh, you can already feel it burning. It would be so fucking typical. Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight. How could he not know? With as many friends as he has? If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too. You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it. “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?” Zhang turns his head. “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No. Yeah? What?” He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?” Rossi confirms with a shrug. “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right. Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage. You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel. His pool is probably up soon, you figure. That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today. He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time. Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—” You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it. Nobody has any fucking idea. Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually… “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—” You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster. Dameron had some… what? “Wait. Explain. You’re saying he didn’t…” You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together. “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What? No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated. “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten? He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…” You blink, stunned. “But… why? Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs. “Fuck if I know. All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it. Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t. He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again. You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today. Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half…

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here. You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all. You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.

This is why he said that about Nine? Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head. Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today. You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone. Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow. “What now?” You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?” You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder. “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably. “Well, uh. We tried.”

“What?” You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more. “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing. So we thought we’d buy you one instead. Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air. You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right. Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar. He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes. The past… whole day. Month and a half. Or… fuck, how long have you known him? Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours. His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately. You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on. Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base. You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here. Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal. Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around. At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation. You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly. Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them. Constant, never-ending. Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe. Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts. You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance. Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was. Doesn’t matter now. They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise. It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary. You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now. But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms. You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship. You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized. Spectacularly so. Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary. There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it. Get each other. He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly. You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising. Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive. It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason… You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you. It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission. How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name. Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time. The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him. The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically. Remembered, or at least asked the right person about. But why? It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s notorious for not giving a shit. He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours? You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself. He was… singing your praises today. He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him. As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier. Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him. Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you. He… he defended you. Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back. And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you. What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago? He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier. The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh. This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck. The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder. Shower, you’re in the shower. Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck. As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard. You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here. Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it. If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today. Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it. You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you. You enjoyed the fuck out of it. You wish he’d do it again. Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer. He was doing you a favor, you realize that now. Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point. He turns you on, you fucking admit it. He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore. Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition. You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that. Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it. You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room. A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise. Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that. You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight. You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today. Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing. What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level. It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition. Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review. He could’ve thrown… three games, even. Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls. The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers. You’ll be able to cum, at least once. It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think. You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention. He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze. It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements. He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy. Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been. Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork. Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy. He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop. You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you. He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open. He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this. He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there. You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it. Fuck. This is torture. Fuck him. Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him. Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum. Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now. Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change. Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur. Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months. You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register. Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight. Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you. You deserve this, you deserve some relief. Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind. You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open. The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t. You don’t have to give it fucking anything. You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have? Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower? You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist. And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck. Was his hair wet? Fuck, why can’t you remember? His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much. Post-shower, then. Probably. Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk. You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started. His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it. The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point. You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away. Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor. The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him. A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way. Still, what can you say? Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him? Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it. Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you. Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now. Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed. Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way. You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it. You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion. He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more. Fuck, are you positive that was an accident? Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before. You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form. How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep? Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what? Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again? Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move. Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you. Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support. When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week. Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight. Nothing. You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up. Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut. After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room. However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams. He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on. The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines. Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do. He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one. The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to. Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it. You never tell him the truth. You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel. He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight. Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio. The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind. You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind. I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next. The silent promise that his actions allude to. You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in. Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth. Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth. You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought. You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it. A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine. “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight. Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too. His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs. You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit. Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago. Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers. The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow. Why is he going so fucking slow?? The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be. You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him. He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he? So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation? Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air. You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk. He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing. His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins. You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is. Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you. You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind. Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult? You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why. Why did the fuck did you stop? There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still. It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it. There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?” Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly. Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first? Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic? “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body. The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards. But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.

Fuck him, bad way. This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin. It’s not a warning, it’s a threat. If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you. It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it. “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again. Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere. Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all. The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want. As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy. “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone. Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen. You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami. You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment. A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude. Where’s the drop? You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat. It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There. There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress. It’s fucking mayhem. You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it. You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard. Fucking hard. It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow. Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is. Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other. Stars, what did he do to you? You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves. Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago. They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight. Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance. Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping. This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now. Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary. He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now. Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it. He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck. He was right. You needed this. Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it. He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns. Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it. He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing. Accommodating. Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation. You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again. “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first. “Mm. Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing. Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair. Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it. Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy. You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive. After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan. He’s so… fucking hot. Fuck. He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side. But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge. The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself. You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely. Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself. You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are. Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip. “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now. Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm. Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack. “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What? W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply. Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart. “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress. And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body. The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect. Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works. “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him. By this point, you’re worrying again. You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists. If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand. He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him. Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t. “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk. You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain. Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp. It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just. You need a hard reset. You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again. It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again. The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine. Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds. “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly. It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his. Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself. After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say. You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now. Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at. He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think. He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something. How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do? You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him. Why can’t you figure out something? You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent. Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?” Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking. Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours. “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried. He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?” He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time. Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions. “Well what do you want, baby? You wanna just hang out? That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want? The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?” You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body. “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears. “You can—?” Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious. “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now. “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right? So why not?” Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust. “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated. “You don’t get it. You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet? Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm. He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip. An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud. “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?” He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs. “Just say fuck it all and race for last place? Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself. “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room. “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh. Well, to sum up. May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it. Okay, you get it. He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it. You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk. Only now, you’re… humbled. By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight. It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it. It’s big. It fills his whole palm without much room to spare. Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow. Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his. You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing. The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right. He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock. He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it. It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance. “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct. The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh. Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening. “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself. You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it. Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip. “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point. You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression. His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this. You know then that it must be really fucking wet. You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it. You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you. He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast. From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative. You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it. It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts. But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad? It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right. You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you. But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off. The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it. You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up. You underestimate his self control, time and time again. But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you. “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad. You make me so mad. I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you. I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound. The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity. “Say it. ‘You…’—what? Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves. Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more. Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this. Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious. “Not tonight. I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs. His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl. “Fuck. Tight little baby. Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit. You already feel it. You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire. And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone. “Can you feel it coming? Fuck, I can,” he shudders. “Already. Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point. Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back. Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow. You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit. It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more. “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift. His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?” Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration. “Tell me. You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed. After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it. You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again. Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you. And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle. It’s tender. It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.

You handle it silently. At first. You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all. Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides. Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter. Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice. It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose. Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him. Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one. You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy. You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose. You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more. Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome. He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack. He tastes like you. He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you. It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still. But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours. His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves. Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time. What is he doing? What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace. You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum. He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you. “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up. He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him. “Never… fuck. Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet. Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels. So intimate. You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again. Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again. He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down. Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him. When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation. You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need. That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right? Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe. Fuck. His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open. Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller. And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going. He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you. He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied. Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock. Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it. Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating. Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy. Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while. You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you. Same speed, same control.

Your eyes nearly fucking cross. “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this. This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with. Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you. Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more. Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you. Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl. Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you. “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl. “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…” His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening. “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging. But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come. You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore. You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend. But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?” He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours, “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?” You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else. Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?” You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once. All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away. You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does. It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant. Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying? You don’t know anymore. Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope. Not even close.

He ruins you slowly. Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination. Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words. You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted. He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed. He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this. If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you. It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours. But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver. He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him. He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum. You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants. “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you. Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up. You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack. “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late. He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it. That is it.

“Fuck me!” You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole! Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far. He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm. Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go. His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars. Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours. Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?” He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs. “Huh? Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything? You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you? Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t. You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it. You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open. You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him. But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore. You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet. You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it. Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you. He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him. All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown. You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief. He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid. You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound. Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room. And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times. He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him. He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty. Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile. That one is practiced and alluring. It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy. Amazed, and uncoordinated. Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow. It makes you feel… alive. Colorful. Radiant. Sunshine. Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time. You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable. Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance. “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?” You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest. You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals. “Oh. Pfft. You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades. Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget. You forget everything. You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had. It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration. Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval. No. This is good, this is how you want to stay. The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect. “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze. A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you. Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out. “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again. Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it. Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement. “Gah—look what you did. I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times. “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs. It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again. The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason. You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap. Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again. You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing. Not saying anything. Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker. So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes. You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is. Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings. You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it. You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue. But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo. It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks. Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier. Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?” Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters. You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency. After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what? Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once. You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you. It seems appropriate. And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap. You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again. Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips. He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does. The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun. You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?” You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it. Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling. He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

#poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #Smut #no-droids

5K notes · View notes

gladerscake · 4 years ago

Text

Hungry Eyes

(Gally x Reader)

Requested by the incredible @ultraintrovertedgryffindor 💯 This is a little more heated than all the other imagines I’ve written so far. No smut though! So if you’re not into that kind of stuff, don’t worry, it isn’t actually in there. Enjoy!

For the life of you, you could not focus on your work. As hard you as you tried to keep your attention on what you were supposed to be doing, it was proving to be an immensely difficult task. The surplus of weeds at your feet with their urgent need to be plucked didn’t stand a chance against something much, much more interesting, just across the glade…

You leaned against your shovel as your gaze, for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes, traveled all the way to the builders. Well… one builder, in particular. Your builder.

A familiar warmth encompassed your abdomen with an unsurprising quickness as your eyes landed on Gally.

It has been an especially hot day, the blazing sun making more than a few gladers positively miserable as it made trudging through their workload that much more challenging. The builders seemed to be affected most of all. At some point Gally had slipped out of his shirt, and now, all you could do was watch, with bated breath and skipping heartbeat, as he lugged around massive hunks of wood like they weighed nothing to him.

Gally’s strength never ceased to amaze you. It was something you were sure you would marvel at until the end of time. Of course, his job as the Keeper of the builders demanded a certain amount of physical superiority, but holy shuck, was it something to leave your jaw hanging.

You stared, rather indiscreetly, as Gally’s mouth-watering torso glistened in the sunlight, damp beads illuminating his skin and making it appear as though he was sweating diamond dust. His impressive muscles were on full display, tensing and flexing, the prominent indents of his abs pulling your gaze in like magnets. His burly arms were also nearly impossible to look away from. A small grin crawled onto your lips as you recalled the way those same arms encompassed you in the bed of your shared hut, just earlier that morning. Your boyfriend looked absolutely breath-taking, and the exquisite sight you were currently being gifted with left you frozen, longing, and maybe just a little dazed. If you were to suddenly feel dizzy, it definitely wouldn’t be from the sun. The heat was notable, sure, but it was easy to ignore as your body was pervaded with a heat of a different kind.

