#yeah so the thing i’ve been fucking searching for that i couldn’t fucking place why i had this weird ~thing~ i felt like i wanted

[the-fog-system]

.

[lightaflaem]

𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.”

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” 

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.” 

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.” 

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo. 

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?” 

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now. 

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area. 

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.” 

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck. 

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna��s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]

[steddieas-shegoes]

pining long enough

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'pine' wc: 508 | rated e | tags: mutual pining, love confessions, making out, frottage, getting together

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“Jesus Christ, Steve. How long have you been pining?” Eddie said breathlessly as his back hit the wall.

Steve’s hands were everywhere, everywhere except where he wanted them most.

“Long enough.” Steve’s fingers tugged on Eddie’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Eddie needed a second, maybe a day.

“I just.” Eddie cupped Steve’s face in his hands to hold him back, his lips still pouting out like he was interrupted mid-kiss. “Slow down for a second. You went from barely talking to me to begging me to take off my shirt and leaving a bruise the size of Indiana on my neck. What’s happening right now?”

Steve huffed out a sigh. “I want you.”

“I’m gathering that. But…why?” Eddie was being so fucking strong right now, being the bigger person, being the more reasonable one. It was so unlike him, he almost checked his own forehead for a fever.

“Because you’re Eddie.”

“Yeah, and that’s not really clearing things up for me. That’s usually why people don’t want me,” Eddie searched Steve’s face, looking for any possible clue as to what could have happened to make Steve’s lips meet his in nothing short of a desperate kiss.

“Because I’ve spent months trying to keep my distance and I can’t anymore!” Steve’s body deflated, his shoulders curling into himself.

Eddie pulled him into his chest, not wasting a moment when he could be comforting him, not when Steve so clearly wanted this.

“I kinda thought you couldn’t stand me,” Eddie said quietly as he rubbed Steve’s back.

Whatever hunger he had a minute ago had left, the heat gone as Steve breathed slowly against him.

“I can’t stand the way I turn to an even bigger idiot around you.” Steve pulled back and looked at Eddie, eye to eye, his breath hot against his lips. “Robin calls it Eddie Brain. Dustin thinks the last concussion just made me stupid.”

“No he doesn’t.” Eddie argued. Just when Steve took a breath to argue back, Eddie kissed him.

“You can’t kiss me to shut me up,” Steve mumbled against his lips, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, hands curling into his hair.

“Seems like it’s working right now,” Eddie mumbled back.

They got lost in it for a while, keeping a slow pace while their hands mapped scars on skin, lips found new places to taste.

They were both hard, Eddie could feel Steve’s length against his thigh, but they weren’t chasing the finish line, they weren’t rushing to be done.

Everything Eddie’s done has been rushed, quick enough that whoever he was kissing didn’t have time to think about what they were doing.

But not this.

Steve slowly rutted against his thigh, seeking friction, letting out whimpers as he took what he needed.

“Want my hand, Stevie?” Eddie whispered after a few minutes of this. “Can get ya there faster.”

Steve shook his head. “No, just like this. Feels good.”

“Been pining after me for months and now you wanna take it slow?” Eddie teased.

“Wanna take forever with you, baby.”

[juneknight]

Anything somnophilia pls !

Steven. 

He hums lightly. 

She’s asleep. 

Steven glances away from the television down to where you lay, head pillowed in his lap. Marc is right. You’ve fallen fast asleep, your face still turned towards the telly, lights cast over your skin, white, blue, yellow. His heart squeezes with fondness. You’ve been working so hard lately, and still staying up late to spend time with him during his periods of insomnia. How’d he get so lucky? How—

You can see down her shirt. 

Steven glares at the television. “Not looking, mate.” 

I’m looking. She’s fucking beautiful. 

“Pervert.” 

I’ve seen her naked just as many times as you have, Steven, says Marc. I know all the places our tongue has been, I’m not going to hell for looking down her top. She’s not even wearing a bra. Maybe she wanted you to look. 

Steven’s eyes flicker down to you before he can help it. Marc is right: your t-shirt is low cut, and it’s easy to see based on the way it has displaced and drawn tight over your breasts, that you aren’t wearing a bra. Even though he keeps the flat nice and warm for you, your nipples are pebbled into cute little stones. 

You’re looking, says Marc. 

Steven’s head whips back toward the television. He glares at it, even though he no longer needs the reflections to communicate with Marc anymore. He tells himself that he isn’t even going to respond, won’t give his alter the time of day. 

His eyes go back to you. Fuck, you are beautiful, with skin soft as rose petals. 

What are you doing?

Steven’s hand pauses in the air. He freezes everywhere else too. What was he doing? He didn’t even know—surely he hadn’t been about to touch you, not when you were asleep, not when you couldn’t consent. 

She’s into it, Steven, you know she is, says Marc, ever the devil on Steven’s shoulder. She’s said it before. 

“We didn’t agree on anything, mate,” Steven murmurs. “It’s not right.” 

Why do you think she likes the idea so much? Marc wonders dryly. Because it’s wrong. Touching her, teasing her when she’s asleep. When she can’t swat our hand away or squirm out of our grasp. When she can’t even consciously squeeze her thighs together trying to get rid of the ache we caused. 

“Quit,” Steven mutters, shifting as much as he dares beneath your sleeping form. He’s hard. 

Marc goes quiet, but the seeds have already been planted. Steven’s trembling hand reaches down to ghost over your breast, cupping the soft flesh in his palm. You don’t even twitch. He can feel your pebbled nipple beneath his palm, and he searches for it with his thumb, rubbing against you with slow softness. When you’re awake, your breasts are your most effective erogenous zone, sensitive to even light brushes. 

It becomes clear that the same thing is true even in your sleep. When he pinches your nipple softly, your body gives a gentle jerk, mouth parting silently. Steven should stop. Gods, he should stop. But he can’t remember ever being this hard without even a hint of stimulation. His fingers pluck dexterously at your swollen nipple until a whine slips past your throat, your legs shifting further down on the couch. 

Steven wishes he was in between them. Your soft, plush thighs. He loves the way they clench and squeeze around his ears or his waist when he’s working your pleasure from you. His eyes fall to your mouth, still parted. He sees a hint of your teeth, and the sight of them gives him a full-body shiver—

Which wakes you. Steven has just enough time to move his hand from your breast before your eyes open, body tensing in a luxurious stretch. 

“Ohmygod,” you slur sleepily. “Stev’n I was having the most amazing dream.” 

“Yeah?” he breathes, heart pounding with exhilaration and guilt all at once. Then with arousal, when you turn your eyes on him, gaze heavy with heat. “Will—would you tell me about it?” 

“I’ll show you,” you promise roughly. “Come to bed?” 

[strawbrrycuteblog]

hello Elle!

can I request for cat!jay X puppy!reader?

Could you also make it like an office theme (sorry if I'm asking for too much 😭)

-❄️anon

Jay walked into the building, looking around as his little tail giving him away whilst it flickered around. You and Jay have been having this little cat and mouse game for a couple of weeks now.

Little butt slaps and little hair pulling here and there, Jay and his little kitten instincts liked the playful attitude you had, not to mention the body you had, your hips had curves and you hair was perfect for him to grip.

Your eyes sparkled and when you had to look at him to speak to him, the puppy reminded of how wrong it is to be fucking you.

Not that you were married but you were his assistant for fucks sake! He’d get fired if anyone knew. Yet..here y’all were..

Jay groaned as he pushed your head further down to force his penis down your throat, pulling tears out of your eyes as you were being a good obedient pup.

“Just like that baby..” Jay moaned out as his hips bucked.

His ears picking up every single slobber or juicy sound that your pink mouth made..

You multitasking and humping against his leg as you sucked him off, he couldn’t get enough, he didn’t think he ever would.

“Fuck baby..” he’d grunt out as your slimy lips rutted against him, your tail just easily brushing against his desk, he gripped your hair (like usual) and pulled you off.

“A-am I doing good?” You looked at him as you asked for validation. Not flat out but he could hear the need for his validation you so desperately wanted.

“Doing just fine pup..but I need to feel you..”

He pulled your hips in and sat you on his desk, the big window behind him wouldn’t hide the way the sun made your pussy glisten.

He took a finger and ran it through your folds, then bringing the slick to his own mouth and licking it off as his ears perked up at the lovely taste his buds picked up, he let out a groan and started to purr.

“Always tasting so sweet for me?”

“I-I’ve been eating more pineapple..”

He chuckled at how adorable you were, you always read things about how to make yourself taste better or even look better, he saw your whole search history.

“I know..”

“But nothing is sweeter than your tight walls around me babe.”

To that he pushed his mushroom shaped head past your entrance which made you whimper, the stretch always making you whine and cry.

“Shit! Too big!”

“You can take it doll..you always can..” he whispered against your neck, licking and purring against it.

You shook your head whilst clamping down on him. You could barely take him in your mouth let alone the feeling of his tip spearing into your cervix, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to push past your cervix but fuck! It felt like he could do it.

“Yeah that’s right..be a good little pup and take me..” he purred.

You were so sure he’d broken your walls by now, the force he had was impeccable. Looking at his body, his half unbuttoned white shirt and dress pants that had the belt hanging to free his big, throbbing cock.

That cock. His cock. The pretty tip and the thic-

“Jay! Fuck I’m cumming!”

He groaned again and spurt his seed into your pussy, letting his load seep into your fuckhole.

The thickness, the way it could make you cum so fast, the amount of dildos you’ve bought to imitate the feeling his dick provided had you broke. Hence why you were here in the first place.

Okay so this is the best I can do for now! If you want any changed lmk!! Mwah mwah!! 💋

[berberriescorner]

Nobody's Gonna Know

(Part One)

Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).

Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?

Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?

Word Count: (Part One) 4,100+/9,000+. Sorry, lovelies, I couldn’t stop😆.

A/N: Yes, it’s lengthy, but the idea snowballed into something unexpected. I hope you all enjoy it!

Inspired By:

Lounging lazily on your king-size bed, you laid on your back comfortably in an oversized t-shirt. You silently scrolled through Instagram. Your breath hitched at the feel of fingertips gently stroking your calves. Still staring at the phone screen, a wicked little idea popped into your head. You smirked, tapping the add a new post button. Using your free hand, you positioned it atop the head that rested on your pelvis and between your thighs. Not wanting to give him reason to stir, you gently stroked his head, and he relaxed into your touch. The movement of your hand paused long enough to snap the picture. He was none the wiser as he continued to search for something to watch on HBO Max. Eyes still searching the screen, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Soft ass thighs.”

A soft moan fell from your lips. You made sure Yahya’s face wasn’t in the shot. Your digits glided across the keyboard, adding a Nicki Minaj lyric as the caption, “My man full, he just ate💦😘.” You tapped the post button and laid your phone on the nightstand.

Yahya had just licked you to tears. No one knew about the two of you. That you started as best friends turned into a sneaky link. The both of you have secretly been trying to figure out what this was morphing into. Unsure of where things were going, you decided to keep things quiet. You both enjoyed teasing the people in your inner circle on IG (they were all extremely nosey). Thus the reason for posting said pic—that it would sometimes get a rise out of the other person was a bonus.

Yahya received a notification that you had posted. Still lying between your legs, he teased, “What thirst trap are you posting now?” He froze, seeing a picture of his current position. He huffed, “You for real?”

Yahya rolled over, still lying on top of your stomach. His hand rained down on your thigh.

“I thought this was supposed to be on the low? You damn near ripped my head off for telling my bro I was over here in the middle of the night. I guess the rules only apply to me,” Yahya grumbled. His face changed from frustration to a sly grin.

“Boy, calm down. Nobody’s going to know that’s you. That’s what makes it so exciting, you teased. “And why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”

“I just noticed the caption, so I’m your man now?”

“Don’t do too much. They’re just lyrics. Relax, my guy.”

“Yeah, right. When are we going to stop playing this game?”

“What game, Yah'?”

“Stop acting like this isn’t more than just a sneaky link now. I’ve been blowing your back out for over four months.”

“And I greatly appreciate it. Why do we have to get into specifics? We have amazing sex. No need to make it more complicated.”

“Are you dating anyone else? I know you better not be fucking anybody other than me, Y/N.”

“I’d hardly call a few dinner dates that haven’t gone past friends, dating. It’s been nothing but innocent, Yah'.”

His jaw ticked at the revelation of you being in the presence of another man’s company.

