#man thinks he's a comedian after making us all cry

[flatspot]

"you came into this tournament saying i'm not sure i have very high expectations."

[nexus-my-beloved]

This isn't my usual content but I recently (four days ago) decided to read the actual book for IT so here's a couple of headcanons (specifically centred around 1990 IT, but I'll specify which years just in case):

-1990 Eddie likely had severe anxiety around showers and baths after the time he saw Pennywise in the gym locker room showers. He probably always had a fear of the clown stretching open the drain again and reaching to grab him and drag him into the sewers. Eddie is afraid of disease and germs, though, conditioned to it, so he still took showers and baths- but he probably scrubbed hard enough to make his skin red and raw and he did it fast before rushing out, always racing against an invisible clock that when the timer was up Pennywise would grab him. This fear probably carried over to adulthood, even when he forgot about Derry, and he likely got better with it but probably still was afraid for some unknown reason- he probably took ten minute showers, fifteen at most.

-1990 Reddie headcanon: when they were kids, Richie probably had a small crush on Eddie, but he likely had more feelings for Stanley (1990 Stozier truther here but also universal Reddie enjoyer). When they were adults, though, Richie probably grew out of his feelings for Stanley and I like to think he had more feelings for Eddie that resurfaced the moment he saw him. Eddie probably liked Richie a lot when they were adults, but probably wasn't very big on him when they were kids.

-1990 Stenbrough headcanon: for years after Derry, Bill probably would say random bird species when he was anxious. He wouldn't remember who this was from or realize it was from one of his best friends until he got back to Derry, and that friend was dead. Bill likely held on hope that Stan would come, and probably felt his heart bleed a bit when he realized Stan had killed himself. He never got to fess up to the little crush he used to have.

-2019 Reddie headcanon: based on the fact that Eddie yelled "I knew it! I fucking knew it!" when they were leaving the restaurant after Richie admitted to not writing his own material, I like to think that Eddie probably watched this comedian he recognized but didn't know from where on TV and swore up and down the material was scripted from someone other than him. He didn't recognize the Tozier standup guy until he got the phone call from Mike and realized it was Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier from when he was a kid. Eddie probably kept tabs and watched Richie for years without ever realizing that used to be his best friend.

-2017 Bill Denbrough headcanon: I like to think that Bill particularly stuttered on s-words. Which means he probably stuttered like hell whenever he'd have to say Stan/Stanley sometimes. Imagine how he'd have to use nicknames instead, silly or not, and how much more important it'd be when he said just Stanley, even if it was hard.

-All Media Bill Denbrough: there's no way he could've looked at paper boats without feeling like crying. Even as an adult he probably couldn't explain it. He'd just cry.

I probably have more but I think this is a big enough post for tonight. Have these I found on Pinterest!

The sillies <3

Bowers Gang Slander but it gets progressively worse/better (depends how you see it)

Abso-fuckin-lutely it is them. I can imagine little 2017 Eddie running after Finn Wolfhard Richie with inhaler in hand and trying to keep up while Richie laughs his ass off and promptly smacks his face into an open locker and eats shit

Twink Eddie <3

In all fairness though I love adult 1990 Eddie. He looks like the embodiment of if kindness were a human being and he just makes me so happy I would hug this man and love him forever I want to keep him in my pocket

[mrssabinecallas]

Here Comes the Bride

Callsign: Angel; Before becoming a navy pilot, Angel worked as a field medic for the navy. Many of her patients called her their guardian angel.

Y/n is used in this fic!

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Fiancé!Reader

In which the Bradshaws prepare for their wedding, but decide to play a joke for the first looks.

This is entirely inspired by a tiktok I saw. Also long time no see guys!! I haven’t been super motivated to write, but hopefully my old ideas come back and we can get those out to y’all :)

i am in love with this concept tho. i didn’t know how to end this so sorry for the abrupt ending lol

WARNINGS!! swearing, fluff, i’m a comedian

(god this man is a snack holy fu-)

Rooster couldn’t have been more nervous for the ceremony. He hadnt thought he was actually going to be nervous, as he wasn’t feeling jitters at all leading up to the date.

You were trying your best to stay calm and collected, but Hangman was not making that easy. He appeared more nervous than you, running around, claiming it had to be perfect. He made you cry. Twice. Rooster would not be hearing about it for the sake of their friendship.

When the time for first looks rolled around, you were running around like a chicken with its head cut off. There was so much to do, how were you expected to sit there for an hour to get your makeup done?

“Can’t we just, like, cancel first looks?” you asked loudly, directed at your best friend and copilot Phoenix.

“What? No!”

“Tashaaaaa… I’m not ready! And Bradley probably is, and we would keep him waiting, but then I would start crying, and ruin alllll this makeup, so I think it’s better if we just don’t do it,” you rambled on and on until Natasha cut you off.

“Y/n, no. Put on your big girl panties, you wanted to include all the wedding traditions, we aren’t changing anything now. That means no cancelling first looks, no sending someone out for you, none of that-”

“Send someone out for me?? Holy shit, that’s genius Tash!!” you cut her off, and she looked about ready to break the mascara wand in her hand.

“Who the hell would even go for you? That’s not like a normal thing people do…” Hangman pondered over on his personal sofa in the window, with his glass of white wine and custom “bridesman” robe.

You and Phoenix just looked at each other and smiled. Instead of feeling fear, you were now about to witness the funniest joke of the century.

“You.”

—————————

It was quite the hastle fitting one of your back up gowns on your wingman, but somehow you and Phoenix got it on him. He looked like an idiot, perfect. As the time for first looks rolled around, you grabbed your veil and a bridesmaid bouquet, handed them to Jake, and sent him on his way.

Luckily, you were ready for first looks as well this time, so once your little joke was done, you would go actually do first looks.

There was a window in the hallway overlooking the courtyard, where the first looks where planned. You saw Bradley and the photographer, no Hangman to be seen yet.

The photographer spotted you in the window, waved, and made a comment to Bradley, who you could see visibly tense. He wasn’t ready, he was scared. You were too, but you knew he was going to act all calm and collected as long as he could.

You remembered that you never updated the photographer on this prank, so you sent him a text.

“Hey, we’re gonna have a little fun, so I’m not coming out just yet. You’ll see, just try not to spoil the joke and make sure to take pictures! I’ll be out after the joke is over, Thanks!”

Just as the photographer read your texts and sent you a thumbs up, the doors you were supposed to walk out of opened, and there stood Hangman. Coyote and Bob were losing their shit beside you and Tasha, both recording on their phones.

You would see the photographer try his hardest to hold back from making a face, and you could practically see Bradley’s expression. It made you feel bad, but you knew he would loosen up after this little stunt.

Hangman waddled to the middle of the courtyard, and tapped Bradley on the shoulder. He took in a deep breath, and turned slowly. As soon as he laid eyes on his best friend dressed in one of your backup gowns, he lost it. Coyote and Bob were practically crying, and Phoenix was on the floor laughing. You had to hide yourself behind a wall to make sure Rooster didn’t see you when he turned to look in the window everyone was looking out of. That only made him laugh harder, seeing all his friends were in on the joke.

Once things had begun to simmer down, you headed out the doors and had your real first looks, which ended up with Bradley in tears, as expected. The pictures from both looks turned out fantastic, and you couldnt help but be amazed by the memories a small prank created.

[babygirl-diaz]

VERY random mpreg prompt, feel free to use or lose—A running joke bt Buck and Eddie is that Buck will often teasingly ask Eddie if he’s turning into a pumpkin when they’re out at night, since he’s usually the first one ready to leave. However, when Eddie’s pregnant, he doesn’t immediately take the joke in the intended spirit 🎃

((I really had fun with this prompt, anon. Thank you!))

It's The Great Pumpkin, Eddie Diaz

Buck’s omega was a practical and punctual man. He was the one who set the pace in their relationship, and he was also the first one ready to head out on their date nights. He liked to make sure that they were home before 11 PM so that they could get a good night’s sleep and be up for their shift on time the next morning. “Oh baby,” Buck said one day when he found Eddie impatiently tapping his foot by the door while checking his watch multiple times. “You’re like our own personal Cinderella. I swear one of these days you’ll turn into a pumpkin if we’re out past our bedtime.” 

Eddie just looked at him and rolled his eyes, but an amused chuckle escaped his lips‌. “You’re a real comedian, Mr. Buckley-Diaz,” he said, putting on his jacket. “Now, come on, let’s go.” 