“Oh, pick it up, would you?”

Newt’s slightly annoyed British lilt momentarily brought you out of your trance as you snapped your head towards him, returning back to earth. Although, you couldn’t deny, a part of you was somewhat discontent with being returned.

“Pick what up?” Your forehead scrunched in confusion as you peered at your friend.

“Your jaw. And your bloody dignity, for that matter.” Newt scoffed, a thoroughly amused grin dancing on his lips as he had clearly caught you gawking at Gally.

Just a few weeks ago, you would’ve been so embarrassed by that, you’d turn redder than the tomatoes growing in the garden, but ever since you and Gally got together, you have been feeling increasingly less bothered by these things. Why should you feel embarrassed for looking at what was rightfully yours?

You merely gave a small shrug at Newt’s teasing comment, an unapologetic grin tugging at the corner of your mouth “It’s my boyfriend. And I’ll stare if I want to.”

Newt released a hoot of laughter, seemingly not having expected you so casually brushing it off “Oh, alright! And what happens if he catches you?”

Your grin only widened, your stomach bubbling with an involuntary spark of excitement at the thought “I’m sure he’ll be nothing short of thrilled.”

Your twinkling gaze darted towards Gally once again… Only this time, your eyes met.

Your heart jumped up to your throat, your breath halting in your airways as your boyfriend stood tall, hands propped up on his hips while he looked right back at you from his working area, his piercing bluish-green eyes narrowed with palpable interest.

Clearly he had noticed you blatantly checking him out as a borderline cocky smirk etched his lips. Now, that has always been effective in bringing a blush to your cheeks. You bit your bottom lip as you accepted the wordless challenge and didn’t look away, instead responding with a playful grin of your own.

Gally chuckled, purposely flexing his abdomen and sending you a tantalizing wink, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. He knew what he was doing to you, and he was enjoying every second. He loved getting you all flustered, and you, with your pounding heart and pink-tinged skin, made it so easy for him.

Your gaze trailed over his chiseled bare chest, the heat swarming your body beginning to feel more like an ache. The urge to stride right over to Gally, throw your arms around him, pull him close and kiss him senseless, was beginning to cloud your mind… However, it was at that moment that Newt deliberately cleared his throat, forcing you to tear your eyes away from your boyfriend.

Okay, okay, enough of that, for now. You needed to get at least some work done. As yummy as your keeper looked at the moment, you didn’t want your friend getting mad at you for being too distracted.

“Sorry, Newt. I’m back. Promise!” You chuckled, internally commanding your flushed state to simmer down, the blush on your cheeks gradually dispersing, along with the foggy feeling over your head.

“You better be.” Newt shook his head “As fascinating as it is to watch Gally get you riled up from across the glade, I’m not doing all the work by myself.” He stated with an underlying scold, making you feel just a tiny bit of remorse.

“Well, I can’t always help it…” You muttered under your breath, returning your focus to the weeds you needed to pull. The thought of seeing Gally at lunch, in about an hour, graced your lips with a smile. Knowing him, he would have plenty to say to you, after what had just transpired…

-later-

The Lunch bell had rung, calling all the gladers to come grab something to eat, and you were about to make your way over to Frypan’s shack. You were finally done with this one row of carrots, falling slightly behind Newt, who had already left a few minutes prior.

You pulled yourself up from your crouching position, stretching your back and brushing the dirt off of your hands, when you suddenly squeaked, a pair of muscular arms, strong like tree trunks, wrapped themselves around your waist.

“Hey!!” Your surprised cry melted into melodic laughter as you turned your head to your captor.

Gally was grinning from ear-to-ear as he pulled you close from behind, your back pressing fully against his still bare torso, making you feel the heat radiating off of his skin.

“Hey yourself!” He chuckled, promptly dipping his head into your sensitive neck and peppering it with multiple kisses. It tickled a bit, but the feeling absolutely delighted you, as you slightly tilted your head back against his shoulder. You could feel his lips grinning against your delicate skin as he pressed a final peck to your pulse point and drew back, catching your gaze with his “Did you enjoy the show earlier?”

Of course he would lead with that. You hadn’t had a single doubt. Nonetheless, you pursed your lips, feigning confusion and batting your eyes at him. A picture of innocent cluelessness.

“Hmm? What show, my keeper? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Gally playfully rolled his eyes, giving your waist a mischievous squeeze “You sure about that? Because I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You hummed, furrowing yours brows as you imitated deep thought before shaking your head “Nope. I’m totally stumped. Not a clue.”

Gally huffed, his openly flirtatious grin unfaltering “Really? So you weren’t staring at me while I was working my ass off under the scorching sun?”

You swallowed a giggle, your clueless expression paving to a little smirk, a fiery glint flickering in your eyes. Fine, you could admit to it. But that didn’t mean you would succumb to his teasing. He’d seen enough of your blushing cheeks for one day.

You feigned a dramatic gasp, pretending to be shocked and mortified “Oh no! You saw that? I thought I had been so subtle…”

Gally squeezed you tighter, holding you so close that you could feel his heart thumping against your back “Didn’t really look like you were trying to be.”

You grinned at him, his captivating eyes nearly making you forget that anything else existed around you “On second thought, maybe I wasn’t.”

Gally hummed in satisfaction. Good answer. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe your were his, and the fact that you were made him feel like the luckiest shank in the glade. His heart leapt every time you melted into him, every time you responded to his teasing with matching energy, every time you showcased that you were just as happy to be his as he was to be yours. Each loving and yearning gaze you sent his way, each brush of your fingers over his skin, each hypnotising kiss you two shared… all of it was electrifying to him, addictive, like sugar.

He cupped your chin in between his two fingers, gently pulling your face closer to his and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You softly moaned against his mouth as you readily kissed him back, just like you had been waiting to do all morning. Your arm reached up and wound itself behind his neck, drawing him in more and being rewarded with an approving grunt from his throat. Gally’s kisses never failed to leave you breathless, he was fantastic at it. You didn’t care that you didn’t have anyone to compare to. You didn’t need to try anyone else to know that he tasted the best.

You whimpered as Gally’s teeth temptingly grazed your bottom lip before he pulled back, licking his lips as he gazed down at you with a near-predatory glow in his eyes. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine at the sight of his dilated pupils and slightly reddened parted lips. He looked so mesmerising…

Despite your body screaming at you not to, you attempted to wriggle out of his tight grasp, the sound of other gladers chattering in the distance reminding you that it was lunch time.

“Don’t get me wrong, I could do this all day, but we really should be heading over to Frypan’s. Aren’t you hungry?” You smiled, tracing your fingers down his jaw, the loving touch doing the opposite of making him want to pull away from you.

With an irresistible smirk, Gally finally whipped you around in his arms, so that you were facing him, his large hands latching onto your hips as he whispered against your lips “Oh, I’m hungry alright… Just not for lunch.”

You yelped as your feet suddenly left the ground, Gally’s strong arms engulfing you and leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms and legs around his glorious half-exposed body and hold on tight.

“Gally!” You halfheartedly tried to object, biting back your excited grin “What are you doing?”

The builder snickered, deeply, already turning in the direction of the Deadheads as he held you impossibly close, a devious spark flashing in his eyes.

“Staring like that can get you in trouble, baby. Guess you’re about to find out…”

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @lattsgocaps @magnoliabloomfield @sherbertscarrothead-2 @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @crazysheeplyca @isaacswhore

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #gally tmr #gally x y/n #gally x fem!reader #gally x you #tmr gally imagine #gladers #tmr #tmr imagine #gally fanfic #tmr fanfic #will poulter #gally

539 notes · View notes

steve0discusses · 3 years ago

Text

S5 Ep 32: Mahad’s Dead

Feels like a million years since I’ve actually sat down and done a Yugioh post, which is a shame, because Bakura was just about to do some nonsense.

Mahad has decided that he’s going to trap Bakura’s soul into this tablet which like...good luck, man.

and like if we are assuming that all of these blank Chekhov’s tablets are going to house demon souls from all of Yami’s dead friends that will eventually become our playing cards in the future...Bakura’s monster, diabound, is a card nowadays right? (And I mean he’s a modern card in the shows universe, I figure there’s like a billion versions of diabound by now in Yugioh proper) so ... at some point Pegasus made him into a card.

So I guess that means Bakura’s soul monster isn’t actually diabound. I think? I try not to think too much about that at this point cuz it is a little bit confusing.

Look at em go, doing this vertical wheelie drop in those flimsy wraps, upskirting everyone on Bakura’s front line. They’re living their best life. Me, personally, would be terrified about going this fast without at least one belt on my sarong, but strangely this is the only time in Yugioh no one has 5-20 belts each.

(Bakura stuff under the cut)

Meanwhile, inside the tomb, Bakura and Mahad are gonna have a card tablet fight against the diabound that Mahad already knows needs a freakin God card to win against. Mahad really thinks a lot of his magician powers, which youknow...that’s hubris for you.

Yugioh loves to go back to hubris as a reoccurring theme and I appreciate that in every season of Yugioh, that has always been a constant. Don’t tempt (card) gods, folks.

Diabound now has a new look, and it’s getting kind of complicated for the art team, who just have no idea where to properly put the snake on this guy without it looking like a problem, so they just go for it and let it be a problem. I mean why the hell not, he has a snake for a lower torso. You can’t make this not awkward.

Because I know a little bit about how this game actually works (Character Development on my part, can I just say) I actually looked up this card, and no where does it say “it gains the super powers of the monster it fought before” so um...really glad I learned how to play this game.

When’s car season? I only know the car deck, and apparently no one in Master Duel plays any of these anime cards except for like Blue Eyes White Dragon so all of this is still completely over my head.

There’s not enough cars in ancient Egypt man. But you know what is in Egypt?

