#two days of this in a row too.... gonna figure out whether or not this is gonna wreck me or not by tuesday night forsure

[defrogatory]

im gonna have to work 12 fucking hours tomorrow .... wtf have i gotten myself into w/ this second job

[detachedminxsfics]

Motel

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: You've grown particularly close with the Motor Inn's personal walker killer and decide to pay his motel room a visit.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: NSFW - Oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, hair pulling, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, gentle dom negan

A/N: If you're from my tiktok (which spawned the chaos that motivated me to finish most of this bc you guys are crazy), hello! This is my first time managing to actually finish and upload a oneshot in months, so I apologise in advance. I was also extremely tired when I wrote most of this, but I hope it was worth the wait for the handful of you bombarding my comment sections for the past 24 hours. 😂 I knew what I had to do the moment I saw that shower scene...like damn.

You downed your third shot of the day before slamming it back down onto the counter and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes idly following the neon lights on the sign hung proudly behind the bar. The Easy Stay Motor Inn. It was a shithole. It only served as a way of keeping four walls and a roof over your head, and walkers off your ass. Speaking of, there was only one guy you'd grown particularly fond of during the month you'd spent working for the lady who owns this place and lapping up the amenities of their accompanying motel, Negan. He wasn't from around here, that much you gathered just by taking one good look at him, but then neither were you. You were both drifters. Heading from one place to the next, never staying anywhere long enough to see it through and find out whether it'd go to shit or hold out long enough before eventually falling to pieces. You just kept moving. That mentality had served you well so far and had kept you alive long enough to say that you'd made it well over a decade into the apocalypse now, not that you had much to show for it.

"Want another?" The guy behind the bar asked, half expecting you to agree to it as you had with all the others and making his way over to the bottle of vodka you'd been chipping away at.

"No thanks", you shook your head with a small smile and slid off the bar stool, "I'm gonna go try to entertain myself someplace else, but don't be surprised if I come back and finish that off later." You gestured to the vodka with a tilt of your head, and the certainty in your tone had the bartender smiling.

You headed towards the backdoor that led to the motel out back, the harsh change of lighting making you squint and shield your eyes to adjust for a moment, the dim vivid hues of the neon-lit windowless bar you'd been sitting in for the past hour or two being snuffed out once you stepped into the natural sunlight. Visual disorientation aside, you made your way down the row of motel rooms lined at your side, your interest only lying with the idea of arriving at one motel room in particular, and you stopped in front of the door when you found it. The door was a stark black to match the wooden panels sitting on either side of the window not too far from the right of the door, vines having wrapped around some of the slats in the wood from the overgrowth of shrubbery on the floor beneath it. It was run down and uncared for like just about anywhere else in this world. You tested the handle to see if the door was unlocked and to your surprise, it was. Twisting it fully you pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind you as you began to observe the interior of the room. It was generically decorated like just about any other room in this place, and he didn't seem to have left anything behind for you to snoop through. The room was so empty that if you didn’t know any better you might have thought that he'd moved on already, packed up all his shit and hit the road. You figured that this was on purpose and probably explained why he didn't care too much when it came to keeping the door locked since he didn't have any shit to steal. Smart.

Negan hadn't been around for too long now, in fact, he'd only arrived about a week after you, but he left a lasting first impression. He was useful. He pulled his weight by taking care of any of the walkers that roamed or wandered into the perimeter of the motor inn, and was never bad company on the occasions that he'd sat on the bar stool next to you and made conversation. As time went on you'd gotten closer and more comfortable with one another, and you quickly found yourself noticing that Negan was the one person you'd opened up to the most in the duration of your entire stay here, better yet felt the most comfortable doing so with. Your vulnerability wasn't one-sided, either. He never went into an awful load of detail, but he had a bad past. He wasn't on the run per se, but there was a group of people that he was hoping to avoid the possibility of encountering for the rest of his days, a community that he had a difficult history with. He alluded to what seemed to mostly amount to horrible shit that most people had done by now just to stay alive, the kind of things you see at night when you close your eyes, haunting you from the backs of your eyelids. You paid it no mind, and you told him that too; he seemed to appreciate your lack of judgement. Gradually, the conversations grew more personal and not so casual, things got flirty. It was subtle, but Negan would make small coy comments on things that you say, or little compliments now and again that toed the line a tad too much for what could be considered harmless flattery or him shooting his shot. You were able to keep yourself humble up until the night when he had jokingly mentioned how good your ass looked in your jeans after more than a few drinks, not that he needed it to let you know just how much he was checking you out. Your thoughts were interrupted by the twist of the doorknob and the sight of it being pushed open afterwards, revealing a rather sluggish and slightly dishevelled-looking Negan. Negan had a silver beard that he seemed to keep well-maintained, the hair decorating his top lip thicker than the rest. His dark hair was always slicked, though it seemed to have transitioned to more of an ashy brown over time with grey tinging at the sides of his hair. He was ruggedly handsome, that was for sure. A grin crept onto his lips when he noticed you standing by one of the beds, closing the door behind him and running his hand through his hair, slicking some of the strands that had fallen out of place in the process.

"Just letting yourself into my place now, huh? We graduating from drinking buddies to whatever the hell this is?" He quipped but was amused by how bold you were to just waltz on into his motel room.

"It's not like you don't want me here." You remarked with a knowing smile as you sat on the end of one of the double beds, to which Negan chuckled and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a seemingly small mannerism of his that always drove you wild.

"Touché."

He sauntered to the bed next to you until he stood at the foot of it and started to shrug off his leather jacket with a sigh.

"Well whatever it is honey, it's gonna have to wait. I have been out there cracking rotting skulls for who knows how long, and now I need a damn shower."

The checkered flannel shirt he'd been wearing open underneath it was next, him tossing it on the bed in front of him before his fingers brush over the hem of his black tank top. He glanced at you with the material still pinched between his fingertips, a cocky smile creeping onto his lips as he noticed the way you were shamelessly staring at him and didn't seem to plan on stopping anytime soon.

"You gonna watch me strip now too, darlin'?"

You playfully shrugged and let your eyes wander down his torso, an eye movement Negan most certainly followed judging by the way his smile grew, as did his ego.

"I can turn around if you're too shy, Negan."

The throaty chuckle he let loose was almost immediate, his eyebrows raised as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Me, shy? Fuck no. You can stare your little heart out, and you would most definitely be staring."

Well, you certainly hadn't expected him to take it with such pride, so you caved and turned so you were facing the wall next to the bed. You could hear the sounds of clothes falling against the sheets and the clinking of metal as he undid his belt, and then the zipper on his leather pants.

"You still thinking of sticking it out here for a bit longer? I know last time we spoke you weren't so sure." Negan muttered as he got his pants down to his ankles and started to try to shake his ankles out of them.

You thought for a moment, then sighed a little.

"I think so? I don't know, I'm just trying to go day by day. Why, would you miss me?" Your tone picked up towards the end as did the enthusiasm in your voice, the suggestion making Negan's sudden laughter start in the form of a snort.

"Miss you? Shit, course I would. I'd probably move on from here after that."

You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself unable to form the right words. He made it sound like you were the only reason he was still staying here, and that without you there'd just be no point. You didn't ask him to elaborate though, just silently rolled the thought around in your head.

"Well, time to take that shower. I'll be right back, and I don't know maybe we can grab a drink or some shit afterwards?"

"Sure." You mumbled in response.

After that all you heard was the soft tread of his footsteps as he made his way past you and into the bathroom, then the sound of the water being turned on and beginning to crash against the floor of the shower for a few moments before it became more muffled with Negan's body interrupting the stream, and you turned back to face something other than the blank yellow wall you'd be staring at whilst he was stripping. You did your best to focus on the small details of the room to occupy your head, the peculiar framed pictures decorating some of the walls, and the hideous design choices when it came to the taste of the room, but it was no use. All you could think about was what Negan had looked like underneath all those clothes when he was a mere few feet behind you, and what he looked like right now standing in the shower in the very next room, the image of water droplets trailing down his torso and body making it harder to stay seated with every passing second until you just couldn't take it anymore. You stood to your feet and made your way to the bathroom, standing in the doorway for a moment as you stopped in your tracks. The shower had a sliding door that Negan had slid shut, the distortion of the glass still allowing you to be able to make out the sight of him with his head tilted town and one of his palms pressed up against the wall, and the tattoo decorating his shoulder blade. There was no turning back now, you had made up your mind. You approached the glass and gave it a soft knock, the sound startling Negan a little as he turned and slid the glass just enough for him to lean into the gap he'd made.

"Everything okay?" He asked, concern tinging his voice as he used his other hand to sweep some of the hair that had fallen into his face back in place.

Your only response was the sight of your fingertips grasping the hem of your top before you pulled it over your head, holding the top in your hands for a moment as you gazed at him, trying to gauge Negan's reaction to your now exposed breasts. He seemed taken aback for a moment or two, and then his eyes darkened with lust.

"Can I join you?" You asked, fingers teasingly dancing along the waistband of your jeans as though you could tell by just the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to deny your offer.

He didn't.

"Fuck yeah you can." He rasped with a shit-eating grin, leaning back and pushing the sliding glass all the way open to make room for you to join him.

You stripped until there was nothing left, discarding all of your clothes into a pile on the tiled bathroom floor and stepping into the shower with him. The first thing you noticed was the heat. The steam from the hot water, the heat coming from Negan's body, all of it swarming your body with warmth. Then, him. All of him. From the water droplets falling from the scruff of his beard, the dark hair decorating his chest and trailing down the centre of his torso, and even the skull tattoo inked on the right side of his chest. The man was gorgeous. Your eyes dragged down his body, drinking in every inch of him until you got to the part you'd been anticipating most, but were interrupted. He cupped the underside of your jaw and urged your head back up, his thumb brushing along your chin as the tip of his thumb traced just along the edge of your bottom lip.

"You like what you're seeing, huh?" He seemed to be making more of a statement than genuinely asking, but you entertained him nonetheless.

"A lot." You replied simply, the intense and lustful look your eyes were lit with corrupting your stare as your eyes bore into his.

"Good."

He used the hold on your jaw to guide your lips to his, his lips claiming yours. The hand that had been cupping your chin moved to grasp the nape of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip and drawing your body against his. You could feel him hard against your thigh as he groaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth so you could taste him and his hands keeping you pressed firmly against his body, your own hands beginning to wander from the top of his chest down to his abdomen. The water cascading down his shoulders caressed along your fingertips and down your breasts, the warm water trailing down your body whilst he continued to move his lips against yours until you couldn't breathe, and you were forced to pull back for air. The moment you did Negan dove his head into the crook of your neck and pressed his lips against your pulse point, gently sucking the skin there and occasionally teasing it between his teeth in a way that was sure to leave marks, his beard scratching along your jaw as he did. The attention he paid your neck had your hand rushing up the nape of his neck and into his hair, combing your fingers through the back before taking a fistful of his wet strands. The slight tension on his scalp and the way your breath was shaking right by his ear made him pause for a moment to smile against your skin, a hoarse chuckle following shortly thereafter. The warmth of his breath from the laugh felt hot on your skin, and you used the strands of hair you'd taken in your palm to urge his head back until his face was inches from yours again. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip when you found your voice.

"You've thought about this before haven't you, fucking me?"

His brows raised at your boldness, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile.

"Damn right I have. I'd have to be blind or crazy not to, you are easy on the eyes, darlin'."

"Oh?" You tilted your head as you feigned mock surprise, his eyes looking you over like you were good enough to eat, and you might just let him.