This became a running joke between them, where Buck would always tease Eddie about “turning into a pumpkin”. That was until the omega got pregnant. Yeah, probably not the best move calling your very pregnant husband a pumpkin. Especially not when he was overly sensitive about his appearance these days. But Buck's mouth usually ran ahead of his brain and that’s how he ended up here, sitting outside the closed bedroom door while Eddie wouldn’t stop crying inside. 

It all started as they were heading out to dinner for their 3rd anniversary. Eddie was getting impatient, as usual. 

“Buck, come on, we’re gonna be late. Do you know how hard it was to get a reservation at this place?” Eddie called out just as Buck left the room, putting on his watch. 

“We still have 30 minutes, Eds, and the restaurant is only 10 minutes away.” 

“But traffic-” 

“Traffic isn’t as bad at this time, baby,” Buck said distractedly. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna turn into a pumpkin if we’re late this one time.” 

Buck paused, and a chill passed over him as he realized what he just said. Abandoning his watch, he looked up at Eddie, who had a blank look plastered over his face. That didn’t last long and soon there were tears in his eyes. 

“Eddie-” Buck started to say  and to went over to him. 

“You think I look like a pumpkin, don’t you?” Eddie asked as tears started running down his cheeks. 

“No, baby, no, I don’t think you look like a pumpkin.” Buck put up his hands and tried to touch Eddie, who stepped back. 

“No, you do!” Eddie cried out. 

“It was just a silly joke,” Buck told him. “I always say it when we’re leaving and you make me hurry.” 

“Oh, so I am sensitive now? Is that what you’re saying?” Eddie’s voice sounded accusatory now. That was never good. 

“I mean, yeah, you’re a little sensitive these days.” And there it was. Buck’s mouth running ahead of his brain. Again. “I mean- no- you’re not sensitive-” 

But the damage was done. Eddie was crying even harder now. He wiped the tears from his eyes and ran away to their bedroom before Buck could stop him. He slammed the door shut and locked it. 

“Shit!” Buck hissed under his breath and rushed after him. “Eddie, come on, open the door. I didn’t mean any of what I said.” 

“Go away, Evan, I don’t want to talk to you right now!” Eddie yelled from the other side. “Or ever!” 

“Eddie, please, open the door.” Buck tried jiggling the doorknob but got nothing. He could break it down, but he didn’t know where Eddie was in the room. He could get hurt. 

“I told you to go away!” Eddie yelled again and this time he threw something which landed against the door with a loud thud. 

“Eddie, you’re behaving like a child.”

“Then go find yourself an omega who will behave like an adult,” Eddie huffed. “Or wait… You never even wanted to be with an omega because you always thought we were too much work.” 

“I never said that!” 

“No, but you implied it.” 

Buck sighed and sat down on the floor, facing his back to the door. “Babe, that was before I met you. You changed my mind about omegas.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Eddie told him. 

Buck heard Eddie groan, which put him on alert. “You okay in there?” He asked. But then he heard shuffling against the door and soon Eddie’s voice was a lot closer. 

“Are you even sure you want to be with me, Buck?” 

“Of course, I wanna be with you!” Buck was quick to assure him. “I want to be with you more than anything.” 

“Then why does it feel you’re not ready for this? For us to have a baby.” 

“Eddie, we already have a kid together,” Buck reminded him. “I have been ready for so long.” 

“It’s different with Chris. He was already 8 years old when you came into our lives and he was 14 when we got married and you officially became his parent.” Eddie paused before adding. “With this kid, you’re going to have to be there from the start.” 

Before Buck could reply, the front door opened and then he heard crutches before they stopped in front of him. 

“Uh, Buck? Why are you sitting in front of your bedroom door?” Chris asked. 

“Your dad locked himself in there,” Buck replied. When Buck noticed the panic on Chris’ face, he quickly added. “He’s fine. He’s just-” 

“-having a meltdown?” Eddie said from the other side. “Say it. I know you want to!” 

“No, I wasn’t gonna say that,” Buck told him. 

“What did you do?” Chris asked in an exasperated tone as he came closer to him and leaned against the door. 

“I may have made the pumpkin joke again.” Buck cringed as the words left his mouth. 

“Oh, Buck.” The 17-year-old shook his head. “You really called my dad a pumpkin when he already has body image issues because of the pregnancy?” 

“It was in poor taste, I know.” Buck hung his head in defeat. 

Above him, Chris sighed and reached down to touch his chin. “You’re gonna be alright, kid. Lemme try talking to him.” 

Buck looked up and grinned at Chris. 

Chris softly knocked on the door. “Hey, Dad? I know what Buck said was uncalled for, but he’s really sorry.” 

“I am, Eddie!” Buck chimed in and earned a glare from Chris, and he put up his hands. 

“Is he still out there?” Eddie asked after a while. 

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere while you’re upset in there.” 

“Well, then he can be there all night.” Eddie huffed again. 

“While you sit there on the other side with him and give yourself muscle cramps?” Chris asked gently, with a fond smile on his face. “Just come out.” 

There was silence on the other side again. “Fine,” Eddie replied, sounding defeated. 

The door clicked, and Buck immediately got up from the floor. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Chris. You are literally the best!” He wanted to hug him, but he knew how the 17-year-old felt about hugs. 

“Just don’t call my dad a pumpkin again,” Chris practically warned him. 

“I won’t, I promise. I will call him Cinderella instead!” Buck told him. 

“Why? Is it because I am an omega?” Eddie was still in the room with fresh tears in his eyes. 

“Oh no. No, no, no, no” Buck tried to go inside, but Eddie slammed the door in his face before he could. 

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You’re on your own now.” 

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

Thanks for the tag, @foxymc!

1. Named after anyone? Technically? My parents mashed together the names of two religious figures to get my name.

2. Last time you cried? ...yesterday. I cry very easily, and I was sad that my plans to go to the mall today had fallen through, and also I was anxious about the concept of emotional vulnerability (separate from the mall thing).

3. Do you have kids? Nope. I do have a dog, though. He's a grumpy old man but he's also my baby son child whom I adore.

4. What sports do you play/have played? I played soccer when I was a lot younger, which was the only sport I ever really liked. I also played basketball in fifth grade, but I didn't like it very much. Haven't played any sports since.

5. do you use sarcasm? Mostly just to tell my family members that they are "so funny. hilarious. a comedian." when they make short jokes about me. I also say things along the lines of "this is a fantastic idea that can only end well for everyone involved." about my obviously bad ideas. Other than that, not a lot.

6. First thing you notice about people? Hair. There are people in my classes who I know nothing about other than the fact that I think they have very cool hair, and it makes them stick in my mind.

7. Eye colour? Blue.

8. scary movie or happy ending? Happy ending.

9. any talents? I get a lot of compliments on my writing. I also think I'm good at climbing, but only things that aren't strictly meant to be climbed. Oh, and I have a talent for naming things. (Plants, stuffed animals, figurines, drawings, etc. The exception to this is my ocs. For some reason, I can never give my ocs cool names. All of their names are boring.)

10. where were you born? USA.

11. hobbies? Writing! Almost any form of it! I love writing, and I don't really have a ton of other hobbies that I can remember.

12. any pets? The previously mentioned dog. He's a mix of several small and scruffy dog breeds, probably has some dachshund and yorkie, maybe schnauzer as well. He's a very good boy who has a lot of audacity sometimes. (He climbed onto my lap during dinner, sat there, waited until I was distracted, and calmly ate a slice of pizza.)

13. How tall are you? Not sure, but I have only one friend who is shorter than me that I know of. Also my siblings are on track to outgrow me, a dilemma which is the bane of my entire existence.

14. favourite subject? English/Composition. I love writing, and it's a class I'm good at.

15. dream job? Currently, some kind of library worker/assistant. I love the idea of helping people and being a part of all the resources that libraries offer, but I also don't really want all the pressure and time-consuming stuff that goes into a higher-level librarian job. I guess the actual dream would be working as a library volunteer, I've done that and absolutely loved it but that's not a paying job. I'd also like a job that allows me to write in my free time.

I'll tag @ashclouds366 :)

[emeritus-fuckers]

begging for headcanons of g. grotesque with a partner who absolutely adores tying him up and just edging and praising him for hours, telling him what a good boy he is while depriving him of an orgasm repeatedly 👀

G. Grotesque with and s/o who enjoys edging him

You would think that after sleeping with DD Sars, who absolutely loves edging his partners, G. would be used to it, right?

Wrong, because G. is a sensitive sweetheart. Sensitive in... more than one way.

He is just the most adorable sub you could possibly get because as long as you praise him and give him good aftercare (which includes a lot of cuddles), he's willing to take pretty much anything, as long as it's not too cruel.

For example, bruises are okay, but he doesn't like being cut.