A little bit of actual Egyptian, which was cute!

At first I was like “wow, way to out that you’re from modern day Japan, Bakura!” and then I remembered his past self isn’t even from Egypt, either. Bakura being quite meta here.

Anyway, it was time for Yami to get the hell out of bed, because Yugi and Yami both have a really damn hard time sleeping on this show. And, I guess it’s been so long since Yami had a body and had to go to sleep that he forgot a little bit about how one gets ready for bed. Please admire how much metallic jewelry this child wears to bed.

It’s worse than Yugi. Yami your magpie situation is wow. Four rings, four bangles, a stacked choker, Tea’s airport cartouche, earrings--THE HAT? He even slept in the hat??? (also his eye liner, but I’ll give that a pass. We have, all of us, every single one, slept in our makeup and woke up to a pillow that has that one little splotch of mascara. We have, all of us, every single one, taken that pillow and just flipped it over to cover our sleeping-in-makeup sins.)

From an artist perspective, part of this is because they very much used a mirror tool do draw a lot of him here (which like, yes, you should absolutely be using the mirror tool if you have one. Please use the mirror tool and save your precious time on this planet earth. We like art shortcuts in this house) so if there’s earrings on one hand, it’s on the other by default. And also they just didn’t want to bother figuring out what his bangs situation was without the hat on--but it is pretty funny that he just...went to bed like this.

OR, and this is a big thing I just realized--that’s a wig. He’s bald under there. Do they have the guts to draw a bald Yami? Clearly not.

Parts of me are like...was there a point in the storyboarding process where Yami had no hair here? Did someone in a suit point at that and be like “this is very off-brand put back on the 30 lb hatwig I don’t care if he’s sleeping.” But we will never know.

Also please admire his bed.

What you don’t see here is the giant millennium eye just hovering over him on the bed rest. This is a very cursed bed situation that only a ghost would sleep in for any amount of time. (and that it was too spooky for even Pharaoh is saying something.)

Yes I did look up ancient beds in Egypt and none of them seemed to have four posters. But it’s not like this bed was even drawn to the perspective they clearly mapped out on the floor right there, so I don’t think they had the time to research that. Team did their best. Which involved taking that spooky bed from Noah Kaiba’s arc in S2 and shoving it here in Egypt in S5.

So Yami decides to ponder the sky pyramid that no one else can see but him. Just vibing in the middle of the night on a balcony filled with so much anxiety. This episode is really calling me out right now with my chronic insomnia, but thankfully none of my friends play murder cards (that are apparently made out of human souls of my ancient best friends).

In a sequence that was too hard to cap, one of the towers set off a little laser beam to inform us that Mahad was being a dumbass.

So something that I didn’t catch last episode, when I was hootin and hollering about the Anubis and how Anubis allowed everyone to just use the same damn deck of cards--I was wrong actually. Not my fault, it was the show doing organic storytelling and I was not prepared for that. Because it turns out everyone gets their own unique card crypt. So really, each of these towers is it’s own deck.

What a freakin nuisance this must have been to build, holy hell.

Also when bro was capping this, he at first was like “huh, isn’t this Dartz’ tower of souls?” and like yeah. Of all people, we’re getting a lot of Dartz throwbacks this season, so S4 wasn’t so tangential after all. Really they were just hinting that the horrible awful thing Dartz was doing, was done about 7 times over by Pharaoh’s Dad himself.

Which youknow...Yami is taking this in strides, still getting over the fact that his Dad probably (absolutely) killed that village, and that Seto is going to betray him very soon, and that Bakura is about to kill Mahad. Pharaoh I’m sure will eventually address this hypocrisy soon. Maybe. Kind of. Maybe not.

Man I can’t believe how honest Dartz was when he was telling Pharaoh point blank about how Pharaoh’s dynasty wasn’t that great in the past. Man. Pharaoh really shouldn’t have come here, kid should have just gone to math class, honestly. This isn’t worth ditching PE.

Anyway, Mana’s here because she also had the very bad dream that Mahad was about to biff it.

Imagine if this was a rule during the season where Tristan had the souls of 5 different dudes crammed into his brain who all freaking died in there. Tristan would be like 5 times banished.

Which now that I have played a Yugioh game, I know that banishing the same card 5 times in a row is a completely normal way of playing Yugioh.

Speaking of being dead and being banished and being Tristan, the gang is still lost in Yugi’s brain palace.

Yugi finds a door in it that for a split second really threw me for a loop. I 100 percent saw this and was like “DAMN IT HOW MANY BAKURA’S ARE THERE.”

Thankfully, this was a trick Bakura, and Ryou is indeed still passed out on the steps of Marik’s tomb. Assuming Marik hasn’t picked him up by now and shoved him into the Jeep.

Back in the simulation of the past, Bakura is doing really, really well for himself.

I do like the dedication to the detail on his Ancient Egyptian Toms. When even was the last time I saw a Toms in the wild with the tiny toe box? Like 2012? Maybe the fashion was the same for 3012 BC.

Anyway, Mahad is a real freakin asshole to Bakura this episode and that was kind of refreshing. It was a straight up Home Alone situation in here with him using his magic powers to just make a billion traps invisible. (and do less damage to Bakura than the Home Alone kid did to those robbers, ngl)

HOW.

How did he freakin miss this?

How is it even possible to miss the guy who is chained down by a bear trap with the largest ax that mankind has ever made? And how did it manage to break off said bear trap in the process? Like Mahad may be dark Magician, but he’s also the unluckiest human who has ever lived.

Anyway, Bakura reacts by shoving the ax at him which like--I never get to see this ceiling to figure out how the hell the suspension on this can go so many directions, but the big takeaway is that Mahad overcompensated, tried to kill a card god, and cheated at cards in the process of doing so, which in Yugioh means you’re already dead.

Meanwhile, in the Desert, Pharaoh is doing his best to not look like a dumbass in front of Mana.

Mana directs him to the summoning training grounds, which is where I guess they practice cards usually (don’t think about how many souls were sacrificed so they could practice cards). Where, Pharaoh finds out that Mahad has already locked himself into a cave, and that it’s too late to do freakin anything about it.

Mahad’s explanation for why he’s doing this is that he wanted to pay back Yami for all the goods stuff he’s done, like that time that Yami sucked the snake venom out of him all those years ago--which is a somewhat symbolic thing about how Yami tends to remove people’s darkness when he plays them with cards (or kills them, either/or)--but also puts in motion the fact that Mahads going to hella die here and put Pharaoh in a pretty bad position.

Mahad shouldn’t have done this, it definitely hurt Pharaoh’s dynasty in a huge way more than it helped Pharaoh, but Mahad was absolutely certain that his dark magician powers could do the trick. Which they didn’t but youknow...hubris.

Anyway, Bakura’s guards are here.

Lets jump cut so we don’t have to animate that. Instead, we’ll just jump straight to this:

This is a nice shot. For your redraw a scene from an anime meme, you could redraw this shot. I like this shot.

I don’t like this next shot though.

Good ol Egyptian spandex.

Unprovoked, the tablet from the very beginning of this episode decided it had enough of this plotline.

Pharaoh realized he was about to lose all of his magicians in one single day because of this single damn piece of rock, thanks to Mana just...standing underneath it. Bit she’s fine now. Mana survived.

Mahad is not though, he HELLA died.

If it had killed them both, it would have been a little awkward for that tablet because it’s only really supposed to fit one dude. We gotta wait to kill Mana for later.

Who would you cast as Mahad? Serious question, because I joke about this show becoming a Netflix original but there’s been a little bit of a Yugioh renaissance lately (like apparently Master Duel ended up having WAY MORE downloads than anticipated and it’s really upset the meta of the rankings because everyone is playing the same deck) so we all know it’s only a matter of time. How white are they going to cast Mahad?

Like it’s just going to be an off brand Robert Pattinson, and honestly I’d be kinda down for that because my expectations are zero, and I just want to recap that potential hot garbage and what it would do to their hair.

And if an off brand Pattinson is too much, like I enjoyed the cowboy Bebop remake cast, I just didn’t want them in the Cowboy Bebop remake. Make them all Yugi. Go ahead Netflix, Yugi’s so many people at this point, turn him into those three, you have done worse.

Yugi realizes that he needs to stop searching through random doors and simply wait for Pharaoh to call out to him, which, because Yami is trapped in a hell period where he’s absolutely going to die, should have already happened like a billion times already but Yugi just wasn’t paying well enough attention.

And like that, they get transported away. To where? Probably Egypt. Excited for the outfit change on all four of these guys. Yugi will be the only one in Egypt with a belt around his neck.

Soon, they will all be eating a garlic in Egpyt with the homies, assuming they don’t get immediately murdered because everyone will think they’re some sort of wizard. Which, in the case of Yugi is absolutely correct.

Anyway, see you next episode, here’s a link to read these in chrono order from the beginning.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

92 notes · View notes

prouvaireafterdark · 3 years ago

Text

Pieces Mended - 3x08 Coda

Me? Writing a 3x08 coda set at Sanders’ Auto? It’s more likely than you think.

Also on AO3!

***

The sun is just beginning to set below the horizon when Michael hears a car pull into Sanders’ lot. He’s not expecting another customer this late in the day, so he edges himself out from under the sedan he’s working on to see who it is.

A smile tugs at his lips the moment he recognizes the SUV parked a few yards away. He reaches for the rag hanging out of his pocket to wipe the grease from his fingers as Alex exits the car and starts making his way over to him. There’s something dangling from his hand, but Michael is too distracted by the way Alex’s sweater is clinging to his chest beneath his open leather jacket to clock what it is just yet.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” Michael says, licking his lips as he looks Alex up and down.

Alex looks good, the beanie from yesterday gone so the wind has tousled his hair a little and made his cheeks an attractive shade of pink. Between that and the frankly indecently tight sweater he’s wearing, Michael is finding it impossible not to let his mind wander. He can’t help but lean back on his hands to elongate his torso, his legs splayed open suggestively on either side of the creeper he’s sitting on. It’s about as subtle as a punch to the face, but Michael’s done playing coy with Alex, especially after his brain has been playing repeats of the hot, tender kisses they shared last night at the Pony all goddamn day.