“For the record, I don’t make a habit of having more than one sexual partner. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“You refuse to let that shit go, huh? I slept with her one time! We had just started whatever this was at the time. I cut her off once I knew this wasn't a one-and-done situation. Who exactly did you go on a date with, sweetheart?”

The question and term of endearment dripped with jealousy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for more confrontation. There was no doubt in your mind that the answer would upset him.

“Michael. I know you don’t like him. We just went on two dates. Nothing happened, Yah'.”

He pulled into a seated position on the mattress.

“Out of all these thirsty ass dudes that beg for your attention. He had to be the one you said yes to. How many times have I told you that’s a waste of your time? How do I get you to understand that he just wants to knock you down?”

“Is that not what you’re doing with me?“

“Stop that shit. You know how I feel about you. Your ass doesn't want to hear it because you’re scared. We both know this could be so much more.”

“This is stupid. Why are we arguing? We’re not a couple. This is supposed to be easy and chill.”

“There you go deflecting as usual,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to delete the damn picture, Yahya? It’s the reason this conversation even took place.”

“No, no. Leave it up. You know what? You’re right, love. Lay back down. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

Yahya was the least bit worried about your IG post. It was only for close friends, and he wanted them to wonder. Acting angry was just a means to an end. He had a reason to get his lick back. Now, he had an excuse for what he was planning.

Hearing you went on two dates with Michael sent jealousy coursing through his veins. He made a mental note to keep his enemies closer. Seeing that you were focused on the show, he went to Instagram. Yahya went to Michael’s page and added him to his close friends. 

He wanted to see how your friends were reacting to your photo. He pulled up your page and skimmed through the comments. Yahya chuckled at your best friend's comment. In bold letters, she said, “Okay, best friend! I see you! No clue who that is, but get that head in your comfortable bed! Yaaasss👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾. I expect full details and a face reveal when we link tomorrow. I’m tired of all this damn anonymity.” Yahya laughed, knowing that you weren’t giving up any information.

Yahya waited two days before he put his plan in motion. He hit your line, inviting you for a movie night at his place. You were sure the night would end on your back with Yahya between your thighs. Anytime the two of you were alone, your hands always seemed to roam. Every time you two gave into temptation, it would go for rounds. Knowing this, you brought an overnight bag. He knew just how to put you to sleep.

Only twenty minutes into the movie, you were already at the edge of the mattress. Yahya placed you on all fours with your box braids wound tightly around his hand. He tugged at them, pulling you into the most perfect of arches. His free hand crept to the top of his nightstand. You were plunged deep into the throes of passion and hadn’t noticed him pick up his phone. The only light in the room came from the television. Pistoning in and out of your tight walls, he managed to open Instagram. Yahya needed it to be pitch black to pull off his scheme.

“Nobody watching this shit for real, baby. Alexa! Turn off the tv in the master bedroom,” he groaned.

The tv shut off as he pulled out and slammed back into your slick heat.

“Ye-yes. Fuck, baby,” you cried, arching your back deeper.

His face lit up at that. He continued giving slow, deep strokes as he recorded you both in the dark.

Yahya made sure this was for close friends only. With confirmation, he laid the phone on the mattress next to the two of you. He proceeded to put in work, going crazy in your walls. Your sweet, soft, and sensual moans were like music to his ears. You were used to Yahya laying some good pipe, but tonight he was on demon time. This man was trying to tear your walls down and ruin you for any other man.

“Feel me deep in your shit, baby?”

You moaned in response.

He thrust so deep that your hands instantly flew to his abdomen. You tried to push back against his stomach, wanting him to take it easy on you. He growled, binding your wrist with his free hand.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he half moaned, half growled. His hand let go of your hair and rained down, smacking and grabbing your left cheek. He slapped the right cheek before burying his digits in your braids again. “I thought you could take all of it, baby? That’s what you begged for. Right, love? Hmm? This ain’t what you wanted?”

You whimpered.

A faint “Please, Daddy” escaped your lips. 

“What is it, baby? Use your words.”

“I can-ah!”

“Yes, you can, baby. You gon’ be my good girl, and take it,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your back, fully sheathing himself inside you. His length tapped that spot deep within you.

 “Y-yes, baby, I’ll take it, g-give me that di-Yes, Yah'!”

Yahya tapped at your spot repetitively, sending you spiraling. You buried your face in the mattress, clawing at the bedding. Your release approached, barreling toward you like a freight train as you attempted to muffle your screams in the sheets.

“Good. Fucking. Girl. Each word was highlighted with another thrust. “Yeah, come just like that, mama.”

Satisfied with himself, Yahya ended the video and posted it to his stories. He hoped none of your closest friends would recognize your voice. There was only one person he needed to figure it out, Michael. Yahya knew you were going to throw a fit, but so long as nobody could see you. He felt he could get you to be cool with it. Leaning against you, he licked, nibbled, and kissed your shoulder. He was still plunged deep inside you and solid as a rock. Yahya’s lips trailed over to your ear. Releasing a deep groan, he rasped, “Hope you got one more in you, love. Daddy needs to come too. He pulled out until it was just the tip. About to respond, he plunged deep inside, forcing you to gasp. Yahya pulled two more orgasms from your body before spilling inside you.

He made quick work of getting a warm cloth to clean you up. You moaned at the sweet actions of his aftercare. Yahya smirked at how easily it was to turn you on. He swaggered into the bathroom and finished cleaning himself up. 

Collapsing into bed, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours. Rolling onto your side, you pushed back against him, making yourself the little spoon. Yahya’s hand crept from your thigh and up the side of your body. His large palm found its destination as it gently cupped your breast. His lips left light kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“You’re always trying to cop a feel,” you sassed, sucking your teeth.

“You know this is my emotional support Titty.”

“Shut up, Yah',” you giggled.

Yahya bit his lip and smirked as he tweaked your nipple.

“Uhn-uh! If you’re going to be on my body like this, your ass needs to behave and sit still. I’m exhausted thanks to your big dick bandit ass,” you teased.

“You know you like that shit,” he responded, tugging at your nipple again.

He pressed his semi-hard erection against you. The action caused your breath to hitch.

“Tell me you don’t want me again, and I’ll let you sleep,” he whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

About to reply sarcastically, you lost your train of thought as he dipped his hand between your thighs.

“You were saying something, love?”

“Fuck, you don’t play fair,” you panted.

“Come here, mama. Want you to ride me.”

Sliding down his length, it became clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Yah', baby,” you whined.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m going to make you feel good. Ride me, mama,” he urged, guiding your hips.

Though he had fallen asleep satiated and peacefully, his morning was the opposite. Yahya jolted out of his sleep as he struggled to breathe. You had covered his face with a pillow while chastising him.

“I just know your big-headed ass didn’t record us fucking and post it to close friends! Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”

Yahya's hand tugged at the pillow over his face. He snatched the pillow, throwing it across the room. He overpowered you, flipping you onto your back as he smirked.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want your side hoes to find out about me?”

“The only side hoe I have is you.”

“Naw, sweetheart. I’m your main dude. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Whatever! You better hope nobody recognizes my voice, freaky ass,” you kissed your teeth.

“Oh, I hope they do,” he smiled. “You’re not even mad, for real. I know that shit lowkey turns you on. Listen to those pretty little moans, mama.”

You did your best to bite back a smile but lost. Yahya licked his lips, giving you a million-dollar smile.

“I know I sound good. You ain’t gotta sweat me or nothin’.”

“I should’ve left the lights on while I recorded that shit. Give them something to really talk about.”

“You want to tell people we fuck so bad,” you teased.

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. I’ma make you mine, shortie. You can continue to run from it but in the end. You’re going to be mine.”

Wanting to avoid such a touchy topic, you switched the subject.

“Boy, shut up and feed me. I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast, best friend?”

Yahya smiled devilishly, “This dick.”

“Nasty ass. I want food, Yah',” you whined.

“That’s a whole ass meal, fuck you mean?”

Eyes rolling and smacking your teeth, he laughed.

“I forgot how cranky you can be in the mornings. Let’s get the baby’s tummy full. What do you want to eat, baby girl,” he responded in his best baby voice.

“Can you make french toast and bacon? You make it better than I do,” you asked in a cute tone.

“You know I can’t say no to that voice and face. Come on, spoiled brat,” he teased as he slapped your thigh.

Yahya scooped you from the bed, dangling your body over his shoulder. His hand grabbed a handful of your behind, giving it a loud smack.

“Ouch, Yah'! That hurt,” you whined.

“I didn’t mean to smack it that hard. My bad,” he smirked, rubbing the pain away.

“Lying ass.”

Carting you off to the kitchen, he got you fed and full. Neither of you had anything planned. The two of you spent the remainder of your Sunday binging television and ordering takeout. 

When the time came for you to head out, Yahya felt his chest tighten. He was sad to see you leave. If only you two could figure out where to go from here. He’d have you sleeping in his bed every night. Little did you know, your best friend’s feelings for you had existed as long as the friendship had. He just never knew how to tell you. The chemistry and attraction lingered between the two of you. That is, until one drunken night, he did something about it. He fell back on his couch, missing you already, as his mind drifted back to that night.

You were spiraling down a black hole of heartbreak. Yahya came running to offer support and a listening ear to vent to. 

His fist balled up, jaw flexing as his memory replayed the image of you opening the door. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy as you did your best to keep from crying again. Yahya’s heart sank seeing how distraught you were. He stepped closer to you, and in a low baritone, he said, “Hey, mama.” The sympathy in his soothing voice sent a fresh trail of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighed as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Yahya’s chin rested on your head as you curled into his chest, body trembling as the tears flowed. “You’re going to be straight, mama. I promise I got you,” he soothed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He gave you a minute or two to let it all out. Releasing you, he bent back, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears. Yahya leaned forward, sweeping you up bridal style. “Let’s get you comfy on the couch. I’ll fix us some drinks and snacks. Then you can tell me everything, alright?” Giving him a faint nod, Yahya kicked the door closed. He made quick work of getting you situated on the couch. Yahya wrapped you in your comfort blanket. Gently kissing your forehead, he whispered, “Be right back, love.”

He called from the kitchen, “Are you in the mood for something light or heavy?”

“This calls for the hard shit. Bring the tequila. I don’t even need a damn chaser. Give me something that will make me forget the last twenty-four hours.”

Yahya strode back into the living room, alcohol in hand.

“What are you about to tell me, love?”

“Maybe you should take a couple of shots first.”

Yahya set the shot glasses and bottle on the coffee table. His hand ran down his face as he took a deep breath, “Am I going to have to beat his ass?”

You sat up straight, dropping the blanket around your waist. Pouring two shots, you answered, “Just promise me you won’t lose your temper.”

“No.”

“Yah', please,” you begged, voice trembling.

“The desperation in your voice tells me that I’m going to regret this, but fine, I promise not to lose my temper. What happened?”

“Drink first.”

Shots were thrown back, and you grimaced, pouring out two more. After the second, you started to pour another round, but Yahya’s hand gently grasped your wrist, “No-.”

A small whimper fell from your lips as his eyes grew. Yahya’s eyes darted from your weary ones down to your wrist. His hands were like lightning as he slid your sleeve up a bit.

“No, fuck that, mama! Is this a bruise?” 

“You promised, Yah'.”

“Promises are meant to be broken. Where the fuck is his punk ass at?”

He sprang from the couch, searching his pockets for his keys.

“Where’s he at?”

“No, please, Yahya. You promised! I handled it.”

“Why are you protecting his bitch ass? Has he been putting his hands on you this whole time?”

“I’m not protecting him. I know he’ll press charges against you. It’s not worth it. This is the only time it’s happened, honestly!”

“Don’t lie for him. Tell. Me. Where. He. Is.”

“I’m not lying, Yah'. This is the first time. I handled it, I swear. You should see the side of his face. I smacked the shit out of him.”

“Did he hit you anywhere else,” he asked, checking your face and body for more bruises.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. We were arguing about him getting caught up in his lies and cheating. I told him I was done and that he needed to get the hell out of my house. This dude had the nerve to snatch my wrist, demanding I hear him out. I told him he was hurting me. His response was he didn’t give a fuck. That pissed me off, so I slapped him. He charged at me, and I kicked him in the nuts. How do you cheat on me with a bitch I called a friend and have the nerve to be mad that I no longer wish to be with you? The audacity!”