You have to establish all the boundaries first. And you do, of course, you're not some monster, you cherish this man with all you have.

And oh, does his pretty, crying face not remind you of that every single time...

He'll writhe underneath you, hot tears smudging his make-up as he lets out those adorable whimpers and pleas.

You whisper to him just how much you love him. You love his body. You love his face. You love his eyes. You love his cute dick which was by now red and leaking pre-cum heavily, begging to finally get the permission to cum.

And you never really grant it until you feel like it. Or until you know he really can't take anymore.

He's your good boy, doing anything he can to keep you happy, but he is also just human and he has his limits that you would never push.

And then he gets all the hugs, kisses and even more praises from you. He loves the aftercare so much!

He's very, very clingy after sex, especially after being edged. He needs you there with him.

And you love your sweet bassist so much, you give him all he needs and more.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thermodynamic-comedian

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

President Zelenskyy addressing the Congress during his worktrip in Washington

The full transcript

Recap of the speech

When President Zelenskyy entered the Congress - invited by Speaker Nancy Pelosi to address a joined Congress, both houses and parties, and talk about Ukraine's struggle and need for financial support and weapons - you could only hear clapping and cheering. Several people rushed to him and wanted to shake the hand of the man of the year. A greeting that did not necessarily have to take place in this way.

The relationship with the US in the past? Problematic. President Trump tried to blackmail him in 2019 with financial aid (in exchange for investigating Hunter Biden, President Biden's son) - the now famous phone call was later part of Trump's Impeachment trial. Trump also was a supporter, if not a friend, of Putin. And after that? A friendly and supportive alliance with Biden - but not necessarily warm. That didn't change immediately in February. While the US is one of Ukraine's strongest and most significant supporters, and Biden supported Ukraine from the beginning of the full-scale war, the tone was neutral overall. Both President's needed a bit of time to get warm with each other. Rumours made the rounds - about disagreements, fights during phone calls, Biden losing interest in Ukraine and thinking about minimizing the support. And now? A different vibe. Even making jokes with Zelenskyy during the press conference. Warmth and friendship are dominating now.

Earlier the day, Zelenskyy had landed in Washington for his first working trip abroad since the start of the full-scale war in February. Nervousness filled the air since this trip meant an extremely high personal risk to Zelenskyy. Russia is still trying to kill or harm him. Back in Ukraine, he still has to live separated from his family because of this and needs 24/7 protection. The visit itself was announced not even 24 hours before. Now, more than 300 days after the start of the war later, Biden welcomed him, holding negotiations and agreeing on new financial help and weapons. In addition, Congress was about to decide on further financial aid in 2023 (45 billion Dollar). 

Entering the Congress was already a success for Zelenskyy, but the real victory was ahead of him. After walking up to the speaker podium and greeting Pelosi and VP Kamala Harris, Zelenskyy couldn't start his speech. The applause and cheering just didn't want to stop. Occasionally "Slava Ukraine!" could be heard - the now famous battle cry, everyday greeting and motivational sentence, representing the country's fight against Russia and the Ukrainians' resilience, courage and strong will. Almost ashamed, but most of all flustered and humbly, Zelenskyy finally remarked to Congress and Pelosi, "I think it's too much". He was visibly moved, a tear in his eye if you look closely. "It's too much for me," he admitted, in an unpretentious way (one of his character marks), before starting his speech.

Something else was also visible. After being in Bakhmut a day earlier and visiting the troops, he travelled via Poland to Washington. Immediately after his arrival, he met with Biden and held a press conference. Then, still with no rest, he rushed to other meetings and interviews to finally speak in front of Congress. Zelenskyy looked, understandably, extremely exhausted. Nevertheless, what was about to follow, was radiating energy, capturing the whole room. But he also looked stiff and extremely nervous - a rare picture from a man who made himself a name in 300 days of the war as being brilliant and naturally gifted (also trained by years of being an actor, comedian, scriptwriter and entertainer) when it comes to speaking to people - no matter the audience and usually with ease, lots of honest and open emotions, addressing each audience individually and fitting and with an understandable, but captivating speech. That even a Volodymyr Zelenskyy can get visibly nervous (which was also evidently visible during his speech) makes him even more likeable and relatable (not that this would be necessary).

After all, the address was important. Before and after the midterms, voices grew louder on the Republican side to minimize or stop the support for Ukraine. Some Democrats joined in. Talking about a ceasefire and peace talks started - ignoring the dangers this ideas posses to Ukraine as well as Russia's unwillingness for peace and diplomatic talks. Several Republican representatives spread Russian Propaganda and openly opposed Zelenskyy. And while it was almost sure the funding of 45 billion Dollars would pass, there was still the possibility of not. So the current and future help from the US depended on Zelenskyy's speech.

After the cheering ended, Zelenskyy could finally speak. What followed was a truly historic moment - for Congress. For Ukraine. And for Zelenskyy himself. 

In a ~25-minute speech, he spoke openly, honestly, emotionally, forcefully and frankly about the war in Ukraine. Including some word plays, memorable pictures and quoting US history and political figures. The address itself is a masterpiece. And, what was even more surprising: Zelenskyy gave it entirely in English, his third language. "A sign of respect" to the Congress, as he called it in an earlier press conference with Pelosi. 

While giving the speech, almost the whole Congress applauded him numerous times, as well as giving him standing ovations. After finishing his speech, the hall erupted again into loud cheering and clapping. Zelenskyy, again visibly moved, smiled from one ear to the other.

He exchanged flags with Pelosi and Harris. Zelenskyy gave them a flag the soldiers of Bakhmut had signed a day earlier and who had asked him to give it to Congress. In return, Zelenskyy received the American flag raised on the Congress earlier that day in honour of his visit.

With that speech, Zelenskyy wrote history. And wrote himself into American history forever.

A Churchillian moment?

No. 

But a Zelenskillian.

[mariacallous]

The Guardian's This Week in Patriarchy

Courtesy of Arwa Mahdawi

James Corden: the 2022 Ellen

It’s not been a terribly good week to be British, has it? It’s been pandemonium in the country itself and one of Britain’s more famous exports has been making a disgrace of himself. I speak of James Corden, of course. The comedian, an English immigrant in LA, has been making headlines for some egg-ceptionally mean-spirited behaviour. He turned up to eat at Balthazar, a fancy New York restaurant, and was nasty to the waitstaff, according to Balthazar’s owner, Keith McNally. In one incident he was extremely mean after he found a hair in his meal. In another he became apocalyptic because the staff got his wife’s order of an egg yolk omelet wrong. There was a little bit of egg white in it apparently and we can’t be having that can we?

McNally, who perhaps sensed a good opportunity for some free PR, did not hold back his thoughts on Corden. In an Instagram post he banned the comedian from his restaurant and called him “a tiny Cretin of a man” and “the most abusive customer to my Balthazar servers since the restaurant opened 25 years ago”. Still, that abuse was quickly forgiven after Corden apparently called up McNally to apologize. “Anyone magnanimous enough to apologize to a deadbeat layabout like me (and my staff) doesn’t deserve to be banned from anywhere,” McNally later wrote. Dude, apologizing isn’t magnanimous; it’s the absolute least someone can do!

The story should really have ended there but Corden decided to keep it going by telling the New York Times he hadn’t “done anything wrong, on any level”. Corden said: “I feel so zen about the whole thing. Because I think it’s so silly. I just think it’s beneath all of us.”

It’s not beneath me, mate. I understand that this is just some silly celebrity gossip and there are more important things to be worried about in the world but that’s precisely why I am so deeply invested in the Corden drama. When the world is falling apart, celebrity gossip provides welcome relief. And there’s a lot of Corden gossip out there. As soon as McNally unleashed on Corden the floodgates opened and lots of stories about Corden being “a tiny Cretin of a man” emerged. Becky Habersberger, who is married to a member of the Try Guys, shared a TikTok video about how she witnessed Corden yell at a busboy in Los Feliz. People started sharing a Popbitch story about how Corden had once ignored his crying baby for the entirety of a flight and left his wife to deal with the kid (grounds for murder). Everyone remembered that time he was seen cozying up to Sean Spicer at an Emmys party. And the time he was rude to Sir Patrick Stewart.

The parallels between Ellen DeGeneres, who fell from grace in 2020 after everyone decided she was a horrible person and her on-screen bubbly persona was a scam, are not hard to see. Indeed there are plenty of people who are already calling Corden the “Male Ellen”. Corden may be the male Ellen but, unlike Ellen, I’m not sure that the allegations he is a nasty piece of work are going to put a massive dent in his career. Women, after all, are consistently held to higher ethical standards than men and more harshly punished for the same transgressions. Studies have found that people react better to anger from a man than they do from a woman. A 2008 study, for example, called “Can an Angry Woman Get Ahead?” found that “male and female evaluators conferred lower status on angry female professionals than on angry male professional.” The study found that “whereas women’s emotional reactions were attributed to internal characteristics (eg, ‘she is an angry person,’ ‘she is out of control’), men’s emotional reactions were attributed to external circumstances.”