Slowly you leaned in and seductively ran your tongue over his lips, finishing with a small kittenish flick at his top lip before leaning back. You soaked up the wanton look in his gaze when you sank to your knees, your eyes locked with his all the while. Now kneeling on the floor of the shower you reached up and closed your hand around his shaft, the way his breath caught in his throat once he felt your touch giving you the encouragement you needed to lean in and run your tongue over the swollen tip, beads of precum gathering along your tongue as you did. As you licked at it you felt Negan's fingers stroke over your hair before he started to gather it in his hand, all of your hair soon clutched into his fist like a makeshift ponytail.

"Don't be a tease." He warned as he slid his free hand underneath your chin and cupped it, allowing him to use both the grip on your hair and your jaw to urge you forward.

Willingly your lips parted, his cock sliding past your lips and into your mouth.

"Fuuuck, there we go." Negan slurred as he slid further into your mouth, stopping just before he reached your throat.

He grunted once you flattened your tongue on the underside of his shaft and leant forward, bracing one of his hands against the tiled wall of the shower when he lowered his head to look at you.

"Shit, you look so good with a mouthful of cock." He rasped crudely with the dirtiest smile before pushing himself down your throat, and you fought the urge to gag as he did.

He started to move his hips, the motion prompting you to place your hands just above his knees for support whilst he slid in and out of your throat. Soon enough tears began to well in your eyes, the urge to choke too great as you finally gagged on him, the sensation making Negan momentarily screw his eyes shut before sliding out of your mouth. He let you breathe for a moment or two before he was already pushing down your throat again, his groans getting louder and deeper with every thrust.

"Ohh, good girl." He cooed, his sounds of pleasure gradually turning into a blatant string of curses as he repeatedly thrust down your throat, and you shamelessly took every single inch.

Eventually, the movement of his hips got slower, his moans getting louder until finally his hips stuttered and his abdomen began to tense. He tightened his grip on your hair, the harsh grasp burning your scalp, and then you felt the hot wet spurts of warm liquid coating your tongue. You waited until you knew he'd spilt every last drop and then carefully removed him and swallowed his release, your breath a little laboured whilst Negan hovered above you with totally ragged, uneven breath, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to come down from the high of his orgasm. A few tears had escaped your waterline and slid down your cheeks as he fucked your throat, but it had mixed with the occasional stream of water trickling down your face from the shower.

"You did so good, baby. So good." He praised as he finally released your hair from his hand and started gently running his fingers through it instead, his touch soothing some of the pain he'd inflicted upon your scalp.

You stayed like that for a moment just listening to the sound of the water until you felt his hand leave your hair and the sight of him extending it out in front of you for you to take, which you did. He helped you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist the second you straightened your back, his mouth crashing against yours and allowing him to taste himself on your lips, the urgency with which he kissed you making you moan into the kiss a little. Whilst he stole your air Negan guided you backwards until your back came to press against the steamy tiled wall, the condensation pooling on the tiles smearing against your skin, and the faint coolness to it making you gasp. You wrapped your arms around Negan's neck to draw him in closer, your hips subconsciously moving to bring your groin against his and allowing his still proudly hard cock to brush against your inner thigh. You broke the kiss to try to regulate your unsteady breathing, leaning back just enough so that your lips were practically still brushing, the hot heavy pants Negan breathed against your lips making you need him all the more.

"Negan?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you inside me."

He couldn't hold back the dangerous look his eyes filled with when you whispered exactly what you needed, an arrogant look in his eye as he leaned back and cockily smiled.

"Your wish is my command, sweetheart. C'mere."

He slid his hands all the way up the backs of your thighs, towards your outer thigh, and then took hold of your hips. The gesture prompted you to do a small jump that allowed Negan to hoist you up and trap you between the wall and his body, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands moved to cup your ass. In one calculated movement Negan lined himself up and sank inside you, the way you stretched around him eliciting a filthy moan from your lips almost immediately.

"That feel good, baby?" He purred, his voice full of arrogance.

He knew it did, he just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes, god yes." Was all you could manage as he set a hard and intense pace, drawing all the way out before slamming back inside you, the feeling of fullness with every thrust making your mouth fall open.

One of your hands slid down his chest, his dark chest hair brushing up against your fingers as you did, whilst the other slid up his shoulder and moved to rest on the nape of his neck. His fingers were digging into your skin with the grip he had on you, strands of your hair clinging to the condensation of the tiled walls as you slightly threw your head back, uncontrollable sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips from the way he roughly fucked into you. The overwhelming sensation caused you to idly weave your fingertips in the hair at the top of his neck and run your hands through the back of his hair, occasionally tugging at it when he buried himself especially deep and you could do nothing but squirm in his grip. The water was still running just off to Negan's side, the hot water wasting onto the floor and creating a small pool at his feet. With the way you'd angled your body it allowed him to lean in and lick a stripe up the valley between your breasts, your skin feverishly hot against his tongue as he gathered some of the water droplets and left nothing but a trail of spit before beginning to kiss up your throat. He littered your neck with kisses, moving his affections to the side of your neck before planting a few kisses along your jaw, his stubble scratching along the side of your face all the while. It felt like heaven. You couldn't think about anything other than his touch, the way his mouth shamelessly marked your skin, the sounds of his heavy breath and the guttural groans spilling from his throat like music to your ears. By this point your sweet moans grew to resemble sobs, your legs slightly shaking in his hold as Negan thrust into you over and over, and a feeling started to burn in the pit of your stomach unlike anything you had ever felt before.

"Negan." was all you managed to choke out, practically in the form of a cry.

All you felt was his lips claiming yours, and the occasional parting of your lips just enough for him to whisper into the kisses.

"I got you, I got you, baby." He swore over and over, his gentle reassurance paired with his hard thrusts tipping you completely over the edge, and your whimpers getting lost in his heated kisses.

You feel the knotting in your abdomen just before everything comes crashing over you, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you clench around him as Negan continues to fuck you throughout your high, your mind hazed with overstimulation. Eventually his movements began to stutter, his abdomen clenching amidst the deep v-lines framing his hips, and a string of gravelly curses poured from his mouth. Carefully, Negan unwrapped one of your legs from his waist and urged you to set it down on the floor of the shower, the other still wrapped around his hips as he held it there. His free hand moved down to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a few quick strokes until he finally came. His hold on your leg became more of a firm squeeze as he threw his head back a little and grunted, liquid splashing over the top of your inner thigh and beginning to gradually trickle down your leg. The bathroom was full of steam now, the air thick with humidity and both of your chests rising and falling rapidly as you both tried to catch your breath. After a few moments you felt Negan place your other leg down, his release still dribbling down your skin as you tried to come down from your incalculable high. His breath evened out a little, his eyes still half-lidded when his hazel eyes locked with yours, his gaze capturing you amidst the knowing grin playing on his lips. You were totally fucked out, and the sight made him chuckle.

"That good, huh?" He teased with raised brows, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip making you playfully roll your eyes and manage a small laugh.

"Shut up."

You'd give credit where credit is due, the man knew what he was doing, but you couldn't allow yourself to stroke his almost nauseating large ego any further. He shook his head with a smile, both of his hands smoothing over your waist and then taking hold of it, using it to lead you towards him. You let him coax you to the space closer to the shower head, the water now splashing directly against the back of his neck and trailing down his body, droplets of water simultaneously forming along Negan's jawline and repeatedly falling from his wet beard. He kept one hand on your waist whilst the other held one side of your face, his eyes boring into yours. His head tipped forward so he could rest his forehead against yours, water sliding down his neck when he started to speak in almost a whisper at first.

"If I hit the road, I want you to come with me."

You thought you may have not heard him right at first and leant back with slightly wide eyes, shock etched into your features.

"Really?" You muttered.

"Yeah."

A moment of silence passed, the stare you shared serving as more of an answer than any words you could utter, but you parted your lips to speak and did anyhow.

"You've got yourself a deal."

[mysewingadventures]

Making the ✨Lioncourt Gown✨ (Part 4/4)

It's been such a fun project working on the Lioncourt Gown (aka Interview with the Vampire's Lestat de Lioncourt's theater costume -

made into a 1790s women's redingote) and I can finally say that I have finished it. It's done, and I love it. It didn't turn out exactly how I'd planned, but that's how it is with me and sewing. I admire anyone who can just stick to their original plan haha but that person is not me. Usually, when sewing I don't think too far ahead, I just do it until I hit a point where something just isn't working out and have to find a way around it. I'm also self-taught, so my workarounds may not be standard procedures when you actually know what you're doing. But I'm still really, really happy with it, and I did a little photo shoot as soon as it was done.

But anyways, here's the final part of this project.

In my last post, we left off with the still detached but finished collar/yoke and the finished bodice. I attached the yoke to the bodice, and then went on to make the final piece - the outer skirt.

For that, I essentially did the same thing I did with the bodice and the sleeves. I attached the colored satin triangles and stitched them down with the tape. Here is a picture just before I attached the tape:

This process is very time consuming and I had severely underestimated it. I did end up finishing it in a day, but it was the only thing I did that day. You have to stitch super close to the edge or the satin is going to fray and stick out and it's not a pretty look. It did end up happening in a few places, so I had to take the stitches out and redo them. But when that was done, I added red tape to the raw edges of the fabric and finished the skirt.

Then finally, it was time to attach the skirt to the bodice. For that, I gathered it with a quick basting stitch to bring it to the needed width and then had to hand stitch it in place, making sure I was attaching it only to the lining layer so the stitches wouldn't be visible from the right side.

Once that was done, it was time for the first complete try on! For one, I was really excited to see it as a basically completed project, but more importantly, I needed to know where to put the buttons. So I put on all my layers for this (shift, stays, bumroll, two petticoats, the skirt, and the bodice with the outer skirt), and realized... it was a bit smaller than anticipated. It fit, but I'd planned to make it double-breasted and the front panels didn't overlap quite enough to make two button rows possible while keeping them centered. So I ended up deciding in that moment I was only going to do one row of buttons. The original only has one row, so it was fine either way. But while on the topic of buttons, another thing: I'd mentioned in a previous post that I wasn't sure whether to add buttonholes or to fake the closure with hooks and eyes, and I decided to do neither. I was way too scared of the satin fraying if I did button holes and the whole hook and eye system is pretty annoying to do, and since I'm only really gonna wear it once or twice a year I decided to just use some red pins to pin myself into the dress for the day. This protects the satin from fraying and is less work for me. It doesn't look super professional though and while historically accurate for some dresses in the 18th century (some even used to sew themselves, or have someone sew them into their dresses), it was not used on redingotes (as far as I'm aware) for practicality reasons. Redingotes are essentially riding coats and were used primarily outdoors, so buttons was the most common way to close up these types of garments. Still, I did not want to risk ruining the fabric, so I decided to do it this way.

So once I'd figured out where to place the buttons, I sewed them into place. On a side note, I do love the way they look. They're so pretty.

I added four in the front, two on each sleeve and four in the back.

So this is it. It's done.

This was, mostly due to the color details, the most time time-consuming and frankly expensive project I've ever worked on (well, maybe except for my very first dress as I still didn't know what I was doing back then - that one took me literal months hah). But it was so worth it. It's been in my bedroom for a few days now and I smile every time I see it. I still can't believe it's in my possession.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

[xaharadesert]

Super Chatty MC - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: For another lovely anon! I wasn’t planning on writing 2 days in a row, but this was a super cute and simple one, so I had a lot of fun with it! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes (it’s 4am as I finish this, so I’m sure there’s plenty of errors) requests are open!

