#NO FUCKING WAY THIS POST HAS GOTTEN MORE NOTES IN A FEW HOURS THAN MY PIECE THAT TOOK ME 30+ HOURS HAS IN A WEEK

[wisecrackingeric-2]

You know you wanna vote for him. You wanna vote for him sooooo badly. That man is on twitter and twitch BEGGING to win. You wouldn’t let Joe Hills down, would you?

Also my partner described him as “looking like what an awesome guitar riff sounds like” if that’s not convincing enough idk what is

#ericsart #mcytblr sexyman #mcyt tumblr sexyman #joe hills #joehills fanart #mcytblr #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #hermitcraft s9 #hermitcraft season 9 #vote Joe hills or I will CRY #NO FUCKING WAY THIS POST HAS GOTTEN MORE NOTES IN A FEW HOURS THAN MY PIECE THAT TOOK ME 30+ HOURS HAS IN A WEEK #GUYS PLEASE CHECK OUT MU OTHER WORK THIS THING TOOK ME LIKE A SIMGLE HPUR MY OTHER STUFF HAS TAKEN MONTHS BOOST THAT INSTEAD TF #also consider: Joe WANTS to win. he’s CAMPAIGNING FOR HIMSELF. Quackity on the other hand doesn’t even KNOW THIS IS HAPPENING #if Joe wins he will be GRATEFUL for it so obviously he should win /lh /j (this is all lighthearted and fun guys please don’t take it #seriously and please please please don’t attack me it’s all a joke ok)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 3

Summary: Trapped Under the Mountain you have to decide if it's worth keeping your enemies close.

Content Warnings: Under the Mountain is like a walking trigger warning, but mentions of torture, unnamed character death via the torture; Rhys is an ass but he's a protective ass so we'll allow it.

Author's Note: This part is loooong, needed to set up Part 4 and it made sense in my head to have these bits in one piece before we get to the *cough cough* personal training. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

(Part 1, Part 2)

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There’s no way out.

You bash the only heavy item you can find--a paperweight, tucked into the back of a dust filled drawer--against the air duct, over and over, large chunks of stone flying in every direction, even as the reality of the situation sets in. There are no back doors, no windows, just this slim chance that maybe, maybe you can bash your way out of the rock on sheer force of will.

The paperweights thuds against the stone make your ears ache. Every blow has your shoulder feeling like it might wrench from it’s socket any second, the pain a sharp thrum with every blow, but you can’t stop, if you stop you will think about it and if you start thinking about it, you won’t make it.

The blows land over and over, sometimes you switch arms to try and give yourself a break. You haven’t slept, exhaustion making this tedious, even more so when this escape attempt requires you to balance atop a bedside table that’s seen better days. Chunks of rock fly away from the wall, dust a heavy coat over your skin, your tongue. It’s like swallowing sand.

“Come on!” You beg the wall. The paperweight shutters, bits of metal cracking, denting. You’ve broken your fingernails, torn apart your knuckles trying to get the hunk of engraved metal to push through the rock. This is your only shot, the door’s bolted from the outside, a guard posted beyond. Rhysand, that bastard, had tossed you into this empty, dust ridden room hours ago. You aren’t entirely sure where you are, the journey over here a blur, glimpsed only in flashes as you’d hung over the male’s shoulder, but that’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters now is getting out, getting free. The air duct is more of a slit, carved into the rock wall that makes up your room, barely enough room for to slide your arm into, but you have to hope it gets wider somewhere. You can’t allow yourself to think about what happens if you can’t climb your way out of the room.

The paperweight lands again and again and again, the rhythm steady, the beat not unlike the drums that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. If you lived through this, you’d never go to another Calanmai celebration again. You take all that anger you feel, the helplessness and confusion of the last twenty four hours and channel it into your arm. The wall shudders, but your elusive powers do not flare behind a few wisps of darkness over your bloody knuckles.

“Break!” You snarl like it can hear you, bend to your desperation.

A few more blows and the only thing that breaks is the paperweight, the hunk of metal cracking into three, small pieces. You stare at it as it slips from your hand, scatters across the rock floor.

You know it can’t see you, but you flash your middle fingers at it. “Useless fucking thing,” you hiss as you climb off the bedside table. The room is larger than you anticipated, a bed in the center, the table next to it with a little lamp; there’s a small bathing room with a copper tub, sink and toilet. It’s not really a cell, it’s technically bigger than your room in the farmhouse, but the locked door reminds you it’s not better by any means. The whole place is dark, carved out of rock in the heart of a mountain, as far as you could tell when they brought you in. It might have made more sense if you were upright, but there’s no use dwelling on that now. Dust covers everything, the sheets, the walls, the floor, disturbed by your footprints, and also the bed that you managed to wiggle behind and push in front of the door. The wood was heavy, it had taken all your strength to push it away from the back wall and across the room. It might not do much, but it will be enough to give anyone pause, at least you hope. It’s better than sitting around waiting for them to come back, at the very least.

You go back to the bathroom, pausing briefly to wash the blood from your hands, then slowly study the place, looking for something you missed the first time around. One door, not even a door to the bathing room to lock yourself in if necessary. No more vents. No windows. No cupboards. Very little places to hide unless you feel like hiding under the bed. You go over the space inch by inch, looking for anything else to use to help dig yourself out, but there’s nothing. Not unless a cheap bar or soap of the moth bitten sheets can be used somehow. The base of the lamp looks heavy, but then you’d be working in the dark and that’s not an option.

You’re about to break down and cry when the door opens. Unhindered, because it doesn’t swing in, it swings out, your idea to block the door absolutely useless. From the darkness of the hallway, Rhys stares at you, then the bed, the wooden frame barely up to his chest.

You flash your middle fingers at him too, teeth pulled back in a snarl. If he tries to come in here you really will rip out his throat. He’d deserve it. Bastard. How could he do this to you?

With a smirk, and the flick of Rhys’s wrist, the bed re-centers itself against the far wall. Not even an inconvenience, he’d moved it like it was no effort at all.

Shit.

“Was that supposed to be a barricade?” The door swings shut behind him, the lock clicking ominously into place in the cavernous space. He’s found a new shirt, the one he’d given you earlier stuffed in the corner where you can’t smell the scent of him any longer.

He seats himself on the edge of your bed, making himself comfortable, eyes darting briefly to the new hole in the wall. “Dare I ask?”

You cross your arms over your chest, still barring your teeth. Perhaps Calanmai had turned you into more animal than girl. “It was like that when I got here.”

“Of course,” he says with a shrug, like he knows it’s useless, that you’ll simply tire yourself out, become easier prey.

“What do you want?” You hiss. He doesn’t seem to notice the venom in your tone, the way you make sure there’s distance between the two of you.

“Can’t I be here to make sure you’re comfortable?” He counters.

“What an excellent host you make,” you snarl. “Will you bathe and tuck me in next?”

His violet gaze rakes slowly over you, assessing the bare expanse of your legs, the tattered, mud stained hem of your shift, barely covering you, the barely there straps clinging for dear life to your dirt stained shoulders. It’s intense, you know many fae would melt under it; you might have too, if things had been different, if the sight of him didn’t make you want to hurl something at his head.

“Darling, I’d lick you clean if you asked,” he says lowly.

“Does that shit usually work for you?” You snap back. He’s infuriating. How could you have kissed him?

He grins as he pushes away from the bed, eyes locked on your lips like he’s thinking about that kiss too. “I don’t usually have to resort to it, my good looks and natural charm do most of the work for me.”

“You have the charm of a viper.”

He huffs a laugh, “Cruel, wicked thing.”

His advances have you backing up, until you stumble right into the wall. The rock bites into your shoulder blades as he halts inches from you, close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face; smell that citrus and jasmine scent of him. You should push him away, give yourself breathing room, but when he’s this close rational thought eddies from your head.

“What do you want?” You repeat, voice shakier than you intend, trying to remind yourself that you’re angry at him, that you don’t want him anywhere near you. It’s his fault you’re in here.

“Her highness wants you trained,” he says like that’s supposed to mean something to you.

All you can do is stare at him.

“She sent word to your father,” he amends. “He’ll be here in three months time.”

You’re suddenly aware of how loud your own heartbeat is.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? He never bothered to contact me before.” You’re loosing your edge, mind spinning with all the things you could do to try and put some distance between the two of you.

“It seems your Uncle stole you away in the middle of the night,” Rhys explains. “Hybern has been looking for you since.”

“He’s done a shitty job.”

Rhys shrugs as he reaches out a hand to play with a tendril of your hair, curling it around his slender fingers. A cat playing with it’s food; he has no intention of letting you move away from the wall, trapped between the rock and his chest. “He’s eager to see you again, and Her Highness is eager to prove that you’re useful.”

“Why?” Why does Hybern suddenly care about you? Why does the red head care what you do with your powers? Why is this male touching you still and why are you letting him?

“Hybern’s an opportunist,” he says as he brushes the strand behind your ear. “His plans for Prythian might be closer to reality with the right power behind it.”

None of it makes any sense to you.

Rhys must see that on your face because he says, “Hybern made Amarantha. That might not make sense to you yet, but she is what she is because of him. She knows the best way to solidify her position within the world Hybern intends to create is to hand him a weapon already sharp enough to use.”

“So I’m to be a pawn then?”

He shrugs, the hand still against your temple drifting to brush over your cheek, like he can’t help but touch you. “Or you could also be an opportunist.”

You quirk a brow.

“Hybern might just be your only way out of here, Darling.”

“First off, don’t call me that. Second, what if I don’t?”

“You will.”

You shiver.

 “Training isn’t the choice here. The choice is whether you want to see anyone get hurt to make sure it happens.”

“What are you gonna do, torture me?” You hiss.

He brushes a thumb over your lip, violet eyes trained there like he’s thinking about how they felt against his own earlier. “You have people you care about.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

“She’s already given me the order to find your uncle.” His fingers drift lower, until he’s holding your chin between his forefinger and chin. “Where is he?”

“I’ve been with you,” you growl; his words snap you back to reality. He’s the enemy. You do not want to be this close to the enemy. “How would I know?”

“My spies tell me he packed a bag and left after finding you gone? Did you have a meeting place for emergencies?”

“Eat shit,” you snarl.

 Something brushes against you, like a shadow, but it’s not against your skin, it’s against your mind. The sensation cold, foreign. You blink, pull your head out of his grip to shake your head, shake the feeling off, but it lingers, holding on.

“You don’t even have any fucking shields,” he snarls.

The brush against your mind makes you see things, the farmhouse, your own hands kneading bread, it takes longer than it should for you to realize you’re seeing your own memories play out before you.

“What-” a tavern spins into view, the worn sign clear enough in your eyes that you say the name out loud. It’s a little place, not too far from Spring’s borders, close enough to Autumn that you can get there by foot in half a day. Your uncle had shown you the place as a kid, said that if you’d ever gotten separated from him than you were to go there and wait. If he’d returned home and found the house empty, the first place he’d go was there.

The memory fizzles; the shadow recedes.

Reality slams into you, tears falling from your eyes. What did you just do?

Like he can’t help himself, Rhys brushes a tear off your cheek with his knuckle. “We’ll work on shields first.”

He moves to leave, but you grab him by the front of the shirt. “Wait, please… please don’t do this! I’ll do whatever you want, ok? Just, just leave my uncle out of this.”

It is not cruelty on his face, or judgment, it’s a flash of pain before he straightens, face a mask of perfect indifference as he slides his hand over yours. “As I said, Darling, I would consider your options here carefully.” He pulls your hand away, the lock sliding out of the door on a phantom wind, and then he’s gone.

Only when the lock clicks into place again do you allow yourself to crumple to the floor and cry.

There’s a flower on the bedside table when you finally manage to get up off the floor. It’s the same glowing, violet bud that you had seen in your dreams, the one that had led you right into Rhys’s waiting arms. You pick it up gently, starring at the soft petals, so thin you can almost see through it. It’s beautiful and strange all at once.

Then you take it to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet.

No more stupid flowers, or those damn visions, no more chasing flowers through the woods and trusting stupidly handsome males to protect you. Fuck him and these stupid flowers! They’re to blame for all this mess. A mess you were now dragging your uncle into.

You might have started to spiral again if there wasn't another flower in the first’s place by the time you step back into the main room. As if the one you’d moved had never been there. You stare at it for a long while, then back at the bathroom, the water still running as the toilet flushes, just to make sure you hadn’t imagined removing the first one.

Groaning, you snatch the second one and toss it down the toilet with the first.

There’s a third as quickly and as soundlessly as the other two had arrived.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” You snatch it off the bedside table and crush it into your hand, the scent of it overwhelming, too strong for any flower not sprouting from the ground to be.

You wipe the remains on the dirty sheets as you sit on the bed, watching the table now, daring a fourth to appear. No one has used the door, the vents aren’t an option, it’s got to be some sort of magic. Unless tables can sprout gardens in this strange mountain dungeon.

As if it knows it’s being watched, no fourth flower appears.

You cross your arms, waiting, challenging it. Minutes tick by. Nothing. Only then do you breath a sigh of relief.

But in the stillness of the room, the lack of entertainment soon becomes suffocating. You try to distract yourself by stripping the sheets off the bed and shaking the dust off of them. You’re obviously going to be sleeping here, might as well make yourself comfortable. But that doesn’t take long.

You push the bed back in front of the door again, it’s failure be damned. At least, if anyone tries to enter while you sleep you'll have a second to get up and move before they get inside.

The bedside table looks lonely without the bed next to it, with a shrug, you decide to move that as well. You’re half way across the room when one of the legs hits a pit in the floor and tips, the lamp bouncing off the floor with a clang that echoes like a death toll in the cavernous space. The movement knocks the slim drawer on the table wide open, a worn book tumbling out across the floor. It definitely hadn't been there earlier when you'd opened it and found the paperweight. The fading title reads Death Gods and Goddesses Through the Ages, in a scrolling font, the author’s name long since legible in the battered leather. There’s less dust on the pages than the rest of the room, like it hasn’t been here quite as long. After collecting the fallen lamp, blissfully not broken, as if is spelled to avoid such things from clumsy creatures like you, and pushing the table against it’s new home on the wall, you sit yourself atop the bed and prop the book open.

The pages are worn, stained, most of the margins filled with hand written notes. A couple of the pages are even book marked.

Long before the first ages of the world, when light was first introduced, the Gods walked the land, unburdened with the weight or mortality. They were before Time. Until the Darkness came and merged with them. Next to the opening paragraph, someone had added the annotation: These are not the same as the Princes from Hel that opened the Portals in the Dark Ages, these are other. Their powers are other.

You shiver and close the book. Who would keep this here?

You draw your fingers over the edges as you process, lip worried between your teeth. It feels like a bad omen, a warning… from the flowers? Your head hurts from all the questions. Are these supposed to be connected? The flowers had led you to the cave, were they leading you to this strange book now too?

You climb under the covers, cold, and then crack the book open again.  