“I pray he tries to show up while I’m here.”

“He won’t. It’s over, and he understands that now.”

Yahya looked at you, not quite believing it.

“I told his ass if he tried contacting or coming near me again that you’d beat his ass. That or he was going to have a chat with Nina.”

“Thought you didn’t want me to put hands on him. You swear your ass is tough with that baby Glock. Who the fuck puts hot pink on the butt of their gun,” he retorted.

“I don’t want you to, smart-ass, but he knows you would. It was only said to get my point across that I was done with him. Not too much on my baby, Nina.”

Yahya sighed, frustrated that he’d have to keep his promise. He reclaimed his spot on the couch, crossing his arms irritated. You kissed your teeth, “I know you're not mad at me for keeping you out of trouble?”

“It’s whatever. He needs his ass beat, though,” he sulked.

“Just leave it alone, Yah'.”

“I heard you the first time.”

The room grew quiet. It stayed that way for a little while. That was until he heard you sniffling.

“I’m not mad at you, love. I just really want to rock his shit.”

“I know you’re not mad at me. It’s just.”

“What is it, mama?”

“Am I not good enough? Dudes do me dirty, and people I call friends turn out to be grimy. You’re the only person who has always been down for me. I’m so thankful for your years of loyalty and friendship,” you rambled, tears sliding down your face.

Yahya pushed his anger aside, taking a deep breath. His hands reached for your arm, pulling you into him. His palm cradled your head, guiding you to lie against his chest. He kissed your temple, speaking words of encouragement.

“That’s just god's way of making room for the real ones to come into your life, mama. You’re going to be alright, love. You’ll shake back from this. You’re strong, girl. The right man is out there. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

As he held you, speaking enlightenment into you. Something shifted inside you. Not quite sure what the feeling was, you shook it off.

“More tequila,” you offered.

The pair of you went shot for shot. It only took a short time for you both to get drunk off your asses. In a drunken stupor, you both laughed as you recounted the numerous times you had to fake a climax with your ex. Yahya was in tears, holding his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.

“This man had to be talked through eating the box. Every. Single. Time. At what point do you finally get the gist of eating pussy? I can’t believe I stayed as long as I did.”

“Why did you stay?”

“The dick was big.”

A hand flew to your mouth, covering your lips, shocked at what you had just revealed.

“Sorry. That was probably too much information. I need to stop drinking,” you slurred, no longer able to look him in the eyes.

Yahya cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Not too much. That’s some pretty useful information,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched as you looked into his chocolate orbs.

“I don’t follow.”

“That’s what you like, mama?”

Yahya’s hand trailed to your neck. His fingers circled your throat, giving a light squeeze. You knew you should pull away, but your mind and body said two different things.

“Yahya,” you whispered.

“Answer me, mama. That’s what you like?”

You moaned, nodding your head yes. Yahya licked his lips at your response. 

“I want to hear you say it, love. Tell me what you like. I want to make sure you understand what I’m trying to say,” he groaned.

The liquor urged you to take it further. You leaned closer, his hand still squeezing your throat. Lips only inches apart, Yahya watched in awe as you answered, breath tickling his lips.

“I love a big, long, thick di-.”

Before you could finish the sentence, Yahya groaned and devoured your lips. Not giving it a second thought, he slid you on top of his lap as your tongues battled for dominance. Hand still placed around your neck, you ground against his lap, loving the groan he released. 

“I can see why that was useful information now,” you purred.

It was evident, even inside his jeans, you could feel that he was massively large. You pulled back, slipping your shirt off, dropping it to the floor. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your breast as he cupped them, kissing and suckling your neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want, mama?”

“Yes, I want you, Yah'. Fuck the pain away, please.”

Kissing your lips again, he held you close as he raised from the sofa. Arms wrapped around his neck. You tasted each other's lips as Yahya carried you to the bedroom. The following morning wasn’t even awkward. That’s probably because you woke up with Yahya’s head between your thighs. A serious discussion occurred over breakfast. Though you both decided it probably shouldn’t happen again, time would reveal that it was too late to turn back.

I know I left it on yet another cliffhanger, but that's my specialty😆. I got my lovelies, though. The fic is complete, so slide on over to part two. Before you go, leave a comment and tap the love button. Reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏾!

Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz

@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh

@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie

@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae

@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean

@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly

@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy

@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove

[martyfive]

16/12/23

it’s not like i stopped having dreams at all. i was going to bed after 3AM for months waking up after six or seven hours of sleep and still dreaming every night, but i never remembered anything. some blurry pictures haunted me, but i was lucky enough to forget them in the morning. that’s why when i found myself in my old family house with blood on the walls and the floor i knew it was a dream, but a dream so vivid i was actually more bothered by the fact that it was the first story-like dream i had in months than that there was blood all over the place.

yeah, the blood. that house has seen enough of it, but never that much. even when the nose was broken. or when the whole set of red festive dishes was scattered around the kitchen. or after the accident. but we don’t talk about the accident. we don’t.

in a dream there was so much blood i couldn’t tell if it really was the house i grew up in. everything seemed to be the same, but things changed. maybe it was because of the renovation they did after i moved out. i’ve seen the photos. the room i used to sleep in looked horrible, like a piece of a hospital environment that for some reason also had my old stuff and an ugly grey carpet in it. it was now the room my mother used to go to read my embarrassing old diaries and cry in when she missed me most or when the threat of a broken nose was possible again. at least that didn’t change. the threat of a broken nose.

the presence of blood in a dream was somehow connected to the person who used to break noses and not take responsibility for the accidents we don’t have to talk about. and i didn’t know where he was. for some reason i wasn’t scared of him or to find him inside the house for the first time in my life. looking at the blood, i should have been. but i wasn’t.

i also knew what i had to do. the blood needed to be mopped.

someone else was there with me. i couldn’t see their face, but they felt like a friend. it could have been the devil himself, but i knew i had a problem more serious than the devil at that point.

i was walking around the house like it was just another day of my life mentally preparing for the massive cleaning session incoming when my phone rang. it was my mother.

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “he killed seven people.”

i said, “okay.”

she said, “you don’t know the horrible things he did to them. i’ve seen it all. his mother was there. you don’t even need to know about her teeth or her neck. i’ve seen it all.”

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “i’ll be home soon.”

home. i had to clean the tons of blood in a house i grew up in. my mother has called it “home”. i had another name for it. she wouldn’t like it. he was also here. i had to find him.

there was no power and all i had was the flashlight on my phone. i still had an unknown friend with me. the walls and the floor with blood on them, some cleaning stuff, a flashlight and a nameless friend. i took the phone and left to go deeper into the house in a search for a man in the centre of it. he wasn’t even a minotaur in a labyrinth. that was too much of a job title.

i found him right where he was expected to be. in a corner of the library, not easy to be spotted, right where he stored all his expensive tobacco assortment i used to steal from him when he wasn’t around. he looked calm. affectionate, almost gentle. like he was glad to see me. like he was sorry. like it was another quiet morning after the-broken-nose incident. forgive and forget. it’s gonna help you heal. no fucking way.

he was covered in blood.

i said, “what have you done?”

he said, “i deserve all your anger.”

but i had none. i was tired. i had a house to clean up.

i said, “i’m calling the cops.”

he said, “i’m a disappointment.”

i said, “we’ll see.”

the cops came. there were two of them, two young ladies, almost too cheerful for a situation. almost like it was all a stupid dream.

“the house is yours now,” he said before the cops took him away after i declined the laughable offer to put the handcuffs on him myself. “it’s all over. the house is yours. it’s always been.”

they left. i shut the door. it was dark. my faceless friend was waiting for me with the cleaning stuff.

“we should hire the cleaning company,” i said as i put the rubber yellow gloves on. “there’s no way i can do this on my own.”

“no,” the friend said. “you can. and you will. it’s your house now, haven’t you heard? you can sell it, get the money and everything. that’s gonna be awesome, right?”

maybe it was the devil himself after all. the blood was seeping through the cracks of the wooden floor.

“yeah,” i said.

then i woke up. the night was coming to an end. for a couple breath stealing minutes i was stuck in a house with blood on the walls. it was still there. i was still there. cleaning the blood. mopping the floor. waiting for my mother. wondering if she’s gonna lock herself in my old room turned into a hospital ward to cry over a man that broke her nose once or twice and a kid that used to have to calm her down while she was crying.

i suddenly heard the watch on my wrist ticking. it was a quarter to six. i was home.

25/12/23

[dreamersbcll]

Prompt: Tara notices scars on Sam’s arms from past track marks

“Euphoric”

—————————————————————————-

More often than not, Sam would find herself staring into the mirror during the midnight hours, searching for someone who was no longer there.

Three years. It had been three years since she had last shot up. Though it had been just over one thousand days since she had last held that smack in her hands, she craved it just like it was the very first time.

Sobriety was a fickle thing. It was tangible, tasting like bleach, a forced cleaning out of the body and mind. And like bleach, it burned. It itched like no other- the fingernails clawing through a body that no longer made sense.

The longer she stayed sober, the more her body rebelled against her. She was once fit and healthy, clean as a whistle. And then she started feeding herself what she wanted: an escape.

And now all she had were permanent track marks that littered her body, reminding her of every wrong step she had ever walked.

Pulling her sleeves up, she looks over the marks on her skin. Spidered veins look back at her, small dots marked by old bruises and busted veins. Touching her skin, she swallows the nausea that rises to her throat. The marks aren’t raised bumps anymore; she can’t feel the bloody and bumped skin anymore.

But she wants to. She craves it like nothing else to be able to inject again. Her mouth waters at the idea of being so high above her body, watching everything from the sidelines. It would be so fucking freeing to let herself let go and become a ghost again.

Her eyes flicked back to the mirror, watching as her dark eyes bore into each other. She wonders if her body remembers everything they had ever done. She wants to be somebody who can look in the mirror and recognize the face looking back.

Why can’t she see that face?

If she weren’t so absorbed with herself, she would’ve heard Tara enter the bathroom. She would’ve been intelligent and rolled her sleeve back down, pretending to wash her hands. She would have remembered that it had only been a few months since the Woodsboro massacre and that Tara and she weren’t in a good place to talk about the past.

Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

“Sam? What are you doing? It’s two a.m. I’ve gotta pee. Go to bed, weirdo,” Tara lightly teased, bumping Sam’s hip with her own.

Sam blinked, turning around and plastering a fake smile on her face. “What? Oh. Yeah. Sorry,”.

Tara smiled back at her, her eyes shining despite the glassy sleepiness that lived behind them. But then Sam saw it, the realization filling Tara’s eyes. One moment, they were looking at each other; the next, Tara’s gaze slipped, eyes taking in the marks on Sam’s skin.

Following her sister’s eyes, Sam realized what was coming next. The fallout. The accusations. The fight. She couldn’t handle losing Tara again due to her fuck-ups.

Rolling her sleeve down, Sam bolted towards the door, but Tara was always quicker than her.

A hand closed around her wrist, sharp nails interlocking with her skin. Sam hissed in pain but still turned around, facing her sister.

Tara looked nothing less than heartbroken. It was the same look Sam had seen the first night she did a line, the first time she came home high, and the last night she was in Woodsboro.

Betrayal.

“How could you do this to us? Again, Sam? You had to fuck it all up again?” Tara spat, her eyes dark with rage.

Sam forced her arm out of Tara’a grip, her hands in front of her sister, as if begging an animal not to attack.

“No, this isn’t what it looks like. They’re healed. This is what healed looks like, look!” she frantically said, her words stumbling on one another.

She thrusted her arm into Tara’s face, forcing her sister to look at the same skin she raked her eyes over every night. Clean skin, marred by the past marks of self-loathing and corruption. She was clean.

Her little sister scoffed. “And why should I believe you? You’ve left before. You’ve done this to me before. You’re a fucking liar, Sam.”

Sam shook her head frantically, her mouth dry with anxiety. “No. I’m clean. I haven’t used in three years. I promise! Please!” she cried, thrusting her arms in Tara’s face.

Tara rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. A flicker of something- disbelief maybe- flashed behind her eyes. Sam could see that Tara wanted to believe her fall back into her. But Sam had to make her believe, as she wouldn’t survive losing her sister again.

This was all on her. She had to make this right.

Breathing in slowly, Sam closed her eyes, trying to gather her words. She pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing out.