There’s an amused quirk to Alex’s lips as he looks him over. “Do you usually sit like that when a customer comes to see you or are you trying to seduce me right now?”

“Depends,” Michael says, meeting his gaze without an ounce of self-consciousness. “Is it working?”

Alex just laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Michael asks, sitting up straighter.

Alex tosses him the thing he’s holding. Michael catches it one-handed.

“What’s this?” Michael asks, turning it over in his hands. Now that he can see it up close, it looks to be an unmarked keycard on a plain black lanyard.

“Your visitor’s badge,” Alex says, and with the smile he’s giving him, Michael doesn’t need to ask what for.

“Wait—really? Your boss said yes?” Michael asks, eyebrows climbing up toward his hairline as he scrambles to his feet. He wipes his hands off on his jeans as he takes another step forward until Alex is close enough to touch.

“Yeah,” Alex answers. “He wants to know what’s going on with the machine as much as we do and you’re his best shot at figuring it out. The two of us can work on it together for as long as it takes.”

“Does he know about Jones?” Michael asks.

Alex pauses to think about that. “He might know of him if he’s mentioned in the Caulfield files he has access to, but I didn’t want to tell him about everything that’s been going on without your permission,” Alex says. “If you want him to know, we can tell him when we see him.”

“When are we going?” Michael asks, his excitement getting the better of him. The Lockhart Machine could hold the answer to so many questions—about Jones, his mom, Max, their planet, his mom—it’s a little overwhelming to think he can actually get his hands on it.

“Tomorrow night, if you want,” Alex says. “Sooner, even, if Sanders lets you have the day off tomorrow.”

Michael lets that sink in.

This time tomorrow, he could be inside a secret para-military research base.

With secret para-military operatives who know he’s an alien.

The reality of that situation hits Michael a little belatedly and he feels his chest start to clench with anxiety.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alex asks, feet shuffling in the gravel as he inches closer out of instinct.

Michael is silent for a moment as he chooses his words. He feels the tips of Alex’s fingers brush his right hand and turns into the touch immediately, locking their fingers together.

“You trust these people, right?” he asks at last, and the trepidation must show on his face because Alex reaches forward with his other hand to cup his face in his palm.

“Michael, I wouldn’t take you there if I didn’t,” Alex says softly, letting his thumb cares the swell of his cheekbone.

Michael closes his eyes to the feeling and takes a deep, grounding breath.

“And if it makes you feel better, as a precaution, I will be armed and I don’t intend to let you out of my sight for a single second the entire time we’re there,” Alex continues, the sincerity of his expression reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Michael can’t help but believe him—If there’s one thing in this entire world that Michael has faith in, it’s that Alex would do absolutely anything to keep him safe.

“Okay,” Michael nods, feeling the tightness in his chest ease. “I’ll ask Sanders for the day off tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says, projecting more confidence this time. “Daddy Dictator isn’t gonna wait around politely while we look for a way to stop him. The sooner we find out why he wants that machine, the better.”

“Okay,” Alex says. “We’ll carpool.”

Michael laughs at that. “Looking forward to it.”

Alex smiles at him then, his eyes flicking down toward his mouth, and Michael is suddenly very aware of how close they’re standing to each other. He can practically feel the heat coming from Alex’s body against his chest and Michael is suddenly desperate to find out if his sweater is as soft as it looks.

“So,” Michael says, his voice dropping in pitch just a little as he shifts even closer, “did you come all the way out here just to give me this or is there something else I can do for you?”

“Come here,” Alex laughs as he pulls Michael in for a kiss, the hand on his cheek sliding back to anchor in his curls.

The first touch of Alex’s lips is electric, sending shivers down his spine, and Michael is hopelessly addicted. He moves in for another kiss and then another, obsessed with the way Alex sighs against his mouth and tugs lightly on his hair. He lets go of Alex’s hand to wrap his arms around his waist between his leather jacket and his sweater, pleased to find it just as soft as he imagined.

He’s so lost in the sensation he doesn’t even realize he’s being moved until his back hits the side of the sedan he’s been working on. It knocks the breath out of him, making him gasp, and Alex takes full advantage, flicking the tip of his tongue inside his mouth. Michael moans and draws his arms tighter around Alex’s waist until they’re chest to chest, one of Alex’s legs slipping between his own.

Michael laughs softly against Alex’s mouth when he pulls back to take a breath, almost high on the love he feels for the man in his arms.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” Alex asks suddenly, brushing his nose alongside Michael’s.

“Alex Manes,” Michael says, pulling back to look at him, smiling so wide his face hurts. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah, I am,” Alex answers, wearing a bright smile of his own, and Michael can’t help but lean forward to kiss him again, his heart soaring with affection.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alex laughs when Michael pulls away.

“I’ve got maybe another twenty minutes of work to finish on this car before I can take a shower and get ready,” Michael tells him, “but you’re welcome to wait in the Airstream for me if you want.”

Alex gives him an incredulous look as he says, “If I wait for you in the Airstream, I think we both know we’re going to end up skipping dinner.”

“What’s the matter, Manes?” Michael asks, head tilting as he gives him a cheeky smile. “Afraid you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”

“I remember what you look like in a towel, Guerin,” Alex says, and the way he nudges his leg forward just a little more between Michael’s thighs has to be intentional. “Can you really blame me?”

Michael’s throat clicks as he swallows. “Fair enough,” he says. “Where should I meet you?”

“Come by my place at seven,” Alex says.

“Are you cooking for me?” Michael asks, eyebrows raised. He’s never done that for him before, didn’t even know Alex could cook.

“Maybe. You’ll just have to wait to find out,” Alex shrugs noncommittally, but his smile makes Michael think the answer is yes.

“Okay,” Michael grins.

“I’ll see you soon,” Alex says, leaning in for one last kiss that turns into several when Michael nips his bottom lip playfully between his teeth.

“Okay, I really gotta go,” Alex laughs a few moments later, voice muffled by Michael’s mouth.

“Mm, fine,” Michael grumbles, unwinding his arms from Alex’s waist with a short-lived pout. “I’ll see you later.”

Alex drops another kiss on Michael’s cheek before he turns around and heads back to his car.

Michael leans against the car and watches him drive off until his tail lights disappear in the distance before getting back to his work, a spring in his step and a broad smile on his face.

He’s so wrapped up thinking about what Alex has in store for him tonight, he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching behind him until he hears a gruff voice say, “Just friends, huh? They change the meaning of that word when I wasn’t looking?”

“Mind your business, old man,” Michael shoots back, not an ounce of heat in his words.

Sanders lets out an amused huff and takes another step closer, coming to stand beside him. “Happiness looks good on you, kid,” he says, clapping an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

Michael grins in spite of himself as he turns and catches the smile on Sanders’ weathered face. “Feels pretty good too.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #my fic

313 notes · View notes

raibebe · 5 years ago

Text

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?” “Nope.” “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.) “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again. You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now… “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.” You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe. “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless. “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

#kafenetwork #johnny #seo youngho #johnny suh #nct #johnny smut #johnny fluff #nct smut #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #johnny fic #johnny fanfic

4K notes · View notes

danidrabbles · 3 years ago

Text

OCTOBER 1: KNIFE PLAY

Notes: Kicking Kinktober off with the following. Thank you as always @javier-pena for reading this over for me!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+!)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, romance???, sexy use of knives (...i hope), sliiiiightly dub-con but that’s Dave for ya, dirty talk, gags, 1 **** (dedicated to Kelli and Cris 😘) If I forgot anything important, please let me know!

The slam of the door startles you awake. Sitting up in bed, you listen to him rummage around downstairs, trace his path through the kitchen, the living room, and up the stairs. Usually, he’s more quiet, at least attempts to not wake you, but the fact that he doesn’t must mean that today is one of those days.

You know what Dave does; your darling husband by day, something else entirely by night.

It hadn’t started off like that, is what he told you once he came clean. He really had been a CIA operative before becoming what he is now. But this suited him better. He had tried to explain what that meant, careful not to scare you; that people paid good money to eliminate other people, that it sometimes got messy.

But you weren’t scared. You tried to explain that to him, and that mutual understanding, that you were the same on some level others might consider fucked up, it deepened your bond, your marriage, in a way you never expected.

The bedroom door sweeps open, his silhouette dark in the deep of the night, painted in shadows, but the little light in the room does allow you to take note of the blood that has dried on his face. It makes you inhale deeply, fisting the duvet under your hands and waiting for him to make the first move.

It’s one of those days, after all.

Dave reaches you in two big steps, his boots heavy against the protesting wooden floor, but waits at the end of the bed, gnawing at his bottom lip and balling his fists like he has to physically hold himself back.

“It’s okay,” you say, and as soon as you do, he’s on you. Sheets discarded, he crawls over you, pushing you back against the mattress. His eyes roam your face, and he seems to be looking for more than that, so you give him more affirmations. “You can take what you need.”

Wordlessly, he straddles you, a thigh on either side of your body, and you’re trapped below the weight of him, your arms pinned to your side, the fabric of your nightgown stretched across your frame. There’s a barely-there roll of his hips, and he’s unmistakably hard as he seeks out the friction against you. He reaches behind himself, then produces his knife from his back pocket. With a click, the blade reveals itself, glinting like a promise and fuck, it shouldn’t make a burst of arousal flare up inside of you, but it does.

“You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dave asks as he turns the knife over in his hand once, twice, before giving you an expectant look.

“Yes,” you answer, obedient, eager, honest—because you would.

The cold blade—phosphated carbon steel, as he once explained to you—presses against the skin at your collarbone, the tip just hitting the side of your neck, and you swear you can feel your pulse racing against the sharp steel.

You know exactly what he can do with it, what he has done with it, and yet you trust him, literally with your life.

“You won’t hurt me, not unless you know I want it.”

You don’t miss the way he grins, or grinds down against you, or how he inspects your body under his. In a flash, he hooks the knife under one of the straps of your nightgown and pulls, the fabric parting easily around the top of the blade.