The Darkness took hold, hid Its children in the shadows of the world, rearing its beloved offspring in secret. We did not know to fear them until it was too late. Monsters, they are such terrible monsters. The next note in the margins was a page number that you flipped to, marked with an old slip of paper with swirling marks doodled across it. The High Lords of old consulted with witches and necromancers, priestesses and seers, biding their time, accumulating their knowledge until they were finally able to form a weapon against the Death Gods. At least, that was what they told them. There were those among them who didn’t want the gods removed, they wanted their power to wield, to rule. There’s lists of names, linked in genealogical order of ancient High Lords and bloodlines that had merged with the Death Gods and Goddesses of old. All carefully mapped out. Whoever had owned this book before had done their research, some of the trees branched over onto other pages, the names growing smaller and smaller the longer they went. You don’t have time to read through all of them before the lock on the door groans as it’s moved out of place.

You scramble to hide the book under the mattress before the door opens, though maybe it would have served you just as well as a weapon, because it’s not Rhysand at the door this time.

The soulless black eyes that leer down at you can only belong to the Attor.

It takes seconds for the hulking creature to kick the bed out of the way, the wooden legs screeching as they slash through the rock floor. You don’t even have time to scream, run, as the monster bursts into the room and grabs you by the back of your shift.

“The Queen demands an audience,” it sneers in a voice that sounds like shifting sand.

You flail as it lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing, begging whatever gods can hear you for help. In a rare flare of power, your claws tear through your fingertips, dark, misty power budding in your palms. You claw at the leather hands holding you, slashing over and over again, splattering blood over the walls.

The Attor snarls, tosses you hard into the wall just outside your door. The impact is jarring, black spots swimming across your eyes, all the air leaving your lungs in a rush. You scramble to get onto your feet, legs unsteady, the room spinning. The cavern like tunnel ahead of you flips and doubles.

“Stupid girl!” It snarls as it reaches for the back of your shift again.

You scramble out of reach, legs wobbly, talons scraping across the walls. You make it all of three steps before the Attor grabs you again. If it’s arms aren’t it’s weak spot you need to hit it somewhere else, but it holds you up out of reach, lesson learned. You reach for the walls instead, punching your talons through the rocks, trying to wrench yourself out of it’s grip by finding something to hold on to.

The terrible shrieking sound your claws make against the rock makes the Attor give you a shake that has your brain rattling around in your skull. “Stop that you little pest!”

More spots swim across your vision, hands slipping off the walls. These last twenty-four hours have made you feel more powerless than you have ever felt in your life. What good are these supposed powers beneath your skin if they don’t even work?

The Attor, on lumbering legs, carries you through dark, twisting tunnels. It’s like walking through a maze, the dark stone walls only lit with torches in sparse intervals. There’s no decorations. Little light. And cold, so damn cold.

The Attors claws scrape against the ground as it walks; you recognize the scrapping sound from the cave in Spring. It had been out hunting you too.

“Where are you taking me?” You dare to ask.

It takes a couple more sharp turns, it’s breathing a heavy hiss behind you as it finally brings you to a set of double, stone doors. They’re taller than even the High Lord’s manor, something you imagined you’d see a cave troll bursting out of in one of your books at home. There is something ancient, sacred about the space as the doors swing open on their own. The chamber ahead of you is cavernous, held up by too many carved pillars to count, all depicting different battles across Prythian’s extensive history. It’s the art work you’ve seen replicated in temples and paintings across the Courts, all supposed to be symbolic, holy, but this…

The floors are made of red marble, like a blood stain; fitting because pinned to the walls are bodies, some human, some fae, some other, all disfigured and mutilated. The contents of your stomach rises into your throat.

The cavern is full of fae, some dancing to the low rumble of music coming from the corner, like no one notices the horrors around them.

At the far end of the space sits a dais, the red headed Queen seated atop it. A glittering dress the shade of her hair hugs her form, a single shard of bone dangling from a string around her neck the centerpiece of the plunging neckline. She sips from a golden chalice, a smudge of red lipstick along the glass, her eyes bored as she surveys the party happening around her. There’s a half dressed male sitting at her feet, head in her lap, her clawed nails drifting absently through his pale hair. A cloud of mirthroot smoke circles him, golden eyes glassy like he has no idea where he is. Rhysand leans against the back of the throne, the only one watching the Attor approach at all. Maybe it is normal to see the gangly creature drag people into the throne room, the party goers certainly don’t notice you.

Amarantha, Rhys had called her, only notices you when the Attor all but hurls you at the base of the dais, your body crumbling against the stairs.

“Her Highness,” the Attor sneers.

The Queen’s grin is cruel as she passes her cup to Rhys, who all but tosses it over his shoulder when she’s not looking. “Quiet!” She barks at the musicians, half hidden in an alcove between pillars. Her voice carries through the room like she had screamed it, the echo in the chamber making the floor shake.

All eyes are suddenly on you as you manage to get back on your feet.

“Rhysand tells me you’re willing to cooperate,” Amarantha says.

You’re very aware of the leering eyes of the crowd as they take you in, still wearing nothing but a shift. The crowd doesn’t get too close, but they’re near enough that you hear the whispers, the laughter. It’s an effort just to swallow. “Yes, I did,” you choke out, intentionally not looking at the male.

Amarantha frowns, “What was that, mouse? I can’t hear you.”

Your cheeks heat; your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Yes, I will cooperate,” you bite out.

“Hybern will be glad to hear it,” she strokes a hand over the male’s temple, leaving faint pink scratches across his pale skin. He’s too high to notice. “It will be a great victory for the Court to have you back and ready to take your rightful place.”

Rightful place your ass. None of this feels real, right. Your rightful place is with your uncle, trying dozens of new jobs every time his trading business slows, learning new things to make the money stretch. The farmhouse was a new project, a new chance at settling down and not having to live on the road like you had for most of your life. That life was the only thing you had ever known. To be here now, hearing all this talk about war and conquest, with this queen and her court, it was like you’d stepped into a strange dream you couldn’t escape. You’d been trying not to think about it, but faced with it now you didn’t know what to do, say. She was starring at you like she was waiting for you to thank her for ripping the ground out from under you.

Amarantha frowns when you don’t say anything, her hand across the male’s forehead stilling, the eye in the ring on her finger swiveling to look right at you as if it’s a living thing.

“Rhysand,” she snaps, “you had a gift for our guest, didn’t you?”

Rhys looks up from his very important business picking lint off his shoulder. “Right, of course, the gift.”  

The crowd quiets as he descends from the dais and snaps his fingers. At your feet a male appears, bound and gagged with the dark tendrils of Rhys’ magic. The male looks at you pleadingly and though your heart goes out to his plight, you glance up at the other male in confusion. Are you supposed to know who this is?

“Your uncle’s farm hand,” he says with a grand sweep of his hand, all courtly business.

“Since you couldn’t find the kidnapper,” Amarantha hisses.

Rhys slides his hands in his pockets casually, the picture of bored indifference. But his violet eyes are only on you as he says, “This was the only male waiting for her at the Temple she told me about.”

Temple? Your head spins. You hadn’t shown him a temple.

Amarantha pushes the male in her lap away from her as she climbs down the stairs in heels sharp enough to cut. “A little demonstration is in order, don’t you think?”

Rhys steps a little closer to the bound male, but you can’t help but note that he has now positioned himself between you and where Amarantha is poised at the base of the dais.

The male makes a gasping sound before his eyes glaze over, sweat quickly dotting his forehead. Rhys remains with his hands in his pockets, Amarantha giddy at the sight unfurling before her, and even though neither of them move, it’s clear the male is fighting the invisible grip they have on him. You can’t help but think about what the two of them have already done to you.

“Wait,” you protest. Even if you don’t know this male, you don’t want him to suffer. “I already said I would cooperate, this isn’t necessary!”

The male begins to scream, thrash, and the bands of darkness around his wrists and legs dip into the marble floor, pinning him.

The crowd presses in closer to watch; you hear someone start making bets about how long he’ll last.

“This is a little reminder,” Amarantha coos at you, soft enough that the crowd won’t be able to hear it over the screaming. “Of what will happen if you decide you suddenly don’t want to cooperate with my training regime.”

Blood starts to pool in the corner of the male’s eyes.

You can’t stop yourself from stepping forward and grabbing Rhys’s arm. “Please, stop, I get it ok! Let him go. I will do what you ask.”

But louder than your pleading, Amarantha orders, “If he has nothing to give us, kill him.”

The gag slips from the male’s mouth as he turns to look at you with what looks like his last little bit of strength. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

The sound of bones snapping fills the chamber; the male gurgles on his own blood, and then he slumps lifelessly to the floor.

Tears stream down your cheeks and you yank your hand away from Rhys’s arm, disgusted.

Amarantha waves the Attor over to clean up the mess, even as she says, “You may resume your dancing now.”

As if it never happened, the music starts back up. People start laughing and drinking, the dances not unlike the writhing shapes you had seen in your vision of Calanmai.

She waits until the noise is too loud to be overheard by the crowd to ask, “Did he tell you where her uncle is?”

There’s no chance this stranger knows anything about your uncle. Rhys had lied, but you still find yourself holding your breath, waiting for this to be a trap too. The male certainly acted like he’d known you.

But Rhys says, “I saw a tavern in Winter, I’ll head there-”

“My men will take it from here,” Amarantha interrupts, “I want you here, working on her.”

Rhys bows. “As you wish, My Queen.”

“Escort her back to her room,” Amarantha orders, “I don’t want her back here until we’re sure she can be controlled.”

“Of course,” Rhys moves to take your arm and you duck out of reach.

“I can walk,” you hiss.

He lets his hand fall, slides it back into his pockets.

Amarantha is half way up the dais when she calls back, “I expect quick results.”

He nods in understanding.

“And don’t forget, Rhysand, about the deal you made for this opportunity.”

His eyes darken. “I haven’t.”

As far away from him as you want to be, it’s a relief when he motions for you to move towards the door. The crowd parts for you, some of them outright ignoring you, others leering.

A redheaded male watches the two of you closely, catching Rhys’s eye as you pass.

Rhys snarls something you can’t make out at him.

“Whore,” the other male spits back.

Rhys laughs mirthlessly in response as the doors shut in the other male’s face.

You have questions of course, but the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours weighs so heavily on you, you almost wish it was the Attor carrying you out. Every footstep is heavy.

Rhys doesn’t speak as he leads you through the maze of tunnels. You should be attempting to learn the path, so if you ever do get out you know where you’re going, but it feels like so much effort. What does it matter in the end? You’re stuck here, at the whim of an evil queen and whatever the hell Rhys is, at least until your supposed father gets here and decides to do Mother knows what with you. Any attempts at escaping, at fighting are useless, not when Rhys knows where to look for him. It’s the reminder that he lied that finally makes you look up from where you’ve been following the cracks in the floor.

“Why’d you do it?” You ask softly.

“Do what?” He counters. He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

You watch the way the shadows of the torchlight bath him in half darkness, the glow of his eyes dimmed here. Everything about him feels dim in these halls, like the mountain has stolen something from him.

“That male-”

He halts at a door that must now belong to you and a bit of magic pulls the door open. “She wants you to know what she will do if she even suspects you’re trying to outsmart her.”

“No,” you shudder thinking about what he had done. How could anybody wield powers like that? “No that’s not what I mean.”

Rhys leans against the doorframe and motions you inside. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me then, Darling.”

You stare at him. He seems to be playing a game unto himself. Whatever his motives are, whatever it has to do with you, he’d not about to admit it here in the hall.

You step into the room, head pounding from all the unanswered questions you have.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says as the door begins to close.

You don’t want to see him in the morning. He’s a monster who can rip people’s minds apart with a thought, a monster who somehow lured you out of your home and brought you here to his evil queen, but he’s also the monster keeping your secrets, and in places like this, you might need a monster like that on your side. You won’t trust him, not after what he’d done in the cave, but maybe it’s not trust you need in a place like this. Amarantha demands you learn to use your powers, she never said anything about you using them on her.

“I’m counting down the seconds,” you say dryly.

“Dream of me,” he says sweetly.

The door closes before you can snarl that you’ve dreamed of him enough.

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @llovelydove, @twsssmlmaa

If anyone else wants to be added to the taglist feel free to let me know :)

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand acotar #acotar fic #acotar smut #fanfic #my writing #datura series #rhysand fanfic #utm!rhys #utm!rhys x reader

[ncteez]

Subtle (n.j)

❝ Your boyfriend does a lot of things right. He studies hard, wakes up on time, never forgets your birthday, and likes all the same snacks as you. On the outside, everyone notices how sweet he is as your other half but your parents would probably forbid you from seeing him if they knew what went on behind locked doors.❞

m.list | ao3 | minors dni! if you read it, reblog it.

requested by @zenlzen

wordcount ― 10.9k

pairing ―   jaemin x fem reader 

content ―  summer vacation au, established relationship, college setting, fluff, smut

note ―  first of all, lets give a round of applause to @rainyjeno​​ for stepping up to become my main beta, now i no longer have to release fics full of typos ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)  this ended up more dirty than i was anticipating so….ur welcome. 

smut tags under cut::

smut tags ―   softdomleaning!jaemin, he loses himself a lot,heavy emphasis on him loving your boobs, he has a lace kink and/or is really into the feeling of it against his cock, titty fucking, panty fucking, panty stuffing(orally in a quick jerk off session), grinding, nipple play, nipple abuse lmao, lots and lots of praise, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep throating, overstimulation, use of pet names like “my baby”, “pretty girl”, and “sweetheart”, some crying, eye contact, choking/suffocation (from cock), he feeds u cum for a second post-sex.

        The sun was hot against your skin and far more inviting than the five days of rainstorms prior to this. Jaemin had texted you a screenshot of the weather all five of those gloomy days, counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds it would be for you to join him at the lake with your shared friend group. The semester was finally over and the happiness you’d both felt about the new summer freedom and near-perfect grade point averages weren’t dampened by the rain. You were ready to let loose, Jaemin was ready to let loose, and the sun was on your side today. 

         After being with Jaemin for over a year and a half, you’d also figure that the sly eyes and mocking would stop. Sure, during the first few weeks of the relationship the group of friends would get a laugh at how disgusting the two of you were together—always holding hands, celebrating your anniversary by the month, and giving each other little gifts and love notes. On the outside, it looks like the two of you were shy, reserved even. 

         Jaemin never made a point to do intimate things where people could see outside of a small kiss here or there, maybe some hand-holding. He didn’t mind the mocking too much though. In a way, it’s kind of funny how even the closest of his friends have no idea how different he is when the room is veiled by moonlight. 

       Looking up to the sky, you take note of the way the clouds are far more capable than just appearing pretty and soft, lazing by and shading your group of friends for only a moment. The rain before this day proves as much. You think sometimes, Jaemin is similar to those clouds. Comfortable, soft, pretty, but the second they get the chance, they’re pouring down and soaking you thoroughly. 

“I’m gonna go swim–” You sigh out, looking at half of the group of friends already in the water, practically taking turns to throw each other.  

         Jaemin was there, sitting across from you with his knee resting on your leg. He smiles at you, nodding his head towards the water as if to tell you to go ahead. You assume he will follow when he’s ready, you can tell he’s soaking in the rays and enjoying himself on the posh grass. 