“Listen, Tara. I figured this shit out myself. Nobody wanted to hear my agony or anguish about being Billy Loomis’ daughter. They just wanted to throw solutions and programs, step-by-step lists, so I eventually figure it out and leave them alone,” she paused, swallowing hard.

She looked down at her feet in shame. “It took me a while. I mean, how do you figure out a solution that you do not have the pieces for?”

Tara cocked her head, crossing her arms. She blocked the door, leaning against it. But she was staying and listening.

So Sam continued.

“Sam Carpenter is a half-drawn figure—a barely molded piece of clay. I didn’t know how to finish it. I didn’t know what to do. Fuck, I didn’t know who I was,”

She turned around, pacing across the bathroom floor. “At the time, it only seemed like flesh is all I had, a vessel hollow with no set purpose. I didn’t have anyone. I just had myself. And I couldn’t handle that- I couldn’t handle the silence,” she whispered, staring at the shining porcelain bathtub.

“Go on,” Tara commanded, her voice strangled.

Sam could tell that Tara was about to cry. But so was she. Their tears would fall together, at least.

“So I needed an escape. You know how it went. First, I started smoking weed, which helped me calm down. But soon, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. There was this voice in my head, and it kept whispering. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. I needed more.”

“Why wasn’t I enough?” Tara interrupted, her voice ringing out through the room.

She rubbed her eyes, pressing hard against the pupils. She wonders if she pushed hard enough if she could make her retinas burst open. At least then, she wouldn’t have to see the look of betrayal on Tara’s face.

Sam turned around, reaching out for Tara. Her little sister pulled back, her eyes glassy with tears unshed. Sam breathed shakily, reminding herself not to reach out for her sister again. She wasn’t ready.

“It wasn’t that you weren’t enough. It was me. I wasn’t enough. I needed more. You couldn’t have been that more, Tara. I needed a chemical high to remove me from my body.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to break you. But that’s the thing about addicts. We tell ourselves that we’re helping others by getting high when we’re just selfish assholes. I know I hurt you. I know I broke you. And I will never, ever be able to make it up to you,” she softly spoke, her voice cracking in such an ugly way.

Tara sniffled in response, entirely giving in to the pressure to cry. All Sam wanted to do was pull her in and hold her close, but she couldn’t. Tara wasn’t ready. Sam was, but she couldn’t force her feelings onto her little sister. This was her time to apologize, not absolve herself of her guilt. Tara deserved the truth. The whole truth.

“But I’m trying. This is me trying. I know it’s not enough. But I want to give you the world. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of,” she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut.

Silence passed, and Sam dug her nails into her palms. It was excruciating, waiting for an answer she didn’t deserve. Her baby sister didn’t need to forgive her or even forget the past. Sam was the devil, and Tara was something so pure that she couldn’t ask for more. This is what she deserved. She deserves to be alone.

But her baby sister spoke, and suddenly everything changed.

“You are my world. You are enough. Why can’t you see that? You’re all I’ll ever need, Sam,” Tara mumbled, her arms still tightly crossed against her chest.

Sam breathed out, shuddering against her will. “Please. Please don’t lie to me. I don’t think I can handle it,” she half-sobbed, her body shaking.

Tara reached out, touching Sam’s arm. It burned but in a good way. Sam didn’t deserve her sister’s touch. But it felt like home. It took everything in her from dragging her baby girl in and holding her close. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t right.

“I’m not. I promise,” Tara murmured, her thumb rubbing against the mark above Sam’s elbow.

Her sister breathed out, eyes flickering up to meet Sam’s. “Can you promise me that If you ever want to do it again, you tell me?”

Sam swallowed, taking in her words.

“Okay. Yeah. Yes. I promise to try. I can’t promise fully that I’ll tell you. I know who I am, and I know what I’m capable of. But I promise to try.”

Tara nodded once, her body relaxing. “Okay. I can work with that.”

Her little sister fell into Sam, wrapping her arms around her middle tightly. Sam gasped in surprise but didn’t waste a moment to hold her sister. She didn’t know why Tara hugged her because she knew damn well she didn’t deserve it. But she wasn’t going to miss this.

The two held each other in the dim bathroom light, tears falling onto messy hair and ratty t-shirts. It didn’t matter what they looked like, as their touch was the only thing that mattered now.

“I love you,” she whispered against Tara’s hair, her lips lightly brushing against it.

Tara sighed contently. “I love you more, Sammy.”

Sam smiled, but her eyes still flickered towards the mirror. Though she was holding her little girl, the body still looked back, its eyes searching.

As if her reality wouldn’t ever be enough.

[daisyful-gvf]

sweet as berries (part 9)

18+

*********************************************************

pairings: josh x reader

tags/warnings: fingering, sex toys, unprotected sex. oral (f), u know just the usual

word count: 2.5k

notes: posting at 3am bc i want to😀 it’s been way too long, i assure you the next chapter will not take this long. also no plot here at all lmfao

********************************************************

-🍓-

Pop

The lollipop Josh had been enjoying for the last ten minutes made a soft sound as he pulled it from his lips.

“How come I’ve never seen you use that?” he asked, pointing with his lollipop to the nightstand you were sorting through. You had the perfect necklace to layer with the one he got you for Christmas, and you knew it was somewhere in the overfilled drawer.

“What?” you asked, trying to understand what he was pointing to.

“That,” he pointed closer to the toy you’d set on your bed along with ten other things as you were trying to make room to look for the necklace, “The rose thing.”

“What about it?” you asked softly, a little flustered. You hadn’t thought anything about getting it out in front of him, but of course he had noticed it.

“How come I’ve never seen it before?” he sucked on the lollipop again.

“Um,” you laughed, a bit nervous, as you sorted through more items, “I dunno. I don’t really need it recently since you wanna fuck me every time I breathe,” you laughed again, more genuinely.

“Well,” he popped the candy from his mouth and giggled, “You’re not wrong.”

It was quiet for another moment as you rustled through the drawer, before he interrupted the silence:

“Doesn’t mean we couldn’t use it.”

You took in a sharp breath.

“We?”

“Yeah,” he grinned and stretched way across the bed to paw at the back of your thigh playfully.

“Bet you’d like my fingers in you while you use that, hm?”

The heavy, sudden exhale that shuddered from you was undisguisable.

“Ooh,” you could hear the grin in his voice, “She likes that idea.”

“Josh..” you murmured, tucking it into your nightstand, a little embarrassed.

“Can I see it?” he asked, “Never seen one before.”

You rolled your eyes and passed it to him quickly, going back to organizing stuff in the drawer.

He clicked it to life and placed the tip of his pointer finger against it. The sound of it stirred something in you, and your thighs pushed together a bit.

“You like this thing?” he asked, his voice a bit lower.

You just nodded and offered a soft, “Mhm.”

“it’s like…sucking on my finger,” he grinned.

“Kinda the point, babe,” you giggled. He was so sweet sometimes, so lighthearted and curious.

“Can I see it in action?” he asked. His tone wasn’t playful anymore, but rather soft and sincere. You looked over to him, cheeks warm. You swallowed.

“Sometime, yeah. Sure,” you nodded, finally wrapping your fingers around the gold tinted necklace you were searching for.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean now.”

“Josh,” you breathed, head snapping up to look at him. He looked candy sweet—precious and hopeful.

“Mm? Just show me?” he reached out to touch your thigh again softly. He took the finished lollipop stick from his mouth and set it in a cup on your nightstand.

You swallowed, throat dry. You couldn’t really think of a reason not to, and you weren’t really sure why the thought made you so nervous. The sound of the toy alone had piqued your interest, but the thought was vulnerable.

“I don’t know…”

“Please, sweetheart?” He looked up at you with soft eyes, his thumb rubbing at your thigh, “I’d like to see.”

He had a way of melting you that you could not resist.

“Um,” you nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

He nodded back and offered a gentle smile.

“You nervous, sweet girl? No reason to be nervous,” he smiled wider, “My tongue has been inside you, ya know.”

“Not helping,” you grinned, stripping your underwear off and laying down in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled softly, “Really though. You know you’re safe with me, right?”

You nodded, feeling the genuine care in his voice. He leaned forward and kissed you softly as you settled before him, legs on either side of him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he said against your lips before he lowered himself down into his stomach.

Your cotton t-shirt laid over the tops of your thighs, hitched just high enough for him to see you. The soft fabric tickled your skin.

“Can I touch you first?” he said, sounding breathless, skirting his fingers over your bare hips.

You’d never turn that down, and so you offered him a small nod as you got comfortable against the down pillows.

He rubbed the pad of his thumb over your clit and then slid it down to coat it in the slick there, before moving it back up.

“There’s no way you’re this wet already,” he grinned, “You like this idea a bit more than you’re letting on, maybe?”

“I dunno,” you giggled and bit your bottom lip, “maybe.”

“Mm,” he hummed and leaned in to suck softly on your clit, leaving it wet with saliva.

He settled, laying propped on one of his arms, your thigh almost on his shoulder between your legs. Grabbing the toy, he turned it over in his hand to inspect it. A bashful smile made its way across his expression.

“Do you turn it on then hold it to you, or hold it then turn it on?” He asked.

You giggled, “Doesn’t really matter. Turn it on first.”

He nodded and pressed the on button, then with intense focus, watched your face as he nestled it over your clit. You couldn’t help the way your stomach rippled, and the soft noise that escaped you. He held iit soft and steady to you as you adjusted with a deep breath.

It was still vulnerable. You tried to relax into the sensation, and you were mostly successful, save for a tinge of heat in your face.

“Good?” he murmured. You nodded, reaching down and placing your hand over his to help him position it just so. He let you move his hand, and finally with a quiet groan, you let go, letting him hold it as you tangled a first into his hair. You watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, watching you with hooded eyes.

“Do you like this first setting?” he asked softly.

You nodded, “One of the other ones is good too, but,” you sighed, “First one’s nice.”

He nodded and bit his lip, but then after a soft moment of him skirting his free hand up and down your inner thigh, he spoke.

“Let’s try the other ones,” he said with a grin.

He clicked to the next setting, and your legs trembled at the more intense sensation. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as it pulsed through you.

“Don’t be quiet,” he smiled up at you, “C’mon now.”

He waited a moment before clicking it to the next one. The sensation barreled into you, and goosebumps blanketed your body.

“That one?” he asked, eyes looking up caringly. You just nodded, overwhelmed.

His hand tracing over your thigh slipped down, until his fingers nudged at your entrance. Pathetically, you whined and nodded, wordlessly begging for it.

You groaned unexpectedly loud as he sank the two fingers into you, and his head shot up at the noise. His plush lips spread into a smile as he watched your eyes flutter shut. Your abdomen was alight with a warm glow.

“You like that?”he coaxed.

You answered with a moan of his name and a frantic nod.

“You do like that…” he curled his fingers and his mouth parted open, mimicking yours, “Mm. You’re trembling.”

Unable to do much else with the way the pleasure was gripping your body, you nodded and let your lead fall back against the headboard. You watched as he nuzzled his cheek into your inner thigh, impressively working his fingers while holding the toy to you.

“So fuckin’ hot…” he breathed. He pressed a soft kiss to your leg before moving the toy briefly. Before you could pout, he leaned in and licked gently at your clit.

“I know,” he soothed, sensing your sadness over the loss of the toy, “I’ll put it back in a second, sweetheart. I got jealous of this little thing.”

Your heart ached for him, and his care coupled with the need he was summoning in you was a perfectly dizzying sensation.

He sucked softly on your clit, letting the sweet brush of his lips drive you wild, “You’re so swollen,” he murmured, “Ths feel nice?”

Really, you could focus on little else other than chasing an orgasm. The temptation was too near, too close within grasp to care about anything else, or to answer his question.

“Please…” you offered softly, swiping a thumb over his cheekbone endearingly.

He nodded gently and brought the toy back to you, coupling the introduction of it with a curl of his fingers. Your chest punched out another shocked groan, and he smiled wickedly at it. Your stomach tensed in waves, making your body nearly convulse.

“You gonna cum for me?” he sighed, nearly breathless, “I want it bad. I could prolly cum just thinking about it.”

His eyes peered up at you and confirmed his words: desperation danced in the brown of his irises. Even if you didn’t want to fulfill his request–which you very much did–you had no choice. With a strong curl of his fingers and a feather-light kiss to your thigh, you were catapulted to your end.