An eager hand pulls at the flap of fabric until he can fill his hand with the soft, plump flesh of your breast. With a gasp, you arch up against him, crying out when he pinches your nipple and twists.

You expect him to go for the other strap, expose your tits to him and play with them until you’re begging him for more, but instead, he fists the torn fabric and pulls it away from your body, bringing the knife up to begin cutting a slit right down the middle. With each rip-rip-rip of fabric, the throb between your legs gets more intense, and an actual moan escapes your lips when he fists the last bit of it and pulls, tearing the garment in half and pushing it to the sides of your body.

His finger dips under the waistband of your underwear, grazing just where the soft curls on your mound begin. He toys with it, pulling it from your body and letting the elastic snap against your skin, before hooking his finger back under it.

“Want me to tear this off, too?” he asks, focusing not on your face, but on the task at hand.

You take a deep breath. “Use the knife.”

That earns you his attention, something akin to pride flashing across his face before he looks back down. In one rapid move, the blade slides over your hip bone and under the fabric of your underwear. With a tug, it tears, the elastic snapping and the material folding back, exposing you to his hungry eyes.

Your head falls back against the pillow, and you moan as he repeats the action on the other side, again when he rips the fabric from between your legs.

“Open up,” he orders.

You try to move your legs, open them for him, but with his thighs still on either side of yours, it’s impossible. Just as you’re about to protest, he leans over you, grabbing you by the chin.

“Open. Your mouth.”

His fingers find your face, and the pinch to your cheeks borders on painful, making you open your mouth with a wet gasp.

Even in the dark, you can see him smile, before he tilts your head back just a tick and spits. His smile only grows when you welcome it with a moan, eyes fluttering and body surging under him before you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, kissing your open mouth before stuffing your ruined panties inside of it.

The blade is back at your throat, and the pressure of it against your voice box abruptly cuts off your answering whine. With a rough exhale Dave sits back and begins dragging the dull side of it down your body. Still, you find yourself holding your breath, your chest jutting out with the effort. Chin to your chest, you watch as he circles your nipple, once, twice, until it begins standing to attention, hardening at the cold, gentle touch. He brings it back to the centre of your chest and slides it over to your other breast, flicking at your nipple. Satisfied with how your body quivers under his, he slides the blade further down your body, following the bump of your ribcage to your belly button and down.

He shuffles back, and despite the fact that his body is no longer keeping your arms incapacitated, you keep them pressed against your torso while he crawls between your legs. With his free hand, he pulls one over each of his thighs, spreading you open for him to look at, to take you.

The knife kisses the sensitive skin of your thighs, and he keeps teasing you while he opens his trousers and takes his cock out. His eyes fix themselves on your cunt, no doubt glistening with want, even in the dim light of the night.

“You get so fucking wet for this shit, it’s depraved, sweetheart,” he grits out, and despite the fact he says it like he’s scolding you, you know he loves it. Dave is a dark man in more ways than one, and he loves that you’re like this. Like him. For him. With him.

He proves you right when he begins stroking himself, a ragged sigh sailing past his lips as he throws his head back, exposing the thick, strained tendons in his neck. He allows himself a couple seconds of relief, before he stops himself with a long exhale, a hand trailing up your thigh to touch you where you’re more than ready for him.

He fills you with two thick fingers, curling and stroking at your slippery walls, and it’s so much at once, making you cry out against the makeshift gag in your mouth.

“This sweet pussy is going to feel so perfect around my cock,” he says, eyes only leaving yours when he slowly pulls his fingers free, groaning softly at the way your body pulls at him, working to keep him inside. “Would you like that?”

You nod in the dark, unable to help yourself from bucking your hips to chase his touch. The hand that still holds the knife is quick to push you down, the blade glinting dangerously close to your hip bone.

“Want me to put it in, baby? Want me to put it all in? Push all the way inside until you can’t think about anything else but how deep you can feel me inside you?” He slides himself over your mound, pushing until the head of his cock can smear wetly under your belly button, showing off just what that would mean.

There’s so much you wish you could tell him right now. That yes, you want it. That you want him so badly to just take what he wants from you, here, like this, between the shreds of your clothes where you’re spread for the taking. That this ‘depraved shit’ does make you wet, it does when it’s him, when he uses you, when he makes it hurt.

But your affirmation is suppressed against the fabric in your mouth, nothing but incoherent, muffled babbles filling the bedroom.

And yet, it’s like he can tell exactly what you’d been thinking, because the knife hits the floor with a clatter, and if he gave you any time, you might be able to analyse the sudden surge of emotion that flows through you at the idea.

But he doesn’t give you that time. The sound of the blade startles you almost as much as the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance, as the slide of him inside, as the sharp thrust that makes his thighs slap against the back of yours. He pushes you up the mattress with the force of it, and your hand flies up to press a palm against the headboard to keep your head from knocking against it.

“Fucking Christ,” he sighs, stilling for a second to revel in the tight squeeze of your pussy before he draws back and spears himself through your slick walls - again, again, again.

“I’m gonna make this pussy come,” he promises, voice strained. “I’m gonna make it flood my cock and then I’m gonna cover you in my come,” he adds, a hand dragging over your torso, thumb and pinkie catching on your hardened nipples before he settles his hand on your hip to pull you down against him.

The head of his cock knocks against the button of your womb with each thrust, and at your silenced keens, he falls down to a forearm, eyes boring into yours as he continues to fuck you. “I’ve got you, baby,” he assures.

Your hand curls around his bicep, fingernails digging into the fabric of his long-sleeved top. It’s wet, warm, no doubt evidence of his successful mission, and that thought, your body’s response to it, eases the glide of him inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, his hand leaving your hip to slide between your legs, to draw maddening circles around your slippery, puffy clit, and with the way he’s been working you up, you already know it will take no time at all. “You know that, right?”

You nod with a muffled groan, focusing on the way he stretches you open and plays with your clit, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes with how hard you squeeze them shut as it builds—as it all builds.

You know.

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you all tomorrow for October 2: Stripping. Anyone who guesses correctly which character I’ve written for will get a sneak peek at the fic in their DMs😌

Taglist

@javier-pena, @highsviolets, @frannyzooey, @silksaddle, @artsymaddie, @doin-stuff, @jettia, @stevie754, @amneris21, @readsalot73, @mswarriorbabe80, @queen-sands, @javierpinme, @flyovertheandesman, @pazizz, @honestly-shite, @pedrostories

#dani writing #kinktober 2021 #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #the equalizer 2 #fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

163 notes · View notes

maxortecho · 3 years ago

Text

Somehow I dreamed the best S4 Echo scene on my own lmfao SO:

Basically it was set mid-season. It was night-time, Max quietly sitting on their couch and Liz comes home. She sits across from him for A Talk and he’s unsure where it’s going, he’s listening with rapt attention, all furrowed brow and puppy eyes (she’s talking about the things that frustrate her, the things she loves, about living with him this past year; kind of like 1x09 pre-kiss speech), before he’s like “wait are you…” and Liz says “what I’m saying is I want to marry you”

Then a BIG Max grin, him getting teary-eyed, Liz carefully watching his face journey before she starts grinning at him too. Him drawing her over for a big passionate giggly kiss, Liz wiping tears off his cheeks with her thumbs between kisses, but soon it turning more heated as he kisses down her face, neck, shoulder.

Cue HBO style sexy-but-funny sex montage 😌 Them starting on the couch being all “ily ily ily”, cut to round two on the couch and this time Liz is on top and they’re teasing each other for shit like Liz’s science equipment taking up so much room that they’ll need to extend the house, how Liz always finds books in weird places, etc, cut to them having sex on Max’s desk and the sun is clearly starting to rise.

Cut to (my favourite one, my dream self was cackling) a bathroom sink POV (like we’re on god damn breaking bad??) that’s looking up at Liz’s face as she’s bent over it, with her arms braced on the sink, Max’s arms braced outside hers too; you can only see from their torsos up but he’s standing behind her, thrusting, because they’ve clearly gone from romantic to just plain dirty, and he’s whispering in her ear “do you know how many times in the last year that I’ve wanted to use the sink in the morning and can’t because you’re using it; did you ever wonder why I bought that bedroom mirror; so I can actually get ready for work and be on time” and Liz just keeps breathlessly laughing.

Cut AGAIN and Max is officially late to work so they’re rushing and Liz is in her pjs driving him while he’s doing up his shirt buttons etc in the passenger seat. Liz parks the car nearby the station and they’re getting all sentimental and not wanting to part for the day—Liz crawls across the centre console to get in his lap and they’re about to have sex yet again but there’s a sharp rap on the windows. It’s one of the deputies telling them not to behave inappropriately in a public place, but then the deputy does a double take like “oh—Sheriff Evans—sir—I…” Scandalised and deeply uncomfortable the deputy abruptly walks off, and Max is absolutely mortified but Liz can’t stop laughing about it. She pushes him out of the car and says she’ll see him later. When she’s left alone in the car she’s still bursting with happiness, biting her lip as she smiles and looks in the rearview mirror as Max walks away, with it like a soft callback to the 2x13 mirror scene.

It was SO. GOOD. Love my brain for showing this to me!!! 😍

#rnm echo #liz x max #echo #fic things

15 notes · View notes

tf2-hellhole · 4 years ago

Note

can we get some fluffy tf2 headcannons? giving you full creative liberty over this one! :)

Idk if you meant tf2 x reader headcanons or just general head canons, so I did two sections for each merc; the first point is a general headcanon, the second is X Reader.

sorry this took forEEEEEEEEVER, I was just experiencing burnout and working on a prize for a contest on my server (BTW WE HAVE A NEW DRAWING CONTEST GO CHECK IT OUT)

Scout:

Scout is actually really self-concious about his intelligence. He’s not very bright and he knows it, and it makes him feel horrible. He had flunked out of high school and struggled in most of his core classes. He honestly feels really stupid and he hates when people point it out. But luckily for him, a lot of the other mercs understand what it’s like to be looked down upon and empathize with him. Quite a few of them help him relearn the skills he never mastered in school. Engie helps him with math, Spy sometimes helps him with writing, and even Pyro has him read children’s books to them to improve his reading.