❤️Julian❤️

He’s undeniably verbose himself, so he’s in no position to judge

There may be moments where you’ll be in the middle of a rant and he’ll accidentally cut you off because you’ve reminded him of one of his own adventures

He will apologize of course, and encourage you to continue what you were saying, but he hopes he’ll get the chance to tell you the story later

Unfortunately he is prone to getting distracted while you’re talking, so while he would love to actively engage with all of your ideas, his mind is too busy making connections to other topics

But even if he struggles to pay attention, he’ll never grow tired of your boundless energy

🧡Portia🧡

As long as the topic is interesting, she doesn’t mind at all

She’s a big fan of gossip, so she’s always listening in to your latest rambles, even if they’re not directed at her

She has a way of needling her own thoughts into your rants and turning it into a proper conversation

You’ll hardly even notice since she matches your energy so well

It might be a bit of a pain for the people around you if you’re in public, but you two seem so happy in your own little world that no one has the heart to bother you

💛Lucio💛

This man has never been an active listener in his life, and as much as he loves you he is not about to start

He won’t stop you from rambling, but he’s definitely not paying attention to what you’re saying unless it’s directly related to him in some way

He’s mostly just thinking about all the things he’s gonna say when it’s his turn to talk again

It’s almost like a competition over who gets to speak; every time one of you pauses for too long, the other gets started on a topic that might not even be related

That being said, when you two are mutually interested in a topic (particularly drama), the conversation can last hours with full investment from both sides

💚Muriel💚

He’s really not a talker, so you’ll never be in competition with him for talking time

That being said, he’s not much of a listener either; he tries his best to pay attention to what you’re saying because he wants to show that he cares for you and your thoughts, but he gets tired quickly

He’s not really used to the constant noise, and it can stress him out sometimes, so he’ll not so subtly shoo you outside to go chat to the chickens

That does make him feel a little bad, and he hopes you understand that he doesn’t have any ill intentions

He just needs a bit of alone time to recharge so he can be the best version of himself for you

💙Asra💙

He loves to listen to the sound of your voice even if the topic isn’t interesting

After knowing you for years, he seems to have some sort of sixth sense that tells him when he actually needs to be paying attention to what you’re saying

You’ll never be able to tell if he’s actually listening though, because he always looks like he’s in dream land (whether he’s gazing at you with a dreamy look in his eyes, or staring off into the distance like he sees an entirely different world, Asra always looks like he’s got more going on in his head than he lets on)

Occasionally he’ll mention some obscure detail that you spoke of maybe once like a month ago just to throw you off track when you think you’ve got his listening patterns figured out

It’s really not something to stress over; he makes it clear that he loves you, and loves your chatty nature even if he seems distracted day to day

💜Nadia💜

She is perhaps the only person in Vesuvia with enough mental power to always pay active attention to what you’re saying

Being a politician has given her plenty of practice at effectively dividing her attention, so she can listen to you while still completing other tasks and even holding other conversations

Just when you think you’ve lost her, she’ll ask a relevant question to assure you that she’s invested in whatever you’ve been ranting about

It’s not always an easy task for her, and she does need a bit of quiet at the end of the day to recharge, but she understands that you have no ill will

In fact, she occasionally takes advantage of your chatty demeanour and sends you out to distract various important individuals who she doesn’t really want to talk to herself (with your knowledge and consent, of course)

[unicyclehippo]

Ameliorate?

her third meeting with imogen took place on the third, which launda appreciated very much. she admired the day calendar propped up on her desk—the big 3 stamped in black, and coffee - doctor temult looped excitedly across most of the page. beneath it, much smaller, was delivery GE74-226 in her assistant’s cramped and slanted lettering.

‘right, we’ve got a shit tonne of work to do today so whether the fuck is going on between you two, you can’t be an hour late again,’ ashton said, shouldering in through the closed door.

‘mister greymoore! what have i said about knocking?’

ashton dragged a curious eye over her office. ‘there’s no one here.’

‘it’s about etiquette! i could have been - oh, i don’t know - on the phone. or taking a private meeting.’

‘you weren’t.’

‘but i could have been,’ she insisted.

ashton sighed. ‘you want me to go back and knock, don’t you?’

laudna smiled brightly at the suggestion and nodded. ‘please. practice makes perfect!’

ashton sighed again, louder. he stomped out of the office and closed the door. laudna waited. and waited. she waited long enough that it occurred to her ashton had decided it wasn’t worth it and had simply left, which is when they knocked.

‘come in!’ she trilled. ‘good morning, mister greymoore!’

ashton rolled his eye mightily. ‘morning, doctor bradbury. can i run through your schedule now, or do i have to curtesy too?’

‘i’m not a monarch, mister greymoore, the knocking was perfectly adequate. and very well done. go ahead!’

he shook his head. ‘right. so, spanner in my perfect schedule for you, treshi called this morning. set up a compulsory wank session for all of staff, two to three.’

‘um.’

‘by wank,’ they elaborated, ‘i mean it’s gonna be bullshit. he’ll say how good he is and everyone’s gonna agree even if they don’t think it’s true.’

‘ah.’ laudna relaxed. ‘yes, of course, you mean it as a manner of self-gratification on his behalf. non-literal wank. how funny! though you must never,’ she said gravely, ‘say it again. it’s terribly inappropriate for work.’

laughter lit up ashton’s eye, green shining prettily. a big grin split his face in two. ‘sure, doc. i’ll remember that.’

‘like you remember to knock, i’m sure.’ ashton laughed at that, too, and laudna beamed down at her papers.

she wasn’t—had never been—particularly good with people. when ashton had been assigned to her, her first ever student, she had been sure that it would go terribly. and it had, for the first week. she had been controlling and stern and brittle. they had been brash and argumentative and, one might say, extremely anti-authoritarian. the second week had been not much better; after her poor behaviour, she had withdrawn, going to such agonising lengths to be direct and complete and courteous that it was better for them both if she simply never spoke at all. it was ashton, braver and better than she by far, who made the effort to try again, and so they had reached a tentative understanding and remained there for several weeks. right up until the hishari mask was delivered into her hands. that was when everything changed. not just between them but for the museum, for laudna. in the upheaval that followed—the recreation, the reveal, her lecture and curated exhibit of the hishari culture, her denouncement of hytroga’s timeline, her rising “stardom” and increasing public appearances—ashton had made themself indispensable. during the preparations, he had been knowledgeable and careful and, in those private moments when he thought no one present enough to notice, downright reverent. he loved their work, and if that had been the only thing laudna liked about him, that would have been more than enough. as it turned out, ashton was wonderful and she had the honour of front row seats, as they say, to witnessing ashton grow into a fine young man. as everything changed, ashton remained steady as a rock. grew with each challenge thrown their way into a veritable pillar. figuratively and literally—laudna had overheard teatime gossip amongst her colleagues that insisted ashton had become a “handsome guy”, “a hunk”, and “a juicy, prime slab of beef”, which was one of ashton’s favourite.

now, the proof of that was the pop of stitches in the shoulders of their coat as ashton dropped carelessly into the chair in front of laudna’s desk. the sound made her wince and she began to rifle through her drawer.

‘okay, so, schedule.’ he pulled it up on his tablet, squinting at it. ‘while you were off with seshadri—‘

‘she has a title, mister greymoore.’

‘—like i said, treshi called about the meeting thing. everyone important’s gonna be there—never been so fucking thankful to be a nobody in my life. right. first you’ve got a call with that, uh, religious nut over in tal’dorei, that’s at nine-thirty.’

‘mhm,’ laudna said, reprovingly, instead of repeating herself. mostly because although she knew miss pike trickfoot had a title, she couldn’t quite recall what it was. her eminence, perhaps? laudna scowled thoughtfully down at the contents of the drawer. where on earth was her sewing kit?

‘then quarter past ten you’ve got the delivery. the movers are taking it straight to storage, it’s gotta go through stasis before you can look at it but i blocked it out because i figure you’ll wanna oversee it anyway. twelve, you’ve got your coffee date,’ he said with an odd inflection, ‘two to three is treshi’s stupid meeting. don’t be late. lab time four to eight, and at five vudol requested your “expert insight” on that duskmaven statue—‘

‘why the air quotes?’

‘because,’ he said, patiently amused, ‘vudol doesn’t care what you say about the statue.’

laudna frowned at him. ‘i am the foremost expert on pre-reiloran marquet.’

‘yeah, sure. that’s not why they want to see you.’

‘then…why?’

‘because vudol thinks you’re hot.’

‘oh. really? hm.’ she pushed the drawer shut, drummed her fingers against it. her nails clacked against the glossy wood, the iron handle. ‘is that why they need so much help with their eighth century marquesian translations?’ ashton nodded, smirking. ‘i’m actually rather relieved to hear that, i thought somehow mistress seshadri had hired an idiot. um. would you send them one of your impolite emails telling them i can’t make it?’

‘honestly it’d be a fucking joy. how impolite?’ she see-sawed her hand. ‘got it. guess that means you’re not into vudol, then,’ ashton said, more statement than question. ‘makes sense. not really your type.’

‘i don’t—you always manage to turn work conversations into something else, mister greymoore—‘

‘it’s a gift,’ they shrugged.

‘it really is. you’re a very gifted conversationalist—‘

‘i’m really not, you’re just worse.’

‘—and a good friend.’ he looked away at that, scratched at the dry skin over his eyepatch. he did not, she noted happily, deny that he was her friend. ‘which is why i shall indulge—just this once!—in your inappropriate tangents and say that i don’t really have a type.’

discomfort forgotten, ashton turned back to face her so quickly she heard their neck crack.

‘you’re joking,’ he said, tone flat.

‘no?’

his mouth worked for a moment but he didn’t say anything, only stared at her wide-eyed. then he turned that stare on the little marquesian horse statue that sat pride of place on her desk. looking abruptly exhausted, he ran a big hand over his face, rubbed his right eye.

‘you’re not joking. oh my god.’ he huffed a laugh. ‘yknow, for someone so observant, you’re not very smart.’

an odd tangent, and slightly hurtful, but laudna couldn’t say he wasn’t right. she said as much, fiddling with the frilled cuff of her sleeves, and added, ‘i enjoyed book learning very much but my school life was interrupted often and troubled. in the end, my grades weren’t quite what i hoped they would be.’ a fond smile touched her lips and she said, lifting her chin proudly, ‘i did find my way here, in the end.’

ashton smiled. there was a strange expression on their face that she couldn’t place. ‘yeah. you did. some things take a little time, i guess.’

‘all the best things in life. now that’s a very good piece of advice, and a good quote. i wonder who said it first? regardless, tell that advisor of yours that i’m doing a good job, won’t you?’ ashton grumbled an agreement and stood. ‘ah - before you leave - your coat, mister greymoore.’

‘it’s fine.’

‘nonsense. i won’t have my post-grad wandering the halls looking like some dickensian urchin. coat, please.’ she stood, walked around the desk, and held out her hand for it, waiting patiently as he wrestled with his pride.

finally, he gave in, as he had every time she did this for him. hemming the ankles of his too-long slacks, taking in the neat button-ups. she had even mended the elbows of this same coat when he first came in wearing it, taking the tattered threads and returning it with fun elbow patches. it was about that time that he realised laudna enjoyed it and stopped fighting her so much; looking back, it likely helped that she had told him she enjoyed it. costuming had been her entry into history, after all, and she so rarely had time to indulge now.

ashton yanked his coat off and passed it over.

‘i think you’ll need a little more space in the shoulders,’ she mused, touching her thumb to the strained fabric.

‘don’t waste your time.’

‘now ashton, what did i just say? all the best things take a little time.’

did he understand what she was saying? that she regarded them, ashton, as someone quite wonderful and deserving of her time? he didn’t acknowledge it, storming out of her office with a rough grunt and a wave. it was fine. if he didn’t understand, she would simply write it effusively into his letter of recommendation when the time came.