Violently, the orgasm took hold of you, wracking your body with bliss. The burst of wetness that came from you was involuntary, and you could do nothing but let it take its course as you rode the wave.

“Berry,” he groaned, “Holy fuck.”

You took a heaving breath and centered yourself, looking down at his awestruck face as he withdrew his soaked fingers. Graciously, he pulled the toy off your oversensitive self and clicked it off before tossing it aside.

“Baby, you’ve been holding out on me.” he smiled, “Does this thing always make you do that?”

“Hmm?” You asked, dazed. He held up his glistening hand and wiggled his fingers.

“Sometimes,” you admitted in a sleepy sigh.

“Jesus Christ…” his eyes rolled back before he shook his head, moving to kneel on the bed. As he did, you could see hardly anything besides the hard length of him strained against his sweatpants. In the haze of your orgasm, you wanted nothing more.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, waiting for his eye contact. His head tipped up to do just that, and his eyes locked on yours.

Looking stunned, he breathed out a short, “Yeah?”

You nodded and reached for him, trying to drag him up to you by his shirt.

“Shit,” he sighed, fumbling to shove his pants off and climb over you. He did so successfully, and he met you in a firm kiss. He groaned against your mouth, letting you hear how bad he wanted it. His hips ground against you, rubbing the weight of him against your warmth.

“Oh…” his groan was low and shaky against the shell of your ear.

“Josh, c’mon,” you found yourself impatient, pushing your hips up into him and gripping at his sides, willing him in.

He lined himself up and sank into you in a steady motion. Your thighs clamped around his hips, trying to get him close as your body relaxed to take him. The feeling drew a whimper from the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he shook his head, then buried it into the crook of your neck, “How’s that, sweetheart? Just what you needed?”

“Fuck, Josh,” the curse escaped you effortlessly. He rolled his hips flush to you, and the feeling sent static sparks through your body.

“Mm, yeah?” He cut himself off with a groan, “How about this?”

You waited, a bit confused, as he leaned up onto his knees, still inside you.

“Josh…” You groaned as he grabbed the toy again, incredibly unprepared for the sensation it would inevitably bring.

“Shh,” he soothed, soft as down feathers, “Just try it for me.”

He rolled his hips again as he turned the toy on the lowest setting and brought it to you. The shock of pleasure made you nearly scream out, and judging by the flush that came to his face, he enjoyed the reaction.

His free hand went to your hip, touching softly, soothing you with a gentle grip. The thrusts in and out of you were incredibly slow, allowing for a pleasant drag. It contrasted wonderfully with the buzz of the toy, which lit your body aflame.

“This okay, Berry?” His voice was so low. He was looking up at your face, checking on you. Although you weren’t so sure—your nerves felt like they were splitting, tiny atom bombs—you nodded for him.

“You just tell me if it’s too much, sweetheart,” he purred, “Doing real good for me.”

His praise shot straight to your brain, and between that and the varying lovely sensations, you couldn’t tell if you were cumming, or if you’d reached the afterlife, or somewhere in between. Your eyes alternated between rolling back in your head, and fixed on the flush of Josh’s cheeks as he watched you unravel.

“God, I love seeing you like this,” his voice trembled as he thrusted slowly, “Your pretty brain doesn’t even know what to do, huh? Feels too good?” His tongue swiped across his bottom lip.

“Josh,” you gripped at the skin of his arm rather than answer him.

“Gonna cum again?” He sighed.

“I think so…” your head thrashed against the pillow as you try to catch your breath, “Just keep...”

“I will,” he fucked into you slowly and released a drawn out, shaky breath, “But i’m gonna cum too.”

You nod, giving him permission to lose it right then. You were already at your limit, and your body couldn’t take much more anyways.

“Fuck, Berry–” he gasped, stuttering his hips and slamming them against you as he let go. You nearly convulsed around him, face scrunched up in an overwhelmed state of bliss as it hit you.

“Fuck,” it was a whimper from you as you came down. You shoved your hands between your legs and pushed the toy away as your stomach twitched from the comedown.

“Oh…” he groaned one last time, pushing against you once more before pulling out, leaving you to drip on the bedding.

“Babe, the sheets,” you lamented, head falling back.

“You already ruined them, baby,” he giggled as he leaned over you, kissing your cheeks repeatedly, “We’ll clean ‘em. S’okay.”

You reached up to grab his cheeks and lead him into a warm kiss. He hummed against your mouth.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he spoke in his husky voice and grinned against the kiss.

“Mmhm,” you giggled, “Thank you for the idea.”

"You liked it, hm?” he nuzzled against your cheek, his voice cocky, “I could probably list off a few more if you give me a minute.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.’

-🍓-

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[neurodivergent-fox-demon]

Day 2 - Ghost hunting

Eli chanted as he waved the incense around the room. “Praecipio omnem negativitatem, quamlibet energiam vibrationalem humilem, ac non benevolum intra hoc spatium excedere et ad lucem ire. Non hic es gratissimus. Praecipio tibi ut per fenestram apertam (seu ianuam) exeas et redeas unde ad industriam lucis transfiguratus es.” He turned toward the door as he heard someone cough behind him. “Oh, papa.”

“You never could get those shark Ks quite right.” Stiles chuckled as he stepped into the room, smelling the overly floral scent. “God, are you using lavender for cleansing? I’ve told you a hundred times to use dragon’s blood.” He smiled at his son.

Eli shrugged, putting the lavender back into the bowl. “I ran out of dragon’s blood and I really did not feel like going out for more.” He looked into Stiles’s eyes and sighed. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be halfway to DC by now. You left the party pretty early last night.”

“I’d never leave without telling you goodbye, Eli.” He shrugged, running his fingers through his unruly locks. “It was just…”

“Save it, papa.” Eli huffed. “You couldn’t even be bothered to stick it out for one night. Why do you even bother coming back?”

Stiles groaned, wiping at his face. “Eli, what you have to understand…”

Eli shook his head. “I’m not some stupid kid anymore, Stiles. You did not just leave dad behind. You left me too, and you keep leaving me behind every time you run away.”

“Eli, I begged your father to leave this fucking town but he wanted to stay. Then he almost got you killed.” He pulled at his hair and let out a long breath. “And he went and died on us, leaving you with Scott. This town does nothing but destroy everything.”

“Then why did you leave me here?!” Eli screamed. “You were so concerned about me being with Scott but as soon as you got me back you took off. Why?”

“Because your father refused to come with me!” Stiles screamed back. “And the bureau is no place for a kid. You needed some sort of stability and I could not give that to you without Derek. And as much as it hurt, I knew you were better in Derek’s care.”

Eli shook his head. “You didn’t even try to fight for us, papa.”

“Because I refuse to stay in this town. Leaving you here was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Stiles sighed, hanging his head. “And I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

Eli sighed. “I hope so too, papa, but chasing you would be as useful as catching a ghost.”

Stiles chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “When I was 16, I went searching for a dead body on the preserve. Did your dad ever tell you this story?”

“Yeah… it was aunt Laura. And while you were out there uncle Peter bit Scott. What is your point?” Eli sat on his, bed kicking a chair out for Stiles. It seemed that they were done arguing for the moment.

Stiles sat in front of his son, taking his hand. “I’ve never been good at making the best decisions, Eli. I’ve made one truly great decision in 30 years, and that was adopting you.” He gulped, shaking his head. “I know I’ve screwed up too much, but I’ll always come back for you.”

Eli shook his head. “I don’t want you to come back for me. I want you to stay.” He got up and stormed out of his room.

Stiles got up to follow him and ran into Derek. “Um, hi.” He tried looking anywhere but in his eyes. “I’ll just be going then.”

“No, I think we need to talk.” Derek sighed, gesturing toward the den. “It’s long overdue Stiles.”

Stiles cursed and nodded; knowing that Derek was correct. He stomped toward the den, trying to ignore all the pictures of him, Derek, and Eli throughout the happier years. “Talk, Derek.”

“Three years ago…I did something monumentally stupid.” Derek groaned, grabbing a soda.

“Yes, I know. I’m still trying to understand your thinking. How could you sacrifice yourself to the nogitsune?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I should never have let you leave.” Derek sighed, drinking down the coke. “I went to the Hoover FBI offices, about a week after you left.” He laughed bitterly. “I snuck in and made my way all the way to your floor. I watched you in your office, laughing with some intern.”

Stiles stared at him, unsure of what to say. “Why?”

“Because I love you. Because I wanted you to come home.” He tossed his soda in the trash. “But you were so happy.”

“I was dying Derek!” Stiles yelled. “Every moment I’ve been away from you and Eli I died a little more.” He shook his head pacing up and down the bar. “You took him away from me.” He walked over and poured himself a glass of scotch. “No one even saw fit to tell me you had died! Scott just took Eli to LA, and you know who finally called me? Peter! Peter fucking called me to tell me my husband was dead and my son was taken 60 miles away from his family.”

Derek nodded. “What can I say? I’m an emotional dumb ass. I made a split moment decision to make Scott his alpha. I did not know he would take him away from the area.”

Stiles scoffed. “Scott never thinks with his brain, Derek. He makes all of his decisions based on his emotions.” He downed the liquor, wincing a bit. “God, that's vile. Peter’s?” He nodded when Derek shrugged. “I’m lucky that Lydia was around to help me break the illusion because my dumbass best friend did not stop to think about how a trickster demon could have created one.”

Derek watched him pace. “You’re right.”

Stiles chuckled. “What is there to do at this point?”

“Please, come home.”

Tears filled his eyes as he shook his head. “Do you think I sat around waiting for you for three years, Derek?”

Derek chuckled. “No, I know you and Isaac have been sleeping with each other, on and off.” He shrugged. “He told me and I don’t care. I just want you to come home.”

Stiles looked into his empty scotch glass for a moment. He could feel the anger boiling up in him again. “This is not my home anymore, Derek.” He growled, throwing the glass across the den. It made a satisfying sound as it shattered against the wall. “We went through all of this three years ago.”

“Yeah, you want me to move to Washington D.C.” Derek sighed. He ignored the broken glass for the moment. “Away from my family’s land.”

“Away from the blood and horror soaked into the land.” Stiles shook his head. “Aren’t you tired of fighting witches, vampires, werewolves, and anything else that might come along?”

“As posed to the ghosts you are fighting in D.C.?” Derek raised a brow at him. “There are nemeton and monsters everywhere.” He stood, placing his hands on Stiles’s shoulders. “Stop hunting ghosts and come home.”

Stiles shook his head as he turned and ran out of the house he had once shared with Derek and Eli.

🐺

Chris sat beside Stiles, looking over the quiet pond. “18 years, Stiles.”

Stiles turned to him, raising a brow. “What?”

“I’ve known you for 18 years, just shy of two decades.” Chris smiled at him. “Almost twenty years ago I met this obnoxious kid who wasn’t afraid of anything and would run head first into any situation to save his family. What happened that that kid?”

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. “He got tired of fighting.”

“Bullshit.” Chis sighed, handing him a cigarette. “All of us are tired of fighting, but we keep doing what we need to do. You abandoned the fight, Stiles.”

“I would not say it like that. I mean you ran all the way to Paris.” Stiles frowned, lighting his cigarette.

“Temporarily.” Chris shrugged. “I came back a few months later. You’ve been gone 3 years. And if I had not taken these out of your car you’d be gone already.” Chris smirked, placing the spark plugs between them on the bench.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. You and Peter are a couple of old biddies who can’t stay out of other people’s business.”

“My husband and I mean well.” He leaned back against the seat, letting out a sigh. “After fighting Monroe for 5 years…”

“I don’t want to talk about that!” Stiles growled.

Chris nodded as he continued his train of thought. “We lost a lot of great people, and I came to realize what was important in life. As you know, Peter and I had been denying how we felt since high school. We wasted over 20 years. I know I got Allison out of it, but don’t make my mistakes, Stiles. Don’t wait 20 years to tell Derek you love him again.”

Stiles groaned letting his head fall back. “You and Peter are still weird.”

“Yeah… yeah. He tapped his hand and got up to leave. “You should really have your spark plugs looked out. A car cannot run without them. Luckily I know a great auto shop. They unfortunately are all closed up for the holidays. They should open tomorrow.”

Stiles raised a brow , picking up one of the spark plugs. They had been mangled beyond repair. “Damn werewolves.” He rolled his eyes and began walking towards his father’s house. He most likely still at the dead of day mass but at least Stiles knew where he kept the spare key.