Anyway, I don’t know where Corden’s career will go next but I do hope that he is on his best behaviour from now on. The English don’t need any more embarrassment.

Russian feminists help men avoid draft

The day after Russia invaded Ukraine, 57 feminist groups in Russia banded together to form a group called the “Feminist Anti-war Resistance” or FAS. The movement is active in 100 cities in Russia and abroad and has been helping men avoid conscription. Like Black Lives Matter, FAS is decentralized. “This makes the FAS more adaptable and allows for new tactics and strategies,” a political scientist explained to DW. “The Hydra has several heads, and if you cut one off, 10 new ones grow back.”

What a pregnancy actually looks like before 10 weeks

This eye-opening piece from the Guardian has been going deservedly viral.

The woman hunting down revenge porn

Mia Landsem spends hours a day (unpaid) helping victims of revenge porn track down and remove their images from the internet. I would say she’s doing God’s work but she’s actually doing the work that highly-paid tech executives and politicians should be doing.

Female leaders are leaving companies at the highest rate ever

About 10.5% of female leaders (defined as those in senior management and above) left their company in 2021 compared with 9% of male leaders: the highest rate of voluntary departures since McKinsey started collecting data in 2017. Burnout and the pandemic are largely to blame.

America has a Black sperm donor shortage

Black men account for less than 2% of sperm donors at cryobanks, the Washington Post reports. “The severe shortage is forcing Black women who need donor sperm into a painful choice: Choose a donor of another race and raise a biracial child or try to buy sperm from unregulated apps and online groups.

How a $1,900 stroller became a metaphor for motherhood

“The baby stroller is only the most visible symbol of the ethos of consumer capitalism that saturates American pregnancy and parenthood,” writes Amanda Parrish Morgan in this fascinating piece.

Why Bolivia’s lawmakers are 50% women

Quotas requiring half of all party nominees are female were introduced in 1997 when just 9% of the country’s national parliament were women. Now that requirement is part of the constitution.

The week in pawtriarchy

One upside to the brouhaha in Britain is that Larry the Cat, who serves as Chief Mouser of No. 10 Downing Street, has been getting the attention and adoration he deserves. The 15-year-old tabby has now outlasted four prime ministers. “The King has asked me to become Prime Minister because this nonsense has gone on long enough,” Larry the Cat wrote in a viral tweet hours before Truss announced her resignation. Britain has officially gone to the dogs: time to bring in a cat.

[yaarumerr]

People think the deconstruction of a man is some loud violent occurrence. This outpour of bitterness towards the world And in reality. The deconstruction of a man is a silent film. A common surgical procedure that the world didn't know it was trained to do. The breaking of a boy is the world's quietest natural disaster.

Ain't nobody coming to save you.

The entire world is trying to construct you into its perfect little image and the people around you are the ones who fuel the process of your manufactured masculinity. Some of us are gonna make it through assembly, but we need to watch out for defective counterparts, because the whole world is going to use their flaws to define all of us.

Luckily,

Most defective product is aware of its own shortcomings and tends to destroy itself given enough time alone with its imperfections.This abridged explanation of the process is how you become a man, or a monster.

Everybody knows what a monster does,

Everybody judges the monster.

Nobody questions its creator.

Some of us are manufactured to make light of our peril, with jokes if you will. Male comedians are magicians in this way. How they take their pain and airbrush it intosomething laughable.

He-hee

Ha-ha

Joke about a failed suicide, the crowd laughs, the curtains close. The comedian drinks all the way home.

A man's s tears are just funny that way how they have to be translated to be accepted.

How they have to be transcribed into an artform to be worthy of observation. How you have to have to bleed artistically, to become a worthy topic of conversation.

But nobody taught the boy to cry,

But they taught him how to fight.

Nobody tucked them in at night,

So he doesn't sleep at night.

Nobody offers protection to the protectors

Nobody provides the providers with provisions.

Nobody looks after the overseer.

Nobody has ever tried to guide the man who steers.

Nobody checks on the strong ones. Only other men know how subtle a difference before the transition.

"Nobody taught the boy to cry".

So he would do it at all the wrong times, in the barber chair, getting casket sharp, remembering the funeral of a failed relationship, in the grocery aisle. Breaking down because he's weighed down by the tears collecting in his baggage at a soccer game, remembering what it was like to be a boy running towards a goal.

Ah.

Most men will only experience unconditional love from their mothers and some of us don't even get that, most of us have never even felt appreciation or respect without conditions or hidden intentions. We don't know what it sounds like to hear "I see you, and I'm proud of you."

"I'm glad you're here."

"You really make a difference."

Yet the expectation is to constantly be displaying the strength and love that the world is hesitant in conveying. We're expected to have a thick skin but get judged if it turns into a hard shell.

The first step, in being a man is ignoring the hunger, cuz yes boy you gon be starving.

Starved of attention.

Starved of affirmation.

Starved of love.

Starved of being told that you are enough.

Step two, in being a man is comfortability with replaceability.

You are only as good as you are useful, you are only as valuable as you are needed by others.

Should there ever come a day boy, where you fail to provide everybody with a smiling face then do not be surprised when they say,

"All men do is take up space"

And you are swiftly replaced.

Step three, in being a man is overcoming your fear of the fire cause almost everything you ever try to build will go up in flames. Relationships, careers, hobbies, and yes, you are always to blame.

Step four, in being a man is understanding that by the time you finally get all the right answers, these questions will have already changed. You might achieve the strength of Herculean fiction trying to balance the weight of all these contradictions.

Be a man they say.

Definition unknown.

Description keeps changing.

We men,

So empty,

So irritable

So this,

So that.

We get told what we are so much we've accepted that who we are ain't even up to us.

The blame is always on us regardless.

One guilty man's actions requires an innocent man's explanation otherwise you're all guilty by gender association.

There are four times as many male suicidal ideation, because its been hammered in our head that we're falling short of our societal expectations. Imagine being in a world of hurt for a hundred different reasons, During a nationwide emasculation season, there is a unique brand of sadness that follows being hated without reason. It ain't no secret, while over 30% of us have attempted to stop breathing. Nobody even mentions the men who have succeeded.

As the saying goes, "every failure is one step closer to a successful attempt."

There is no such thing as an attempted suicide, a man's soul dies long before his body has a chance to realize.

A man with an old soul is just a boy who contemplated going ghost for every woman that suffers the same fate, four men will follow her to the grave and I try to hide the stats from the poet because he might romanticize them, he might mistake this tragedy for a love story, he might write a poem in place for the suicide notes that were never left behind because nobody taught him otherwise.

So who's gonna teach these boys to cry while they're still alive?

A man with nothing to lose will view everything as something to take.

A child that isn't embraced by the village, will burn the village down.

And he will stare, as everything that didn't love him back, contorts and cracks. He will ease his way into the fire.

Until he finally feels some warmth.

[weirdos-am-i-right]

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

.

[storiesforallfandoms]

backstage ~ pete davidson

word count: 1960

request?: yes!

“Can you do a Pete Davidson smut on the set of SNL”

description: in which a backstage tour turns into something a little more

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

“And this is the writer’s room,” Pete said as he led me into a room with a large desk surrounded by multiple chairs. “This is where we come up with the skits and the jokes. There’s John, being the loner he is.”

“You say that like it’s a joke but you’re my best friend so what does that say about you?” John asked, not looking up from his laptop.

Pete chuckled and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Moving on - ”

“Hold on!” I cut him off. “We are not just sweeping past John Mulaney like that. You know how much I love him.”

This made the older comedian look up from his laptop and smile at me. “Oh, I like this girl. She’s got good taste.”

Pete rolled his eyes at the two of us. “You can come back and talk to John before we start filming. This is a big set and I told you I’d show you all of it.”

I playfully pouted at him before waving goodbye to John and continuing to follow Pete through the unfamiliar building.

Pete had been dying to give me a tour of the SNL backstage basically since we had started dating. Our schedules never lined up enough to be able to, but I had finally managed to get a full weekend off and Pete decided to take advantage of that.

The set was much larger than I thought, with every castmate having their own dressing rooms, plus special rooms for the hosts and musical guests. So many rooms for writing and editing, and the massive set where everything was filmed, usually in front of an audience. I didn’t understand how Pete didn’t get lost every day, even if he was familiar with the place.