//

[softeninglooks]

hq | atsumu miya with a figure skater s/o

i feel very strongly about boyfriend!atsumu 🥹

since both of you are professional athletes, your lifestyles fit together harmoniously in spite of events and competitions scheduled at different times

you always have a lot of fun working out together because you often challenge each other (nothing big, just small goals to achieve by the end of the training session), which usually ends with the two of you goofing around

the loser will invite the winner for a well-deserved treat or fix them a refreshing drink at home. it also happens that one of you lets the other win win on purpose when they've been winning twice in a row - it's an unspoken rule between you two, a way to take care of each other in turns

you watch vb games and ice skating tournaments together or let them run in the background while you're cleaning around the apartment. by now, you've become more than familiar with all the rules and stars of both volleyball and ice-skating

whenever someone who atsumu already played against is on screen - whether it was during his high school days or on a professional level -, he will boast about it and ask the tv for a rematch, which always has you chuckling as you lean into him. “he can't hear you, tsumu. though i'm sure he'd want to crush you too.”

it goes without saying that you taught atsumu how to ice-skate. he struggled to keep his balance at first, but with your guidance and his athletic skills, he improved greatly in just an hour. by the end of your first time at the rink, atsumu managed to skate without your help and even attempted crossovers. whenever he succeeded in something you taught him, he would call you from across the rink to show off. “did ya see that!” he would proudly smile at you, his eyes shining - sometimes, he reminded you of an overly energetic labrador asking for pats after completing a trick. and of course, you were immensely proud of atsumu, be it when he stood on the court among world-class athletes or on a simple local ice rink. “maybe you should quit volleyball and become my skating partner instead,” you would laugh, taking his hand in yours and gently spinning him around on the ice

in return, atsumu taught you how to play volleyball. nothing makes him happier than seeing you partaking in his passion, so he deeply enjoys setting for you even though those tosses cannot hold a candle to his usual olympic-level performances. still, playing volleyball with you is particularly soothing for him. when you play together, there are no expectations, no eyes set on either of you, no sports commentary ringing in your ears - you can just spend some time together doing something he loves above anything else in the world, and that's the closer atsumu has come to finding a safe haven

you are each other's rock during particularly nerve-wracking competitions. both of you are used to the stress of tournaments, but after months and months of hard work and non-stop training, the pressure inevitably builds up and you may crave comfort to escape the burden of expectations

when it happens to you, atsumu would hold you tightly and murmur words of encouragement in your ear. “yer the best skater i know, do you know that?” “i know, tsumu, thank you. but i'm not sure the rest of the world will feel the same way.” “screw the rest of the world. you're gonna do yer absolute best out there, and they'll all fall for you just like i did.”

when it happens to atsumu, he rants. he will go over the volleyball move he cannot wrap his head around, what he feels he is lacking, how eagerly he wishes to master it. you listen to him with empathy, but the only way to get atsumu to recharge his batteries is to take him out of the apartment and have him eat. you take him to onigiri miya, where osamu and you cheer him up, each in your own way

you attend each other's competitions whenever you can. you encourage each other from the vip stands and run into each other's arms after his matches and your performances “tsumu, you shouldn't hug me this tight, i'm all sweaty!” “i don't care. yer my champion, of course i'm gonna hug ya.”

because you know atsumu so well, you never scream words of support at him since it shatters his concentration. you watch silently instead, the focused expression on your face or the triumphant smile flashing over your lips when his team scores indicating how much you care for him. you will congratulate him abundantly after the match ends anyway

for atsumu, it's a different story. because you don't mind the noise, he is your most vocal support, applauding and yelling frantically whenever you ace a figure. after your performances finish, you spot him on the bench, wearing your sports jacket and his face mask unable to conceal the wide grin which you see sparkling in his eyes

atsumu also constantly brags about you the press, to the point where his interviews sometimes turn into a rundown of your latest achievements. sometimes you even give interviews together, which amounts to non-stop praise for each other

if you fall, atsumu stares at you fixedly, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he is clenching his fists. but you get back up and keep skating as though nothing had happened, an ever professional smile grazing your lips as the next figure comes, and he feels a pang of both sorrow and love to his chest - that's what he admires most about you, how hopeful and determined you are, how you will always get back up no matter what. he keeps quiet then, knowing how hard it is for you, but when you meet backstage he will wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. “ye were absolutely amazing out there.” “i still messed up, tsumu. after i trained so hard...” you could not help but beat yourself up, your voice a ghostly whisper of disappointment. “i know,” he would close his eyes and breath out into your hair, holding you even closer. “and it doesn't change anything to me. yer the best skater i know.”

olympic village shenanigans! you always find ways to meet up in between training sessions, which drives iwaizumi mad because atsumu keeps randomly disappearing without notice

atsumu introduced you to his team-mates, so you end up hanging out with them a lot. you love listening to their stories about high school atsumu and how important volleyball was to them even at that level. you laugh along with them and squeeze atsumu's hand under the table, saying you find it endearing, while he's desperately trying to portray his younger self as unbelievably cool

atsumu is a demonstrative and loving partner, as well as a hard-working and conscientious athlete. you love his fiery temper and competitiveness, his obstinacy and unending hunger for volleyball, the way you always push each other forward. you know that no matter what happens, you want to spend the rest of your life by his side

[mysoulspiralbound]

HC /episode idea for gravity falls that at some point staying during the summer (either mid show or next summer au) mabel very firmly decides she's going to go vegetarian

maybe someone's made one too many jokes about eating waddles, especially if she's got bacon on her plate as they say it. maybe stan guts a fish on one of their trips out to the lake that reminds her just a bit too much of mermando. whatever it is, it's mabel's final straw against eating anything that used to be cute and alive ever again.

obviously stan doesn't get it, and probably calls mabel ridiculous a few times, but that's his grand niece you're talking about, and he's not just gonna let the kid go hungry. so the first couple of meals he puts together something dumb like a carrot stick to replace a hot dog, or a sandwich that's just lettuce and hay — complete disaster meals.

now from here i see this going one of two ways. option A is that after a few of these "meals" in a row, mabel is obviously still hungry (no matter how happy she looks after the fact), and dipper's been giving him side eyes for the last couple of days. sure stan doesn't get it, pigs are food for heck's sake, but he is absolutely gonna make sure his kid gets the nutrition she needs.

so he figures out how to cook a veggie burger, he starts adding sprouts and leafy shit into his normal recipes, plates the meats on the side, and stocks up on all kids of tree nuts and beans and anything else he can think of to keep his kid happy and healthy. oh he is never gonna touch the stuff himself (not after the accidental tofu incident), but he becomes damn good at cooking it, and really, that's what counts. neither of the kids are actually happy about the extra vegetables, but it's the trade off for mabel's new lifestyle, and dipper finds he does actually enjoy the diversity (even if he still goes to greasy's from time to time when he's craving real junk food). and mabel does appreciate the extra effort, even if it takes her a while to notice, and well, there isn't really anything that would be to much effort for a mabel hug, not to stan.

option B for this episode plot would go the other way, with mabel going gung-ho on no one eating meat in the family, and it gets way out of hand. possibly including a fight with wendy about her family's hunting trips. eventually they wind up fighting some kind of monster or chemical or whatever gravity falls brand weirdness cooked up for them today: something capable of animating all the plants in gravity falls and starting a vegetation uprising. mabel winds up befriending some radishes or onions or other small plant, and one winds up dying in it's attempts to defend her. she's heart broken, even after they get all the plants back to normal, and refusing to eat anything, plant or animal.

eventually ford and/or dipper have to sit her down and explain that, yeah, interspecies friendships can be cute, but ultimately, as a person, mabel is always going to need to eat. the same way she'd never ever even consider cutting waddles off from his food bowl, the same way it would be cruel to withhold meat from an obligate carnivore like a cat. the best you can do is try and source your food ethically, and make sure the livestock you eat live the best lives they could. stan would normally call it a waste of people food, but he even goes so far as to make waddles an identical portion to mabel's until she understands how much her familiy's worried about her. it's the cute pet comparisons that get to mabel more than the complex ecosystem stuff, but eventually she starts eating again (whether she stays vegetarian or not is up to you) and the grunkles are just relived their kid's eating again.

[stardustedstories]

They weren't supposed to be here. Raine was supposed to be staying out of trouble, keeping their nose clean until Scooter's retirement and the fact that they were succeeding them as head of the Bard Coven was announced. But the moment they'd heard the broadcast, had heard Eda's name in conjunction with the word "petrification," Raine knew they couldn't just sit idly by.

The bard was normally one for planning everything out, figuring out each possibility and going with the best plan (or the one that would cause the most chaos, depending on the situation), but they didn't have time to think; they just had time to go, to do.

And even as Perry's report continued, they were moving, making their way to the Conformatorium as quickly as possible, hood of their cloak pulled up, hiding their face. They didn't know what they were going to do, but they were going to do something. It didn't matter that they hadn't seen her in more than twenty years, didn't matter that the last time they had seen one another had been when they'd broken up, Eda wasn't going to die today.

Raine knew their way around the Conformatorium; it wasn't the first time they'd been here as part of a rescue operation, and it likely wouldn't be the last. It was the first time they were here without some sort of plan, so it was a good thing they had a knack for improvisation. It also meant they knew right where to go, right where the petrification ceremony would be held.

Maybe it was for the best that their ascension to coven head had been delayed; right now, they were just another nondescript person in the crowd, here to witness the first public petrification in more than thirty years. They weren't sure whether most of the crowd was looking forward to the spectacle or if they were here to watch the same way they would a twenty-witch-pileup. Honestly, right now, that didn't matter. The more spectators, the better; it would be harder to pinpoint exactly where their spells came from.

It would have been better if they could have gotten to Eda, gotten her out before the ceremony itself started, but there were too many cells and not enough time to search all of them. They were just gonna have to make sure to cause a big enough scene, a distraction to pull everyone's focus while they got her out of there.

Their mind was racing; they hadn't ever wanted to see this day. It was part of the reason they were okay with seeing Eda's wanted posters: since they were still up, it meant that she was still okay, was still free. And that was all that mattered.

Raine made their way forward, towards the front of the crowd, with a few rows still left, providing them cover. They needed to be able to see platform, where Eda would be, something that made their heart skip a beat, even after everything. What would she look like now? Would she even recognize them, if she saw them in the crowd?

If they were being honest with themself, it didn't matter. It didn't matter what she looked like, if she remembered them, or even if she hated them. They were going to get her out of here, and that was it. Because even after everything that had happened, even though they hadn't seen one another, had broken up so long ago…., Raine Whispers still loved her.

They heard Perry's announcement, saw the platform rising, and then suddenly, there she was.

"Eda," they whispered, but thankfully, no one seemed to notice. Everyone's attention was trained upwards, fixed on the cursed form of Edalyn Clawthorne. Raine hadn't realized they were holding their breath until they started to get a little light-headed, and they forced themself to inhale, to breathe. They wouldn't be any good to Eda if they passed out; they had to focus, had to figure out a way to get her out of there.

The petrification machine rose up to the platform, and Raine looked over it, wondering if they could stop it from here. They weren't entirely certain how it worked, but if they had two seconds to examine it, they could do something--

Their train of thought is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Lilith in the cage, followed by two children interrupting Perry's broadcast. This was good; they could use this to their advantage.

Raine started moving through the crowd, trying to get a better vantage point, to see what was going on up on the platform.

They were still listening to everything that was happening, so they heard when the kids said that what was happening to Eda wasn't right, that she hadn't done anything worth being petrified, listened as they started to chant to "let Eda go!"

Raine's heart lifted; they weren't the only one who thought that all of this was completely wrong. Eda shouldn't be punished just for wanting to choose her own path, for living her life.

Before they had a chance to do anything, the petrification beam shot from the machine, heading right towards Lilith, only for Eda to jump in the way.

Just as quickly as their heart had lifted, it plummeted, and they let out a strangled cry even as Lilith shouted Eda's name. They had to get to her, had to get up there, get her out! They weren't thinking anymore, they weren't trying to plan or figure out anything beyond keeping her from turning to stone.

But the crowd was in the way. Their brilliant plan of not being at the front was backfiring on them now, and they couldn't push their way through fast enough without using their magic. And they couldn't afford to do that, not when it would get them caught, would keep them from actually helping.