🐺

Eli leaned against the side of the house, smoking a cigarette. Malia stood next to him and stole the cigarette, taking a drag. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Mental health day. I went long enough for them to take attendance and then came home.” Eli sighed, taking his cigarette back. “What do you want, cousin?”

She shrugged. “Just checking in on my favorite cousin.”

“I’m your only cousin.” Eli chuckled. “I mean until aunt Cora decides to have a kid of her own.” He stomped out his cigarette. “So why are you really here?”

“Stiles is still in town. Chris advised me to close the auto shop down. So I’m just hiding out. Don’t really want to see the ex.” Malia grinned at him. “Since we’re both playing hooky, let’s do something fun or we can talk about why you’re taking a mental health day.”

“I almost forgot you dated my dad. God is there a Hale he hasn’t fucked, besides me?” Eli growled.

Malia laughed. “I don’t think he’s been with Cora.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what’s really wrong.”

Eli gaped at her. “Are you saying that Stiles had sex with uncle Peter?” his eyes glowed gold as he started to partially shift. “I was joking.”

Malia shrugged. “Calm down pup. It was once and they were both really pissed at the time. Angry people, having hate sex, you know. I don’t like thinking about it. Tell me about why you’re really upset.”

Eli let out a breath, trying to get his claws to retract. “They were fighting. I just want Stiles and my dad to work this out. Hell, I’d be willing to move to D.C., if I could just get them to…why did he have to go?”

“You’re papa has been fighting a war since he was 16 years old, Eli. You’ve heard all the stories.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes. “He thought he was finally able to relax when he found out about you. But then he almost lost you, and your father. It broke him.”

Eli shook his head, trying not to cry. “So he, what? Took himself out of the equation?” He wiped at his eyes, smudging his eyeliner. “I don’t understand how he could leave so easily.”

“Oh, it was not easy, Eli.” Malia sighed. “He’s still fighting himself over it.” She cupped his cheek. “We will get him back. He’s just… a ghost of himself.”

Eli chuckled. “I told him that this morning.”

“Yeah, Derek told me.” She laughed.

🐺

The sheriff walked into the house and stared at his son, watching television. “You know breaking an entry is illegal.”

Stiles glared over at his father. “A hunter and a werewolf sabotaged my vehicle. Can I press charges?”

Noah laughed as he put his coat away. “Do you really want to? I could call Jordan, but I am retired. Remember?” He kicked Stiles' feet off the coffee table. “What’s going on?”

Stiles groaned. “Everyone is trying to talk me into staying in this god forsaken town. Derek, Peter, Chris, and of course Eli all tried to ask me to stay this morning. Eli is the only one I really care about. He is so hurt, and I did that.”

His father nodded, letting out a long breath. “You won’t get any sympathy from there, Bud.” He chuckled, shrugging. “What is so wrong with coming home? We have an FBI office just an hour from here.”

“Do you realize how many times this town has tried to kill us in the last 18 years? So many of us have lost their lives; Corey, Gwen, Theo, Derek! The list goes on and on. Nolan and Brett! I offered to take Eli and Derek with me, and Derek refused.”

“You ran away from your problems, Stiles. Death is what happens in a war and you know that.” Noah sighed.

“The war was supposed to be over!” Stiles cried. “The war was supposed to be over and he still died. I could not protect him and my son had to watch his father die, all because of a monster I could not kill the first time.”

Noah pulled his sobbing son into a hug. “You have got to stop blaming yourself, Stiles.” He ran his hand through his hair and kissed the top of his head. “No one can protect everyone. You were on assignment and we made the decision not to call you.”

Stiles nodded as he pulled back and wiped his eyes. “It’s been three years. What if I can’t fix this?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Noah laughed softly. “I would suggest putting in a request to be transferred back to the LA FBI office.”

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. “I hate it here, but I love Derek and my son.”

Noah shrugged. “We make sacrifices for the ones we love.”

Stiles sighed. “Can I stay here tonight? I’ll have to call the D.C office and let them know what’s going on, and I’ll have to talk to Derek and Eli again tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Of course, but your room is full of boxes. Your step mom and I are redecorating.” Noah shrugged.

“You and Natalie are using my room for storage?!”

The sheriff shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting my adult son to stop by.” He smirked. “The couch pulls out.”

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I can use the sleeper sofa. Worst day of the dead ever. Did you light a candle for mom?”

Noah smiled sadly. “Don’t I always?”

[smilemotherf0cer]

Finally

!Teen Carl x !teen reader

Fluff

Best friends to lovers

||

Working as the nurse in Alexandria wasn’t that bad, all I did was make sure our supplies were good and take care of hurt people. I hear a knock, I turn around and see michonne smiling over at me. “Hey do you have any more of these?” She asks as she raises and empty pill bottle at me, I smile at her and nod “yeah!” I reach into my cabinet and grab the antibiotics and hand it to her “see you tomorrow!” I nod at she leaves. The rest of the day is boring. I see the sun setting through the window so I pack up my supplies and lock the door as I leave into the streets of Alexandria. I walk around enjoying the scenery, ever since the apocalypse happened I never really had time to enjoy my time here. I was apart of a small group just out of Atlanta, my group has been through so much together. I zone out thinking about how much I love it here when I hear a familiar voice “y/n! Where have you been loca!?” The tall brunette asks as he does the run thing towards me. “Mr grimes,” I say pretending to take my imaginary hat off and tip it to him. He pulls me into a hug and I hug back, I have been friends with Carl since the quarry when we were seven. We’ve moved from place to place searching for a good spot to live in. Now that we were 16 in the perfect utopia me and Carl have gotten closer. Usually when I’m not at work and he isn’t busy with Judith, me and Carl are hanging out together. Literally doing anything. “But seriously where have you been y/n?” I smile at the teen “I had to work today!” He nods “well I’ve been looking for you!” I furrow my eyebrows as a question “I asked enid out!” I’m not sure why but my heart sinks a little “oh!” I say. He nods excited “um good for you?” I say with a small laugh “you mad or something!” He jokes around, I roll my eyes and turn and walk away “so you are mad! I never knew y/n l/n would be jealous over poor little me!” He says following me. I roll my eyes “I’m not jealous over you Carl! You’re literally my best friend!” I would be lying if I said I didn’t have a thing for Carl grimes, who wouldn’t have a thing for him. He is handsome, sweet, funny, literally the perfect person. But I couldn’t admit it to him. “Have fun with Enid! Tell me about it after!” I gave him a weak smile and walk away from him, the next day I wake up and go to work. The day is slow, nothing really happens. Haven’t heard from Carl yet. If I’m being honest I don’t wanna hear how his super awesome date went with super hot Enid. My heart aches at the thought of them together, I guess I did have a crush on the one and only Carl grimes. Soon enough the sunlight fades into moonlight and still not one word from Carl, usually he would come and check up on me during my work day but no. Slowly I walk back to my house, when I walk in I hear slow footsteps. I reach for my gun which Daryl makes me carry around, I walk up the stairs and slowly open my bedroom door and see Carl sitting on my bed and reading one of my books “Jesus Christ carl!” I say putting my gun down “you scared the living hell out of me!” He laughs “well I couldn’t go see you today so might as well see you tonight!” I furrow my eyebrows “let me tell you all about my amazing date with Enid!” He starts rambling on breaking my heart with every word, “OMG WILL YOU SHUT IP ABOUT ENID!?” I snap he looks at me with a confused look “look I don’t care about Enid! How have you not noticed!? Jesus Christ you must be fucking stupid!” He looks hurt by my words “y/n what?-“ I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. I pull back and immediately say “shit I’m so sorry I didn’t-“ I was cut off by him kissing me “finally! All I had to do was go on a date with Enid for you to admit you like me?” He laughs and I smack his shoulder before kissing him again.

[iamvegorott]

Was wondering if you could do angst 5 n’ 7 with Danti please?

5. "Why can't you love me back?" 7. "Leave."

---------

“Darky~! What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Anti asked after glitching into Dark’s office.

“I currently don’t have plans,” Dark answered, eyes on his laptop screen as he typed up an email for Google. 

“Let’s hit up that one Italian place. I’ve heard they have endless breadsticks.” 

“That sounds like a date,” Dark said, checking that Anti knew what he was implying.

“It sounds like a date because I’m asking you to go on a date.” Anti chuckled with a little eye roll.

“We don’t date.” 

“Yeah. We fuck. I’d like to add some more to that.”

“We can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“We can’t.” Dark only repeated himself, and he leaned back when Anti shut his laptop, keeping his hand on top of it so he couldn’t open it back up.  

“That’s not an answer. Why not? We’ve been fucking for almost a year at this point, and you know damn well the shit we do go beyond a basic ‘friends with benefits’ definition.” Anti was sick and tired of Dark avoiding his feelings, and this caused him to have to bury away his own. It was stupid. 

“I feel we fit that definition fairly well. It’s just sex. It’s us using each other for physical relief, nothing more.” Dark stood up and walked over to one of the many file cabinets lined up against one of the walls. 

“Bullshit that it’s nothing more.” Anti scoffed. “When we started this stuff, I completely agree with you. We had fun. And then we went off to do our own thing. But now? Now, we’re far past that.”

“Last I checked, we still did that.” Dark was doing everything he could to not look at Anti, pretending to be searching for a file. 

“Not really. Get your head out of your ass Dark and think.” Anti stepped towards the cabinets. “We kiss more, we cuddle, you play with my hair and rub my back. For fuck’s sake, we’ve taken baths together. That’s not just sex, that’s romance.” 

“Providing aftercare doesn’t mean anything.” Dark closed the drawer, pulling out a random file he didn’t need. 

“It does when I love you!” Anti finally snapped. “I dare you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing. That your smiles and laughs were fake, that you don’t relax when it’s just the two of us, that you don’t care about me.” 

“Anti. You need to go.” Dark couldn’t face Anti, let alone look him in the eye. 

“You’re not running away from this anymore. Tell me. Tell me that you don’t care about me. That you don’t care about us. You’re not going to because you can’t.”

“You need to leave before you hear something that will hurt you.” 

“Just tell me that what you were doing was with your heart and not your dick! Just tell me the truth!” Anti felt the anger building inside of him. Dark was doing what Dark always did when it came to confronting emotions. And it was pissing Anti off. 

“Get out.” Dark spoke between gritted teeth, doing everything he could to remain calm. 

“Why can’t you just love me back!?” Anti cried.

“Leave!” Dark’s voice split, aura flashing and getting Anti to step back. Dark wished he hadn’t faced Anti to say that. He didn’t want to see Anti’s heart shatter at that moment. He hated that sorrowful look in his eyes and that he was the cause of it. “I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck you, Dark,” Anti spoke harshly before glitching away. 

“Damn it,” Dark grunted, scolding himself internally.

He was a coward. He was a fucking coward. 

----------

Next: Link

@bookwormscififan @brokentimewatch

Pinterest Prompts List: Link

[jaxteller87]

where I need to be part 2

Amber’s POV

I was rifling through Jax’s dorm room, looking for a lighter to spark up. I rolled a joint before I left and thought I’d smoke up before we went out for lunch. I was having much luck, so my search led me to his desk drawer, where my eyes caught sight of STD paperwork crammed into the back. I wouldn’t have noticed, nor would I have even looked at it if the bundle of papers wasn’t stopping me from closing the drawer properly. I took it out, flattened the edges, and went to lay it back in by the time I actually realized what I was looking at. With the unlit joint resting between my lips, I started flipping through the pages. A rush of relief washed over me as I saw all the results came back negative, spanning the past three months, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would possess somebody to hold on to this kind of incriminating information. The last thing I’d want is for my STD results to become common knowledge to any random passerby, even if it did declare a clean bill of health. If you ask me, there was a reason someone gets checked in the first place, and that’s generally because something prompted them to.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jax beamed, strolling in from the SAMCRO throwdown.

“I didn’t know you kept this type of paperwork just lying around,” I said, a hint of concern in my voice.

“Yup, sure do. Been keepin’ it for quite a while now,” he replied, plopping down beside me on the bed.

“Um, okay,” I raised my eyebrows, still not entirely understanding his methodology. “Why, though?”

“To let any lady know I’m clean, even though I always wrap my shit. Can’t take chances,” he explained, taking a swig of his beer. “You know what they say, no glove— no love.”