         With a small clap, you hop up to take off your t-shirt, or his rather large t-shirt. You were always thankful he bought lounge wear far too big for both himself and you, it makes clothes easily shared without the fear of stretching them out. Plus he enjoyed the way it would fall against your thighs and enjoyed it, even more, when he got to see you take the shirt off. 

         Standing there, you already feel Jaemin’s eyes on you, scanning the skin he had barely gotten to touch the way he truly wanted. Part of him thinks that you may be similar to his friends in assuming how he is in bed, despite experiencing it yourself. With both of you having packed schedules during the semester, you living with your parents to save money, and him living in a tiny college dorm with a very nosy roommate. He really can’t stand that he hasn’t been able to go all out. Neither of you can ever be loud. He constantly has to hold back to avoid getting walked in on, and while you can kind of see that he holds out nine times out of ten, you still think he’s given you the best and possibly wildest sex you’ve ever had. So it’s not like you’re complaining.

         You make a point to stand there for a little longer, looking pretty for your boyfriend before rushing off to the lake so you can join in on the fun. His eyes never leave your body, zoning in on your chest and the way your nipples perk up at the summer breeze. Jaemin watches until you’ve gotten to the shoreline of the lake, and only pulls his eyes away from you when he realizes that his roommate is literally doing the exact same thing. 

 “Eyes to yourself.” Jaemin narrows his eyes and pinches his friend on the arm.   

         Jeno jumps from the sudden pinch, staring at Jaemin with raised eyebrows. He hadn’t even noticed he was staring, but to be fair, he simply followed Jaemin’s line of sight to see what the fuck got him looking so flustered. It isn’t his fault he hasn’t gotten laid in like two months, and it isn’t his fault that Jaemin’s girlfriend has nice tits. 

“Jaem, this is the first time I’ve seen you stare at her like that.” Jeno shrugs, because Jaemin is aware that he’s thirsty for women and could probably never get a shot at you anyway. “You guys still haven’t fucked yet, or?” 

         Jeno thinks it’s kind of a waste. He knows the two of you have been dating for over a year now and never once has his friend shared the thrill of his sex life. Never once has he brought you back to their shared dorm to spend the night, outside of studying or grabbing something to borrow. Never once has he ever looked at you so openly in public like that. Jeno thinks that maybe his conservative friend is ready to take the next step with you. 

         Jaemin, however, is internally laughing. Not only have the two of you had sex, but you’ve had a lot of it. That considered, he knows there’s still a new side of him you haven’t seen in full, and there are still sides of you that he hasn’t experienced yet. Again, the lack of privacy kind of keeps the two of you fairly vanilla despite it being some of the best sex you’ve experienced, and believe him when he says he has tried to do more. He has tried to make time where the two of you could be alone, but it always gets fucked up. Someone is always there.

“You think we haven’t had sex?” Jaemin asks, leaning back and using his arms to hold his weight. He feels the sun against his face and squints over at Jeno. “Seriously?” He adds with a quirk of his brow. 

“Come on, you swear you guys have a sex life, but I literally just don’t see it.” Jeno laughs, copying Jaemin’s stance and feeling the sun against his own skin. 

         In Jeno’s defense, Jaemin holds such softness with you that he genuinely can barely imagine his own roommate having sex at this point. He didn’t even grope you before you ran off to have fun in the lake. He never gropes or touches. If anything, the two of you must be the most normal in bed. Boring as all hell. 

“That’s the point. We don’t exactly need you to be aware of what we do.” Jaemin rolls his eyes.

 He does grow tired from time to time of his friends poking and prodding his sex life, mostly because he hates that even though he tries to keep it under wraps, the lack of sex they assume he has always becomes a point of conversation. Still, at times it’s just funny to Jaemin. It makes him feel like he’s truly giving you something special. Like no one knows or gets to know unless it’s you. Honestly, he can’t help being a private person.

“Jaemin, I’m going to say this in the most respectful way possible–” Jeno starts, eyes trailing to you shoving Renjun’s head under water twenty feet away. “But like, if I had a girlfriend like that you would definitely know what goes on.”

“Too bad you don’t have a girlfriend like that, huh?” Jaemin immediately fires back, eyes also trailing to you. 

 ~

       Jaemin has a plan. One that didn’t involve the obnoxious group of friends, family, parents, strangers, or anyone besides the two of you. He started saving up after a few months of your relationship starting, simply because having no privacy was already unbearable by that point. It has taken him up until now to save enough, and he smiles brightly when he inserts his card information and receives his confirmation email. 

         A small and dainty little house that fit within his budget right on the beach. The house comes with beautiful views, tons of amenities, and most of all, some fucking privacy. 

         His mind is running a mile a minute by the time he prints off the confirmation to give to you as a gift. Thoughts of loving you without eyes and ears surrounding the room. Thoughts of being in a home that the two of you can call your own for four days, almost sending him into a daydream of marrying you and starting a tiny family there. 

         Just you, him, the beach, and whatever flat surface inside of those walls he can prop and hold you against. His excitement is huge and by the time he makes it to your house, he feels like his heart is going to jump from his chest. 

“Jaemin!” Your mom calls out, fond of your boyfriend and the way he has never done a single disrespectful or inappropriate thing in front of her. 

        A little frustrated that she always greets him first, you peek from behind your mother at the door. Jaemin’s eyes go from your mother’s to yours, his smile changing slightly in a way that shows you he has a specific smile reserved for certain people. You smile back, gently stepping in front of your mother to grab his hand.

         You thought it would just be another night with your boyfriend. One where you both share dinner with your parents. Jaemin being his normal self with his praise towards your mother involving her homemade dinners and man-talk with your father about some sports games that you know Jaemin could give less of a shit about. Yeah, another normal night where you’d both head off to bed because your parents trust him, and they trust you. A normal night where you’d both have to avoid the bed because suddenly, a month ago, the hinges began to creak and now you have to do it on the floor. 

         It wasn’t a normal night though, because, by the time you closed your bedroom door, Jaemin just stares at you with a shit-eating grin that slowly fell into a smirk as he held out a piece of paper to you. Curious, you take a step forward and grab the sheet of paper, flipping it over so that you can read it.

Confirmation # XXXXXXXX Congratulations, you’ve successfully booked “Summer Dreams Honeymoon Getaway” for May 31st to June 3rd!  

         You read the paper, look at him, then back at the paper. “Wait–” You say, lips upturning. 

         Jaemin is still smiling, looking to the ground for a moment a bit flustered because he knew you would be happy, and his favorite thing to do is make you happy. 

“Just the two of us?” You ask excitedly, pulling out your phone because suddenly you’ve forgotten what day it is, you realize that you leave with him two days from now. 

“Yeah,” Jaemin beams. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while actually–” 

         He doesn’t have to say much more before you’re throwing yourself at him, peppering his face with sweet and gentle kisses. You’re so overwhelmed by the act of kindness that you’d almost forgotten how miserable it is to not have any means of privacy with your boyfriend. You’d grown so used to it that you figured it would always have to be like this, and you were willing to accept it if it meant keeping him by your side. 

         He’s shown his need for you, his need for privacy with you, his need to be free and spend time with you untainted by someone else’s energy, and truly, what a stupidly perfect boyfriend.

“Should we go shopping tomorrow?” Jaemin asks, pulling back from your assault of kisses on his face, hands holding you close by the waist. 

         All you do is nod, though you both have swimsuits and anything you could possibly need for this trip. A shopping trip wouldn’t hurt.

 ~

         He’s taking you all over town. Grabbing this, and that, and some other things just in case. By the time the two of you stop for lunch, he seems to have grown a bit bashful. 

“So–” He says timidly, watching you take a sip of your drink. “There’s another place I want to go but I don’t want it to make things weird.”

“Make things weird?” You ask immediately.

         Jaemin has held back a lot. Taking you to a store like this would be a first for him for any girlfriend. Being in a public place, openly purchasing such things makes him feel a little too seen, but he wants to do it. Plus, due to his holding back, he’s almost starting to feel like he doesn’t care. He’s already been seen openly checking you out, he’s struggled with the schedules preventing him from touching you. The fact that you have some sort of idea of what he’s really like in bed, and now the two of you finally get to experience it? Honestly, his cock is driving this specific decision. He’s not ashamed. 

“Yeah, um–” He looks down at his food and twists his fork around a bit before whispering something to you.

“Oh, that’s all?” You look at him, heat flowing across your cheeks.

         You’re into it. He’s told you before that he wanted to see you in such things and that he wanted to do more. Of course, you believed him, but it’s not like he’s gotten the chance to actually do it. Even this store he’s planning to take you to, it’s not anything to be shy about. You were thinking he was about to take you to a full-on sex shop, which you’d still be into going. 

         You always wanted more too though and you’ve silently asked for more. He gave you what he could without being caught in the act, and now you realize that this trip will ruin you by the time you return home. Whatever you do there, you won't be able to do at home and that pisses you off to no end. 

         Nodding to him, he smiles. 

“Knew you’d wanna go.” He glows when he says it, feeling like you’re truly the perfect match for him

 ~

          The dainty white lace sat against your skin comfortably as you stared at the set in the mirror. This was what he liked the most in the store, despite the hundreds of other colors, fabrics, and sets you had considered. Part of you doesn’t want to take it off and you’re feeling a little on top of the world looking the way you do right now. You wish Jaemin hadn’t gone home, but to be fair the two of you leave together tomorrow and he needed to pack as well. He was going to be back at your front door in less than 12 hours to start the trip over to the beach house, and you didn’t intend to take this lace lingerie set off until Jaemin did it himself. 

         His eyes made promises all throughout that shopping date and you picked up on it, you focused on his eyes and the way you could tell he was envisioning what you’d look like in each of the lingerie sets the two of you considered. You saw those same eyes light up at the most basic set, but you didn’t question it. You’re glad you didn’t because now that it’s against your skin you realize how perfect it truly is. 

         You have so many cute matching pairs of bras and panties, but nothing this soft and delicate, nothing this expensive. You’re not taking it off until Jaemin does it himself, you’re really not.

 ~

          Your boyfriend looked groggy as you opened the front door with your bags in your hands, and of course, your mother offered him something to eat before heading out. He obliged, causing you to lay your bags down and follow them into the kitchen. In all fairness, he probably agreed so she didn’t suspect that he’s definitely taking you away for several days to fuck the senses out of you. 

         You, on the other hand, were wide awake, lace sitting hidden under your clothes and skin feeling as if it is in a state of constant prickling. You want to leave now. You want to be alone with him now. Your mood gets to you quickly by the time your mother is wandering around the kitchen gathering things to make. Staring at Jaemin’s hands, looking at his sleepy face– you would let him throw you on the table right now if it weren’t for the fact that your mother would be incredibly disrespected by it. Time to flaunt, you guess, to at least wake him up a little. 

         Does he know you’re wearing the set? Is that why his groggy and sleepy eyes widened when you purposely dropped that hand towel and picked it back up, making sure he can see up your skirt while your mother was across the room looking for the perfect tea to serve for breakfast? 

         Surely he saw because now he’s wide awake and frantically looking between you and your mother, internally fighting himself to keep that energy of being the soft puppy dog boyfriend. His energy stays the same on the outside, but you see the flash in his eyes, looking you up and down and only just now processing that once breakfast is over with, he has you all to himself. He doesn’t have to hope you bend over for him again behind prying eyes, he could easily just slip a hand up your skirt and feel the pretty lace there as soon as he gets you out of the door.

         God, you’re getting to him. His composure continuously falters and makes him look like the virgin everyone assumes he must be. All he can think about is that in just a few hours the two of you won’t be locked in a space with parents or friends. You’ll be able to fill the silence of a room with whatever sounds you want– and he knows exactly what sounds he wants to hear from you.

         By the time your mother sets down a simple, last-minute breakfast in front of the two of you, Jaemin feels stupidly hard in his casual attire at the anticipation of this trip. He’s shifting his legs under the table, willing his thoughts to leave the expanse of skin under your skirt, he’s forcing himself to talk sweetly to your mother as if he doesn’t want to shove his entire length down your throat right here, right now. 

         His thoughts won't calm, nor does his cock, and the breakfast tastes incredibly bland because he’s eating it so quickly that he literally tastes nothing, all so he can hop up and run out the door with your bags without so much as a “see ya later!” to your mother. 

“Oh, I want to use my favorite cup, actually.” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, making the breakfast last as long as you can because you can see him struggle beside you. He looks at you with pleading eyes, tearing a piece of the toast with his teeth as he brings his attention back to your body, fully intending to suffer by watching you tease him anyway.

         That you do, walking across the kitchen and lifting up on your tip-toes, leaning forward just enough so that he can see the underside of your ass beneath the fabric. You smile to yourself when you hear his fork clatter to the plate.

“Jaemin, Are you okay?” Your mother asks, lifting herself up to grab a napkin to wipe the crumbs off of the table that had fallen from his fork.

“I’m fine, just need to use the bathroom–suddenly.” He tries to save himself, hands covering his obvious hard-on as he shuffles from his chair. Thankfully he’s never done anything suspicious before so your mother doesn’t think twice about it. She shrugs and then turns to you when he rushes out of the kitchen and to the bathroom.

“Your cup is in the dishwasher.” She says after realizing you’ve been over there for far too long looking for that cup. 

“Oh!” You cheerfully laugh back, knowing full well that your cup was in there all along. 

 ~

 “You did that on purpose.” Your boyfriend seethes out with tense lips, looking you up and down the moment the two of you get into the car and close the doors. “And–you’re already wearing it...” He then blanks out, losing composure yet again. Your mother is standing outside, attempting to wave the two of you off and he’s getting incredibly frustrated with the fact that he still doesn’t have you alone even behind locked doors. Windows, fuck windows. 

         He looks at you for a few more seconds and then turns in his seat to give a bright smile to your mother, waving at her before starting the car and trying to speed out of the driveway as respectfully as he can.

“You picked it out, of course, I’m wearing it–” You say with a light voice, the voice you use to tease him quietly in the darkness of your bedroom. “I thought you wanted me to flaunt it.”

“Of course I do!” He retorts, focusing on the road and wishing so much that this drive goes by quickly. “But right in front of your mother? You could have killed me in there.”

         You laugh again, running your fingers up your thighs and to the hem of the skirt that’s been the focus of his eyes all morning. “I think you liked it.”

         Jaemin looks at you for a split second and shakes his head in defeat. “Didn't think you were the type to get off on humiliating me.” He admits with a laugh, his cock still twitching uncomfortably in his pants. 

“To be fair, I think there’s gonna be a lot of things to discover for the next few days.” You finally calm yourself of the teasing, because it’s not like you intended to humiliate him– you just like seeing him go crazy over you. Is that so bad?

         Jaemin thinks for a moment, looking at the clock and already internally counting down the hours the two of you can walk into that little beach house and absolutely destroy it. “I guess you’re right.” He smiles over at you. “I can finally stop acting like I don’t want to rip your clothes off–”

         You interrupt him quickly. “I never said you couldn’t do that in the first place.” 