They could see the stone creeping up Eda's form, and they couldn't get to her! If they brought out their violin, they could do something, but that wasn't exactly subtle, and then they'd be arrested for trying to break her out.

With Lilith there, though, maybe there was still a chance. She was the head of the Emperor's Coven, but she was just as in that cage as Eda was.

"Come on, Lilith," Raine whispered, clenching their hands into fists. "I can't get to her; you've gotta do something."

And if she didn't….., well, they were just gonna have to risk being arrested. They were pretty sure they could talk their way out of it, if they really had to. Raine might not do well in front of crowds, and they absolutely got stage fright, but they would come up with some sort of reason why they were aiding a fugitive, and they would have to make it stick.

They'd deal with that if it happened; right now, their eyes are glued to the platform, begging Lilith to do the right thing.

There's someone else on the platform now, someone working to free her, and Raine breathes a sigh of relief, eyes still glued to Eda's form.

"Please be okay," they whispered, not noticing how hard their fists are clenched. They can't summon Fiddlesticks, not with their palisman currently disguised in their violin, but all they want to do is be up there, to see her for themself, to know that she's okay.

The Coven guards start to circle the little group, and when Eda takes off with the rest of them on her back, the crowd starts to cheer. Spears fly in the direction of the retreating wild witch, and Raine lifts a hand to their mouth, letting out a shrill whistle, covered by the noise of the crowd. The golden arc of magic disrupts the path of the spears just enough to keep them from making any sort of contact with Eda, and Raine finally breathes a sigh of relief.

They hadn't been able to do much, hadn't been able to save her….., but she's still alive. And she has other people looking out for her.

Raine will have to content themself with that knowledge. Because even after everything…., she still means the world something to them.

[rebelspykatie]

When Hell Freezes Over 

Link to AO3 | Chapter 3 | 5.5k out of 12.2k | Rated T

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Steve feels wholly unprepared for this at such an ungodly hour of the day. While he might be used to early mornings, he prefers to start his day gliding across the ice in silence until his body is ready to take on the more challenging aspects of his routine. This morning, he’s jumping right into chaos and his brain isn’t even fully forming thoughts, yet.

Robin and Steve were up late, running through his routine and breaking it down into all of the components to decide what he should have Eddie try that won’t send him to the emergency room afterwards. His full routine is almost three minutes long with jumps that he would never allow someone to try without proper training. Combination jumps are out, there’s too much risk involved if he doesn’t land one of them. Same with a flying spin.

No, for today, he has cut it down to one jump, two sets of spins, and a shorter version of the step sequence. That should be challenging enough. As much as he wants to prove a point, he’s not here to permanently injure Eddie.

When he gets to the rink, Eddie and part of the Hellfire Club are already in the locker room, slipping into their gear. It’s not the full roster, just a few of Eddie’s friends, two taller guys and one just a bit shorter. They’re pulling on practice jerseys with no names on the back to help him identify who they are. The only one he knows is the shortest of the bunch, Gareth, who Steve’s pretty confident is Eddie’s best friend.

They must not have heard the door because their voices carry over the row of lockers, echoing in the otherwise empty room. Steve sneaks past them to the next row over, gently placing his duffle bag on the bench and pulling out his skates. He freezes when the conversation shifts.

“You really think you can beat Harrington?” One of them asks.

“Are you doubting me, Jeff?” Eddie tosses back, sounding offended. “I’m wounded.”

“Uh yeah, dude,” Jeff answers. “You’re so full of shit if you think you’re gonna win whatever weird war it is you’ve waged with him.”

“We’ve seen you on the ice. You don’t stand a chance.” This must be the other man Steve didn’t recognize.

“Fuck off, Frank,” Eddie squawks.

There’s some muffled laughter and the sound of scuffling feet, like they’re roughhousing.

“Have you ever seen him compete?” Someone else asks when they’ve calmed down, and he’s pretty sure that voice is Gareth. “He’s incredible, whether you want to admit it or not.”

The compliment makes heat rush to Steve’s cheeks. He hasn’t been out of his parents’ clutches long enough to not appreciate direct praise like that. It’s always nice when it comes from someone other than Robin or Dustin. It feels like they’re less obligated to tell him he’s good. Although, he’s pretty sure both Robin and Dustin wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully let him know if he was terrible.

“And how the fuck have you seen him?” Eddie asks.

“You know my sister loves figure skating. He’s like internationally ranked, or something. Went to the Olympics before he graduated high school, man.” Gareth laughs. “You’re an idiot for challenging him.”

“He challenged me!”

“You shouldn’t have accepted. Please remember this moment when I get to say I told you so in a few hours. I might even be rooting for him. If he puts you in your place are you going to finally admit that-”

Gareth gets cut off and Steve catches a whiny oof sound, like someone hit him in the stomach. There are a few playful whoops and a clanging sound that ricochets when one of them is pushed into the lockers. He rolls his eyes, even though no one can see him. See? Animals.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s better than me. What matters is that Harrington won’t last a second when it’s our turn.” Eddie sounds so confident that Steve has to stifle a laugh so he’s not caught snooping. What he wouldn’t give to wipe that smirk he’s imaging right off Eddie’s face.

“Your turn,” Gareth emphasizes. “We’re only here so you two don’t kill each other. Whatever happens is between the two of you, don’t bring us into this mess.”

“I thought you were here for moral support,” Eddie says.

“Keep telling yourself that. Here, take these, dumbass.” There’s the sound of something heavy hitting Eddie’s chest.

“Some friends you are,” Eddie scoffs, but Steve can hear the smile on his face. The last thing he needs to be picturing right now is Eddie’s stupid, dimpled smile. No distractions.

Continue on AO3

[mayheminfive]

And I thought I didn't need this anymore

I suppose dark thoughts never go away, ha.

Recently it's about the husband whom I mentioned previously that I love very much. I still do, but many of our conversations has me overanalyzing everything and doubting whether he reciprocates those feelings.

I've written this down in my physical journal, but I suppose I want to put it together with my other dark and negative thoughts, lawl.

So I had asked him many dumb questions (not sure why I choose to because knowing him, he'll give me too hetero-male of an answer), and of course had not gotten the responses that I was expecting, or wanting.

Why did you decide to marry me? - Because you don't try to control me, you let me do my own thing. (To which I responded with: couldn't ANYone do that? What's so special about me then?) He maintains that it's not easy for most women to not control as much as I don't. Fine. The answer I was looking for was probably some "good" quality about me, but I suppose those aren't necessarily important for him.

Don't you think that we have a good relationship? - Well, I wouldn't say we do, relationships ebb and flow, you can be good one day and not so good the other. (This question was asked on a particular "good" day (for me), and I wanted him to just say, "yes".)

All of this is to say, he is a tad bit too pragmatic/rational for those "romantic" moments that I was looking for. But really, he is never actively romantic. I mean, I don't need those moments a lot, but he sure as hell won't feed them to me even if I make it obvious.

The last couple of nights, I've been trying to avoid physical contact with him. Usually when he says he's gonna turn the lights off to go to sleep, I would lean over and hold him for a couple of minutes (he "can't sleep" when I'm holding him), and then I'll let go and go back to reading my webtoons. But I refrained. I'm not sure if he noticed, since I do it EVERY night. Or at least I had been doing it every night for the last couple of months that I've been funemployed. I suppose there were a couple of times when I had been a tiny bit upset with him and also didn't, but it's never been two nights in a row.

Is it such a big deal? you may ask. Well, it isn't. All the times when you're being irrationally upset about your better half, it's usually over something really silly. But alas, my feelings are mine and I happen to feel this way right now.

Being the negative and pessimistic me, of course I went off on a tangent and started thinking about shit like, "why would he want to marry me anyway, I'm nothing special, might as well just get a divorce right now". But it actually did get me to start thinking back about when we decided to get married, and I honestly can't remember why. I was anti-marriage for 30+ years, and all of a sudden I met "the one" and then I decided to marry him. But now I can't remember how I came to that conclusion. Like, was it absolutely necessary for us to get married? Or were we just pressured into it because his dad passed away? I mean, I don't remember anyone (at least not my parents) telling me that I better get married right away or anything. It's weird. I mean, obviously I "love" him. But love is never the right reason to get married in my opinion. There must've been something else that prompted this decision making process.

Anyway, I don't regret marrying him, of course, but I just can't seem to figure out why I decided to in the first place. What's in it for him, anyway. Sure, he got to move into a pretty nice apartment, but is it worth all the trouble of having to deal with me and my family and everything else? I have no idea. Anyway, it's been two days and I suppose I'm still not over it. Like, I'm probably gonna be awkward in front of him again tonight. Meh.

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

Surfer!Tom 31 and 11 pleasee

I am in my surfer Tom era so this is perfect! Hope you enjoy it love! Just a reminder, even though I am doing Wipeout rn, Summer of Love is still going on as well so you can still send in requests for that if you'd like. Love you guys xx

Old Flings

11 - Playing beach volleyball

31 -  Running into your summer fling for the second summer in a row

Pairing: Surfer!Tom x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety

Summary: You and Tom run into an old fling

Regular Masterlist

Summer of Love Prompts

Summer of Love Masterlist

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Tom leaned back on his surfboard while he watched Harrison ride in on a large wave. It was a gorgeous day, the waves were perfect, and a light breeze cut through the heat on the shore. Naturally the entire beach was packed, but you and your friends had arrived early enough to stake claim in a small piece of land near one of the beach volleyball pits. That was where you were, Tom could just barely make out your figure from where he sat. He had no idea who was winning the game, but you appeared to be having fun.

“Tom stop gawking, you're supposed to catch the next wave,” one of his friends snickered at his side.

Tom rolled his eyes and got ready to grab the next wave. He spotted you again as he was riding in, talking with some boys he didn’t recognize. There were still plenty of people Tom didn’t know in town, but he definitely knew all the people you hung out with. The last thing Tom wanted was for some guys to hit on you and make you uncomfortable while you were trying to enjoy your time with your friends. He was hyper focused on you while he rode in, trying to make out whether or not they were making you uncomfortable.

“Nice ride,” Harrison complimented as Tom fell off his wave beside him.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m gonna head in for a few,” Tom started paddling in, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Harrison paddled after him with a confused frown.

“I think those guys are bugging (y/n),” he nodded towards the shore.

“Ah,” Harrison smirked, “Sure they’re bugging her and not you?”

“Dude she’s my girlfriend, I’m not gonna let some weirdos hit on her,” Tom rolled his eyes and hopped off his board.

He ripped the leash on his ankle off and set his board down by his things before he went jogging towards you. The two boys looked similar, brothers if he had to guess. They were both tall and slim, with shaggy black hair and big smiles. It seemed like the rest of your friends knew them as well, which did ease his nerves a bit. Tom wrapped his arm around you as he joined you and pressed a long kiss to your cheek.

“Hey baby,” he purred, “Who’s this?”

“Tommy you're all wet,” you giggled as you pushed him off of you, “This is Cole, and his brother Gage. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Tom.”

Tom knit his brows, the name Cole sounded familiar, he swore he’d heard you mention him before.

“Nice to meet you,” Tom smiled politely and extended his hand as he tried to remember who he was.

“You too,” Cole shook his hand, followed quickly by his brother.

As they shook hands it clicked for Tom. Cole was the name of an old summer fling of yours, the last guy you’d been with before you met Tom. Instantly his stomach flipped and he stood up a little taller. He knew it was nothing more than a simple summer fling, that it was nowhere near a real relationship, but it still made him uncomfortable.

“They’re dad lives around here so they come down most summers,” you explained.

“Oh, cool,” Tom placed his arm on your back again, making sure that his body was flush with yours, “Well I just came up to see if you’ve got room on your team for me love, I think I’m all done in the water for today.”