“What?” I chuckled. 

“You never heard that before?” He looked at me, half surprised. “No glove— no love? You gotta wrap it before you can slap it, darlin’.”

“I’ve never heard it put quite as delicately as that,” I admitted. A smile crept across my face while I wondered just how many rhymes the man had about putting a condom on his little Teller.

“Well, I don’t always think with Jax Jr. like most men. I know there’s more at risk than just having a mini-me running around here,” he quipped. “The only one I’m not nervous to sleep with is Ima; on the rare occasion, it does happen ’cause I know Luann has the girls tested all the time.”

That last part stung me a little and pulled me right out of my momentary daydream. “That’s good, I guess—”

“What?”

Oh, shit— I didn’t want him to think I meant ‘that’s good, that you occasionally sleep with Ima.’ “I’m just saying it’s good that Luann makes sure the girls are all tested.”

“Oh, of course. It’d be bad for business to have a chlamydia breakout or something. That’s why Tig’s not allowed any of the girls,” Jax polished off the rest of his beer.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, she added a clause in their contracts stating that Tig is off-limits. That man doesn’t care where he sticks the little tigger, that’s for sure.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I uh— well, that’s kind of gross— but at the same time, I kind of feel bad for him.”

“Who, Tig?” Jax scoffed, which turned into full-blown laughter. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t slow him down any. Besides, I think he likes cold-packing more anyway.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what that even means, but I feel like if I look it up later, I’ll end up seeing something I don’t want to see,” I cautiously admitted.

“It’s when you fuck a dead chick,” Jax said like it was normal.

I felt a lump moving up in my throat, and I instantly wanted to puke just hearing it. “Okay, new subject. Can we stay in here for a while?” I asked curiously.

“We can,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Figured that’s why you were in here,” he chuckled.

“Well, I was hoping while I’m in town, we could have a little fun,” I teased, kissing his forehead.

The next morning found myself wrapped up in my best friend’s arms.

“Morning, my love,” he whispered, and I kissed the tip of his nose.

“Thank you for last night. It was the best orgasm I’ve had in a while.”

“I’m all about service, darlin’,” he chuckled.

“My vibrator at home doesn’t cut it now that I’ve had the real thing. More importantly, the emotional connection,” I confessed.

I was starting to realize that what got me off the most was the emotional connection with Teller. And him calling me his naughty little beauty helped.

The rest of the day was spent at the lake, fishing and enjoying each other’s company. It had been one of our favorite things to do since we were kids.

“Tell me, Amber,” Jax said later that night as he fried the fish we caught. “I see your mind going.”

“No, it’s downright odd, if not dumb,” I laughed, helping with the meal.

“Don’t give me that look,” I chuckled as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Does it bug you that you’re the only guy I’ve slept with?”

“No, not to sound like a cocky asshat, but it’s hot as hell,” he replied.

“Like we talked a while ago, I’m enjoying learning with you, even though sometimes it’s aggravating for you.”

“Well, I lasted longer than three seconds last night, so I wasn’t as annoyed,” I teased, laughing with him.

Jax’s POV

“Harder, papa,” she cooed as we lay on the living room floor later that night, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows around us.

“There she goes again,” I thought to myself; her moans meant that I was hitting the right spot. The sheer confidence caused a smirk to form on my lips. Growling in her ear, I praised her, relishing the good girl she was trying to be. But as she looked up at me, I could see the pain in her eyes, the demons she was desperately trying to escape. I kissed her forehead gently, whispering, “You feel so good.”

It was a familiar dance we’d been engaged in for the past few months. I couldn’t fix her; I knew that. Not with just sex. But if I could take the pain away, if only for a little while, then I was going to try.

“Thank you,” she breathed a few minutes later, a radiant smile lighting up her face. “Best orgasms I’ve had in weeks.”

And then came the aftercare, a routine we’d come to know well. Drinks, cuddles, her favorite forehead kisses, and my beard scratches. I loved the way she gently scratched my beard, a gesture that never failed to send shivers down my spine.

“Are you warm enough? I can grab another blanket from the sofa,” I offered, concern lacing my words.

“No, I’m good with just the one,” she replied, pressing a soft kiss to my chest.

“You don’t have to go home tomorrow,” I said softly, knowing the thoughts swirling in her mind.

“No. How about you? You’re not busy, are you?” she asked as we settled into our full-body snuggle.

“No, actually, just mechanic stuff. No club stuff, surprisingly,” I chuckled, holding her close. “What do you want to do?”

“Anything as long as it’s with you,” she smiled. 

[disastrouscanasta]

well you KNOW imma ask about the darling Punch Up 2: The Wrath of Khan. like i have to. im obsessed truly

Thank you to both blood-mocha-latte and @spinteresting for asking about this one... because it's my favourite, naturally. My brainchild. The thing that keeps me up at night

Basically Punch Up 2: the Spy who Shagged Me is the direct sequel to the first one and it's from Toye's pov because. well. Why not?

Here's a part I cut out because it was wayyyyy too sappy and self indulgent lol (it's roughly 1k so ? ficlet ? add on instalment ? perhaps ? idk)

“When was the last time you were here?” Joe asked, staring at the barren countertops. He pulled the pantry door open and found a few cans of non-perishables. It looked sad, college dorm levels of sad. It pitted something uncomfortable in Joe’s gut.

“Uh.” George’s voice was dulled by the walls as he wandered, searching through his bedroom for his clothes. “Six days?”

Joe couldn’t even remember the last time he’d set foot in George’s apartment. A few months ago, maybe? And it was always for something like this, George forgot something, George needed to pick something up, etc. They didn’t stay over, Joe realised. Less like it dawned on him, more like an answer just bubbling to the surface. Barely an oh.

It was the quiet, almost subdued thought that “they never stayed over.” Better yet, George never stayed over. They were only standing there then because he’d needed an old suit– one that he’d bought for his sister’s wedding a couple years ago, but hadn’t needed since.

(He hadn’t won anything, but he had been invited to some swanky film event anyway. He’d gotten the email, instantly asked “Are we doing anything on Saturday the 15th?” and, once it had proven to be a go, he’d announced that they were going to a dinner/screening shindig. Joe was touched, having been invited without a second thought.)

“Shit.” Joe said. He picked up a can of beans, turned it over in his hand, expecting… something. He wasn’t sure. Maybe the beans would tell him something about this situation.

“What’s the matter?” George came back, standing in the small– tiny, it was tiny– kitchen. He had a dry cleaner's bag in his hand, gripped by the hook of the hanger, he held it high to keep from dragging on the ground.

“I’ve been holding you captive at my place, I think. We can come over here more often.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” George said flippantly. He paused, something of a hitch in his voice that told Joe just enough. “It’s… no biggie.”

“You’re still paying rent.”

“Barely.” George shrugged, “It’s okay. I got this thing sorted with the landlord, I only pay about half for rent, every once in a while his nephew crashes in the guest room, so it’s okay.”

Joe had… well, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d assumed. He’d just gotten used to George around the house, he supposed. George had stuff in his closet, they had divvied up the drawers in the dresser, they did their grocery shopping as a unit–

“We’re here,” Joe said, hoping that he wasn’t crossing some kind of unspoken boundary. They had a few of those. Most of their boundaries were unspoken. That didn’t shape up for much, but it wasn’t Joe’s nature to talk about it. He was an action guy. If he knew not to do something, he simply wouldn’t do it. Contrarily, if he knew what he was doing, he would do it.

They were currently in that kind of situation.

“Why don’t you grab the rest of your stuff, it’ll fit in the car.” Joe finished. It was simple, the world’s shortest olive branch that he extended to George in a show of… well, it was something romantic. Call him cliche, but Joe liked a bit of romance. A gesture.

George liked gestures, his eyes widened, just a bit.

“Jesus fuck.” George said, he slung his drycleaning bag over the countertop, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve been agonising over this for ages.”

“Over what?”

“Over– This! Joe, I’m gonna need you to be real with me for a second. You’re saying I should bring my stuff over to your house, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Permanently?”

“Yes?”

George smiled wide, triumphantly. There was something soft in there too, a quiet joy, an I can’t believe this look that hid behind the boisterous glee. “See, I knew Carwood was wrong.”

“I don’t even want to ask.” Joe was smiling, himself. It was a chain reaction, if George smiled wide enough, Joe’s mouth just kind of followed out of its own volition. Before he noticed what he was doing, he stepped a couple feet closer, just until George was within an arm’s reach.

“You don’t want to know.” George promised. Joe had to wonder if Lipton knew more about Joe’s own life than he did.

“So, what do you say?” Joe prompted.

“Am I gonna bring my stuff over, you mean?” George said, “Of course. You’ve signed the verbal agreement now, buddy. Can’t get rid of me and my DVD collection that fast.”

Joe fought a laugh, which seemed to be enough of an answer for George, who noticed the way Joe’s bottom lip stiffened, and the high point in over his cheekbone tightened. Joe was the Tough Crowd which comedians so often poked fun of– George had told him this. Multiple times.

George closed the short distance, reaching over, tugging Joe down by his t-shirt collar and kissing him. It was simple, closed mouth, and George’s lips were dry, but it did make Joe think, as he kissed back, looping his arm around George’s waist absently.

They’d shared a fair amount of kisses in Joe’s kitchen, but never this one– Well, maybe once or twice. It felt different, somehow. Different venue, sure, but there was a difference, Joe just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Then, George slid a hand up the front of Joe’s t-shirt, touching his skin directly. It sent a jolt of energy up Joe’s spine. There was a tinge of risk to it. It struck Joe– a sudden, startling realisation, this time– that the room they stood in wasn’t their kitchen. It wasn’t the one with George’s ridiculous pun mugs, or the spatula head that broke off from the rest of its body each time George used it, though they’d never gotten around to replacing it. Joe hadn’t cut his thumb open while cutting carrots for a potluck on this countertop.

This was merely a place that George rented, but it wasn’t where they lived.

“You should go get your DVDs together.” Joe said, drawing back. “We can come around some other time with Bill’s truck to get everything else.”

“You have your priorities straight.” George said, laughing. “God, this makes it so much easier to show you shit movies. I dibs the TV tonight. Austin Powers marathon, you can do it, I believe in you.”

“Anything you want.” Joe replied. He forgot to sound sarcastic, instead, the words were drenched in just about as much fondness as George’s bright eyes held, then.

***

Thank you guys !!!

[circusgoth-dotcom]

With Love Comes Property Damage

Ship: Wade Wilson x Keaton Magnolia

Word Count: 1342

Summary: A little bit of a self-insert reboot fic one might say. A snapshot to get reintroduced to my s/i and his dynamic with Wade. Cws for feelings of failure, brief mentions of guns/weapons, implications of uncleanliness, property damage and mild danger.

Tag List: @futurewife @canongf @rexscanonwife

Keaton Alan Magnolia had been a resident of Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters since before he could walk. His parents had abandoned him there and as far as he knew, none of his other family members were going to come and claim him, either. How they possibly could’ve known he would grow up to be a mutant, he couldn’t comprehend. Still, at least he was safe and accepted within the school’s walls… until it was clear that traditional teaching methods were not going to focus his curious and rapidly expanding powers. Keaton could sense his teachers’ doubts in him, too, which didn’t help much as he grew up.

As an adult, he remained an occupant of the school, for no one had the heart to kick him out. Though he called it his home at the end of the day, he spent most of his waking hours traipsing through New York, searching for himself. Instead, he found Wade Wilson, which was a bit like the same thing, but a little to the left. Now they were dating, and Wade seemed determined to get Keaton out of his academic setting for good.

“Hellooo!” Wade’s voice echoed through the school’s vast library, without regard for anyone seeking quiet refuge inside. He wandered amongst the high shelves and polished tables until he found what he was looking for: Keaton, hunched over a desk in the corner with several open books splayed out in front of him. “What’re you doing in on such a lovely day, babes?”

He exaggeratedly pulled up an extra chair and propped up his heels, regarding Keaton with a grin. He was wearing his typical red and black suit, sure to shield the eyes of children from his “horrible ugliness,” and of course toting his weapons of choice.

“Hi Wade. I’ve decided I want to teach.” Keaton responded distractedly.

“Teach?”

“Yeah, I know, wild for the kid who never graduated to want such a thing… but then again, maybe that’s why I’m trying to get Xavier to let me do it. Let me be an example of what to avoid becoming when you’re enrolled here.” He pessimistically turned the page of the nearest book, not looking up at his boyfriend, whose grin quickly fell away.