         Thinking to himself again, you’re not lying. In the beginning, you did try to get cozy with him in front of people, you did try to be loud, and you did tell him to do whatever he wants with you in the midst of blown-out pupils and messy sheets, but he can’t help that he doesn’t want the entire world to know what he likes, how he likes it, or how he does it. He doesn’t want your mother to dislike him and think he’s using you for sex. He doesn’t need Jeno to know what either of you sound like when you’re reaching climax. 

         It’s not even that you want people to know either. It just appears that Jaemin likes to keep his sex life under wraps, and that’s why privacy is an issue. Alone, in your room with him, you know the two of you could get away with a lot more, but he’s always anxious about being caught, about being seen as something that he hasn’t already shown them. You respect it, truly. But god, sometimes you just wish he would go all out because the man genuinely makes you feel like you could scream from a mountain top about how good his mouth feels on you.

“You know, it’s going to be hard to enjoy the beach–” Jaemin goes to change the subject, stopping at a red light and looking over at you. “Then again, I didn’t really intend for this trip to be about the beach anyway.”

         You knew what those words meant. It’s vacation enough just being alone with him if you’re being honest.

 ~

          As the time to arrive was drawing closer and closer, you could practically see Jaemin shift into the man you’d only seen snippets of in your bedroom. Only now it was fully him. He was still the same man, the same soft and gentle boyfriend you’d spent so many nights with, but this time he isn’t hiding or pretending. He isn’t brushing off any touch you throw his way either. He’s making dirty little comments towards you, telling you how good you look, reaching his hand over to tease the skin of your thighs, and even staring for a few seconds longer than usual at the expanse of your chest.

         By the time the two of you pull up to the place, neither of you feel the need to do the awkward walk through the house commenting on how nice it is. No. You’re crawling in your skin, legs burning from the warmth you’d felt from his hand for hours doing nothing more than soft rubs. Jaemin, on the other hand, appears to be just as occupied in his thoughts as you are.

         He doesn’t even pop the trunk to grab the packed bags because, at this moment, all he needs is you and that soft lingerie set that’s been hidden from him since that morning. The moment that door shuts, he’s looking at you and drinking in the silence. The realization hits him so fucking fast that finally– fucking finally–

“Do you hear that?” He asks, eyes finally scanning you fully as you stand there. He stops for a moment and stares at your chest, cursing the tank top that you have over it. If he looks hard enough, he can almost see the texture of the lace beneath it.

“Hear what?” You say, leaning against a counter and already feeling the need to rub your thighs together at his tone of voice. 

“Exactly.” He says, walking up to you and pinning you there in an instant. “We’re finally alone.” 

         You’re not even shocked by how fast he’s got his hands on you, feeling every inch of skin that is visible before trailing them to the hem of your skirt. “I’ve never gotten to touch you like this in a kitchen before–” He whispers, running his fingers up your legs and to the curve of your ass. 

         It sounds stupid, dirty talk involving the very mundane room you’re standing in, but he’s right. The freedom he must feel right now has to be as intense as it is for you. Thoughts of dishes clattering, glass all on the floor, and a hefty bill for damages after this trip is somehow incredibly hot to you. The pure hunger he has for you simply because no one is around seems pathetic, but it makes it that much more meaningful to you. He wants you so bad that he can’t even bring himself to find the bedroom in this place before getting his hands on you.

         You can feel him shiver against you at the mere shameless touching of your body in an open kitchen like this. The window blinds are open revealing a view of the sea, the sound of salt water rushing to the shore– still he only looks at you. The air in this house is cool and prickles against your skin, but still, all you feel is his fingers trailing all over your body.

         Only then, as he hovers in front of you, does he press himself against you. His hand is already reaching for your chest and kneading over the material of your tank top there. “I could have you right here, couldn’t I?” He drones on in a whisper against the skin of your ear, still in the thought of how he can do anything he wants wherever he wants with you right now. 

         You nod to him, head spinning from the mere ghostly touches of his fingers being blocked by your clothing. You can feel his breath against your neck now as his other arm snakes around your waist in a half embrace, his other hand still kneading the flesh of your breast. “I finally get to hear all of those pretty sounds that you had to swallow up at home–” 

         You shiver at the words, pressing your body towards him and turning your face so that you can try to catch his lips in a kiss. It can happen right here, right now. You genuinely do not give a fuck. 

         He obliges in your kiss, knowing that your silence at this moment is likely caused by all of the times he’s kept you quiet before. He can feel your need through the way you work your tongue into his mouth like you did so many times back home, and that’s how he knows he’s got the green light to continue. 

         And that he does, pulling away from you and watching you try to chase his lips. He watches and looks down your body once more. “As much as I want to fuck you against this counter–” He pauses with a sigh and looks around the openness of the house, ignoring his cock pressing against his pants and demanding to be let free. “I want you on top of me.”

         He steps back and drags you with him gently by the material of your tank top. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

         You’re a little in awe at how this is how he’s always wanted to act. He’s moved and positioned your body countless times in silence but never has he asked for what he wants out loud. You oblige, of course, you oblige.

         You follow him to a very soft and wide-seated couch, one that could probably act as a bed if he so wanted it to. Then he sits himself down, kicking his shoes off in a careless way before looking at you as you stand there. His eyes aren’t leaving your body, always zoning in directly on your chest and wondering if your nipples have perked up under all of that cloth. 

         He holds you in place by your waist for a moment and only pulls you into his lap when he leans himself back against the couch, instantly feeling you sit yourself down and against his bulge. He’s thankful you’re wearing that skirt, knowing full well that your lace-clad pussy is sitting right where it belongs, despite his own pants shielding his cock from feeling the intricate designs. 

“There we go–” He coos, pulling his hand up to run the back of his fingers against your cheek. “Now let’s get this off.” He tugs with his other hand at the hem of your tank top, smiling at you when you immediately lift it off. 

         He sits for a moment, bracing his hands on your now naked waist, staring in full view of how the bra perfectly cups your breasts. “I knew it would look good on you–but fuck.” Jaemin swallows hard and you can feel his cock twitch against you. A wave of warmth runs throughout your body at the way he gazes at you, it almost makes you want to hide your face at how different and new this feels with him. 

         Everything feels open, you feel more vulnerable despite having shared intimate moments like this with him before. It was always quiet, no words to be said. He never talked, and barely did he ever even sigh loud enough for you to hear his pleasure. Now he’s just—talking, talking, fucking talking, and you’re basking in it. 

“You like it?” You say, grabbing one of his hands and placing it against the lace bra. You watch intently at the way his fingers instantly make an attempt to drag against it, tracing the cups and only barely grazing the skin there. 

         That alone causes your nipples to perk harshly, prodding against the airy material and peeking only slightly at Jaemin, who is still staring with growing pupils. He doesn’t even respond to your question, because he feels as though his mouth could be doing much better things than having a conversation right now. 

         You yelp in surprise when he lunged forward, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples through the fabric. He wets it with his tongue and flicks against it with ease while his other hand gently prods its way beneath the cup of the other. You can feel the sensation in your gut when he does it, the warmth of his saliva soaking through and coating your nipple to the point all you can do is plant your fingers in his hair and throw your head back to bask in the feeling. 

         Feeling his hips gently rut up against you, you do your best to grind down a bit as he works his mouth over your chest, running his tongue between your breasts so that way he can assault the other nipple through the fabric. Neither of your breasts are left unattended because you shiver only for a moment at the cool air hitting the saliva-soaked nipple before his fingers are slipping their way in to continue rubbing against it, warming it right back up. 

         It almost feels like overstimulation of your nipples already, with the fabric becoming harsh as his tongue massages through it, but you don’t argue. He stops every few seconds to almost nuzzle his face against your bra before going back to work, back and forth, wetting the bra to the point that your nipples stay erect and needy for more of his touch. 

         After a few moments, he pulls back satisfied, running his hands down your sides and resting them on your thighs, just below the bottom of your skirt. 

“You look so shy right now.” He says in a low-toned voice. “You wore this for me, and teased me with it, only to act like this when I finally get to see it?” Jaemin adds with a bit of bite in his voice, pinching the outside of your thigh only slightly to get a little jump out of you. 

         You stare back at him, folding in on yourself in a weird kind of way. A way that you know you’re only doing it because he seems to be getting off on the act of shyness. He seems to like seeing you flustered, blinking at him under your lashes with a small smile. You are feeling a bit shy right now from the newness of it, but it doesn’t change the fact that you want him to absolutely make your knees buckle. 

         Smiling, you grind yourself a bit against him, still keeping yourself quiet so as to not taint the way his voice sounds echoing against the walls here. You see him react, his fingers digging slightly against your skin when you do it, feeling him hold you in place for a moment before flipping your skirt up and holding it there. 

“God.” He groans out as he stares down at the wet spot already formed against the white lace panties, so wet that there’s a visible spot on his own pants from you. The wetness matches what he did to your bra, and this is exactly why he picked this color for you. 

         Jaemin looks back up at you, and then back down before he loses his composure and starts to move your hips on his own accord, watching his bulge disappear from beneath you and reappear with a larger, darker, wet spot against his pants. He wants to feel the panties so badly against his cock already that he can barely force his eyes to look up at you. 

         You watch him lose control for a moment, smirking to yourself at how you’ve barely done a thing and he’s already acting like this. You love seeing your boyfriend like this, you love being able to spend this time alone with him. Seeing his focus on the lace, you wonder if you can do something you’ve never done before. Maybe you can make him moan, writhe, by doing it. 

         Slowly, you grind against him using his hands as a guide, watching the way his eye contact never leaves the heat of your pussy, and just as slowly you grind further and further back until your pussy is hovering between his legs and you’re slowly getting off of his lap and onto your knees in front of him.

         He watches, still staring at your pussy until it is no longer in his line of sight, eyes now shooting to your tits and the way they press against the saliva-soaked fabric. He looks to be mesmerized, and you’re loving it as you reach forward and unzip his pants.

         He jolts for a moment, grabbing your hand as if to tell you that it isn’t time to go down on him yet. He’s not done with what he wants to do yet, but you shake his fingers off of your wrist, quickly pushing his pants down his thighs and to his ankles. You sit for a moment, looking up at him with doe eyes. 

“I don’t know why I tried to stop you–” He says as he unbuttons his shirt to reveal his chest. He now realizes how truly good you look between his legs like this, on your knees and needy. “You look so fucking good right there.” 

         Jaemin stares down at you, ignoring the breeze against his cock, and waits in anticipation for whatever it is you’re planning to do. When you press your tits up and against his cock though, dragging the lace and sending harsh vibrations through his entire body, he nearly breaks. 

“Stick it between them–” He groans out, watching the way you move for him. 

         When you go to put your arms behind your back to undo the bra though, he sits up quickly to grab them. “No, leave it on.” He says, leaning back again and allowing you to slip his cock under the bra and between your tits. 

         He sighs heavily at the feeling of the band holding his cock in place between your mounds and he doesn’t hesitate to reach forward and press them together so he can see the head peeking out from the top. 

“God, I love you–” He groans out, slowly pressing his hips up to essentially fuck your tits.

        As he’s grabbing at you, he begins to knead your flesh in his hands, fingers running over the laced nipples to get a shiver out of you. Only then does he grab them harshly, pressing them so tightly together that when he fucks up, he feels a shiver run straight to his cock at the very image of him finally getting it between your tits.

        You can feel the bruising thrusts against your skin, but the look on his face is too good to ignore. You can to see more of him like this, you want to feel more of him like this, so, you place your hands against his and press them even harder against your tits to offer an impossible amount of friction against his frantic cock. 

        He moans out at that and it’s your first time every hearing his sounds of pleasure above a sigh or a whisper. It swallows your mind whole, hearing the echo against the walls and the pure ecstasy of it. You can feel your panties soak even more as you begin to rub your thighs together. 

        Jaemin is in his own little world, feeling the lace band hug the base of his cock so tightly that he feels like he’s being choked. The pressure is so fucking good when he’s being rubbed raw like this, he feels sensitive and absolutely overtaken by the way he fits so perfectly between your tits. 

        He continues to stare at the way the head of his cock disappears between the flesh of your tits and gets so turned on by it that only now does he realize how badly he wants to see how perky your nipples have become. From beneath your own hands, he doesn’t hesitate to grip the trim of your bra and let your breasts bounce free. 

        The friction he had was minimized only slightly, but his lust bubbles up the moment he sees your nipples. Immediately he pulls his hands back and put them over your own now. 

“Hold them together for me, pretty girl.” He soothes, moving his own fingers to flick and twist at your nipples as his thrusts become a bit more erratic. 

        You see him seethe out, chewing against his bottom lip as he focuses solely fucking and abusing your chest. You find yourself loving it though, pressing them together and allowing yourself to feel the sensations of his fingers sending constant spikes of pain and pleasure throughout your body. You’re so wet by this point you can barely stand it, feeling the wetness already on your thighs and allowing them to glide together easy when you start rubbing them together at a constant pace.

Only when Jaemin feels like he’s losing control does he pull his hands back and watch the way you’re face is contorted into that of discomfort. You look so pretty like this to him, you must be feeling neglected. 

        He swats your hands away from your tits to allow his cock to fall free of them aside from the band of your bra. His precum shines against the inner sides of your mounds and across your chest and that alone should be enough to tell him how good you’d look covered in it. God, there’s so much he wants to do. So much he wants to say. His face feels hot, his cock is twitching, and you are literally just too fucking perfect. 

“I love you too.” You whisper, lifting up a bit to let his cock spring free of your bra, but then you’re immediately back down, pressing your lips to his shaft and looking up at him. “Did you like that?” You giggle out.

        Your voice sends him into overdrive when he nods to you with a smile. There’s so much he wants to do but now his thoughts are riddled with the idea of finally hearing you gag around him. He had to be gentle at home, fucking into your mouth in a slow way so that when he feels your throat constrict, he can pull back...but now–

“Are you going to use your pretty little mouth to make me feel good?” He asks, already pressing the swollen head against your lips. “Can you take more of it now?” He asks again, pressing a bit harder.

         You don’t even answer, opening your mouth and tasting the pre-cum against your tongue as you make haste to swallow him up. 

         Jaemin shoots his hands to your hand, pressing your head down more and more because he wants to feel you gag this time. He wants to see how pretty your eyes would look in a glassy haze of tears. He wants to see the mess of saliva and precum bubbling from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to breathe around him. Only– you don’t stop him? You take it with ease up until his entire cock is bottomed out and your nose is pressing against his pelvis.

“Shit–” He mutters out, looking at you in awe. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do this?” he adds, pressing his hips up to see if he could manage to get his cock even further down your throat. He can see your eyes smile, though they’re already beginning to water up a bit. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jaemin says, skewing your head up and watching the way your mouth stretches around him. “So good to me.” 

         He sees your eyes light up at that before they fall closed, and he watches the way your nose flares out to try and take in a breath. The fact that you’re not pulling off is one thing, but the fact that you’re allowing him to constrict your airflow for his own pleasure is another, very amazing thing to him. He loves that you’re taking it so well, and loves even more how you grip his thighs when he doesnt even pull out, and instead grinds himself against your throat just to feel it constrict more around him.