Scout absolutely loves little casual dates. Stuff like going out to eat lunch, going to the movies, maybe just cuddling up in his quarters and watching a movie. He tries to plan one every week. His dream date is taking you back to Boston to meet his family and go to a Red Sox game. But obviously, since you’re both in New Mexico at the time, he’s going to have to shelve that dream for a few years.

Soldier:

Soldier is an excellent raccoon dad. At first, the other mercenaries thought they’d all end up dead by the end of the month when he first found them. But surprisingly, they are are very well cared for. They’re all fed regularly and basically have his entire assigned quarters to themselves. He loves every single one of them dearly, even the ones that hiss and scratch him every time. The raccoons, at least some of them, are kind of like weird, quiet dogs, and actually get along pretty well with most of the other mercenaries.

Soldier is a surprisingly very physically affectionate partner, and he’s not at all opposed to PDA. He loves hand holding, cheek kisses, cuddles, the whole nine yards. Whenever he’s particularly excited, he loves to run up to you, scoop you up into his arms, and press a hard, sloppy kiss to your lips. Of course, he’s careful to not hurt you, but he’s a very intense, emotional guy and he needs to express all that love he has for you!

Pyro:

Pyro is and excellent listener, so they’re a person a lot of the other mercenaries depend on to vent. Demo often comes to them to vent about his emotions, Scout, Sniper, or Medic will rant about what’s bothering them, and even Engineer will talk about his stress. And of course, Pyro doesn’t understand a lot of what is told to them, but they’re still happy to help them feel a little better, and they would happily do it a hundred times over to make their friends feel better.

Pyro has a hobby of baking and making candy/treats, and they love sharing everything they make with you. When they first gave you a treat, you honestly thought it’d be burnt or bad in some other way. But to your surprise, it was amazing! They’re actually and excellent cook, but they just love making sweet things the best. They’ll make you just about anything you could ask for without hesitation, but they’re best at making anything sweet.

Demo:

Demo obviously has the potential to pretty emotional when he’s drunk, there’s no doubt about that. But on the off-chance that he’s sober, he’s actually pretty sweet and considerate. Though he still is a rough-housing joker, he’s much more considerate of his friends’ feelings and has deeper and more meaningful conversations with them. He often likes to go to bars with his friends and co-workers on ceasefire weekends, having lots of fun conversation, drinking together, and generally causing chaos around town.

Demo, to put it simply, doesn’t like himself. He’s critical of everything, from his skills to race, because people have always put him down about them. His mother told him he’s lazy and unskilled too many times to count, just everyone makes fun of his eye, and many have made fun of his skin color. But you make him feel so much better about himself. Just the fact that someone so kind and gorgeous is actually with him makes him feel like he’s not as horrible as he thought. There’s been a couple of times where you’ve accidentally almost brought him to tears with a sweet compliment or show of affection, because he never thought in a million years that someone would love him and care for him like you do. He feels so blessed that he has someone like you.

Heavy:

I know the fandom’s decided that Engie is the Team Mom and makes the food, but I also think that Heavy cooks a lot too. He makes all of his own food, so he often makes a lot of extras to feed the team because a lot of them just eat junk food and Medic’s always complaining about their eating habits. Heavy often takes like half the food for himself (he does have a huge appetite and loves food, so he likes to take a lot) and just boxes up the leftover portions and leaves them in the fridge for the team to take. He says he’s only doing it because they can’t work properly if they’re unhealthy, but he also does it because he cares about their health. A little bit.

At first, you wouldn’t think Heavy’s the most cuddly guy. But surprise, he actually loves giving and receiving physical affection. He just doesn’t show it often out of respect for your boundaries, and doesn’t do it around others. His absolute favorite thing is to cuddle you against his chest. Sometimes it’s when going to sleep, or cuddling on the couch, or maybe just a quick hug. He just loves the feeling of your head resting against his chest and your arms trying (and failing) to wrap around his torso. It makes him feel like you’re safe. Nobody could ever get you when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

Engie:

You’d think Sniper’s the only nature nerd on the team, but Engie absolutely loves the outdoors, as well as animals. It’s because his father would often take him out camping every couple of months. It was often the only time he would get 1-on-1 time with his usually very busy father. So he does love the great outdoors, especially that of his home state. He especially loves animals. He was raised on a farm and helped take care of lots of injured wild animals with his mother. He absolutely loves pets and would like to have many when he retires. His dream is to have is own ranch, with horses and cows and a bunch of dogs and the whole shebang.

Engie absolutely loves playing the guitar, so of course he loves playing for you. He learns all sorts of sweet love songs to sing to you. He’s an excellent player and actually has a pretty decent singing voice (think Johnny Cash, he kinda has that singing style). I hope you like country music, because that’s all he’s going to sing to you until you give him some requests or he finds out your favorite artists or genres. You can tell how happy he is every time he gets to surprise you with a new song he learned, and he’d be a giddy, laughing mess if you sang along with him.

Medic:

You’d think this guy takes horrible care of his birds because of the environment he keeps them in, but his birds are actually exceptionally well cared for. He buys them only the best and most expensive bird food, gives them super high-quality water with vitamins n stuff in it, takes them to the vet regularly, the whole shebang. Yeah they get a little dirty from sitting around in his lab, but he always gives them a little bath at the end of the day to get all the blood and guts off.

Medic is honestly such a playful partner. Of course, around his co-workers he’s a little more professional; he still gives you soft touches, a kiss on the cheek, or a big smile, but that’s about it. In private, however, he’s such a sweetheart. He’s always sweeping you up into big hugs, kissing all over your face, and calling you all sorts of adorable nicknames in a variety of languages. It comes as a surprise, because you’d think he’d be a little more formal, but that’s really only for special occasions. It honestly brings him so much joy to have someone like you by his side, and every day he’s going to make sure you know just how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Sniper:

Sniper is an incredibly independent and self-sufficient man, but he’s also secretly a real mama’s boy. He loves his parents dearly and has a particularly close relationship with his mother. As well as sending them money every month, he sends them all sorts of gifts, letters, postcards, and souvenirs. He also makes sure to call them regularly. He goes home every couple of months to visit them, and one could see that he loves helping around the house and chatting with his parents. His mother loved gardening, so his number-1 favorite thing to do is help her in the garden.

Despite Sniper’s obvious lack of knowledge on self-care, he takes a lot of time out of his day to make sure you are happy, healthy, clean, and well-fed. He doesn’t hound you like a helicopter parent but he likes to ask how you’re feeling, if you’re hungry, stuff like that. It feels nice to know you’re taken care of or take care of you himself. If you switch it around and try to take care of him, however, he’s honestly baffled as to why you would care so much as to make sure he’s doing well. He does absolutely love the affection and attention he gets out of it though, it makes him feel loved.

Spy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I have a head canon that Spy has a dog. Her name is Charlotte, and she’s an elderly Chihuahua. One would think he’d buy a French breed, but he found her out in the pouring rain one day and fell in love with her fluffy ears and spunky personality. She’s now 17 years old, extremely frail, missing most of her teeth, and extremely aggressive to anyone other than Spy, but he loves her dearly and pays for all of her medical expenses without batting an eye. And of course, she expresses her thanks with lots of kisses.

Spy loves dancing, and knows all kinds of dances, from flamenco to ballroom dancing to the Charleston to, canonically, disco. So of course, he’s dying to share all of the most romantic dances he knows with you. He’d love to actually teach you how to dance, rewarding you with kisses every time you finally get a move right and laughing softly when you make mistakes. But in reality, he just wants to use it as an excuse to dance with you against his chest and smother you in affection.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 x s/o #tf2 x y/n #tf2 x you #tf2 imagines #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy

506 notes · View notes

thishintoflove · 4 years ago

Text

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman golden circle #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x male reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

466 notes · View notes

scorpiobitch95 · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: You try convince Walter to love your favorite snack throughout your years together. The best dates are shared over cereal, after all.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: sugary sweet fluff, implied smut — nothing graphic, snarkiness, grumpy Walter to fluffy Walter, cursing, cuteness overload.

Author's Note: I let myself get carried away with this one. I needed grumpy but sweet Walter in my life. I hope you enjoy!

Edited by myself, sorry not sorry for the errors.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsharman @beck07990 @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @kebabgirl67

Taglist for this fic: @lumiousmoon

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

It started when you and Walter were early dating.

💋

“Mmmm, pause. I need a snack.” Uncurling yourself from Walter’s warm body on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen to find something to cure your hunger. You called behind you, “Want anything, Marsh?”

“Whatever you’re having... I’ll have the same.”

“Cereal it is!” You pulled the ceramic bowls from the cabinet and opened the fridge to grab the milk. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Walter’s face scrunch in confusion. “What?”

“Cereal? Absolutely not,” Walter scoffed. “Would you grab me those spicy crisps?”

“Spicy chips, coming right up.” Vernacular was the subject of an ongoing heated debate with the Brit: the great ‘Names for Snacks Debate’ was especially hostile.

Once settled back under the blanket and snuggled into his side once more, you unpaused the movie. The energy in the room shifted, you could sense that you were being watched, but you refused to look up to look at Walter’s face. The judgment coming from the bear of a man who crunched his chips beside you was glaring.

"Stop it," you told him as you kept your eyes on the movie.

Walter didn’t say a word. His eyes traveled back to the TV but kept finding their way back to you.

“Walt, what is it? Is there something on my face?” You giggled at him lightly, unsure of what was bothering him.

“You really chose that for a snack?” His face was bewildered as if you were eating a bowl of Jeep parts.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t eat cereal as a snack.” He shook his head curtly, wearing a look of disgust. Your eyebrows crinkled together as you followed by asking, “Not even as a quick dinner?”

“Cereal is meant for one time and one place, and that’s sometimes in the mornings for breakfast. That's why they call it breakfast cereal, love. Not dinner cereal, not snack cereal... Do you also eat cereal for lunch?” He was poking fun at you now.