“Yay,” you beamed happily at him, “There’s always room for you Tommy.”

Tom smiled and kissed your cheek again, “Perfect.”

“Cole, Gage, you guys should play a couple rounds with us,” one of your friends butted in.

Tom was confused because he was sure that she liked him, and he was also sure that she knew about your history with Cole. He pulled you a little closer to him and prayed they’d be busy or just say no.

“That sounds fun,” Gage beamed, “If it’s cool with you Cole.”

Cole nodded, “Totally, I don’t think I’ll be much help though.”

“Well in that case I’ll take Gage,” your friend beamed at you from the other side of the net.

You held her gaze for a minute before nodding, “Well I’ve got Tommy on my team, so I’m still gonna win.”

Tom felt secure in your relationship, you’d just had your six month anniversary and things were going great for you two. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too, but playing volleyball with your old fling was more than enough to make him insecure. It didn’t matter what he told himself or how he tried to frame it, it just made him uncomfortable. He was left wondering now too if your friend for some reason thought Cole was a better match for you than he was, and if she thought that she probably wasn’t the only one. What if all your friends thought Cole was better for you?

“I’m gonna grab some water before we start,” Tom squeezed your waist before stepping away from you.

“Oh, good call,” you followed after him with a smile, “I’m starting to get hungry too. Maybe after this round we could go grab some lunch?”

Tom nodded, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

A frown came to your lips as he reached down for his water bottle, “Is everything okay Tommy?”

Tom bit his cheek and took a big gulp from his water bottle. He wasn’t sure if he should tell you how he was feeling or not. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was overly jealous or possessive, so he just shook his head. It was just one quick round of volleyball, he could suffer through one volleyball game.

“Of course darling, just a bit dehydrated,” he assured you.

“Are you sure you want to play then?” you knit your brows in concern.

He nodded, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Alright, but you know if you're not feeling good or something we can totally leave,” you squeezed his arm, “I don’t mind at all.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, “Don’t worry about me, I just needed a little water.”

“Okay,” your lips returned to a smile and you gave him another quick kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled back at you.

The small shared moment with you was enough to calm his nerves for a while, at least until the game started. Tom was positioned behind you, and Cole was next to you, a little too close if you asked Tom. Tom couldn’t hear what you two were talking about when the game started, but Cole was making you laugh, and Tom didn’t like that. Cole, despite having said he wouldn’t be much help, proved to be a pretty decent volleyball player. He kept setting up perfect spikes for you, and when you scored he would cheer and congratulate you.

They were perfectly friendly and normal interactions, and truly Tom was only bothered because he knew your history together. It wasn’t even like you were ignoring Tom either, you made every effort to joke around with him and cheer for him while you played. Tom was just uncomfortable, and everytime you interacted with Cole it made it worse. He felt insecure, and it was turning the whole day into a nightmare, but you were having so much fun, and he just couldn’t bring himself to ruin that for you. So he kept playing, growing quieter and quieter as the game went on. By the end of the game he wasn’t giving anything beyond a one word reply or a simple nod.

It was obvious to you that something was wrong. So as soon as your game wrapped up you rushed right to his side so you two could leave, and you could figure out why he was acting so strange.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for another round?” one of your friends pouted.

You nodded and looped your arm through Tom’s, “Yeah, I’m pretty starved. Maybe we’ll come back after we grab some lunch though.”

Tom couldn’t have been more grateful for how eager you seemed to leave. He felt exhausted, he couldn’t wait to get home.

“Alright, well have fun, text us,” your friend pulled you in for a quick hug while Tom began packing up your things.

“I will,” you promised before turning to Cole, “It was good to see you again.”

“You too,” he smiled and pulled you into a hug, “Hopefully we’ll run into each other again before I head home.”

That was the final straw for Tom, he could handle everything else but not a hug and him hoping to see you again. He gripped the surfboard under his arm and gritted his teeth, “I’m gonna go start the car,” he declared before he went pacing towards the parking lot.

You cocked your head in confusion and plucked your bag from the ground, “Okay, uh, bye guys,” you waved to your friends and followed after Tom. You had to jog to catch up to him, Tom always started fast walking when he was angry, “Is everything okay Tommy?”

“Yeah, I’m just hungry,” he lied.

“Tom, you can tell me if something’s bugging you,” you insisted.

“Do you have the keys?” he pursed his lips.

You nodded and dug them out of your bag, “Here.”

He took the keys and popped the trunk, “I’ve gotta tie the board down. Do you wanna get the AC going?”

“Tom,” you frowned.

“I’m fine,” he lied again as he climbed onto the side of the car, “I am totally cool.”

“Are you sure?” you wracked your brain for what might have upset him, finally it dawned on you, “Is it about Cole?”

Tom went stiff and licked his lips before he answered, “Yeah, uh, sort of.”

“Do you wanna elaborate at all?” you pushed.

He sighed and jumped back down, “I just didn’t really like seeing you two together, I know it was just a little summer fling but it still bugged me…” he took a deep breath before he continued, “And you know, I thought your friends all liked me but then Natalie invited him to stay, and it kind of freaked me out. I don’t know if they think he’s better for you or something…”

“Tom, my friends love you, but more importantly, I love you,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Natalie only invited them to stay because she’s into Gage, but I promise if it had been something malicious I would have left on the spot. I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable Tom, I should have asked you if you were okay with it.”

He blushed and set his hands on your waist, “It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel like you need to ask me permission to hang out with people or something.”

“I don’t, I know you’re not like that Tom, but everyone gets insecure. I mean if your old summer fling wanted to hang out with us I’d be uncomfortable too. I should have thought about how that might make you feel, but I hope you know if anything ever makes you uncomfortable like that you can always just tell me,” you moved your hands up to his cheek, “I don’t ever want you to feel bad when we’re together Tom.”

His cheeks continued to burn and he turned his head to kiss your palm, “I just didn’t want to come off controlling or something. I don’t want it to seem like I don’t love you or trust you, because I do. I just don’t really want to hang out with him…”

“And that’s totally fine Tom, if we run into him again we won’t. I know you love me and trust me and all that, but you can help being insecure sometimes. I get insecure too, I understand.”

His lips curled up to a smile and he leaned in to kiss your forehead, “Thank you love. I hope you know the same goes for you. You can always tell me if you’re uncomfortable with whatever's going on.”

“I know Tommy,” you pressed your lips to his briefly, “Feeling better?”

“Much,” he nodded, “Let’s go get some lunch baby.”

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Taglist:

@spideyssunshine @niallsvirgosun @roseke @outshineallthestars @namoreno @thevery-firstpage @collywobbl @zspideyy @emistrash @tomsirishgirlx @andreagf956 @peachyafshawn @agbspidey @sleepybesson @nj01 @misshale21 @prancerrparkerr @raajali3 @ellabellabus07 @xoxomaterialgirl @mayal0pez @belovedholland @minjix @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @graciexmarvel @secretsthathauntus @lnmp89 @negasonic-teenage-asshole @rednights @mcushvft @maytemurillo @s-we-e-t-t-ea @liltimmyst @gloomynigvts  @cest-la-vieve  @itscaminow @katiaw2 @afro-hispwriter @book-lover20 @hem-lemon  @chrissybang

[serendipitous-magic]

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

_-_

4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

_-_

5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

_-_

6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

_-_

7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

_-_

10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

_-_

11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery. 

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

_-_

13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

_-_

15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

_-_

16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story. 

It also informs character behavior and personality. 

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

[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!

[poedamneron01]

TIME BETWEEN TOWNS

Trent Beretta x f!reader

A/N; I APOLOGISE FOR THE LENGTH, I MAY HAVE GOT CARRIED AWAY BUT I LOVE THIS. ENJOY PEEPS!

Warning; SMUT! 18+ only! unprotected p in v (don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, slight edging, some dirty talk!

Trent Beretta Masterlist.

Tag List; @lghockey @dani-65 @meaganjm @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts

The sexual tension between Y/N and Greg was so intense, the air that surrounded the pair when they were together was filled with lingering stares, fleeting touches and the need to constantly be around each other. They kept it to very minimal contact at work, sticking to a simple nod of the head when they passed one another in the hall, or a subtle wink from across tables in catering. Their messages however, were a completely different story, full of heavy flirting, some slight dirty talk. Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loved what they were doing, it made everything seem so risky, so dangerous. Greg was the same, loving that the two of them were so private, yet so public at the same time. Not even Dustin or OC knew he had been texting Y/N like he did, the pair simply thinking they were just work friends who occasionally texted one another after a good match. But boy were they in for a treat. “Hey Y/N do you want to come to the bar with us?” Kris asked Y/N as the pair were packing up their things after another successful Dynamite for the week. Y/N finished zipping up her bag and placed it on the ground “I’m gonna have a relaxing night in, I’m really feeling it after my match, you go out and have fun though!” Y/N encouraged her close friend who only frowned “Ok, if you need anything just ring me.” Kris told her friend who nodded “Promise.” Y/N smiled and Kris nodded a few times “Ok, I’m going to go with Dustin then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Kris and Y/N came together in a hug “Alright, have fun!” Y/N told her and Kris nodded “I’ll try.” The two pulled apart and went their seperate ways. Y/N hadn’t realised that the pair had some company in the quiet backstage hallway, until a voice scared her. “You’re not going out?” Y/N jumped, her hand coming to rest on her heart as she spun on the spot to see Greg behind her a few feet, suitcase by his side and a handsome smile on his face. “Jesus christ Greg.” Y/N scolded as she tried to slow her heartbeat down. “My bad, I’m sorry.” He grinned and Y/N couldn’t help but smile back at him. “You heading out with Dustin?” Y/N asked as Greg walked closer, her heartbeat sped up a little bit. Greg shook his head “I was, but I might skip tonight, I’m exhausted and want to get some good rest in before the plane home tomorrow.” He explained as the pair began walking in sync “If you need some company just shoot me a message.” Y/N boldly stated and smirked, where Greg looked over at her with a challenging look. They both understood what that meant, now it was a ‘wait and see’ type thing on whether Greg would capitalise on the subtle invite. “You have my number,” Y/N began as Dustin came into view to the pair “see you around. Hey Dustin.” She played it off like a pro as Greg came to a stop beside his friend, while he watched the woman he had become so enamoured with the last month and a bit walk out too the parking lot. Dustin smiled and waved back at Y/N “Hey Y/N!” Dustin turned and looked at his friend with a curious gaze “You still coming out tonight man?” He asked Greg, who hesitated with his answer, eye’s following Y/N’s figure as she disappeared into the row of cars outside. “Nah, I’m going to stay in, get a good night’s sleep before we leave tomorrow.” Greg responded and Dustin nodded with a shrug “Alright man, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N sighed as she entered her hotel room, the cool air met her hot skin and a sense of relief flowed through her body. She rolled her suitcase over to the corner of her room, kicking her shoes off and jumping onto the bed with a huff. It had been a long day full of tapings and Dynamite and Rampage, wrestling a couple of matches and doing promo work, she was exhausted. But deep down she could feel the excitement at the possibility of Greg coming past. Greg had arrived at the hotel, walking through the lobby as he seen other coworkers, hoping none would stop him for a chat, as he had someone on his mind. Greg slipped into the empty elevator and selected his floor he was staying on, before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He clicked on his conversation with Y/N, eyes rereading their previous conversations, a contempt smile on his face as he began typing. You still down for some company?, his finger reluctantly hovered over the send button for a few moments, though the slowing of the elevator brought him out of his trance, and he sent the message. Y/N had showered and freshened up, simply wearing a pair of tracksuit pants and a random shirt she found in her luggage. Y/N noticed her phone flash from the corner of her eye, and eagerly grabbed it, seeing his name on her screen. She read the message a few times, a blush rising up her neck as she responded; I could definitely use some if it’s you. Y/N bit her lip and sent the message, squealing to herself as she looked around the room to ensure it wasn’t a mess. Greg had dumped his bags in his hotel room with a grunt, the ding of his phone had him fishing for it in his shorts pocket, screen lighting up as he seen Y/N’s response. He felt his cock twitch gently in his shorts at the response, his mind filling with worry, maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. But he wanted it so badly, and it seemed like she wanted it too. What is your room number? Greg grabbed his key card for his room, his wallet, a bottle of water and a jacket as he exited his hotel room. A few moments later Y/N sent Greg her room number, and to his surprise Y/N was beside Dustin. He just prayed he wouldn’t run into his friend on the way over to her room. Y/N pushed her damp hair behind her shoulders as she sipped on her bottle water she had brought home with her from the arena as a knock interrupted her thoughts. She pushed herself up off her perfectly made bed, walking over to the door and pulling it open to reveal Greg looking as handsome as ever. Y/N smiled “Hey stranger, come in!” Greg smiled, running a hand across his beard clad face as he entered Y/N’s room, the cool air hitting him like a truck as he let out a satisfied sigh “Had I’ve known your room was this cool I would have come sooner.” He joked sending a sideways glance as he walked past her, and Y/N chuckled “Well, now that you’re here, we can enjoy it together!” Greg nodded, a small smile on his face as the pair moved to sit on the large queen bed that stood in the middle of the room. Greg noticed how clean the room was, how organised all of her things were in the corner by her suitcases. “A queen sized bed for only you?” He asked curiously as Y/N sat on the left side, perching herself up against the headboard. Y/N smirked “Maybe they knew that I would have some company?” She shrugged as Greg sat beside her, awfully close to the point their arms grazed sending a shock to the system for Y/N. A tense silence filled the room as Greg’s eyes slowly moved to look down at their touching arms, Y/N’s eyes doing the same. Her eye’s flicked up and looked at Greg, following the features of his face before he looked up at her, his hand reaching out their fingers intwining. “Greg.” Y/N whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips and Greg felt a sudden surge of courage as she whispered his name, the sound was pulling him towards her. He leaned forward “Can I kiss you?” He asked, and as Y/N nodded her head he leaned in and their lips collided. Y/N’s reached out and rested on the crook of Greg’s neck as the kiss went on.