         You’re humming against him with each gag, doing your best to stay put as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. Everything feels hot, the tears in your eyes, the saliva pooling in your mouth, Jaemin’s pre-cum continuously dripping into your throat. You really do your best, but breathing through your nose is becoming more difficult by this point, and when he holds your head in place by your hair, skewing his head to watch his cock slowly drag out of your mouth, you can finally moan out a breath. 

“Fuck,” His sigh is long and drawn out. “Fuck.” He says it again, pulling all the way out of your mouth and watching the way you suck in a breath despite the saliva dripping from your lips. You stay in place though, flicking your eyes up to him with a nod before he’s pressing back in to do it all over again.

         Never would he have believed you’d cockwarm him with your mouth, but here you are, and here he is. He can’t stop himself. He’s barely even fucking your face at this point, he’s more so just burying his cock into you in a way that will cause your throat to pulse around him as your body panics for a breath.

“Shh-” He soothes, pulling one hand from your hair and wiping a tear that begins to run down your cheek. “Look how good you’re making me feel.” He says back, gently rutting his hips into your throat, leaving no space at all for air. “You’re doing so fucking well.” He adds with a grunt, chewing at his bottom lip as he stares in awe at the way you just take it. 

         You try to nod, but it causes an intense gag to reach your throat and you can’t help but cough. You don’t pull off of him though and instead, you choke around him, determined to keep him in place so that he can continue his praise.

“Aw, baby girl,” Jaemin soothes again, pulling slightly out of your mouth so that you can suck in another breath and calm the choke. “You can’t breathe, can you?” 

         You shake your head and release your grip from his thigh, solely because your clit is on fire for pressure and all you can think to do is give Jaemin what he needs along with yourself. He watches this motion, eyes following your hand all the way down until it disappears behind the edge of the couch. Then he watches the way your arm flexes as you touch yourself. 

         Jaemin then shoves your head back down and bottoms his cock out in one go, lost in the thought of how good you must be making yourself feel while barely being able to breathe. He’s in awe and absolutely fucking in love with you in this moment to the point that he has no issue with guiding your mouth on him. A proper blowjob he could say, deepthroat and all.

        You choke around him at the quick pace he moves your head, but every half second your fingers are stimulating your clit in such a perfect way that it’s almost hard not to cum with all of the stimulation. You’re still wearing the incredibly soaked lace that for a moment you forgot you were wearing them at all, they’re clinging to your skin and allowing your fingers to glide smoothly across the sticky wet spilling out of you. 

        Your boyfriend continues his assault on your throat, eyes focusing between your tits pressing against the couch to the way your arm speeds up to do something he can’t see. It grows to be too much for him, so he pulls you off of him by your hair and looks down at you with blown-out pupils. He looks incredibly lost like this and also sexier than he’s ever been. 

“If we keep doing this, I won't last.” He admits as he swats your hand away and grabs your arm. “Come back and sit on it, I know you need more right now.” He tries to keep his composure when you stand up to reveal just how wet you’d gotten in the midst of suffocating on his cock. 

“Take that off first–” He says, looking away from you for a moment just to try to keep himself from cumming completely untouched during this short moment. 

         You obey, slipping your skirt off and already bracing yourself to get back onto his lap. He helps you, allowing you to balance yourself on him as you straddle and press your pussy against his cock. 

“You did so good,” He praises you with a kiss when you sit down on him, and he does moan into it when he feels the lace slide against him. “Was it too much?” He asks, pulling back so that he can search your face for any amount of discomfort.

“I could have taken more.” You admit, continuing to glide your hips against him. “You looked even better than I thought when you were doing that to me.” You say in a half-gasp, feeling your clit strive for the attention. 

“Yeah?” He says, quirking a brow and watching the way you must not even notice how you’re getting yourself off on top of him. 

“Yeah.” You say, trailing off as your thoughts focus on the stimulation between your legs. You roll your eyes back for a moment, realizing that any amount of pressure against you could probably have you screaming his name and clawing against his skin for more.

         Jaemin watches you do this for a while. His cock is still impossibly hard and sensitive as you ride against it with ease, the lace he had picked out doing its job perfectly in not getting in the way. He can tell you’re getting into it more and more when you brace your hands on his shoulders and really start to go at it. 

        His eyes watch the way your body moves on top of his, the writhing and pure want showing with each jerk of your hips towards his middle. He gently caresses your face, knowing that your body reacts this way only for him, and only for what he does to you. “My baby, so needy isn’t she?” He murmurs when he pulls you down so he can whisper against your ear. “Just ask, I’ll give you anything you want.”

         You always loved that he did this. Jaemin always has control, but he doesn’t take advantage of it. He does give you everything you could imagine. You love the way he touches every inch of your body, leaving no expanse of skin left without his lips or fingers against it. You don’t even have to ask at this point as your hips swivel and yearn for more, more, more. After having spent so many nights where the two of you had to be quiet, Jaemin knows exactly what you want. 

“Hm?” He hums with a smile in his voice, tilting his head to get a good look at your lust-filled eyes. “We are finally all alone, and you’re still being so quiet.” 

        You look at him, clenching his arm and snapping your hips against his cock harshly. He’s right. There’s no parent in the other room, no friends listening in. 

“I’ve always wanted to hear the way you’d sound for me–” He moves his hand down, skewing your panties to the side. “without holding back, talk to me baby.” He adds with a breath, slipping his cock against your pussy and allowing the sticky fabric to hold him there “Come on, don’t be shy.”

         This only causes you to moan out, gliding your bare pussy over his cock and feeling it in all of its fullness. You look down, watching the way his swollen tip hits against your clit before stretching out the lace fabric of the panties, and then you look at him. You want to ask him to fuck you now, but–

         He is also staring, clearly, he’s lost himself again as he watches the way his precum seeps through the already wet fabric each time you glide back. He’s amazed by the feeling of your folds hugging his cock, and then by the panties holding him in place and offering a soft and delicate type of pressure to his tip.

         He moans as he lunges forward, pulling you down against him in a tight embrace. You’d think it was a sweet gesture rather than a horny one if it weren't for the fact that you can feel his cock fuck against you and into the panties. 

         Your boyfriend is, quite literally, fucking your panties with you in them and you couldn’t be bothered to protest because it’s incredibly hot seeing him lose himself like this.

         You lay there in his arms, feeling his cock beat against your clit relentlessly just to feel the soft fabric of your panties stimulate him. You’d never imagine this happening and for some reason, you’re incredibly into it probably because you’ve been on the verge of an orgasm for a solid four minutes. 

         Helping him out, you lift yourself back up and smile at how his arms loosen and immediately go to your waist. His eyes open and they’re straight back to watching the way he’s stretching the panties out.

         He stares harder when sees you pull the panties from your heat and practically wrap the fabric around the head of his cock. All he can do is fuck upwards, feeling the base of his cock being held directly against your pussy from the panties holding him there. The friction is so little, but seeing the lace practically cut the circulation off of his cock is driving him mad. He thrusts upwards again, groaning at the pain of it but he still doesn’t stop. There was already so little space between you and your panties, given the perfect fit, but he can feel them stretching out more and more with each of his thrusts. He is fucking into nothing, and solely getting off to the feeling of the thin, thong-like fabric choking his cock out. 

         His hands begin to grip your waist so hard that it feels bruising, and sure, you know he was implying he would fuck you earlier but it was too good to see him get lost in this. You can see his frustration each time he thrusts up, but then his eyes go back to the image of his cock wrapped up against your pussy and he loses it again, thrusting even more frantically. 

         You can feel your panties stretch out, rubbing the creases of your thighs harshly with each snap of his hips, but you hold out and finally begin to move on your own accord to allow your clit the pressure that you had felt moments before. 

         Neither of you have any sort of rhythm because you’re fucking against him, and he’s just desperately trying to chase a high that’s barely there. His frustration grows and grows until he shoots a hand forward and unwraps his cock. The loosened fabric is no longer of use to him when he immediately holds himself in place and makes direct eye contact with you.

“Ask for it.” He says with eyes so blown out and his voice so raspy that you can barely recognize him. 

         You were thrown off by the sudden change of pace, but you want nothing more than to have him thrust that hard inside of you. You want nothing more than to finally feel his cock pounding so deeply inside of you that you’re babbling like an idiot and finally able to scream out for him. 

“Tell me you want it as bad as I do,” He says again, pressing the tip slightly against you. “I want to hear you talk this time, please baby girl– just talk for me…”

         He’s almost begging you to beg for him.

“Please, Jaem, fuck m-” Before you can even finish speaking, your breath is caught in your throat as he practically rams into you with one deep, harsh thrust. 

         You go to try and speak again but he’s got his hands on your waist and he’s already lifting up to get his nipple in your mouth. The stimulation all over your body is too much for you to pin-point a single thought to voice out for him. He’s totally lost in it anyway, feeling your pussy clench around him at the sudden intrusion. His hips won't stop, they just move faster and faster as his tongue chases your nipple and the way it bounces away from his lips with each thrust. 

         All you can do is yelp, each moan coming out when you bounce against his thighs. You grip onto his opened shirt, pulling and tugging to keep some sort of grasp on reality but he’s really just fucking gone and willing for you to join him. Jaemin is muttering words against your nipple as he bites and sucks, fingers harshly holding your waist and digging into the flesh there. 

“You’re so fucking hot–” He mutters at one point, moving his mouth to your other nipple. “You sound so pretty when you ask for me to fuck you–” He mutters again. “I knew you’d like it like this.” He continues to talk against your skin, bruising your nipples. “You feel so good clenched around me, so tight.” 

         You’re seeing a flurry of white as he talks effortlessly despite his merciless thrusts into you. You bask in his voice and the constant praise while you make an attempt to bounce yourself now, meeting his thrusts halfway. Jaemin stutters his praise and moans out instead, relaxing his hips so he can watch your pussy suck him in each time you bounce.

“Yeah, like that–” He groans, rolling his eyes back for a moment out of pure pleasure. “Fuck yourself on me.”

         You can tell he’s not done talking and you don’t mind it. It keeps you from having to think of something to say in a moment where your brain is quite literally falling apart. 

“Tell me you love it,” He asks for praise of his own now, stiffening his abdomen and feeling the way your pussy jerks him off. 

“You know I love it.” You express in a quick gasp, leaning down against his ear so that he can hear the full volume of your voice. “I’m so close,” You groan out, sitting yourself down and burying him inside of you one last time before swirling your hips and rubbing your clit against his pelvic bone. 

“You gonna cum on me like this?” He looks at you and then back down to see your swollen clit bumping against him. “Just like that?” There’s a smile in his voice when he starts to fuck up again, hitting your clit harshly in the process, “Want me to show you how crazy you make me?” 

         You’re already losing it, especially when you feel him wrap his arms around you and push you over to the side, he is smooth with it, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you when your back hits the cushions. Now that he’s on top of you, there’s absolutely no control to be had on your end. 

         He hooks one of your legs and wraps it around his waist and he begins to drive his cock in and out of you with a messy and wet sound. His fingers go straight to your clit, rubbing harsh shapes and circles against it.

         He watches the way your tits stay half restricted from the bra he completely forgot to take off of you, your bruised nipples peeking from the fabric. He thinks they look good like this anyway, and to be fair he liked the way the lingerie set laid ruined against your skin.

Jaemin continues rubbing and flicking your clit as he pounds into you at a different angle and he can practically see the lights go off behind your eyes. This only drives him to go harder, faster, until you’re finally moaning loud enough that he can never forget it.

“Still close?” He asks out of breath, trying to hold back his own orgasm. 

         You try to answer, you really do, but it hits you so fucking fast that all you can do is tense your leg around him and hold him in place. You’re clenching around his cock so tightly, cumming so incredibly hard that you do release a very loud moan. 

         His fingers are still rubbing your sensitive clit and he can feel your orgasm hit you around his cock. All it took was that moan, one that even he wasn’t expecting to be so loud.

It wasn’t even supposed to be of his name, but what you were trying to say is “Jaem, I’m gonna cum.”, instead, what you moaned out was his name. Over and over. You couldn’t help it, your brain wasn’t working and your body felt tight, but god did he love it.

         He basked in it, his own orgasm rushing through him in waves, spilling into you continuously. Your walls were still clenching around him, causing his cock to just keep fucking going. 

         A mess of breathy words and moans follow, most of which were Jaemin trying to explain how much he loves you, how good you are to him, how hot you sound, and of how much more he’s going to do to you later.

          Your words still only consisted of his name, all the way up until you opened your eyes to see him huffing and falling forward onto you. The sweat drips against your chest as he lays there, and your body twitches as it comes down from your high.

         Both of you suddenly feel uncomfortably wet and sticky, and only now does he lift his head to look at you. “You can be louder, you know.” He laughs, finally pulling himself out of you and staring down at his work. The panties are embarrassingly stretched and he can see the swollen marks they had left against your skin from the pushing and pulling. Still, his mind is in the gutter and all he can do is reach down to pull them off of your tired legs to keep for later.

“I’ll have to get some more of these.” He comments to himself, gently leaning to grab at your hands. “We should find the bathroom in this place.”

“And maybe we should nap?” You add in a tired and fucked out voice. 

 ~

 The nap never happened, infact, before the two of you even got into the shower he was on his knees, watching his cum seep out of you and scooping it up with his fingers. For some reason, you weren’t taken aback when he lifted them to your lips and let you gently clean his fingers of the filth. 

He was already hard and ready to go by the time you’d finished, and all he could think about was how wet those stretched-out panties must still be. He allowed you to slip into the shower though because he could see your sleepy eyes grow heavier. He opts to throw on his pants and run out to the car to grab the neglected packed bags in order to give you your toothbrush, considering he just fed you a mixture of his and your own cum.

By the time he gets back inside, he’s all pumped up and ready to join you in the shower, mostly to see how nice your skin would look with soap running down your body. Naturally, his brain is already replaced with his cock again, so he’s quick to snatch the panties up off of the couch and rush to the bathroom with your toothbrush. 

You jolt for some reason at the door opening. The water had already soothed the welts against your ass and thighs from the lace, but you become rigid at the image of your boyfriend standing there and shimmying his pants down his legs. His cock is hard again. All you can do is shake your head because you need at least an hour's nap before going for another round after that. 

         He doesn’t falter, thankful that you’ll at least let him stay in the bathroom with you to enjoy the show. Only after he sucks your panties into his mouth and abuses his own neglected cock to another orgasm does he pull himself up on weak legs and enter the shower with you.

        Jaemin thinks you may be his favorite person in the world in the way you manage to gag on your toothbrush, but never that embarrassingly around him. He definitely loves you. 

 ~

#nct-writers #neohub #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin fic #na jaemin fic #nct dream fic #nct smut #nct fic #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin

[adamantiumspy]

of fractures and fabrications

part 2

pairing: bones x reader

summary: you are captain pike’s daughter and have become inseparable from the enterprise crew, especially jim kirk and leonard mccoy... so when your terrible ex makes a reappearance right when you’re discovering your deeper feelings for bones, only chaos and heartache could ensue

word count: 5380

warnings: swearing, drinking

notes: my first time posting a fic, hope y’all like it! this took me a full month longer to write than I anticipated, and I may be writing this whole fic from bones’ perspective as well...