“No, I’m not a heathen, Walter. Here, try a bite, just trust me. It’s amazing as a movie snack.”

His eyes were wide as a grimace was sent in your direction, “You’re crazy — no one does that.”

“Plenty of people do that,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m really not the biggest fan…” Walter sighed and settled further into the couch, preparing for your exasperation that he knew was soon to follow.

“WHAT. Not the biggest fan of cereal? I’m sorry, you were sheltered as a child, weren’t you? There's cereal out there for everyone, Walt. Come on, try it.” You scooped a spoonful of your sugary Cinnamon Toast Crunch and held it to him. He reluctantly obliged your wishes, eating the bite but keeping a look of pain on his face for the entire time he chewed.

"See? Delicious. Ice-cold, crunchy, sweet, perfect." A sugary grin accompanied your playful tone, and Walter shook his head again, exaggerating his distaste for having to chew such an atrocity.

"Mhm. Definitely delicious." Your goofy bear was simmering under the surface of his scouring demeanor, though he stuck his tongue out in mock disgust.

"You're not the biggest fan," you muttered under your breath and rolled your eyes for dramatic effect. "I'll show you."

💋

Standing in the grocery store, you and Walter were having a battle of wits, arguing on the subject of your sweet tooth.

“I’m just trying to show concern for your dental health since you obviously won’t; all that sugar isn’t good for you.” Walter stood stern with his arms crossed, unmoving and solid like a brick wall.

“I appreciate your worry, Dad, but I’m going to keep eating it because I love it. One day, I bet I’ll convince you and you’ll be eating it with me. Plus, my dental health is immaculate, my dentist said so.”

The expression on Walter's face was unwavering as his eyebrows raised in a non-verbal challenge to your declaration.

“I don’t know how you can stand to eat that crap,” he muttered, thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Oh no, don’t you dare, you grump! I don’t get on you about your snacks, back off mine. ” Despite his unnecessary grouchiness, you placed a hand on his crossed arms and raised up on your toes to give him a soft kiss on his bearded face. “Balance, babe. It’s all about balance.” You dug your way through his arms to find his hands and you drug him a little further down the cereal aisle.

“Come on, grumbly, pick out a cereal you think you might enjoy, for experiment’s sake.”

💋

“Fuck, babe. I’m going to be late, we just got called out on another accident. I am so sorry… I’m not sure when I’ll be home.” Walter had been working a ton lately, and his irritation with just how much he’d been working was starting to show. The two of you had been together for a few months now and had started to grow accustomed to having the other around consistently. You both became out of sorts when you hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“Don’t even worry about it, Walter. Just be careful, please... You should still come over when you’re finished tonight, but no pressure if you’re exhausted.”

“Of course, still need to kiss you goodnight. I can’t sleep if I haven’t.”

Walter Marshall might be a grump, but that grump could make your heart flutter in ways that you’d never felt before. Maybe it was that his sweetness and his charms were completely reserved for you and you alone. His teddy bear nature only appeared when he was near you. After putting back the ingredients for dinner to save for another night, you went to change into your sweats.

Walter appeared at your front door at 12:30 that night, nearly asleep but still standing strong. You’d dozed off on the couch after his call, but were immediately energized again when you saw his beautiful form standing in your doorway.

“Hello, I’m here to have a very late night date with an incredibly beautiful woman,” Walter said, the gravel in his voice making you shiver. Despite his exhaustion, Walter managed to smile at you with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him manage.

You smirked, waving him inside. “Get in here, Bear.”

Walter reached his arms out to you, inviting you into his embrace. Your arms wrapped around his thick torso and you ran your hands up and down his sweater-clad back; he melted into you and burrowed his face into your neck. Walter released an exhaustive exhale. It was heavy and forceful, as though he’d been holding it back behind a stone barricade for the entirety of his day. Warmth flooded your body as his words vibrated from his chest, “Mmm... I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Let’s get you fed. Preferences?”

Still snuggled in your neck, he gave his reply, “Nothing heavy, please. I don’t want to fall asleep at the table. That wouldn’t make for a good date.”

“Oh Walter, we can postpone date night, you need to eat something and get to bed. It’s nearly one,” you observed gently as you leaned your head back to get a better look at his face.

“No. I came here to have a date night. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day. I need you.” Walter’s warm lips caressed your forehead, placing soft kisses on you. “You think you’re still up for it?”

Nodding at him sweetly, you untangled from his embrace and went to tumble through the fridge, offering out suggestions for food, but he insisted, yet again, that you don’t go to any trouble.

“Okay… you’re going to hate it, but my last option is cereal. Other than that, it’s gonna be random leftovers.” You continued moving containers around in the fridge, taking stock of what you had left from the week before.

“Actually, I think I can handle some cereal.” You whipped your head around incredulously to look and heckle him, but he gruffly interrupted, pointing a finger at you from where he sat at your kitchen table. "Don't. Don't start. It's been a brutal day, and something cold doesn't sound half bad."

You smirked in silence as you turned back and poured your bowls, dancing your hips lightly side to side. Grabbing the candles you had left out for your dinner date, you lit them and placed them gently on the table between the two of you. It was date night, after all.

“Late night cereal date, it is.” Reaching down to caress his chin, you kissed one bearded cheek before sitting beside him. Walter’s lips held a slight curl, softly smiling at your glee.

💋

“Love, snack break?”

The two of you were engaged in an intense game of Scrabble, one of your favorite date-night-in traditions. Nodding your head in Walter’s direction, you continued to study your letters and the board with pure focus until you heard the twinkling sound of cereal hitting ceramic.

Not wanting to draw too much attention, you peeked up from your letter rack to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you. Walter was not just making a bowl for you, but he was also making one for himself.

No way.

Walter made his way back to the table with the cereal, and you looked up at him in shock as though you hadn’t already noticed what he’d done.

“What is this? What is this I see? Walter Marshall choosing breakfast cereal as a snack? Why, I just cannot believe it.” Mock-surprise overtook your form as you motioned fake mind-blowing explosions from your head. Walter rolled his eyes.

“I figured If I can learn to like you, I can learn to like cereal.”

“HEY.”

Walter shrugged, retaking his seat at the table.

You squinted your eyes at him as you declared, “You’re going down for that. And I don’t just mean by losing this game.” A wicked grin crossed your face when you played your double score word:

“CHEERIO”

💋

Walter worked a lot of graveyard shifts while you were dating and during your early years of marriage while you worked a normal 8-5. Sometimes the only moments that you could see each other were when he came home from his shift early in the mornings before you started your day or in the evenings when you got home before he left to start his.

One early morning during your engagement, Walt showed up unannounced after a hard few nights at the PD. He was worn down but happy to see you, smiling through his exhaustion. This was the longest you’d been apart in a while; you hadn't seen each other in 4 days. You kissed him, lips attacking his while his arms snaked around you and pulled you tightly to his body. He hadn’t even come into the house yet.

Pulling him inside, your hands reached up to hold his scruffy face as you placed a more gentle kiss on his lips. “Babe, have you had dinner? Let’s get you something to eat… what would you like?”

He unfastened his holster, dropping it on the table by the door. Sinking into a chair, Walter bent over to untie his boots as he answered, “Honestly, anything is fine, just some kind of food.”

“I can cook you something! Why don’t you let me —“

“Sweet, don’t go to any trouble. I just want to see you before you go to work.”

He looked at the table where you had just sat down to a bowl of cereal for a quick breakfast before he arrived and pointed lazily to it. “That, I’ll take some,” he said, sleep trying to overtake his form.

Slowly grinning at his statement, you mentioned, "Isn't this technically your dinner time?" Walter wasn’t amused as he tilted his head to look at you as you gasped playfully, “You do realize you're about to eat cereal for dinner, right, Marsh?" Too sleepy to give his verbal rebuttal, he glared at you, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, which was your signal to accept your victory and move on.

Smiling softly back at him, you made your way to pour him a big bowl and made him a cup of piping hot tea to accompany it. Watching his face as he ate, you observed the little creases and purple-gray rings that had formed around his deep ocean-blue eyes. His beard was unkempt and had grown past its normal length just in the few days you’d been apart; you could see this was a new level of exhaustion.

“Tough night?” You asked him, moving your chair closer to him.

He nodded. “Very.” The nights were becoming more strenuous recently. Ever since he had switched to the detective unit, work had been holding him hostage and was taking a toll more than he’d like to admit.

His hand reached over to squeeze the free one lying on your lap. “I’m happy to see you, love.” The hard lines on his face softened as he traced lazy circles on the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. You could see in his eyes that he meant it, that you were his safe space. Walter always was in protection mode, always on alert, even though you tried to keep him at ease when he was with you. He was only really ever at ease once he was home and you were safe in his arms.

The food began to rouse him from sleepiness, and as he gained alertness, Walter’s brow furrowed as he took notice of the cereal box sitting on the dining table. “This is the one we’re eating? I expected you to be eating more of one of those tooth-rotting cereals that you love so much.” He looked over at the box of Honey Bunches of Oats with curiosity and then back at you, lifting what you called his ‘detective eyebrow.’

“This is… surprisingly somewhat better for you? Or at least it acts like it is.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad. I only let you believe that I am. It is my breakfast time after all,” you winked at him knowingly.

“Good to know my words are finally starting to sink in. I mean, it’s not that much better for you,” he was reading the box now, “but at least it isn’t borderline fluorescent, like those artificial fruity ones you’re always eating.”

“You know, it’s almost like I expect the hate and just enact my deflection shield every time you walk in the door.” You started giggling, unable to keep a straight face as you threw your arms in front of your face as a shield to his words. “Don’t worry, Walt, my guilty pleasure cereal collection is well-stocked. And quit hating on my Fruity Pebbles.”

💋

Slowly over time, these seemingly random cereal dates became a large foundation for quality time. These dates became like snapshots, each one memorable in its own way.

When you two hadn’t seen each other in days, you caught up over a cold bowl of sugary sweetness. You, telling all the details of your days; him, quietly listening and trying his best to leave his nights behind.