“And finally,” he said once we neared the end of his tour, “my home away from home.”

He pushed open the door with his name written on a wooden plaque. The room definitely screamed “Pete”. Besides the smell of weed smoke that seemed to linger no matter how long Pete wasn’t there, the room was also littered with little things he liked to have with him at all times: pictures of his dad, his mom, the two of us, little gifts I had always given him for every season premiere, little things from his other friends.

There was a comfortable looking couch along the wall that was begging for me to lay down on it. I sighed in relief the moment my back touched the couch, my legs and feet aching from the heels I decided to wear.

Pete chuckled at my reaction. “I told you to wear something comfortable.”

“And I told you I wanted to make a good impression on your co-stars, which includes a nice outfit.”

I had decided on a long sleeved white shirt and a short, plaid skirt to wear on set, with a pair of black booties that were nice when I put them on, but now that I had been walking around in them for almost an hour I was regretting my wardrobe choices.

Pete smiled and came to lay down on the couch on top of me, his legs between mine and his hands on either side of my head. “Baby, you could wear a garbage bag and everyone here would still be impressed by you.”

“Well, I’ll do that next time then.”

He chuckled and lowered himself so he was kissing me. It was a quick kiss on my lips before he dipped his head to kiss my neck. I giggled as the slight stubble he was starting to grow tickled my neck, followed by a moan as he found the spot on my neck that always drove me wild.

“The skirt does give me some easy access, though,” he mumbled against my neck as one of his hands traced up my bare leg and dipped under my skirt. I gasped as he ran a finger over my clothed clit - or, just barley clothed as I was wearing a G-string. “God, baby, I’ve barley touched you and you’re already soaking wet.”

I moaned as his finger slipped under my G-string and inside of me. He was quick to cover my mouth, a cheeky grin on his face at my reaction.

“You have to be quiet, baby,” he said. “Anyone could come catch us at any time.”

I bit my lip to try and keep quiet as his finger slid in and out of me, first at a slow pace. My moans came out as squeaks and whimpers of pleasure as his pace began to pick up and he slipped another finger into me. I was basically writhing underneath him, which I could tell he was taking a lot of pleasure in.

With two of his fingers in me, he pressed his thumb against my clit and began to rub painfully slow circles, causing my body to arch against him. It was becoming harder to hold back my moans and I had to cover my own mouth with my hand.

“God, this is so fucking dirty,” Pete commented. “Finger fucking my beautiful girl on the couch of my dressing room? Where all my co-workers come in and hang out with me? Man, I’ll never be able to look at this couch the same.”

“It’ll be a nice memory of me,” I said, trying my best to smile up at him but another whimper being let out instead.

“I’ll never not think of you when I’m in this room again,” he confirmed, lowering himself to kiss my neck again.

I was already nearing my climax when Pete’s fingers were removed from my wet core. I looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and my lips pouting. He brought his wet fingers to his lips and took them in his mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathed. I didn’t think it were possible, but I managed to become even more wet at the sight.

“Flip over on your hands and knees baby,” he told me.

I excitedly did as he told me, spinning to be back on to him on my hands and knees. I started reaching for my panties to take them off, but his hand caught hold of my wrists before I could.

“Leave them on,” he said. “I think it’ll be extra hot to fuck you with your skirt and panties still on.”

I nodded excitedly and got back into my position. Pete stood for just a moment, long enough to undo his jeans and let them, and his underwear, fall to the floor. My heart was racing as I felt the couch dip behind me again and Pete pulling my panties to the side as he lined his head up with my entrance.

As he pushed himself inside of me ever so slowly, his other hand came to rest on my back, pushing me down till my head was buried in the couch cushions.

“Best way to keep you quiet,” he said. “I don’t intend to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me,” I responded.

I looked over my shoulder to see the smile on Pete’s face. He took hold of my waist with both hands and started to thrust slow at first, making sure I was comfortable and fully stretched around him. Once he was sure I was okay, his thrusts gradually got quicker and rougher until he was pounding me so hard that the only sounds in the room were that of skin slapping against skin.

I buried my face in the couch again, trying my best the muffle the moans that were basically turning to screams of pleasure. However this process was basically moot as the sound of our skin slapping against each other and Pete’s own moans and groans of pleasure would definitely alert any passersby of our activities.

Being adventurous with our sex was definitely nothing new to Pete and I. Whenever one of us was in the mood, we’d initiate it wherever we wanted. In bathrooms, fitting rooms, in the back of his car, wherever we could get some form of privacy while also being a little too out in public.

But there was just something different about having him rail me in his dressing room mere minutes before he was set to go live. At any moment someone could walk past, or one of the producers could come knock on the door. Or, heaven forbid if he didn’t lock the door, someone could just walk in and catch the two of us. All of that just made our secret rendezvous a little more naughty and sexy. While I didn’t want to be caught by any means, the thought that it would be so easy to be caught drove me wild.

Pete’s thrusts became so rough that I could hear the couch legs scraping across the floor as it moved. My legs were already feeling like jelly and I had a feeling I was going to have trouble walking to set with Pete when this was over.

His hand ran up my back and through my hair before giving my head a rough tug back. I yelped at the sudden pain that I felt in my head before it dissolved into a moan. Pete pulled me back till my back was against his chest and leaned in close to my ear.

“You feel so good,” he breathed into my ear. “God, even after all this time, you’re still so tight around me.”

“You keep talking like that and I’ll cum around your cock in no time.”

The hand in my hair crept around my front to grab me by the throat. “You say that as if it’s not what I wanted.”

His other hand slipped between my legs and began rubbing at my clit, causing all sorts of pleasure to run through me. My body started to tremble as I felt myself nearing my climax. The hand around my throat squeezed slightly as I let out a cry of pleasure, my walls tightening around him.

Pete grunted in my ear a few more times before I felt him filling me up as well. I took a deep breath in when he let go of my throat, although my head was still spinning.

Pete pulled out of me just in time for a knock to come on his door. “Give me a second!”

He quickly pulled his pants and boxers back on as I adjusted my skirt and panties. Although I was sure whoever was at the door wouldn’t notice the wet spot that had suddenly appeared on the couch, I still decided to cover it with a pillow just in case.

One of the producers was stood at the door. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we’re starting in roughly five minutes!”

“Thanks, I’ll be there soon,” Pete responded. He shut the door and looked back at me. His eyes travelled down to my legs as an amused look crossed his face. “You got something on your leg there hun.”

I looked down to see a single string of warm liquid running down my inner thigh. “Oh fuck.”

I reached for a tissue but Pete stopped me. “Wait, don’t clean it yet. I’d love to know you’re in the audience watching me with my cum running down your legs.”

“Okay, that’s hot, but I don’t want your co-workers thinking I peed myself or something.”

“I’ll tell them the truth if you want.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved him towards the door. “Go to set! Let me clean up. I’m sure there’s more there that can fulfil this fantasy you have.”

Pete smiled down and gave me one last kiss before rushing to set.

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[authenticmiya]

Hey, how are you ?!!

I love your imagines !!

I was wondering if you could do one with Johnny Lawrence of 84!

It's a suggestion 🥺

He had a secret crush on Tommy's best friend, Y / N, so he wanted to talk to her, but was afraid he just ended his relationship with Alli. And he knew that she didn't want a relationship now, due to the various traumas that occurred, so much so that the day comes that he decides to tell his feelings!

🥺🥺😘

My Girl - Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Summary - Reader and Tommy have been best friends since they could remember. Alongside Tommy, came the Cobra Kai’s. Meaning a certain blonde hair, blue eyed karate student, had his eyes on you.

Words - 2.1k

Warnings - mentions of toxic past relationships, fluff, angst.

A/N - I’m great Thankyou, how are you? Thankyou so much for sending in your suggestion! Anyone can feel free to send in any requests!

To everyone else, you were one of the prettiest girls in school. Curvy, honest, caring, nurturing. You weren't the typical 'popular girl' who'd turn her nose up at other groups of students, and that's why you were so loved.

You lived at home alongside your older sister. Your parents tended to business all over the country, meaning it was usually just the two of you. The two of you were very close, and supported each-other through everything, just like how you and your best friend, Tommy.

"So tell me again why you didn't want to go to the beach tonight? All of your Cobra Kai's are there." Y/S/N plopped herself next to you on the couch.

"Can't I enjoy a peaceful night in with my sister?" You smirked and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay fine, Ali's there." You groaned.

"So what? She's your best friend Y/N?"