“Everything that’s happened to you has been out of your control and you know it.”

“Isn’t that the fucking truth…”

“Alright, poor choice of words, but you know what I’m saying! It’s not your fault nobody tried hard enough for you…” He swung his legs down and shifted closer to his boyfriend, placing his hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re perfect.”

“If I was so perfect, I wouldn’t still be considered ‘potentially dangerous,’ and I’d probably be an X-Man by now.”

“Gross. Who wants to be one of them? C’mon, Keke… can’t you at least look at me?” Finally, Keaton looked away from the book and met the white eyes of Wade’s mask. “There’s my handsome boy. And fine, if you’re really serious about teaching at a superhero orphanage, let me help!”

Keaton arched one of his eyebrows. “You want to help?”

“Yeah!” Wade snatched up one of his hands and placed it suggestively on his spandex-clad thigh. “I can be a stress ball!”

Finally, Keaton snorted- “It’s not a laugh, but I’ll take it.”

“You know what, I could use a walk,” Keaton stood, closing the books on the desk and piling them to the side. Wade eagerly hopped up to join him. As they wandered the vast, sun-soaked and dust-coated halls, they passed students that paid Keaton no more mind than a shadow, though plenty of them turned their heads at the sight of Wade and his obviously displayed guns.

As they turned onto the grounds, Keaton made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Me as a teacher… could you imagine? Half of these kids don’t even know I exist.”

“Hey, if it’s what you really want to do, don’t let anyone get in your way. Much less snotty-nosed urchins.” They paused as a kid who reminded them of the abominable snowman chased another with wings, cutting off their path as they passed.

“Are you offering to be my in-class support?” Keaton bumped into him playfully as they continued across the grass.

“I’d be playing right into Colossus’ hands if I did that,” Wade groaned. “And let me tell you, those are some big, shiny hands to play in.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t involuntarily tried to use me to get you to ‘settle down.’ Not that I think he’s a user or whatever… but I think he knows you’re really the one doing things for me, even if they’re things he doesn’t necessarily like.”

“I’m telling you, I’ve got a perfectly good apartment we could be sharing.”

Keaton sighed as they sat at the far end of the training field, laying back on the lush lawn. “Wade, I’ve seen your apartment. You should be charging the roaches for rent."

"I've got roaches??"

Keaton snorted again. "I'm teasing, but really, you know I don't do well with sudden shifts in the environment…"

Wade nodded, turning his head to admire his boyfriend's profile. "Maybe that's why you have the powers that you do. You shift while the things around you stay the same."

Keaton turned his own head. "I don't see how that's very useful. How does one adapt to things that don't change? You don't need to, really."

"I don't know, it gives you perspective, or something." Wade inched closer. "You know, I haven't gotten a kiss yet today."

Keaton rolled his eyes, shoving his hand in his boyfriend's face. "Maybe I don't want to give one to you."

Wade gasped, forcing his nose between his fingers in an attempt to break the barrier. "Why not???"

Keaton sat up. "You'll have to catch me first."

“Okay!” Wade made a swift movement to wrap his arms around Keaton, but Keaton was quicker, transforming into a raven and fluttering up into the sky. “Hey!! That’s not fair, I can’t fly!”

Wade scrambled to his feet as Keaton merely cawed in amusement, flying back toward the school with his boyfriend in hot pursuit. Completely ignorant of anything besides capturing his boyfriend for a much-desired smooch, Wade barreled through the halls, somersaulting and wall-running along his route as Keaton flew ahead. Once far enough into the school, Keaton then transformed into a black cat, exercising innate agility as he scaled bookshelves and twisted between students’ and other residents’ legs. Feeling as if he had left Wade far behind, Keaton lept onto a stair railing to wait, his ears flicking every once in a while, straining to hear when his assailant would show himself once more.

It wasn’t long before Wade rounded the corner and spot his cat of a husband. Having already been travelling at a constant momentum, he found himself rushing toward the railing with reckless abandon. Keaton yowled in protest, knowing disaster would strike if Wade did not slow down, but it was too late.

“Gotcha!” Wade cried as he lept forward, reaching out for Keaton and consequently bodyslamming his way through the railing, sending them both toppling down to the floor below as Keaton shifted back into his usual human form.

“Wade!” He shouted as he clung to his broad chest, luckily landing on top of him as they crashed onto the floor. “Are you okay?!”

Wade gasped for breath underneath him but raised a thumbs up. “Just fine!” He wheezed. “I might’ve broken a rib. Or three. But it’s no biggie.”

“Okay… okay, good…” Keaton caressed his cheek, then looked up at the smashed railing. “Shit. How am I going to pay for that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Wade reached up and rolled up his mask, pointing eagerly at his scarred mouth. “I do believe this means I win, anyway. Kisses please.”

Keaton looked back down at him and shook his head. “You persistent motherfucker…” He then sweetly granted his request, squealing slightly when Wade’s arms clamped around him, keeping him close.

[danceswithsporks]

On the second day of Bad Batchmas I gave to all of yooouuuu!!

Tech loosing his gloooooves!

I’ve decided to write little snippets as we wait for the boys to return from getting milk. Err…Season 2.

Now this will take place in the universe I’ve built for my fic A Star Above the Rest! Some may be sneak peaks at future events, little glimpses into past events, or things I wanted to do but couldn’t work into the story! I hope you all enjoy them and Happy Holidays!

Day 2 of the 12 days of Bad Batchmas: Tech looses his gloves.

“You checked the training room?” Zirena sat on one of the tables in the guys barracks. Watching the analytical clone rip the place apart in search of his gloves.

“Yes.”

“The showers?”

“Yes.”

“Marauder?”

“Of course.”

Tipping her head from side to side in thought, Zirena tried to think of where else the gloves could be. “Laundry room?”

An annoyed sigh came from Tech as he closed Wreckers trunk. “First place.”

“Oh.” Well she was honestly out of ideas at this point. “Guess that means we just have to get you new ones.” Jumping off the table, the Jedi walked over to Tech before stretching. “Sounds like a trip to Coruscant is in order.” Thanks to Padme, she’d really developed a taste for shopping.

Tech didn’t exactly like the idea of just giving up on finding them. He made a face to Zirena as she picked up her robe and pulled it on. “Perhaps we should look through everything once more?”

“Tech. We’ve checked three times now. They’re not here.” Shrugging, she picked up his datapad and passed it to him. “I came back here for us to update BD together. I only have today to do that. We can get you new gloves.”

In his panic to find his gloves, he’d completely forgotten why Zirena was even there. How much time had they wasted looking for them? Taking the datapad from her he checked and groaned. He’d wasted over four hours looking. “I don’t exactly get paid as nicely as you do, Representative. I’d much rather find those gloves before using a large portion of my pay for a new pair.”

“I’ll get them. Count them as a thank you for teaching me how to do BDs maintenance myself.” Credits were surprisingly no longer an issue for her and she really didn’t mind spending said money on her friends.

“I guess that would be acceptable.” Chewing his lip as he followed her out of the room, Tech found that he couldn’t stop from thinking about the gloves.

-*-

“I’m really excited to try this Zipline upgrade! We could try that wire that goes between this platform and platform 3?” Zirena couldn’t stop the giggle coming from her. “Just don’t tell Rex.”

“Uh huh.”

Zirena stopped and looked at him, was he even listening? “Yeah I figured I could do it naked, give everyone a good show.”

Tech continued to look through his datapad for any clue as to where he may have left the gloves. “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah and whoever catches me, I’ll fuck.” Now she waited to see if he caught what she said.

“That a great ide-“ Tech looked up at Zirena in utter shock of what she had said. “What?”

“Took you long enough.” Crossing her arms, she waited for an explanation.

“Sorry, it seems I was lost in thought.” The way she was looking at him let him know that she had been joking.

“The gloves?” When he nodded to her, she sighed softly. “Tell me why these gloves are so important?” She’d never seen any of the others this worried over gloves.

“When I was still a cadet, I always left my gloves in odd places. The training room, the droid maintenance hatch, even the refresher.” Smiling at the memory coming forward, he continued to speak. “General Shaak Ti was constantly getting requisition forms from me for new gloves. I guess I hit my limit at some point because she approached me one day with a gift. Inside was a pair of gloves unlike the others.”

“The gloves you lost?”

Tech nodded as they continued down the hallway. “You may have noticed they feel different from the others, and weigh differently as well. That’s because they’re made out of a non conductive material that protects my hands from shocks. They’re also made to breathe so my hands don’t become sweaty. They had to have set her back by a lot.”

“That’s sweet of her to buy you gloves though.” Master Shaak Ti was always kind like that. She looked out for everyone and cared deeply.

“It was. I’ve always been careful about placing them down. I don’t wish to lose them since they hold so much value to me.” Losing them would be like losing a dear friend. Not many clones received gifts from the Togruta Jedi Master.

Zirena stopped outside her suite door and began to put in her code. “I’m sure they’ll turn up soon. Usually these things appear when you stop looking for them.”

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it would be wise to take a break and look later. “You’re right. For now, let’s take a look at the droid.”

The sound of her door sliding open filled the room and for a moment it was silent and dark. Then the lights flipped on and BD stood on the kitchen island. A little box was in front of him and the droid happily whistled at the sight of Tech. “Surprise!” Zirenas bright smile filled the room as other came out of hiding.

“W-what?” Tech looked at his brothers as they smiled or smirked at him. Cross sat in the windowsill watching the group while Hunter, Echo, Rex, and Wrecker approached the two.

“It’s a surprise party! For you!” Omega bounced excitedly on the couch, a bar of Chandrilian chocolate in her hand.

How much candy had she had? The poor child looked like her eyes would bust out of her skull. “For me? Why?”

“To thank you for everything you do for us.” Zirena smiled as she carried the box over to Tech, BD on her shoulder whistling a tune.

“You keep our gear constantly upgraded with the latest tech. The ship is always running at her best.” Hunter placed a proud hand on his brother's shoulder.

“Don’t forget all the cool stuff he makes us!” Wrecker grabbed Omega right before she dove off the couch. “Woah, maybe you should cut back on the sugar.”

Zirenas laugh filled the room as everyone watched Omega. The poor girl was no doubt riding a sugar high. “You do so much for everyone, it’s only right we celebrate that. As a way of saying thank you.” Holding the package out to him, she smiled excitedly. “Open it.”

“You didn’t need to do this.” He never put too much thought into helping everyone. They were his family, his friends. Helping them helped everyone in the long run. But he accepted the gift graciously before opening it. Inside sat his gloves, though they looked better then they’d looked before. “I don’t understand.”

“We had them cleaned, restitched, patched and the lining redone.” Echo smiled as Tech pulled them on. His fingers flexed a few times to test the material. “How do they feel?”

Tech loved how they felt “Amazing, like new. How did you even manage to get them?”

It was Omegas turn to speak and she made sure it was known. “I” was screamed loudly as she tried to climb up Wrecker's arms. “Grabbed them when you were daydreaming about Zirena after Echo showed you that picture of her at the beach!” A hand was clamped over her mouth as Hunter tried to silence her.

A stifled laugh came from Zirena as Techs face became red. Rex couldn’t stop his eyebrow from going up at the new information. “From when the five oh and the two twelfth went on leave?”

“Yeah!” Omega had pulled Hunters hand down to quickly speak. “Fives sent Echo photos of all of you! But all of their favorite is the one of Zirena sunbathing!”

Whoever said having a sister was a blessing, obviously never had actually survived with a young sister. Tech sighed as Zirena giggled more. “It’s not what you think, Sir.” His eyes looked at Rex, hoping the Captain wasn’t angry.

“ I liked that outfit.” Was pured to Zirena by Rex. “You looked damn good in it. Next time we’ll make sure the batch is invited.”

“Oh that would be so much fun!” Zirena smiled at Tech. “Glad to know you liked it too.” With a wink she stepped over and picked his hand up to inspect the gloves. “Just maybe don’t bring these, don’t wanna get sand all over them.”

Tech chuckled in agreement. “Yeah, would rather these not get ruined so quickly.” Reaching over he pulled the Jedi into a tight hug. “Thanks, Zee.” Pulling away he looked at the others. “Thanks all of you. But if you ever take my gloves like that again, I’ll share all of your search histories.”