You never get as much rest during shore leave as your crewmates. While they’re off, free to do whatever they wish with their time, you have to spend a few hours each day back on the docked Enterprise tending to the plant life in the ship’s greenhouses. Jim always insists that you, as a senior science officer, have the authority to pawn off the task to one of your subordinates, but you take pride in doing the work yourself. And lately... well... lately you’re glad for the time alone. For the time away from a certain doctor.

You met Jim and Bones at the Academy, when they were cadets and you were an instructor’s assistant while your ship was on leave. The three of you became thick as thieves in the blink of an eye. Even though your friend group has grown since then, the bond you three share is special. So, a couple months back, when you realized that your feelings for one of your best friends had deepened into something... else... you panicked.

The last time you opened yourself up to feelings was during your own time at the Academy, when you dated a man for four years only to find out he was using you for your connection to your father to get ahead in his career and was fucking your roommate behind your back the whole time. While you know that Bones would never do something like that, the experience has left you scared to be vulnerable again. And Bones is one of your best friends. You aren’t about to ruin your friendship by putting him in the awkward position of having to turn you down.

So you’ve taken to spending more time dedicating yourself to your duties. Here, among the plants, no one will know if you while away the hours daydreaming about the way Bones’ hands would feel cupping your face, how solid his chest would feel against yours, how soft his lips would be...

You snap out of today’s daydreams at the sound of the doors to the greenhouses whooshing open. You look up to see Uhura and Sulu stroll in, the latter looking especially triumphant.

“See? I told you she’d be here,” Sulu says.

You busy yourself with checking each plant’s water level, the task you were doing before your mind wandered. “Of course I’m here. Plants don’t stop living just because everyone else is on leave.”

“C’mon Pike, you can try to deceive the others but you can’t lie to us. We know why you’re really here,” Uhura says.

You mentally curse yourself, regretting a night not too long ago when you, Sulu, and Uhura had gotten drunk and the truth of your feelings for Bones came spilling out of you before you could stop yourself. Since then, they refused to leave you in peace.

“You know, he’s still one of your best friends,” Uhura continues. “He’ll be more suspicious the more you push him away.”

“I’m not pushing him away,” you say quickly, eyes snapping up from the Capellan flower you’re inspecting.

“So then you won’t object to coming out with everyone tonight?” Sulu asks. “Kirk found a new nightclub he thinks we’ll all love and he wants us all to go.”

You swallow.

“I bet if McCoy sees you in something hot it will force him to be much more obvious about the feelings he definitely has for you,” Uhura insists.

“Enough, guys.” You sigh. “I know you want to be helpful, but filling me with false hope isn’t going to work. How many times do I have to say that before you understand?”

Sulu and Uhura share a look, shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Fine,” Sulu says. “Then come out for the rest of us. We care about you and want us all to have some fun.”

You look between Sulu and Uhura, both their eyes wide with hope. You sigh, a smile on the edge of your lips.

“Okay. For you guys.”

Sulu and Uhura cheer.

“Now get out of my greenhouse,” you order, turning back to the plants. “I’ve still got work to do.”

“No you don’t.” Sulu slides up to you, taking the tricorder out of your hands. “I’ll finish up for you. You go with Uhura to get ready for tonight.”

Before you can protest, Uhura grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the greenhouses, off the ship, and across the station to your accommodations. Once you’re back in your assigned room, Uhura dives into your closet. All you can do is sit on the edge of your bed as articles of clothing fly all around you. At one point you have to duck so as not to be hit by one of your hangers. The hurricane of fabric comes to a halt as Uhura unearths a black, figure-hugging, high neck, sleeveless dress with a slit on the side that goes dangerously high.

“No,” you say instantly.

Uhura smiles wickedly. “Yes.”

“No, Nyota–” you start, but Uhura just tosses the dress at you, shoving the rejected garments back into your closet.

“You’ve got two hours to get ready. Meet me in the lobby and we’ll walk over to the club together. If you come down wearing anything but that dress, I am making you turn around and come right back up here to change,” Uhura orders, slipping out of your room before you can voice another protest.

You lay the dress out on your bed. You haven’t worn something like this in a long time, but your friend can be exceedingly stubborn so you decide to let her get her wish.

After a quick shower, you slip on the dress. You put on minimal makeup and decide to leave your hair down, a welcome change from the braided updo you usually do for work. A glance at the clock tells you it’s about time to meet Uhura, so you put on a pair of low heels that match your dress and head out the door.

You meet up with Uhura in the building lobby. She whistles when she sees you.

“That dress looked good on the hanger, but you do it true justice.”

You giggle. “Never stop flirting with me, Nyota. And you don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, I know.” Uhura strikes a pose, showing off her midnight blue dress that seems to shimmer in the low light. She then links arms with you, leaning in. “I’m serious about how good this dress looks on you, but it would look even better on McCoy’s floor.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. “Nyota!”

“What? If he’s not gonna start making moves, I’ve gotta start making moves for him.”

You shake your head. “Not funny. Besides, that is the cheesiest pickup line you could’ve chosen.”

The nightclub isn’t too far from the hotel Starfleet procured for the crew’s shore leave accommodations. By the time you and Uhura arrive, the rest of your friends are already a few drinks deep.

“There you two are! I was about to send a search party!” Jim calls, waving you both over to the bar. Your stomach does a flip the moment you see Bones. The easy smile he shoots you as you approach used to bring you platonic comfort, but now it sets every one of your nerves on fire.

“Woah, darlin’. You look incredible,” Bones says as you and Uhura join the group.

Uhura shoots you a knowing smile. “I know, doesn’t she?”

You ignore Uhura, turning to Bones. “Thank you. Uhura picked it out.”

Jim cuts in, handing you and Uhura a shot. “C’mon!” he exclaims. “Let’s dance!”

You barely have enough time to down the drink and place the glass back on the bar before Jim is dragging you onto the dancefloor. For the next hour you choose to forget all your worries, drinking and dancing with Jim, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov. You eventually manage to escape back to the bar, joining Bones and Spock. Bones chuckles as you collapse onto a stool.

“Worn out already?” he teases, flagging down the bartender and motioning for a glass of water.

“It’s been a while since I broke out my dancing shoes,” you reply. “But Jim just doesn’t stop. Where does he get the stamina?”

“I do not know,” Spock says.

Bones wordlessly passes you the water. You take it, nerves tingling at the brush of your fingers against his. The alcohol in your system has made you less cautious, so you beam at him.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip of water. “You’re always taking care of me.”

You think you see him blush, but you’re sure it’s just the flashing lights playing tricks. Jim and Scotty bound over to the group, gasping for breath.

“You abandoning us already, Pike?” Jim asks, ordering himself another drink.

“Just need a break, is all. Doctor’s orders,” you reply, shooting Bones a begging look.

“That’s right, Jim,” Bones jumps in. “Can’t have one of our best pass out on the dancefloor.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take her place,” Jim says matter-of-factly.

“Jim, I don’t–” Bones starts, but it’s too late. Jim grabs him by the arm and drags him onto the dancefloor. Within seconds they’re both swallowed up by the crowd.

“Ach, the poor doctor never stood a chance,” Scotty says, shaking his head before turning to you. “Another drink, lass?”

You nod, downing the rest of your water and following it with the shot Scotty hands you. You haven’t felt this warm, this loose in ages, so much so that when your ex-boyfriend and ex-roommate walk into the club it takes a moment for your brain to register it. The second your brain catches up with what your eyes are seeing, you tense up, blood running cold. You feel Spock stiffen beside you. You guess he saw them enter too. Besides Jim and Bones, Spock is the only person who knows about your ex. He was there, after all, studying at the Academy beside you during the whole love affair.

Scotty notices the sudden tension, following both your gazes to see your ex.

“Who’s that?” Scotty asks.

“No one,” you say quickly, turning your back to the door.

But it’s too late. You’re sure he spotted you and before long you hear a throat being cleared behind you. You turn around slowly to see your ex, your backstabbing roommate by his side.

“Long time, no see,” your ex says, his gaze sweeping over you. You say nothing, and neither does Spock, who is scowling at your ex. Scotty takes the scene in before addressing the newcomers.

“My name’s Montgomery Scott. My friends call me Scotty. You are?”

“Matthew Williams. This is my fiancée, Anja Antos.”

You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“It’s nice to meet you, Scotty,” Matthew continues.

“Hold on now, laddie. I said my friends call me Scotty. And it seems like my two friends here don’t care for either of you too much.”

“Oh, that’s just a little grudge they’re holding onto from our Academy days.” Matthew chuckles. “Nothing serious.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, finding your voice again.

Matthew turns his gaze to you. “Our ship’s on shore leave, and we’re out to celebrate. Anja just passed her bridge officer’s test. She’ll be joining me up on the bridge, where all the action is. You’re still working with plants, right Pike? I’m sure that can be exciting too.”

Before you can defend yourself, Spock says, “Dr. Pike is third in command of the Enterprise.”

You see Matthew’s jaw clench. And if looks could kill, the one Anja shoots you certainly would incinerate you on the spot.

“I see we have much more to catch up on than we thought,” Anja says.

“Why don’t you join us?” Matthew asks. “We can grab some drinks and find an empty booth somewhere to continue chatting.”

You can’t think of anything you want to do less than spend more time with Matthew and Anja, but, as if possessed, you find yourself accepting Matthew’s offer. Before you know it, the three of you are situated in a booth, the couple on one side, you on the other.

“So, you’re engaged,” you say, breaking the silence.

Anja and Matthew smile at each other.

“I finally got him to propose,” Anja says, leaning into Matthew. “It’s nice, knowing you have a partner who’s fully committed to you. I’m sure you’ll find someone who can make you feel that way too.”

“You assume I’m single?”

“You’re not?”

You take a sip of your drink. “That’s really none of your business.”

“So,” Matthew cuts in. “Second officer of the Enterprise. When’d you get the promotion?”

You think about your response for a moment. You’re usually not one for showing off your achievements, but you remember how badly Matthew wanted to command his own ship and how much he hurt you when you wouldn’t help him the way he wanted. So fuck him.

“A few years back,” you say. “When my father was still in command of the Enterprise. Starfleet’s offered me my own ship a couple times since then, but I keep turning them down.”

You see anger flash in Matthew’s eyes. You definitely got to him. Before you can say anything else, Jim and Bones plop into the seats beside you.

“There you are. We were wondering where you’d disappeared to.” Jim grins at you, before turning to the other half of the table. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jim Kirk, he’s Leonard McCoy. You are?”

“Matthew Williams and Anja Antos,” Matthew replies. Anja’s eyes rake over Jim and Bones.

“Matthew and Anja,” Jim repeats, turning back to you. “That Matthew and Anja?”

You give a slight nod and instantly both Jim and Bones throw their arms across the back of your seat, scooching closer to you, as if they coordinated it beforehand.

“We’ve heard lots about you, Matthew,” Bones says, barely concealing his distaste. “About you both.”

“And how do you two know Pike?” Anja asks

“We’re her boyfriends,” Jim says.

You choke on your drink.

“I mean, we’re also coworkers,” Jim continues. “I’m the captain of the Enterprise, McCoy’s the CMO, and Pike’s one of my science officers. But I feel like the whole relationship thing supersedes all that.”

Time seems to slow as your mind calculates both outcomes to this situation. Either you correct Jim’s lie and are forced to endure Anja and Matthew’s gloating as they hold your perpetual singleness over your head. Or... Or you lean into the lie, transform your strong friendships into a three-way relationship, and in the process allow yourself to let your guard down, wear your feelings for Bones on your sleeve without fear of reproach.

So you lean into the lie, and against Bones’ chest. Your hand reaches out towards Jim, taking his hand in yours, fingers curling together. Bones drapes his arm around your shoulders, holding you close. You look over to see Matthew and Anja taking the scene in.

“You’re both her boyfriends?” Matthew asks incredulously.

“Yep,” Bones replies.

“So how’d you all end up together?” Anya asks challengingly.

“Oh, honey, why don’t you tell them?” Jim turns to you.

“Yeah, you tell the story best,” Bones adds.

You realize they’re letting you set the stage as a way to make up for blind-siding you. You decide to start with the truth.

“We all met at the Academy. Jim and Leonard were cadets and I was an instructor’s assistant. We became fast friends.”

“And... what? You fell into a relationship?” Matthew asks.

“No, no, not all at once,” you say, gaining confidence. “It started with me and Jim. He was a charmer, swept me off my feet. Nobody knows how to make me laugh like Jim does. And it was just the two of us for a while, until one day I woke up and realized I’d fallen in love with Leonard.”

The words you’ve been too scared to even think just spill out of you. You look at Bones to see him smiling at you and you have to remind yourself that none of this is real. That his happiness at your declaration is a fabrication.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen it coming,” you continue, eyes still on Bones. “Loving Leonard is like breathing, always there but you’re never aware of it unless you concentrate hard enough.” You shoot Matthew and Anya a look. “I told Jim immediately because I’m not a cheater. To my surprise he said he was willing to share, providing Leonard felt the same.”

“And you two are happy with sharing?” Matthew asks.

“We’re happy with any bit of love we can get from her. She’s an incredible woman.” Jim grins.

“If it were up to us,” Bones says, “we’d be married already.”

Your stomach flips, mind racing with images of you and Bones as a married couple. Waking up next to him every morning, dropping by the medbay just because, him visiting you in the greenhouses because he misses you, sharing his last name...

You can feel his eyes on you, but you stop yourself from looking at him again, afraid that he’ll see beyond the performance, straight into your heart. Instead, you glance at Matthew and Anja. They are shooting each other knowing looks.

“Baby,” Anja says, addressing Matthew. “I need a new drink.”

“Of course,” Matthew replies, turning to the other half of the table. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

As Matthew and Anja move towards the bar, Jim whispers, “I don’t think they fully bought it.”

“Of course they didn’t buy it,” you whisper back. “They were never gonna buy me having two partners. They still think no one would associate themselves with me of their own free will.”

“They’ll buy it if you kiss one of us.”

You widen your eyes at Jim. “If I what?”

You are suddenly acutely aware of the fact you’re still leaning against Bones.

“If you’re worried about our willingness, darlin’, don’t be,” Bones says. “Jim and I got you into this mess and we’re gonna get you out of it. The last thing we want is for those two assholes to think they’ve one-upped you.”

You look between Jim and Bones, both of them watching and waiting for you to act. Once again, your analytical mind processes the two possible scenarios. If you pick Jim, then maybe you can get out of this with a little less heartbreak. But if you pick Bones... well... this could be your only chance to know what it would be like to kiss him.

You tilt your face up and press your lips against Bones’. You focus on how soft his lips feel against yours, committing the sensation to memory. You let yourself pretend, for a moment, that this is a real kiss. That the gentle hand Bones places against your cheek and the parting of his lips to deepen the kiss are because he wants you too, not because he’s helping you get back at your shitty ex and his shitty fiancée.

The kiss ends from a need for oxygen more than anything else. You both take in air, breaths mingling in the space between you, but you don’t pull away and neither does Bones. Your heart is beating so fast, so loud you bet the whole club can hear it over the thumping music.

“Did they see?” you finally murmur.