"No she was my best friend, she's been talking shit about the Cobra's - even Tommy. I get that her and Johnny aren't together anymore, but I've gotta look out for my boys." You admitted, throwing popcorn into your mouth.

"Your boys? You mean Johnny is your boy? The guy has had the hots for you since you were ten." She stated and now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

"Then why did he date Ali?" You questioned.

"Oh baby sister, you have so much to learn. It's obvious that he wasn't going to ask you out before her. You'd just come out of a sticky relationship." You shivered at the thought of your past.

"I get you were young and in love with that jackass, but just because you were young, doesn't mean he had the right to hit you left, right and centre." Maybe she was right, you hadn't really let your guard down with anybody after that.

"Let's not bring that up please." You told her.

"The only thing stopping you two from growing old together, is the fact that Tommy is practically like your big brother. He'd flip a table." Your sister grinned. Speaking of Cobra's, you heard some motorcycles pull up outside your house.

"Snakes in three, two, one." Your sister counted down and then your door knocked.

"Your hair looks a mess." You admitted to Tommy, ruffling up his hair as he walked into your home.

"Honesty is the best policy Y/L/N." Bobby laughed.

"What the hell happened to you?" You questioned Johnny, noticing how flustered and sad he looked.

"Lover boy had his first dosage of heartbreak tonight at the beach." Bobby called out to you from the kitchen.

"Yeah nice one man, thanks!" Johnny said sarcastically, making his way through your house. You shot your sister a confused look, and she just shrugged her shoulders.

"Tommy, your ass better not be eating my leftover pizza!" Your sister shouted and that's exactly what he was doing.

"I appreciate that I'm not having to fix any of your faces tonight guys, but what exactly do you want?" You asked them, grabbing some lemonade from the fridge.

"Well sweet-heart, there's a new kid on the block, Daniel Larusso. He was flirting with Ali." Tommy stole your drink from your hand.

"And how do you feel about that?" You asked Johnny.

"She wouldn't talk to me, so I broke her radio and gave him a seek in assist the old fashioned way." Johnny admitted.

"I take it he's not as good at Karate as you then Johnny?" You joked, trying to make light of the conversation.

"The sexual tension in this room is making me gag." Your sister shoved passed you and grabbed a drink from the refrigerator.

"You're delusional." You muttered.

"I'm sure you'll be lucky with Larusso if you haven't already made a pass at Johnny." Bobby joked, but none of you laughed.

"Like hell man, watch your damn mouth." Johnny snapped.

"Dude seriously?" Tommy glared at him.

"I was joking, come on guys." Bobby tried to defend himself and you all ignored him.

"Quit being mean so Bobby, he just wanted to be apart of the comedian club." You snickered, making everybody burst into laughter.

"I take it you guys are staying the night?" Your sister asked them all.

"It's an annual thing, so if you don't mind?" Tommy smiled.

"Dude, the three of you have sleepovers everyday of the week. It's a fucking daily thing at this rate." Your sister laughed, heading up the stairs to sort the sleeping arrangements out.

Once the beds were ready to go, everyone seemed fairly tired and headed upstairs.

"Y/N wait-" Johnny stopped you from outside your room. Unbeknownst to him that his two friends, and your sister were eavesdropping.

"Can I please talk to you? I kinda need a girl's help, and well you get Tommy through a lot of shit.." He began to rant and you stopped him.

"Calm down Johnny, let's talk." You ushered him into your room, and he laid on your bed, leaning against the bed frame.

"I didn't really know how to say it front of everyone, but you know what a breakup is like. How'd you get over it?" Johnny sighed and you frowned.

"I don't think I ever really got over it because of what he did to me. I'd like to have said I turned into some badass overnight but I didn't. It takes time, and the two of you only broke up a couple of weeks ago. The whole situation is still raw and you have to allow yourself time to heal." You admitted to him.

He couldn't help but stare at you, take in all of your perfections as you we're giving him advice.

"Young love is a load of ass Y/N. She didn't even care about what I had to say tonight." Johnny frowned and it really did look like he was about to cry.

"Jokes on her Johnny, because any girl should be blessed to have you." You smiled, making his stomach erupt into a million butterflies.

"I really appreciate that." He whispered, slowly leaning in, but you leaned back.

"I'm so sorry if you thought that's where I was going with this Johnny, I don't think either of us are ready for that just yet." You coughed out, not really sure how to deal with it.

"No I'm sorry Y/N, I shouldn't have done that. Shit." Johnny was quick to scramble out of your room, and it took you a few moments to comprehend the situation.

Chasing after him and staying in your room  were your thoughts for the night. You knew he'd probably be embarrassed, so you didn't wanna push that any further. But he wanted to kiss you. Was that because he wanted to use you as a rebound? To get over his eventful evening with his ex? You had no idea. Or was it because he had now genuinely come to terms of how he really felt towards you?

“Wake your ass up!” Tommy screamed as the morning sunshine came through your curtains.

“Tommy I’m giving you five seconds to get the heck out of my room, or I’m going to smack you silly.” You yawned, suddenly realising it was your first day back for senior year.

“You weren’t saying that to Johnny when he tried to kiss you last night.” Tommy whispered, and your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

“Your secrets safe with me sleepy head, but he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t mean it.” Tommy gave you a half-hearted smile and left you alone.

“One year to make it all work Y/N.” You muttered, throwing on some clothes to start your senior year.

“The queen has finally made her entrance.” Tommy laughed, handing you a plate of pancakes.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Bobby smiled, making Johnny clench his jaw.

“Wow it finally looks like a cat hasn’t dragged you through a bush.” Y/S/N ruffled up your hair.

“Well now if does.” You groaned, flattening your hair back out. Time was ticking and it was soon time for school.

“Have a good day you guys!” Your sister waved you all off. It was as if the Cobra’s had it planned all along, because Tommy and Bobby were quick to drive away on their motor-cycles, leaving you and Johnny.

“Can I pitch a ride please?” You asked Johnny with hopeful eyes.

“Of course.” He smiled lightly.

“Can we please talk about last night?” You asked and his smile soon faded.

“We’ve gotta get to school.” You nodded at him, before sitting behind him. The journey to school wasn’t long at all, and it was typical for you to spend your morning alongside the Cobra Kai’s motorcycles.

“I don’t want things to be awkward Johnny, you’re one of my best friends. I’ve got a lot of issues, despite how happy I come across. Maybe one day we can make a thing of us?” You suggested and he had nothing to say.

And so that’s how was it was like, for a very long few weeks after that. Johnny hadn’t said a lot to you, and it slowly made you realise, that you didn’t know what you had, until it started to go away.

“Johnny still not talking to you?” Tommy asked, as the two of you walked together in front of the Cobra Kai’s. You turned around, but Johnny avoided eye contact before turning around the corner to his class.

“He’s insanely in love with you Y/N, I guess he’s just scared.” In love? Come again?

“In love with me, why would you say that?” You asked.

“Trust me, I know.” The two of you continued walking towards your classroom, when you were stopped by a certain Daniel Larusso.

As Johnny was walking to class, he couldn’t help let the overwhelming sense of guilt override him.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N dude?” Bobby asked one of his best friends.

“I don’t know myself man.” Johnny responded.

“You two are so damn love blind.” Bobby groaned in annoyance that his two friends still hadn’t made moves on each-other.

“I can’t push the boundaries again, it’s obvious she’s afraid to be with someone new, and I don’t want to upset her.” Johnny admitted.

“That’s the thing though Johnny, you’re not someone new. Everyone knows about what happened with her ex, and you can be the one to make her trust again.” Bobby’s words were so convincing.

“I’ve gotta go and get my girl.” Johnny shoved his books into Bobby’s hands and rushed back to the other hallway you were in with Tommy. But Bobby didn’t stop there, of course he was going to watch the scene unfold.

“What the hell do you want Larusso?” Tommy stood protectively in front of you.

“You need to sort your boyfriend out Y/N, his attitude is kind of stinky.” Daniel teased.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You muttered.

“I think he’s about to be.” Tommy noticed Johnny heading over to the two of you.

“Get the hell away from my girl, punk.” Johnny shoved Daniel out of the way, and you bit the inside of your cheek anxiously - not wanting your first day back to end up in a fight.

“Why does everyone think I’m you girlfriend?” You asked Johnny.

“Because I’ve waited so damn long to be able to call you mine Y/N, and I don’t want him taking you away from me, like he did with everything else.” Johnny admitted his feelings, regardless of everybody around him.

“Johnny what are you talking about?” You asked him.

“I’m not him Y/N. I will never be him. I think, I think I love you.” Johnny stepped forward and this time, you allowed him to kiss you. You felt yourself melting on the inside. Cheers and claps echoed through the school hallway as the bell rang.