Y/N pulled away, her eyes opening and breath leaving her body in rapid breaths “I want you.” She whispered, searching Greg’s dark eyes for any sign, for anything at all. “We both know we have wanted this for awhile now.” He responded and pulled Y/N back in as their lips collided harder this time, their harsh breaths, the smacking of their lips was all that filled the room. Greg reached over, his hand gripping onto Y/N’s hip gently, where she rolled over and straddled his hips not breaking the kiss once. Y/N arched her back, pressing her upper body closer to him, grounding her hips and letting out a light moan as she felt Greg underneath her. Greg pulled away and began peppering Y/N’s neck with soft kisses, his hands moving to grip the bottom of her shirt. Y/N reached down and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it off the side of the bed, before meeting Greg in another kiss. His hands roamed up and down Y/N’s back as their kiss became more intense, tongue’s and teeth colliding as he wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped them over, pulling Y/N down further on the bed as he kneeled between her legs. He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, he kicked off his converse, before he ducked back down and began trailing his lips across her collarbones. Y/N squirmed and bit her lip as Greg left open mouthed kisses along her collarbones, nipping and sucking in certain spots as his lips travelled down to the valley between her boobs. His hands roamed up and cupped her breasts through her black laced bra as Y/N unclasped it, the straps falling loose as Greg pulled it off her arms and flung it across the room. “You are so beautiful Y/N.” Greg mumbled as his lips continued leaving small kisses across the mounds of her breasts, his hands kneading her perfect boobs, thumb and index finger occasionally squeezing her nipples causing Y/N to let out some small moans. He pulled away and gripped the waistband of her pants, the couples eyes met as Greg slowly pulled the pants off her long and smooth legs. “Greg please.” Y/N whined as Greg pulled off his shorts leaving him in his boxers, he used his hands to push apart Y/N’s legs wide enough to allow him to sink between them. Y/N bucked her hips up, feeling all of Greg through her panties, a small gasp leaving her lips as she ground against Greg. He moved down, leaving a trail of kisses, starting from Y/N’s plump lips, down her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach before gently kissing her panty clad pussy. Y/N moved a pillow behind her head as her eyes watched Greg intently, hands holding onto his as he began kissing the inside of her thighs. She let out a light giggle causing Greg to stop and chuckle, looking up at her from his position “What?” She blushed as she brought her hands up to cover her face embarrassingly “Your beard is tickling me.” She told him and Greg laughed lightheartedly as he slid her panties down her soft legs, before dropping them beside the bed. “Don’t stop though, it feels good.” She grinned as he slid back towards her aching core and Y/N’s eyes followed his actions intently “I love your new look, but I kind of miss your long ha- oh my god.” Y/N was cut off as Greg dove into her heat, licking and sucking at her clit so intensely her back arched and toes curled. Y/N’s hands clung to the bed sheets as Greg went crazy, his mouth working wonders on her throbbing clit, and two of his long, slender fingers were plunged deep into her. Greg’s fingers curled as they pumped into Y/N at a steady pace, his lips sucked and licked at her swollen clit “Greg that feels amazing, please don’t stop.” She whined, her eyes squeezing shut and her mouth falling slack as he began to quicken the pace.

Y/N’s back arched once more, her breathing increasing as Greg’s fingers curled and pumped inside her pussy. She could feel that coil tighten in her lower stomach. He was making her feel so good, so looked after with just his mouth and fingers, imagine what he could do with his cock. Her whines and moans filled the now hot hotel room “Greg I’m so close please don’t stop.” She begged, her legs tried to close around him, though his large frame prevented it as he hummed in response, causing Y/N to let out a yelp as the vibrations pulsated through her body like a tidal wave. The coil tightened and continued to grow tighter as Greg pumped his fingers at a manic pace, causing Y/N’s moans to get higher in pitch and louder. “I’m going to cum!” She exclaimed, her hands clawing at Greg’s toned shoulders, and as quick as her orgasm was coming, it disappeared, she suddenly felt empty. Greg pulled away, sticking his fingers in his mouth to clean them up, his eyes following the fall and rise of her chest, her perfect breasts bouncing ever so slightly. Y/N perched herself up onto her elbows with a whine and Greg chuckled “Come on, I’m not letting you cum unless I’m inside you babe.” He added with a smirk and Y/N sat up, her hands gripping his boxer waistband before pulling them down his toned legs. Greg stood at the end of the bed and pulled his boxers off all the way, Y/N followed and ran her hands up his abs and rested them on his chest. “You are amazing.” He hummed, leaning forward and letting his hands roam across her body as he brought her in for a passionate kiss. Greg lowered Y/N back onto the bed, her hair falling around her like a waterfall, she was so beautiful it was hard for him to comprehend. Once Y/N lay below him, Greg wrapped a hand around his pulsating cock, his hips jerking at the sudden feeling, and he jerked himself a few times “You ready baby?” he cooed down at Y/N and she nodded eagerly “Yes, please, I need it.” She bit her lip as her eyes watched his hand intently, the excitement growing in the air as Greg moved forward and ran the head of his cock through her soaking and glistening folds eliciting a moan from the woman. “Can’t wait for you to fill me up Greg.” Y/N panted and Greg licked his lips, watching the head of his cock disappear and reappear as he moved it up and down. “You want me to cum in you? Hmm?” He asked, teeth gritting as he slowly inched himself into her entrance and Y/N’s hands reached out, gripping his biceps tightly, nails digging into Greg’s skin and creating half moon shapes in his skin. Once Greg was bottomed out, he leaned forward as if all the breath he had in him had left his body, he felt himself faltering at how good this felt. After all the pent up sexual tension, it was finally getting released.

He began moving his hips, in slow and deep thrusts “Fuck you feel so good.” He grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he leaned his head down against her right shoulder. Y/N let out small gasps at how well he stretched her out, her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and her right hand rest on the back of his neck “G-God you fill me up so well.” She cried softly, and that response only had Greg speeding up his thrusts, more like quick snaps now, where the sounds that filled the hot hotel room were skin slapping skin, heavy breaths, grunts and moans. Greg sat up, taking hold of Y/N’s legs and pushing them apart so he could get a better look of his cock disappearing into her pussy. Y/N cupped her breasts, her whole body jerking and convulsing at how deep he struck within her, striking that heavenly spot that so few men could find before, but he was hitting it perfectly. “Keep going Greg I’m so close!” She gasped, her fingers pulling and pinching her perked nipples to add to the pleasure. “Oh god me too.” He responded, his hips still snapping at that fast pace which amazed her at how he could keep it up for so long. Greg moved one of his hands over and began flicking Y/N’s swollen and abused clit, his thumb rubbing and playing with it. He almost came on the spot as he felt Y/N squeeze him tight, milking him further and he almost doubled over “Fuck, fuck don’t stop, right there!” She exclaimed and gasped as Greg worked wonders on her body and Greg was determined to giver her the best orgasm she had ever experienced. One more flick of her clit, and Y/N broke down, the coil snapping so hard that she squirmed beneath Greg as he chased his orgasm. “Oh my god!” She cried, her back arching and body shaking as the intense orgasm spread through her body causing her head to feel light and airy. “That’s it baby, I got you.” He exhaled as he felt himself near the edge, after a few seconds he felt himself trip and fall off, hard. He groaned loudly, his hips stuttering at how tightly he was being squeezed as he came deep in Y/N’s pussy. Greg leaned down, his hips still moving at a very slow pace as he brought Y/N in for a gentle kiss, coaxing her through their joined highs. “Your mine now, Greg.” She pulled away and joked, a smile playing on her lips and she opened her eyes slowly to look at Greg, who began to slowly pull out of her pussy, watching his cum drizzle out of her in the most sexiest of ways. “I’ve always been yours, Y/N.” He responded, eyes meeting hers in a soft and gentle gaze, which had Y/N blushing. She sat up, bringing Greg in for a small kiss and pecked his lips a few times “Do you want to stay the night?” She asked softly, a hint of doubt in her mind that he would leave having only used her for a good time. “I’d love too.” She grinned and pulled him in for a sweet kiss, before Greg crawled up onto the bed and under the sheets, pulling Y/N with him wrapping his arms around her gently, placing a sweet kiss on her forehead. Y/N rest her head on his chest, her left arm wrapped across his toned midsection with a contempt sigh.

So this was what it felt like to be with someone who was so amazing and caring, both Y/N and Greg could get used to this.

[tom-holland-parker]

Lets get Married

Summary: On a class trip to Vegas, Peter is determined to make this trip a memorable one, even if it means doing something crazy. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 2911

Masterlist

Note: If you’ve never heard Lets get married by bleachers you are missing out.

Taking a bunch of 17/18 year olds to vegas probably wasn't the best idea. Between Flash's constant suggestions on going to a strip club and being stuck on a crowded bus in 90 degree weather, it was already turning out to be terrible.

"Well someone doesn't look too happy" Peter joked as you rested your head on his shoulder. You could feel a headache forming in your head and the heat was only making things worse. "If Flash doesn't stop talking I'm going to stab him" you groaned trying to block out his loud voice.

Peter chuckled, giving you a kiss on your forehead, "sorry to burst your bubble but it's my job as Spiderman to make sure you don't do that"

You rolled your eyes, "but it's your job as Peter AKA my boyfriend to let me get away with it"

"You do realize you're joking about murder" Mj interrupt as she poked her head above her seat in front of you. "I know you're thinking the same thing Mj". She shrugged before returning to the book.