“Yeah, they saw,” Jim confirms.

You pull away from Bones, heart and head still spinning.

“I, uh... I think I need some air,” you say.

Jim rises to let you out of the booth, retaking his seat once you’re standing. Before you slip away, you lean down and press a kiss against Jim’s cheek.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“I’ve allegedly got two boyfriends, don’t I?” you reply.

You hear Jim chuckle behind you as you make your way out of the club. Once outside, you close your eyes and take in deep breaths of the filtered space station air, emptying your mind of everything that just happened because if you think about it for too long you know you’ll start to spiral. Inevitably, though, your thoughts start to creep back in.

You curse the part of you that loses all semblance of reason when Matthew and Anja are around. If you had a better handle on your emotions, you wouldn’t end up in situations like these, the pair of them digging more knives into your already fractured being. And you wouldn’t have to rely on Jim and Bones to bail you out.

Oh god. Bones.

Your fingers brush against your lips. You were so flustered after the kiss you forgot to take in his expression, couldn’t remember if he’d been happy or disappointed. Then you remind yourself it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that it was the most perfect kiss, soft and sweet just like all your daydreams. He had done it out of duty.

Maybe you should’ve kissed Jim instead.

“Pike?”

You jump, whirling around to see Chekov. His eyes widen.

“I am sorry! I did not mean to startle you. You looked upset as you were leaving and so I thought I would check if you are okay.”

You relax, smiling at him. “I will be. Thank you, Chekov. I just... got a little overwhelmed.”

Chekov nods, gesturing back at the club. “Are you going to come back in?”

You glance at the door to the club, feeling nauseous at the mere thought of facing Matthew and Anja again, or having to look Bones in the face with the ghost of his kiss still on your lips.

“Actually,” you say, “I think I’m going to head back. Will you tell the others I’ve gone?”

Chekov nods. “Do you want company on your walk back?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be alright.”

You watch as Chekov heads back into the club, then start walking towards your accommodations. However, your mind begins to wander and before you know it you’re back on the Enterprise, heading towards the greenhouses. You decide to keep going, figuring you can get a head start on tomorrow’s work while simultaneously distracting yourself from the feelings you don’t want to process right now.

You’re eleven plants in when you hear movement down the hall. You freeze. All crew members have the same access to the ship on shore leave as they do when on duty, but no one has a reason to be on the ship at this hour. There are no phasers in the greenhouses, so you grab a pair of shears and make your way out of the botanical labs, creeping down the hallway towards the sound.

You find yourself outside the medbay, sounds of activity coming from inside. You step forward, the doors whooshing open. Inside you find a man, right hand and face littered with cuts, many still oozing blood. Bruises also cover his hand and face, but the largest one is blooming under his left eye. The man is covered in so many wounds it takes you a full three seconds to recognize one of your best friends.

“Jesus Christ, Len!” you exclaim, rushing into the medbay, dropping the shears onto the closest surface.

“Easy, darlin’,” Bones says. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks!” You raise a hand and grab a hold of his face by the chin, turning his head this way and that to assess all the cuts and bruises. You then turn your attention to his bloody, bruised hand, noting how he’s not moving his fingers. That’s a bad sign.

“You wouldn’t’ve even seen me like this if I hadn’t run out of my damn first aid supplies earlier today. Keenser’s still oozing that highly acidic green goo and a coupla lieutenants got caught in the crossfire.” Bones huffs a laugh, before cocking his head towards your shears. “What were you gonna do if it wasn’t me? Snip the intruder to death?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You eye him for a moment. “Okay, go get on that bed over there.”

“What?”

“I’m playing doctor tonight. I’ll collect the supplies and meet you over there.”

“Darlin’, I can patch myself up just fine.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to. Now go on. Get,” you say, waving him towards the bed.

Bones gives a slight smile before heading towards the bed. You turn back to the supply cabinet, grabbing a metal tray and loading it with healing salve, bandages, rubbing alcohol, cotton squares, and a tricorder. You pause, giving yourself a moment to bottle up all the feelings you’d been ignoring. Bones needs you as a friend right now. You’re not gonna let your love for him get in the way of that.

You find Bones sitting on the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the side. You plop the tray down on the bed beside him.

“The other guy better look worse,” you say, falling into the usual banter you share as you grab the rubbing alcohol, dump a bit on a cotton square, and start to clean the wounds on his hand.

“Trust me, he does,” Bones says, grimacing as you move his hand.

You frown at his reaction, putting the cotton square down and grabbing the tricorder. “Oh yeah? Must’ve done something real bad if he made you do something like this. This isn’t really your style. Jim, on the other hand...” You finish scanning his hand, frown deepening at the readings. Before Bones can say anything, you say, “You’ve got a hairline fracture at your wrist. You’ll need a brace for that, right?”

Bones nods. “We’ve got some over in that cabinet.”

You walk over to the cabinet Bones identified, grabbing the appropriate brace then walking back to Bones.

“I’m gonna add some salve to your hand before I put on the brace to help with the cuts. I’ll try my best not to hurt you.”

Bones nods again. You apply the healing salve as quickly and carefully as possible. Bones gives the occasional wince and you find yourself absentmindedly rubbing your thumb along the side of his hand in comfort. When you catch yourself doing it, you stop abruptly, now acutely aware of the weight of his hand in yours. Before you can stop yourself, your mind wanders to a daydream, one where Bones’ hands are splayed across your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips on yours...

You come back to reality, mentally berating yourself as you grab some bandages to wrap Bones’ hand, hoping he didn’t notice your mind wander. If he did, he doesn’t say anything, watching you as you finish wrapping his hand and slip the brace on. Bones adjusts the straps on the brace to his satisfaction as you grab a fresh cotton square, add rubbing alcohol, and move to the cuts on his face. For easier access, you slot yourself between his legs and try to ignore the sudden fluttering in your stomach at the proximity.

“What were you thinking, Len? You’re a surgeon. You kinda need your hands to do your job.” You start to clean the wounds on his face.

“My hand will heal. Besides, if I hadn’t, Jim would’ve. Hell, Spock would’ve.” Bones winces as you pass the cotton square over the largest of the cuts.

“Spock? Our Spock?” you ask incredulously, dumping the squares on the tray and reaching for the healing salve. You apply small dabs of the salve on his facial wounds.

“Sulu and Scotty nearly had to hold him back,” Bones says.

“Jesus. Who was this guy and what did he do?”

“It was Matthew.”

You freeze, focusing your gaze to meet Bones’.

“What did... what did he say?” you ask quietly.

Bones keeps his eyes on you. “He was talkin’ shit, insulting you. Started by sayin’ you only got into the Academy because of your dad. It only escalated from there. The middle part’s a bit fuzzy, but I remember he said something about how the only reason you’re still on the Enterprise is because you’re fucking the captain and the CMO. Which is just...” Bones clenches his jaw in anger. “Maybe sleeping with Jim would come with perks, but me? You outrank me. Sleeping with me wouldn’t... Anyway, I wasn't gonna let his comments slide, and neither was Jim. Our made-up three-way relationship aside, you are one of the only people in all of Starfleet that’s worth a damn. You run circles around both of those assholes. We tried to tell them to fuck off, but they wouldn’t listen. Chekov was holding Jim back, Sulu and Scotty were blocking Spock, and I guess Uhura thought I’d be rational enough not to get violent. She thought wrong. It was all over before it really started, lots of broken glass and spilled drinks, but I got a few good punches in.”

You lean up and press a kiss against Bones’ cheek, stunning him into silence.

“Wha... What was that for?” he finally asks.

“For defending my honor,” you say. “Thank you, Len.”

“Here I was thinkin’ you’d be upset.”

“Matthew’s an asshole. Anja too. They could get blown up on a starship for all I care.”

Bones chuckles as you finish lathering his injuries in the healing salve. You wipe your hand of excess salve and then grab the bandages. Bones lets you continue to work in silence, watching you as you place butterfly bandages on the largest of his facial wounds.

“Okay,” you say. “All done.”

“Got me all patched up, Doc?” Bones teases.

“As best I could.” You gather all the used supplies and place them on the metal tray. “You’ll need to ice that black eye and change the bandages every once in a while, but you already knew that. And I’m guessing you know how long you need to wear that brace for, or will at least have M’Benga look you over as soon as possible.”

Bones nods. “Thank you, darlin’. You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Len. I care about you. This is the least I would do for someone I care about.”

Bones says nothing for a moment, then, “I love when you call me Len.”

You blink. Before you can stop yourself, you say, “I love when you call me darlin’.”

You both stare at each other. You open your mouth to say something, anything to break the silence, but Bones beats you to it.

“I wanted to say sorry.”

You furrow your brow. Of everything he could’ve possibly said in that moment, the last thing you expected of him was an apology.

“What for?” you ask.

“For everything back at the club. Jim and I should’ve told you what we had planned beforehand. And I’m especially sorry you had to kiss me.”

“I didn’t have to kiss you, Len. I chose to.”

“Still, you wouldn’t’ve if we hadn’t put you in an awkward position.”

“That’s not true,” you blurt out, immediately cursing yourself.

Bones blinks at you, eyes flicking to your lips. Neither of you moves, simultaneously too afraid to stick to the status quo or break it.

Fuck it.

You kiss him, softly at first, but when he sighs against your lips and wraps his arms around your waist you press yourself against him, parting your lips to deepen the kiss. You cup his face in your hands, mindful of his injuries.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You pull back. “You love me?”

Bones gives you a soft smile. “C’mon, darlin’, you must’ve known.”

You shake your head. “Uhura and Sulu tried to tell me, but I thought they were just teasing me.”

“Why would that tease you?”

“Because I love you.” You run your thumbs across his cheeks. “God, Len, I am so in love with you.”

Bones pulls you into another kiss. You giggle against his lips.

“What?” Bones asks.

“Uhura and Sulu are going to be insufferable for a while,” you say.

Bones grins. “You think they’re going to be insufferable? Wait until Jim finds out.”

You both laugh. Then you kiss him again. And again. And again.

#star trek aos #bones x reader #bones mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy

[raedas]

I reach out to you with a heart heavy with grief and fear. In the chaos of Gaza, my family faces an unspeakable tragedy after the loss of my father and my elder brother. Each day feels more treacherous than the last, and we are desperate to escape the looming danger. Your compassionate assistance is our only hope to evacuate my mother and siblings to safety. Your kindness, no matter its size, carries the promise of a lifeline in our darkest hour. Please, may your heart guide you to help us in our time of need

it is fucking SICKENING to see people use the ongoing genocide (!) in gaza for their own benefit to run scams like this one

i know it’s been said before, but it bears repeating: asks like this one are scams. every single ask i have gotten asking for donations in the past has been a scam (and there have been many, i just usually ignore and delete them)

if you want to double check whether or not an ask you received is a scam, a very easy way is to scroll through the senders blog. some are super transparent like this one, where their scam is the only post on the blog, but others often reblog a handful of posts before they post. if you scroll enough, though, you’ll see the blog isn’t any older than a week

please direct your love and support to actual palestinians: i’ll link a handful of posts with gofundmes below

#asks #palestine

[runawrites-blog]

Until The Break Of Dawn Ch. 1 (Josh Washington x Reader)

Summary: A year after the tragedy on Blackwood Mountain your boyfriend Josh invites you back over for an annual getaway with his friends. You hesitate but decide to go, wanting to be there for your boyfriend more than anything. But you are not prepared for what the night has in store for you and your friends or for what it brings back up. (Female Reader) Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of death, talk of past trauma, talk of disappearances, both regarding the twins and Reader's dad in the past. Specific warnings will be posted in the notes of each chapter. No Y/N, Petnames (Honey) Author's Note: This is the first of my works with multiple chapters that I'm posting here, so I hope it works out the way I plan for it. The first chapter is basically focused on the prank. Warnings will be updated with each new chapter. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49644949/chapters/125302714

Sam was panicking.

Hannah and Beth were gone, the latter now looking for her heartbroken sister during a snowstorm. And no one had seen them for the past thirty minutes. Needless to say, everyone was starting to panic. Matt was trying to convince everyone to go looking for the girls while Mike insisted that they had probably not gotten far and calling for them instead. Emily insisted that it had been a joke and Hannah had overreacted while Jess shushed her, trying to listen for her friends. Next to them, Sam was close to simply running after them and Ashley had started crying.

“This was a terrible idea. We need to do something!”

Sam nodded at Ashley. “We need to wake up Josh, his girlfriend and Chris. But especially Josh.”

“You do that and we start looking for them.” Matt said, ruffling his hair. “This was such a fucking terrible idea!”

“You guys go search for them and we wait here in case Hannah comes back.” Jessica nodded, clearly not liking the idea of going into the woods. “Someone has to stay here in case they come back.”

Mike shook his head and frowned. “We’re all going.”

“But--“

Matt immediately interjected Emily’s protest. “Em, this is our fault. We need to look for them. I’ll wake Josh and Chris. You guys wait here.”

He took off for the kitchen while Sam went for the living room where she found you, still asleep on the couch and curled up by the fire. You had fallen asleep there a few hours ago. Josh had put a blanket on you and then dissapeared into the kitchen with Chris. Sam quickly got to her knees and shook you awake. It took a few seconds for you to fully wake up and you stared at her in mild confusion when you did.

“What’s going on?”

“We need your help.” Sam explained in a panic. “They played this dumb prank on Hannah and she ran out into the snow. Beth went after her but they haven’t come back in half an hour. We all need to go and look for them.”

You were up immediately, panic coursing through you at the thought of your friends lost in the woods. Hurriedly, you put on your snowboots and nearly fell over in your attempt to tie them while hopping toward the front door. “We could go in groups of two to three people. Someone should stay behind though.”

“Good idea.” Sam nodded and followed you, grabbing your jacket that had been discarded on a nearby armchair and handing it to you. “And we should probably have each group look at a specific area of the mountain.”

“And we--“

You were interrupted by someone calling out your name and when you turned in the direction the voice had come from, Josh was hurrying over. For someone who’d been out drunk a few minutes ago he looked terribly sober now, eyes wet with tears.

“What happened? What did you guys do?”

“I don’t know.” You explained quickly. “I was asleep on the couch. Sam woke me up and said they played a prank on Hannah.”

“We fucked up, Josh.” Sam said in desperation. “I tried to find Hannah but their damn prank had already started and now the twins are out in the snowstorm. They have been outside for half an hour now.”

Josh swallowed and tried to calm down. “Okay, we-- we have to go now!”

You nodded and grabbed Josh by the arm, trying to shove your worries and the memories this all evoked in you away in favour of being strong for your boyfriend. “Let’s go.”

The next hours were spent walking through the snow, shivering and calling out the twins’ names to no avail. You had gone with Josh while everyone else had split into groups of two with Chris staying behind in case the twins got back. But he hadn’t called either of you, yet, meaning they hadn’t come back. You could tell Josh was getting increasingly panicked, his movements getting frantic and his eyes overflowing with tears ever so often. He was trying to wipe the tears away before you saw them but you did and you could only imagine how horrible this must have been for him. It was painful to see your long-term boyfriend like this, so distraught and hopeless.

“Josh.” You said, stopping in front of him. “We should call the police or mountain rescue or anyone that can help us.”