From then on, all it took was knowing you could have a cereal date mixed in the chaos of everyday life. Anytime things got hard or heavy, it was time to have a cereal date. Anytime you had a fight: you both would pause and make a bowl of cereal, sitting across the table from each other so that you could speak your feelings. There weren’t many of the world’s problems, or your own, that couldn’t be solved over sugary cereal and cold milk.

💋

You’d dragged Walter to your shared bed as soon as he’d arrived home, having not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time for the past month. This current case of his was intense and ongoing, but he was finally finished. You knew he was defeated in energy, but you were ovulating and your hormones were raging. Your body craved his touch and the feel of his skin gliding upon your own.

The plan was to go to dinner for a romantic evening since it had been a long while since that had been possible, but as soon as he walked through the door, your feral sexuality washed over you and you jumped into his arms. You clung to him with your face in his neck, taking in his scent and the warmth of his strong arms holding you up. He clung to you just as tightly. There was no complaint from the bear, for he was more than happy to spend the evening spoiling his lover.

Cuddling in the afterglow of your countless orgasms, a storm raged outside as tree limbs slapped at your windows incessantly.

“Wow, it sounds awful out there. I know we were going out, but I think that point is moot now.” You glanced up at Walter, kissing his jaw. “Let’s just cook something easy instead.”

“That sounds great, and we can stay naked.” Walt’s eyebrows danced flirtatiously as he grinned down at you, his hands caressing your warm skin. “I’ll go hunt around so I can keep my woman energized for the night ahead. We are nowhere near done.”

He’d only been gone a minute when a crack of thunder shook the house and the lights went dark. You heard his mumbling coming from the kitchen; he had called in to get a status update from the energy company.

Walking back into the bedroom, Walter, in his naked glory, walked over to where you laid, illuminated only by the candle he held in his hand. Wow, your husband was delicious.

"Power’s out for the whole city. It’ll take hours since this storm doesn’t have an end in sight. Looks like a hot dinner is off the table… and no one will deliver in this weather. I guess we know what’s for dinner." Setting the candle on the nightstand, he crawled back into bed.

Feeling seductive, despite being completely spent from your ravenous love-making mere minutes beforehand, you still hadn’t had your fill of your husband. You bit your lip as you ran your eyes up and down his exquisite body and cheekily replied, “Me, I hope.”

He chuckled lowly, the fangs in his pearly-white smile glinting at you in the candlelight. “You? Yes. I plan to feast on you all night long, kitten. But you’re going to need some sustenance first.” He was hovering over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached to run your fingers along his hairy chest and wrapped a leg around his hip, pulling him closer to you.

"Make it a cereal date?" You grinned at him.

“You read my mind.”

💋

“Our child is going to come out looking like the Lucky Charms Leprechaun if you don’t change it up some, love.”

Your cravings were intense. You’d heard several different views from your girlfriends and sisters: some craved random things they never even liked before, and some craved more of the things that they already loved and ate religiously before pregnancy. You fell into the latter. Cereal was your most sought-after snack: a big surprise to no one.

There weren’t many cliche late-night ice cream runs, but there were plenty of cereal and milk runs. Walter was a dutiful dad already, not lecturing you too often on what you wanted; he knew you were doing what you had to for the baby, and you ate healthily enough… aside from the copious amounts of junk cereal.

True to numerous other times in your life, date nights were hard to come by, even still. Sometimes the only dates you and Walter would get were in the wee hours of the morning when you’d wake up with a craving.

Walter was extremely doting, and even though he’d always been a caretaker, he really came into his own when you both learned you were to become parents. He’d crawl from the bed without a word, rummaging in the kitchen to bring you a bowl of your favorite and even bringing a small one for himself. You two would snuggle in the bed and talk. Talk about your baby, about future babies, about the future, about your dreams, all of it. You never knew when you met the grumpy bear that he would become this sweet of a man, always tender with you even when he was rough. Maybe it was the cereal sugar that had sweetened him up, at least you’d like to think so.

💋

Your daughter had been in the world for a little over three weeks, and neither you nor Walter had gotten much sleep since her arrival.

Walter finally got her down to sleep while you watched from the nursery doorway. You hadn’t had a meal together or slept at the same time for more than 10 minutes in weeks.

He was standing over her crib, resting his arms on the side as he watched her sleep. He was infatuated with this tiny human who had completely taken hold of his heart.

“Honey, join me for a date?” Your smile was tired, and as your bear’s exhausted eyes met yours, you wondered if you two shouldn’t just go to bed, but you missed him. You’d barely gotten the chance to praise him for how good of a daddy he was to your little girl.

“Mhm, gladly. Our usual?” He quietly followed you to the living room, where the coffee table had already been set up with the works. Craving the feel of his touch on your skin, you both sat on the couch and you laid your legs across his lap while you enjoyed the serenity of each other’s company.

💋

A chill glided across your skin as you awoke from a dream. You rolled over, reaching your arms out to find your sturdy man, searching for his warmth. Instead, you found cold bedsheets.

Unlike Walter to not be in bed with a furry arm draped over you, you pulled on your robe and went to find him, a slight worry filling your mind.

Surely he would have woken me if he’d had to go in?

As you stepped into the hallway, you heard hushed giggles and whispers coming from the kitchen. You stopped to poke your head into your kids’ rooms. Their beds were empty.

At least it’s Saturday.

Quietly pitter-pattering to your kitchen, you peered your head around the corner to find one of the sweetest sights your eyes had ever seen: your two babes, 8 and 5, were playing a princess board game at the table with your Bear. Cereal by their side, giggles ensued as the sugar hit their systems and they tried their best to keep quiet.

Walter’s deep whisper quietly filled the space. “Shh, girls. We can’t wake Mum, she needs her rest.”

“Can I have more Cap’n Crunch, Daddy?” Your youngest had an insatiable sweet tooth, just like her mama. She was quietly bouncing in her chair and smiling a toothy grin at her daddy.

“You’re just like your mum,” Walter beamed at her, obliging her wishes. “Just a little more, love, then we need to brush our teeth and get back to sleep.”

Not wanting the girls to know that you knew about their secret, you decided to make your way back to bed, but not before catching your husband’s eye as he winked at you and a grin radiated from his face.

Warm tingles filled your body as you silently thanked the universe for Walter and the life that the two of you had built together. Walter was the best dad and husband in the world. How had you gotten so lucky?

💋

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Golden Grahams, love?” Walter called to you from the kitchen.

The movie was selected, the kids were away for the evening sleeping at friend’s houses, and you and Walter were having a much-deserved night in.

You called back to him, “I’m thinking I’m going to skip the cereal? I’m not really feeling it tonight. I will, however, eat the spicy chips. Oh, and grab that dip out of the fridge, will ya?”

“For the last time, they are crisps.” Annoyance was evident by his tone.

“They’re chips, Walter. You’ve lived in the states for how long now? Just give it up already.”

“No fucking way. Wait… You don’t want cereal? Are you feeling alright?” Walter’s head popped into the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room, his face stern with confusion and concern.

“Ehh, not right now. Yes, I’m fine, Marsh,” you giggled. “Just feeling like something different for once.”

“Well, that’s shocking. I’m just wondering if you’re really my wife.” Giggles continued to flow out of you as he wandered back to where you were seated. He handed you your snack, and plopped on the couch next to you, cuddling into you as you tossed a blanket over both of your bodies. Walter started the movie and began to chow down on the bowl of cereal he’d made for himself. You couldn’t control the smirk that spread across your lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” he asked, his mouth full of the golden and cinnamon squares. His eyes met yours, questioning you.

“I would just like to point out that I knew I could convince you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, not sure what you meant. “Convince me of what?”

“That cereal is the best movie snack.”

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s the best…”

“Walt, I’m sitting here with your previous favorite movie snack in my hands, and you totally skipped over it and went for cereal. I’m just saying, I told you so. It’s okay, I’ve known I was right all along, you don’t have to admit it.”

“Hmm.” He growled, mouth full again as he ignored your statement.

“Give me a bite!” You pressed closer to him, reaching for his spoon as he angled his body and cereal away from you.

“Oh no, nice try. You tease, you don’t get any.”

“Fine, grumpy, I’ll go make my own. Keep watching, I’ll be back.”

Shuffling to the kitchen, you proceeded to grab a bowl and make your own, but you found both cereal boxes empty on the counter. Quickly turning to check your special cereal cabinet for a backup box, you discovered you were completely out.

“WALTER! Are you fucking kidding me? We just bought those!” Standing with your arms crossed in the doorway, you glared at Walt as he stared back at you unfazed.

“I hate to break up your gloating, but you created this monster, love. And don’t forget about our two other little monsters who take after you.” His grin was cocky; he knew he’d bested you. Laser beams could have been shooting from your eyes for all you knew. You shook your head in disbelief at the audacity of your husband.

That bastard. That beautiful bastard.

Walter smiled softly at you and motioned for you to rejoin him on the couch. Much to your dismay, your anger at him diffused immediately. “Love, I’ll go buy more first thing in the morning. Here, come and share mine. I’ll be nice… it is date night, after all.”

* I do not own Walter Marshall, Nomis, Night Hunter, or anything related to it.

#Walter marshall #Walter marshall x you #nomis #night hunter #Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #cereal dates #scorpiobitch95 #jill writes #fluff #Walter fluff

154 notes · View notes

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 6

If sharing a glass of wine with Harry the other night didn’t make you wish things could go back to normal--whatever that was--seeing him with CeCe before bed did.

She stomped her feet in the bathroom when you brushed through her hair. “I’m not tired! I want to stay up later with Maeve!”

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey��s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.”

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: one word, yikes.

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @haute-romance-quotidienne @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @rainbowbutterflyboy @goldeng1rl8 @elisassblog @staceystoleyourheart @themonsterheloved @greatestview @splendidsunsetsx @awomanindeniall @bequietdee @greeneyesandtea @sonofabitchstyles @sunsetcurve-h @dangerousdelusiondreamland @hsfics @abundanceofsoph @golden-asoab @giveyourheartabreak-xx @poguestyleskye @sabnstyles @call1800coochie

297 notes · View notes