“What do you say Y/N, will you please be my girlfriend?” He asked, lacing his hands with yours.

“Of course.” You blushed, wrapping your arms around him, and he felt the instant sigh of relief.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” You whispered.

“I was so not jealous, I was about to beat Larusso’s ass.” Johnny told you seriously.

“I think you’re forgetting about what Tommy might do to you.” You chuckled, looking over at your best friend and his attempt to look angry.

“It’s not half of the things that I’m going to do to you.” Johnny smirked. You could finally be free of your past, you finally had your man, and boy was he worth the wait.

[lady-of-lyon]

So, I made one post a while back about how awesomely feminist the show Wild Kratts was, with how its two main female characters were women of color in engineering and deserving roles of power, female villains who weren’t motivated by spite or quest for youth, etc, but today I wanted to talk about something slightly different, that I’ve wanted to cover for a while now, because I also think it’s very good - and that’s how the show portrays masculinity, in a way that’s really positive!

First, we have our two main characters, Chris and Martin Kratt. Keep in mind these two are basically self-inserts - and there are plenty of creators, especially males, who have used self-insert characters in really scummy ways - all I have to say is Powerpuff Girls reboot and you know exactly what I’m talking about. Even if they weren’t literal self-inserts, male characters, superheroes especially, oftentimes serve the male power fantasy, being just the strong, stoic, all-powerful person so many boys are told they’re supposed to be. I could get into a whole discussion about how the male power fantasy is present even when males are not (ever look through a fashion magazine and wonder why there are so few men? Sure, part of it is that the industry thrives off exploiting women’s insecurities, and men aren’t as concerned for their appearance, but another part of it is so that the guy, looking through it, can feel like he has no competition for these women - there’s a reason so many comedians have jokes about fashion magazines being their sexual awakening as kids. It’s really scummy) but that’s not what this is about. So, the bros had every opportunity to do just that - make themselves these traditional heroes who aren’t actually really good role models, like batman or what have you. It’s certainly not uncommon for celebrity cartoons to do stuff like that. But Martin and Chris chose a different approach. They’re pretty strong standouts for positive masculinity. They’re openly affectionate - both with eachother as brothers, and with their friends. They cry, sometimes over little things - most of the time when big superheroes cry, it’s ‘cause they lost the girl they loved or their mentor or something like that, only in the big, most agonizing moments do they shed a tear. But here, Chris or Martin will cry just because they’ve had a bad day, or because they’re overwhelmed and overjoyed that someone named a mantis after them! In a lot of shows or movies when a guy cries over something little, it’s usually played for laughs, or to emasculate him, but here it’s casual without being unreasonable or overdone. The brothers cry just ad much, maybe even more (haven’t gone back and counted or anything) as the girls do. Not to mention, it’s a very nice depiction of a loving, healthy sibling relationship. As the youngest sibling myself, it’s refreshing to see a pair who don’t abuse eachother with noogies or cruel and snarky remarks. When they do fight, it’s never a screaming match, and also because they had a conflict of interest or disagreed over a fact, not because, say, one of them stole the other’s shirt or is neglecting the other’s feelings. Kids, being very impressionable, get exposed to a lot of abusive sibling relationships played as normal in media, and start thinking this is how siblings are and should act. For instance, my sister (who is now my best friend and has gotten over all these bad habits over time) when she was younger watched a lot of Kim Possible, a show that is great, but has a bad family dynamic with Kim and her little siblings. The “tweebs” as she calls them are always irresponsible, destructive, and making Kim annoyed to no end. My older brother was one of the most polite, reserved, kind little kids, but she still treated him like he was a brat and a nuisance, because that’s what shows like Kim Possible taught her little brothers were. Additionally, I was always treated like a spoiled crybaby who just wanted attention and got away with everything - I was not any of those things, ever, but that’s what shows teach you little sisters are. Sure, Wild Kratts has a smidge of that, with Chris seemingly being the stereotype of the know-it-all little sibling, but instead of being constantly looked town upon for being too “perfect” like with Hailey Long in American Dragon, Martin often praises his brother for his abilities. Sure, Martin gets annoyed when Chris tries to correct him on things, like in the episode Wolf Hawks, but everyone else does too, so it feels more like a take-down of mansplaining than a sibling spat.

I talked too in the feminist post about how refreshing it is that Chris and Martin more or less willingly put themselves under the authority of Koki and Aviva, two women of color. I don’t think it’s possible to say any one character is the “leader,” they all work as a evenly balanced team, but it’s safe to say that Koki and Aviva make the more responsible decisions. The bros try to get out of their calls a few times, but the show plays it more like they’re being irresponsible, and less like they’re renegade cool dudes who don’t take nothing from nobody, especially not two girls. They are pretty much always punished via karma for their reckless choices, most especially in To Touch a Hummingbird, where their arrogant attitudes blow up in their faces rather spectacularly. We also never see the narrative most present in sitcoms, where the male leads mess up and go out of their way to cover it up and ultimately gets away with it - after all, you have to root for them, right, because sure they messed up and had no consequences, but aren’t they just so lovable? No, here Martin and Chris always have to fix their wrongdoing, and it’s always deserved when they get comeuppance. Another aspect of the show I like is that, many times, when the bros get captured or are in peril, they are saved by the women - and most refreshing of all, there’s never a moment of “wink wink nudge nudge wow I can’t believe I had to be rescued by a GIRL” or even “wow you saved me you’re pretty good honey guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, you go girl!” No, when the girls save them, it’s just - you know, relief? Because they were saved? It’s never a scenario played as an exception, or any more dire than when the bros need to rescue eachother. The bros are genuinely happy to have them as teammates. The show even did the standard “boys vs girls” episode in the form of When Fish Fly - but instead of being actually girls vs. boys, it’s engineers vs. adventurers. There’s nothing really gendered about it - the girls happen to be engineers, and the boys happen to be adventurers. And the episode doesn’t end with the boys being “wow gosh darn I shouldn’t have doubted you girls are better at everything,” it’s a mutual agreement that both parties have hard jobs. Basically, the bros are very naturally respectful of women. That plays more into their feminist narrative too, but either way, it’s refreshing.

Then, we have Jimmy! Jimmy, the lovable gamerboy pizza man. At first glance Jimmy seems like the stereotypical cowardly, pathetic, emasculated loser. He’s frightened of most things, as of yet has no power suit, and he BAKES for crying out loud! But none of these things are framed as terribly bad traits. Sure, we laugh when he screams and runs from an animal, but though it happens over and over, the crew doesn’t get sick of it. They don’t berate him or belittle him because he’s so gosh darn cowardly. There’s a great scene in Rattlesnake Crystal where Jimmy has to deliver something to the bros alone, in the middle of a spooky desert. He is terrified the whole time, sprinting off after he delivers the goods. When Martin and Chris run into him, they don’t laugh at him for being spooked, they just greet and then bid fair well to their friend. To them, this is just Jimmy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Jimmy isn’t coddled, but he is reassured many times that he’s a valuable member of the team. I love that little message, that you’re just as important of a person even if you can’t do as much or have greater limits. When his friends do try to get him over his fears, it’s not because they have to, that the day will somehow be ruined by Jimmy’s incompetence p, but because they’re his friends, and want him to experience fun and wonderful things that he would otherwise miss out on. But what Jimmy CAN do is just as important! Jimmy is a gamer, which in a lot of shows, is portrayed as a lazy, useless, mindless hobby. But here, because he plays video games, it makes him essential for piloting the ship and teleporting important items. There’s always the joke that video games improves your hand/eye coordination, but recent studies have shown it has much better effects. It can make you much better at keeping track of multiple moving objects and processing technical but variable information- two traits which, fittingly enough, are really really important for air traffic controllers and airplane pilots! He also demonstrates a lot more courage behind the wheel of the Tortuga, which makes sense - in an impersonal setting, he would have more sense of calm and control and courage, because it’s so similar to a video game world. It’s not all too different with how I feel more emboldened to pick fights with people on the internet, but get crazy anxious if a real person so much as looks at me. So Jimmy’s love of video games isn’t because he’s irresponsible, it has real benefits. A quick last point - Jimmy also eats a lot, but they thankfully don’t make him fat or greedy or anything like that. He never takes food from people, he actually bakes, and shares it with others! Having the baker be a boy is a lovely touch.