"I’m very glad we finally got a peaceful field trip I don’t think I can handle another Europe or Washington" You joked looking up at Peter. He chuckled, “Don’t jinx it. I don’t want any sort of trouble to happen”

"Well we could always cause some trouble" you smirked, "I've been researching some casinos"

"Since when do you know how to gamble" He laughed. "I'm Tony Stark's daughter doing risky stuff is in my blood. Plus my dad left me with his credit card" you opened your wallet showing Peter the shiny black amex that was tucked in the pocket.

“I don’t know about this,” He said nervously. You scoffed, “You’re telling me that I made all of us get fake IDs and you’re not even going to let me gamble” 

Peter rolled his eyes, remembering the exact day you were talking about. It was almost a month ago when you tricked him and your friends into taking photos that they thought were for the yearbook but turned out to be fake IDs that you needed to get into a party. “I never wanted that fake ID” 

“Yeah but you’re beautiful girlfriend got you one anyway” You leaned over placing a soft kiss on his neck, “Please baby let have some fun. You know what they say What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”

"If you guys are planning on sneaking out, count me in" Mj interrupted, not bothering to wait for a reply before ducking her head back over the seat.

Peter sighed as he shook his head, "Fine but only because Ned has been studying the art of poker for weeks". He pointed to the row next to you where Ned sat reading The Poker Players Bible

“He’s learning poker from a book?” You shook your head in amusement, “He’s gonna lose” 

Peter chuckled, “Have some faith in him. I think he’d make an excellent poker player”. You rolled your eyes, glancing at Ned again before looking back at Peter. 

"Wanna make a bet?" You smirked sitting up from your slouched position. Peter smiled and nodded. "We'll let Ned play three games of poker. If he wins at least twice I'll do whatever you want but is he loses twice then you have to do whatever I want"

He hesitated trying to figure out whether or not you were joking. He rolled his eyes when he realized you were serious, "deal". He shook your hand, "I need to talk to Ned''. You rolled your eyes and put on your headphones as Peter got up and walked to the row besides you.

You didn't notice but Peter had been nervous ever since the plane had landed in Vegas. He knew you'd always wanted to come here and he wanted to make your first trip here a memorable one. "Hey Ned" he whispered, glancing towards you to make sure you weren't paying attention, "I need your help"

"I thought you said you wouldn't have to do Spiderman things on this trip" he replied in a worried tone.

Peter shook his head, "no it's not that" he reassured, "Y/N and Mj are going to come with us tonight to the Casino, but I've made a bet with Y/N and I need you to win two of three poker games tonight"

Ned smiled, "don't worry I've got this I spent the whole plane ride playing in small online competitions and I've won a few games so I'm pretty much a pro"

"great" Peter chuckled nervously, "I'm just nervous. I still don't know what I'm going to do to make this trip memorable for her" he glanced at you watching as you stared out the window.

"Why don't you just cross out number 4 on her bucket list" Ned said as he looked at his book again.

"What are you talking about?" Peter questioned. Ned sighed putting down his book again, "do you remember last summer when we all hung out at her place and she stole a bottle of her dads tequila and she started talking about her bucket list"

Peter nodded waiting for Ned to explain, "well number 4 was get married in Vegas even if it's just a joke"

A burst of laughter exploded from Peter, "are you insane? I can't do that. Her father will kill me" he whispered trying to avoid the strange looks he was getting from his sudden outburst.

"Oh come on I'm sure he'll find it funny" Ned smiled.

Peter nodded, “Ok yeah I’m gonna do it. I'm gonna marry her”. Ned chuckled, "Great. Now I need to study or else you’re going to lose this bet” He returned back to his book as Peter, who was now lost in his thoughts returned back to his seat, letting you rest your head on his shoulder for the rest of the bus ride. 

///

“Ned if you don’t quiet down we’re going to get caught” You whispered as you and your friend piled out the hotel room. It was nearing 11 and all the teachers had forced the students to stay in the rooms for the rest of the night. “Your heels are making more noise than me” Ned joked as you all entered the elevator. 

You rolled your eyes grabbing Peter wrist to look at the time on his watch, “Alright we all need to be back by 4:30” 

To your surprise the casino wasn’t crowded, then again who is going to a casino on a Monday night. “Ok babe, me and Mj are gonna play craps. I'll leave Ned to practice before you lose this bet” You kissed his cheek before grabbing Mj’s hand and guiding her to the dice table. 

“Don’t you think your father is going to question why there are charges to a Vegas casino on his credit card?” Mj asked as you took money out of the ATM. You shrugged, “That’s a problem for another day”. She chuckled as you moved to the table and placed your bets on the game. The dealer handed you your chips as well as the dice signaling to you that the game had started.

It was only an hour later when Peter met up with you and Mj. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you placed your betting chips in their spots, “Are you winning?” He whispered as you grabbed the dice from the table. 

“I’ve done pretty good so far. I need a 7” You shook the dice in your hand before turning to him, “Kiss for good luck?”

He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss, watching as you threw the dice. He could sense your nervousness as the dice moved down the table hitting the wall before landing on the lucky number 7. 

Everyone at the table shouted cheerfully, happy that they had won the round. You gather your chips from the dealer, “Alright Jerry it's been nice playing with you I hope to do it again sometime” you waved goodbye as you all walked to the poker table where Ned sat waiting for the group to join him before he started another game. 

“Alright Ned three games I betting on two loses but Peter thinks differently” You teased as he rolled his eyes, “Prove me right”

If you were being honest you didn’t exactly know what was going on. You’d seen you father and the other avengers play poker before but they never let you in on the game so you hardly knew anything about it, but so far you could tell that you were losing the bet. 

Ned was in the middle of the second game and according to Mj, who didn’t have a biased opinion on this bet, things were looking good for Peter. Ned had won the first game and it looked like he was going to win this one. You sighed in annoyance, hating that you had to admit you were wrong. 

Peter smiled, wrapping his arms around you, “Don’t worry babe I think you’ll actually like that i have planned”. You rolled your eyes watching as Ned cheered clearly happy that he won the game. You sighed, “Ok what do you want” 

“Give me 3 minutes. Stay here” He smiled, grabbing Mj’s arm, leaving you alone at the table with Ned. 

“Ned what does he have planned?” You smirked hoping to wean out whatever Peter was going to do. He shook his head, “Y/N I love you but Peter’s my best friend and I can’t just give away the surprise” You rolled your eyes, turning around at watch as Peter talked to Mj. 

“Please Mj” Peter begged, “I want to make this trip memorable and i'm only asking you because her father doesn’t know” 

“You’re insane” her eyes widened at the thought of you and Peter getting married this young, “You guys are 18 do you seriously think getting married is the best idea” 

“It’s been on her bucket list for years” He pointed out trying to justify his plans. “Please Mj if not for me then do it for the happiness of your best friend” 

She took a deep breath, “Fine I will walk Y/N down the aisle”. Peter smiled pulling Mj into a tight hug. “You’re the best” 

///

“Guys I don’t appreciate surprises” You joked as Ned guided you through the crowded sidewalk. “Don’t worry we’re almost there” He reassured you. You sighed and kept walking as all your friends laughed. 

You came to a sudden stop as Peter grabbed your hand, “Ok Ned you can uncover her eyes” he chuckled. Ned took his hands off your eyes stepping back as you looked around in confusion. Peter was on one knee with a nervous smile plastered on his face. “Y/N I love you”

“Peter what are you doing?” You looked up noticing the small chapel you all stood in front of, “Please don’t tell me-”

“I love you and I know this is on your bucket list so” he kissed you hand, “Will you marry me?”

You stood silent for a moment, shock taking over your body, “Peter-” His face dropping, thinking maybe this was completely ridiculous. You smiled through as sigh, “Yes I will marry you” 

He stood up quickly, pulling you into a hug. “Alright well we better hurry because it’s already 3 and we need to be back at the hotel soon” 

You nodded your head as everyone walked into the small chapel, “Hi I made an appointment online” Peter said nervously as you walked to the front desk hand in hand, Mj and Ned trailing close behind you.

“Peter?” The short lady said. He nodded, grabbing his ID and handing it to her. You did the same as she typed the information in the computer. “Ok boys you can go through there and stand at the altar, girls you can come with me” 

She smiled guiding you and Mj into a separate room, “Ok so we have different dress and veil options for you to pick from but you don’t seem like an extremely flashy girl so I'm going to suggest the little white dress option” 

She handed you a hanger that held a body con white dress with glitter details, it actually looked like something you had in your closet at home. You nodded your head moving to the dressing room to put in on. You locked the door behind you taking this time as a moment for you to take everything in. You were about to get married. Even if it was just a joke it was still a crazy thing to do. You weren’t nervous that you’d regret it, you loved Peter with all your heart, but you were nervous about everyone else's reactions. I can do this, You whispered to yourself putting the dress on before walking out the small room.

“Alright here goes nothing” You smiled nervously and you grabbed Mj’s arm. The song over the speaker began to play as you slowly walked down the aisle. Peter turned to look at you, shocked at how good you looked in all white, a color you rarely ever wore. 

"Wow" he muttered as you stood in front of him, handing your bouquet of fake flowers to Mj as she stood behind you. "You look amazing" You smiled grabbing his hand. 

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Peter Benjamin Parker and Y/N Y/M/N Stark, in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife" the short lady read from the thin book in her hands. "Do you Peter Parker, take Y/N Stark to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Peter smiled, looking you in the eyes, "I do"

"Do you Y/N Stark take Peter Parker to be you lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part"

You nodded your head enthusiastically, "I do"

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife you may now kiss the bride" the room filled the applause as you pulled Peter into a quick passionate kiss. Only pulling apart when you realized your empty fingers, "wait we don't have rings"

"Oh i got that covered" Ned said cheerfully as he pulled out two contained of rings, the ones you usually get from the quarter machines, "they were the only ones I could find on short notice"

"they're perfect Ned", you chuckled, pulling out the pink and purple rings, "Dibs on pink"

Peter rolled his eyes forcing the small ring onto his finger, "I don't think I'll ever be able to take this off" he joked

"That's the point of a wedding ring" you grabbed his hand, "you can't get rid of me that easily"

"Alright time for pictures and then certificate" the short lady appeared with a Polaroid Camera snapping pictures of you and Peter.

"Are you happy?" You looked up and smiled. "I'm married to my favorite girl in the whole world. Why wouldn't I be happy?" Peter smirked before giving you a quick kiss.

Time flew by so fast. After the certificate was signed, a bottle of champagne was popped leading you to get extremely tipsy. By the time you all got back to the hotel it was already 5. Peter carried you up the stair bridal style watching as you moved sleepily in his arms.

"What the hell" Flash said loudly startling everyone. You all turned around watching as Flash stood in the hallway in his bathrobe surrounded by two girls who definitely weren't students. "Go to bed Flash" you mumbled, cuddling further into Peter's arms.

"You guys snuck out?" He said in a shocked voice, "Oh I can't wait until you guys to get caught"

Mj chuckled opening the door to the hotel room you shared with her, "Flash do those girls know that you're 16" she lied. The girls gasped quickly walking away from the angered boy. He took a deep breath before stomping back into his room. "Gosh I hate that dude" Ned said as you all walked into the hotel room.

Peter placed you in bed, taking off your shoes before tucking you in, "I'll see you tomorrow morning Mrs. Parker"

You smile tiredly, "I love you Mr. Parker"

///

"Well well well if it isn't the newly weds" Your father said angrily as you walked through the elevator doors. You kept your composure not wanting to give you and peter away

"What are you talking about?" You said through a smile

"Don't act dumb" you father said as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, "I'm the one who gave Peter the emergency credit card I can see everything he buys"

Your eyes widened, Peter took a deep breath, "Mr. Stark-"

"Im gonna give you ten seconds to run" Your father said as he threw down the paper. 

"I'll talk to you later babe" Peter quickly kissed your cheek before rushing out the room. You father quickly trailing behind

[parker-razor]

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!! 

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.  

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”