I might do another post about the toxic masculinity of the two villains, (or four villains, I guess, if I wanna discuss the minions) but I’ve got other work to do, and this post is long enough already, so I’ll get around to it later. I’ll sum it up with this - Wild Kratts is a show that teaches boys it’s not only ok to be kind, but essential. The brothers protect defenseless animals, advocate for things “icky” and “weird,” like bugs or snakes or worms - not because they’re boys, and boys like icky things, but because they genuinely see the beauty in all life, and are encouraging us to slow down and do the same. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world not by being the strongest or smartest or coolest, but by looking after those who are exploited and vulnerable, who are essential to the world, even if they can’t always do everything. In Wild Kratts the only weaknesses a man can have isn’t what he can’t do, but what he does do that he shouldn’t have. Sure, it’s a cute show about two funny guys who have cool powers, but it’s also a show about accountability, compassion, respect and trust. The show says “boys will be boys” in all the right ways - Martin is a lovable goof with a heart of gold, but he still has to get his act together when he messes up, and he’s still creative and smart and openly sensitive. Chris is a bit of a know-it-all show-off, but he can also mess up as much as his brother, and is still bold, brave, adventurous, and can put his money where his mouth is. Jimmy is a cowardly, napping, eating machine video-gamer, but he’s still a valued member of the team, has incredible skills and talents, and will always help his friends, even if he is really, really scared. It is so important to have role models like these, in a world dominated by unhealthy machismo. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world - both animated, and real.

All they need now is a canon queer character, and I’ll stan them forever! My money’s on Aviva!!

[goldrockyroad]

now that the season is over here are chuang2021 moments i cannot believe are real, a list that only gets longer and in no particular order: 

- that entire bit of them choosing their dorm rooms, including but not limited to:

lin mo copping his double room only to lose it + his mental breakdown after that

almost 20 of them fighting to have hiroto stay in their room

nine and patrick's 'we break up' (only for patrick to move in after 1st round of eliminations) 

ak: ‘does rikimaru snore?’ santa: ‘yeah, very loudly’ ak: ‘oh NOOOO i’m scREWED’ 

- hanfu shop owner liu yu

- han meijuan training base: 

yu gengyin’s ‘i am a proud fishie swimming into your heart’ 

also yu gengyin: ‘i’m a little scared that the debut lineup will end up being 11 han meijuans’ 

zhang xinyao dropping it low. that’s it. 

han peiquan: ‘look at that santa, he can dance so well but can he do this? he can play the drums but ask him to come here, can he do it? no way’ 

the entire “just go where you want” performance including their intro + mentors comments + xie xingyang’s slogans

but even more so “just go where you want” 2.0 LIVE AT THE FINALS 

- the mentors dancing along to ‘vote for me xoxo’ during “just go where you want” 2.0 before carrying and promptly drOPPING zhou shen onto the floor before the rest of them pretend like nothing happened in time for the ending pose 

- “when i’m with you”, “unbreakable love”, “just go where you want” > the actual theme song all day every day 

- don't be shy @/tencent , give me all the clips of gan wangxing singing jing long's “lost you” (diu le ni) + more of the both of them dancing to crab dance backstage

- zhou shen, to shao mingming on the verge of having a meltdown over mean comments about him as practice for “i don’t care” stage: ‘do you want to hear the next comment?’ shao mingming, as the others start laughing: ‘plEASE NO’ zhou shen, reading the comment anyway: ‘he only knows how to cry’ cue maniac laughter from all of them 

- just hanjiang, really 

zhang xinyao, on “feng ding” stage: ‘it was so good. also i wanna add hanjiang you look like huluwa’

to wu yuheng after “i don’t care” team’s performance: ‘there’s only one word to describe you - handsome. first time i saw you i went, woah, handsome. saw you on stage performing - woah, handsome. seriously, handsome’ 

xue bayi, backstage: ‘i think he’s said that to me too’ 

when called up at 2nd eliminations: ‘what’s manga-like man?’ another trainee: ‘ means you look like you came out of a manga’ zhou zhennan: ‘yeah it’s like fei yang yang came out of the page into real life’ 

domineering ceo with all of them either screaming or looking mildly uncomfortable 

literally scREAMING to get people to join “zui kuen” team 

more importantly hanjiang’s dad imitating him scream to get people to join “zui kuen” team to a dAMN T 

- patrick: ‘hello everyone i am your ocean prince patrick!’ wu hai: ‘and i am the ocean’ [for non-chinese speaking fans of chuang, the hai 海 in wu hai means ocean] + the continuation of this on wu hai’s dorm diary

- “unbreakable love” 2.0 !!!! put it on spotify right now !!!!!

- da-geTM bo yuan 

fu sichao, on bo yuan getting 9th for 2nd eliminations: ‘that feeling when your own old man (laughs for a bit) when your old man gets a really good grade, it’s indescribable happiness’

amu: ‘bo yuan’s like my grandpa, and he might as well be’  

eisho’s ‘bo yuan gege’ 

hiroto getting other trainees to call him da-ge on dorm diary but having bo yuan as his da-ge 

or alternatively, yuan-shu [uncle yuan], as seen after using the term fanersai（凡尔赛）[literally means versailles, a slang that means the same thing as flexing / humblebragging in english] 

- gan wangxing unintentional comedian

han peiquan, on his first impressions of gan wangxing: ‘he’s such so good-looking, and then he opens his mouth (disbelievingly rolls his eyes) i almost died right there’ 

on being 11th for 2nd eliminations: ‘in the past, my life plan was that after graduating from university, i’d find a stable job and live a nine-to-five life. and i used to fantasize that in my future i’d be able to find a wife early, drive a car to bring her travelling, we can listen to some music and lift our heads to see the stars’ 

other trainees: laughing and going ‘oOHHHH’, notably including xie xingyang: ‘he’s still fantasizing!’ 

also other trainees, after seeing the video his family sent to cheer him on: ‘where’s the wife? where’s the wife!’ 

also ‘hello, look at me’ coming up everytime he shows up

case in point - the mentors erupting into laughter when gan wangxing steps forward to do his evaluation, notably zhou zhennan: ‘kill me with it!’ [i’m not sure how to translate what he actually said in a better way than that], nene following up by simply going ‘hello’, zhou zhennan immediately picking it up while still laughing: ‘look at me’

holding the umbrella for nene at the end of “it’s raining and i’m thinking of you” stage just for all the trainees backstage to go ‘why’s it you!’ 

Very Passionately telling gong jun what jing long taught him on singing

- ‘andy lau has come to visit our zoo!’ 

- wu yuheng’s quest for chilli sauce in his dorm diary:

wu yuheng and fu sichao terrorising a staff member for chilli sauce until the staff goes to wu yuheng ‘if you wake him (fu sichao) up every morning i’ll make sure you get your chilli sauce’ to which fu sichao says to wu yuheng ‘you know what chilli sauce isn’t that great let’s go’ 

wu yuheng straight up drinking zhou keyu’s chilli sauce because i could never 

- liu yu confessing to lin mo as a dare from shao mingming but lin mo’s in the toilet so liu yu has to awkwardly do it standing outside the cubicle door while shao mingming and xue bayi eat the drama up 

- oscar’s reaction to people finding out his real name + the entire ‘xiong xiong’ saga 

- lelush with a pearl earring 

- rikimaru moments that deserve a segment of their own 

having the first comment on his first solo performance be ‘drop your skincare routine’ [essentially] because the mentors didn’t have anything to critique on his performance 

at the start of his speech at 3rd eliminations, when it was clearly evening: ‘good morning’ 

getting very sad over the fact that yumeri didn't send him a video to cheer him on + being jealous every time someone's sister showing up in the videos

- speaking of sisters, the guys simping over amu's sisters + amu, asking the mentors when trainees had the chance to dedicate a few words to each other during the final livestream: 'can my sisters come next year?'

- santa, on preparation for nana party stage: ‘she (mao xiaotong) learnt the choreography really fast, and even if she made mistakes she’ll be like *makes cute expressions* so even when she did i’d be like “it’s ok! no problem!” she’s so cute’ the staff interviewing him: ‘is this the santa we know?’ 

- “the adventure” team making fun of their female guest before finding out said female guest was meng meiqi aka goddess incarnate AND had been watching them make fun of her through the cameras 

- lin mo’s bat song

- xie xingyang discreetly stealing food from the staff on their movie night that was originally supposed to only be for those who used their beans before a whole group of them [led by jing long, consisting of xie xingyang, wei ziyue, hu yetao and others] just go and outright take it with nine hugging the staff member to let them take the food that entire bts video is a mess and you know what? that’s what i’m here for

- zhou zhennan’s constant ‘wtf’ face 

- that chuang x GQ beach video 

- gong jun’s entire time on chuang, but especially the moments with zhou shen. felt like a fever dream tbh 

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

+

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

-

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

+

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren��t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

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