“We need to keep looking!” He insisted, a sob breaking from his throat. “Honey, we need to-- we need to-- we looked everywhere! We searched this whole fucking mountain and we haven’t found any sign of them!”

You gasped in shock as he fell to his knees, sobbing brokingly into the night’s raging snowstorm. Quickly, you crouched down to embrace him, trying to calm him down. Josh kept crying, hopeless and broken. You also felt close to tears, feeling helpless and lost yourself. It was all so terribly reminiscent of your father’s death, of the way you hadn’t been able to help, to get anyone to help before it had been too late. But this was no time to think about something that had happened back in Middleschool when there was a more pressing matter at hand. You had to be strong for Josh. You had to get help before it was too late.

“Josh, we will call someone now. Someone will come and help us, someone with search dogs, equiptment and much more light. They will find them in no time, I’m sure.” You urged gently, knowing that there was no time to be lost. “Take it from someone who had a loved one pass away in the wilderness -- we need professional help. I never-- We thought we could find my dad on our own and we didn’t. But it’s not too late for Hannah and Beth.”

“I shouldn’t have left them alone. I should have--“

“Josh, this isn’t your fault.”

“But it is.”

#fanfiction #textpost #writing #until dawn #josh washington #josh until dawn #until dawn josh #josh washington x reader #josh washington imagine #until dawn x reader #until dawn imagine

[antiv3nom]

asuka ask game? pick your favorite one

ok so i do enjoy asuka guiltygear but i have been thinking REALLY hard about asuka tekken as of late so we're talking about her today

also this took me WAY too long to post i apologize but it Is out here so yaaaay

favorite thing about them:

ok so legally i have to mention asuka's tekken 8 design because motherfucker WHAT were they thinking with that one. what the fuck was the inspiration. but i love it so much i cannot lie

other than that, i really enjoy her rivalry with lili and how moderately insane that bit has gotten, and i like how they've kept her a character who is a) defensively focused in her gameplay even among the generally aggressive play of t8, and b) has a generally down-to-earth feel to her despite. Everything. happening in tekken

least favorite thing about them:

so i was actually talking to a friend about this recently and she explained my feelings really well, its like. asuka feels like the protagonist of another story that isnt being told.

it feels like she has so much stuff that COULD be a really interesting plot focus for her but it just. hasnt been? like everything between her and feng COULD be so neat but its just been sort of...by the wayside for the past few games in favor of keeping up with the mishimas (new sitcom there btw)

favorite line:

asuka's quotes are fun but most arent super noteworthy unfortunately? its mostly pretty standard fare for fighting game open and win quotes unforch :( i will say though, i do really enjoy this win line in t8 from her:

It's not good to fight all the time. Well, see ya!

bc like. girl. what do you think youre out here doing rn. girl please

(note: i dont speak japanese so i couldnt say anything towards this, but i wonder if asuka speaks with a kansai accent/dialect in game? her being from osaka and all, itd be a cool little addition)

brOTP:

omg actually ive seen stuff between leo and asuka that's been fun before i really enjoy that, iirc theyre not super close in the main canon but i wanna say in the non-canon webcomic theyre friends? i think thats right? either way its a fun concept

OTP:

asulili...uwoagh........

fellas is it gay to buy your rival's dojo and fill it entirely with roses to get their attention? certainly not. certainly.

i do wish we saw some amount more narrative tension between them since most of it has sort of dissolved by t8 but i do think theyre really cute and as mentioned before i really do enjoy their whole bit its awesome

SHOUTOUT ASULILI WEEK BTW I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO PARTICIPATE BUT I AM HYPED ABOUT ITS EXISTENCE

nOTP:

i do not think i have been around long enough to see another pairing for asuka, let alone one i dislike, so i cannot answer this question LMAO

random headcanon:

spun my mental wheel of headcanon topics and it wouldnt stop spinning for like half an hour unfortunately so im just telling you that i think asuka would play baiken or may in strive

unpopular opinion:

i still havent been here long enough to know whats unpopular regarding her :,) although i think in terms of gameplay i think she's cooler than most people believe, though i do agree that her current iteraiton in t8 isnt very strong within the meta unforch :(

song i associate with them:

i can nigh on guarantee that it's because ive been listening to this song while thinking about her really hard recently but absolute zero by natori (banger btw go watch the music video it goes unbelievably hard), i think the lyrics arent entirely unfitting though!!!

favorite picture of them:

i really like this profile art option for her, the posing is fun and the textures on the clothing are really impressive

and then also i have to mention her preset 3 outfit which i LOVE SO SO MUCH

(apologies as i cant find a better example pic and do not feel like opening t8 at 2 in the morning on this day)

#ask #ask game #electricgnu #tekken #asuka kazama #your honor i think shes neat... #ive been scrolling through her wiki page as of late

[steffigraf]

warning for a clearly anxiety-ridden oversharing freakout below the cut. sorry. i’m too sensitive and i’m unfortunately acutely aware of it.

tldr; im being a drama queen. gonna take a tumblr break for a week or two. to my mutuals, feel free to dm for my insta. i’ll be active until i wake up tomorrow morning and then i’m gonna zip

gonna preface this by saying this is in no way directed to the people whom i actually talk to constantly on here like you lot were lovely and im just dealing with a lot of demons in my head :(

anyway. sometimes i feel more like a product manufacturer than a person on here. and idk. i know most of you guys are really just following me for gifs and content and whatever but. yeah. idk. i guess the things i say don’t matter to anyone unless it’s funny. or if people want to call me out. not that im mad abt that exactly btw i do appreciate when people respectfully call me out for my own mistakes but. sometimes. i feel like im in a fishbowl and you’re all just waiting for me to say something wrong and cancel me. or then again, maybe most of you already think im a shit person and you just stay for the gifs. or maybe you guys think i’m a loser who has nothing to do but spend all day on this goddamn website.

and i know, somewhere inside me, that that’s not true and that it’s clearly the anxiety talking. maybe it’s just me maybe i’m making this up in my head i dunno. but i’m just kinda tired right now. too tired to battle the anxiety like usual at least. and i don’t really feel wanted outside of the content i produce, beyond the notes of my gifs or my fun posts. which ik shouldn’t matter but. i’m a pathological people pleaser etc etc.

(god, seeing this all typed out, i can’t even fucking blame you guys if you actly don’t like me cause. i kinda wanna shake myself by the shoulders and tell myself get a grip girl the world doesn’t revolve around you shut up shut up shut your damn mouth—)

i’ve been trying to manage by unfollowing and blocking a few people (which btw, if i did that to you and we used to be mutuals, it’s probably nothing personal i mostly just kept people i’m a bit closer to). but i’m still not really settled. and considering how i’m posting like every other day about feeling like shit, you guys probably figured that out lmao.

and well. on a separate note. seeing that rat’s name alone is too much for me sometimes. i couldn’t watch his game with carlos. i spent hours in his match with daniil turned away from the television, wearing noise canceling headphones while trying (and failing) to talk myself down from a full blown anxiety attack. i’ve said this before but the way people talk about him, both the fucked up silence and the justified outrage, it reminds me way too much about a family problem i have right now. hits uncomfortably close to home. prior to this i kinda thought i’d made my peace with the whole family situation but no apparently not. had he won the semis, i wasn’t even sure if i would be able to stomach cheering for jannik if it meant having to watch that man play.

so. idk. between the way actual tennis has been making me feel and the way tennisblr in general has seemed for me lately, i figure i need some space.

long story short ive been spending way too much time on tumblr this ao. and its gotten really bad for my mental health i guess. so i think i need to take maybe a week or two, to clear my head. watch tennis without opening this app every other point. spend time with people i love. get back to therapy. try to be a functioning adult.

(this is so fucking dramatic for a goddamn week of no tumblr i know that and i want to smack myself upside the head because why am i like this why do i make things snowball why why why—)

anyway. yeah. that’s it. if you actually read through all of that then. thanks. if not it’s okay too.

to my mutuals, the ones whom i’ve had at least some form of friendly interaction with in replies or dms, you can ask for my insta account btw. not that i’m crazy active on there but like. if you guys wanna be friends beyond the anonymity of this yknow. no pressure though.

#sorry to get all sad again #been editing this on my drafts all day #ive not been in a good headspace lately #*

[shuttershocky]

Hi shutters, got a couple questions for you,

how would one go about getting into dota after playing league? i'm liking dota's design more than league's but i don't really know where to start considering the stuff i've read, it seems a lot more, ambiguous on lanes, jungles and such.

also as a side note, do you have any games similar to armored core 6 to suggest? i've gotten a runaway focus on it and there's not much for me to do outside of mech dressup, i've sorta finished it all with 250 odd hours :/ not my brightest moment i will admit

If you don't have any friends that already play Dota 2, there's three ways to learn:

1) Watch the competitive scene - Dota's competitive scene is extremely old, with the original Dota having been a Warcraft 3 custom map that grew so popular it became its own thriving, grassroots competitive scene. After almost 20 years of being known as one of the hardest games to ever learn, tournament casters have become really fucking good at describing the game in simple language without sacrificing detail, and you can legitimately learn what different heroes do and what roles there are to play by watching the best in the world go head to head. Plus, many major Dota tournaments have extremely cool plugins on Twitch where you can mouse over any abilities, heroes, or items currently onscreen and you get a pop-up with their full details as if you're mousing over them in-game. Incredibly useful!

2) Trial by fire - Finish the tutorial and the few bot matches you're encouraged to do, and then jump right into real games. Mute anybody that flames you for being new and just figure shit out as you go along. That's what I (and plenty of other friends) did when I first started out in 2012. I've played a few sessions of the original Dota mod before then, but it was only when I got access to the Dota 2 beta that I really got into the game hardcore. Take note that while you can definitely learn the game by just playing around and having fun, getting good is another matter entirely. For example, I've got 11 years in this game, and I'm fucking garbage LMAO.

3.) Purge - Purge is an analytical caster in the Dota competitive scene, but he also has a Youtube channel dedicated to him just showcasing matches where he plays as different heroes. His incredibly monotonous voice and almost non-existent sense of humor are only matched by his ridiculous dedication to explaining each and every little detail in his games, and after a match he'll even do a post-game analysis about what he could have done better. He's become beloved in the community (even for those who don't watch the competitive scene) as every new player's first teacher, and if you're somehow also suffering from insomnia you can put on his humongous 9 hour patch notes analysis (he makes one whenever a new big patch drops) where his deep, emotionless, but calming voice is also guaranteed to knock you out and keep you sleeping. You ever want to learn the basics of a hero, just type his name and the hero name into Youtube and he'll almost assuredly have a video for you.

____

As for more games like Armored Core 6, I'm afraid there hasn't been too many mech games lately that feature anything even close to the level of customization and depth so I don't know any, but if anyone else wants to chime in with recommendations feel free.

#Dota 2

[zuucc]

MORE THAN A VANCOUVER SUNSET: What if...

... it was Mat instead of Sam?

Summary: What if Emma had ended up losing her virginity to Mat instead of Sam Brown, the douchebag that had spent the rest of the summer boasting about how he’d been the one to take it - making Mat so angry about how he spoke about his crush friend, that his friends had to stop him from fighting Sam on several different occasions? Mat sees Emma at that post-graduation party, sneaking away with the hockey team’s biggest asshole. Instead of pretending he didn’t see them, he goes up to them and somehow manages to steal her away. 

Warnings: smut, alcohol, cursing

Word count: 9k

Author’s note: Again, MTAVS does not need anymore smut than it already has but my mind is procrastinating writing my exam spinning with spicy ideas, so here we are. Again, you can still read this even if you haven’t read my eightythreethousand word book about Mat Barzal and his steamy summer romance with his former math class partner in crime slash crush, it can be read as a stand alone. I will give you the information you need :-) 

Please enjoy!

In cursive, you will find a short extract from More Than a Vancouver Sunset that explain where this What if? is coming from, along with a short paragraph that will also provide some insight.  

~

“I wanted to lose my virginity to you,” Emma admitted as she pulled away from the kiss.

“Really?” Mat asked, his eyes widening, as well as his smile. Emma had kept her crush on him all to herself during high school, and the girls had asked so many times, but she always said that it wasn’t anyone special she wanted to do it with. But it was, and that person was definitely Mat. Emma and the girls had spent countless sleepovers talking about sex, and Mat was always the one she had in mind when they did. On Monday after a weekend of all-nighters and hours spent giggling in Laura’s basement, when Mat came running to ask her some stupid question about that very specific line in the French novel in her hand, when his hand touched hers and his arm pressed into hers as he stood towering over her – she’d always find herself involuntary pressing her thighs together.

“Mhm, but instead I ended up losing it to fucking Sam Brown on the night of graduation,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at Mat. Even though it wasn’t exactly the best memory she had in her mind, she still couldn’t stop the smile on her lips as she looked at the man beside her.

“Oh I forgot about that, he was boasting about it all summer. I was so jealous, and so pissed off because of the way he was talking about you,” Mat said, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he thought about his former teammate that summer after high school. He’d seen Emma from afar a few times that summer, but he didn’t talk to her – it was not like he had any French homework to use as an excuse anymore. Luckily he’d grown a pair of balls since then.

“Ugh, I know. It’s sweet that you were mad, though,” she smiled, reaching out for that one curl that kept falling into his face, pushing it back. Mat got lost in her eyes for a little bit, deciding to save the story about how he’d almost gotten into a drunken fight with Sam the weekend after graduation, have it not been for Jason being a little bit more level headed than him, for a later time, and just kissed her instead.

~

...that one time Mat had showed up to the party Emma was at and he’d wracked his brain trying to come up with something to say to her – it wasn’t like he could go up to her at a party and ask her about French homework.

~

Emma shouted a quick goodbye to her parents before she hurried out the front door and down the couple steps from the porch, making sure to disappear out of view from the kitchen window as fast as possible, without looking suspicious. They knew she was going to a party, she’d graduated that Friday, after all. She was going to sleep over at Laura’s after, and in her overnight bag, along with PJs, toiletries and a few outfit alternatives, were also two bottles of wine that she’d bought from Francesca’s older brother. Each carefully wrapped in a piece of clothing, placed on each their side of her bag with a full makeup bag shoved between them in order to keep them from clinking and making any sort of noise as she hurried down the stairs from her bedroom.

She made her way down the street to Laura's house, slipping through the opening in the hedge and in through the backdoor, going straight for the stairs down to the basement, where she knew she would find her group of besties.

"Did you make it?" Francesca asked before she could even get down the stairs and greet them 'hello'.

"Of course," Emma said like it was that easy. Her parents weren't strict on many things, knowing that she was usually quite responsible. Though an incident when she was sixteen and had a bit too much, had made them wary of alcohol. Maybe the lack of such incidents ever since had made them forget.

An hour or so goes by and Laura's parents announce that they're leaving to go visit Laura's aunt in Vancouver. The girls sit in silence until they can hear their car pull out of the driveway, and just as Laura sees them disappear down the road - she's pulling red solo cups out of thin air and drinks are being poured.

"So, what's the POA tonight?" Jessie asked, making a grimace as she swallowed another sip of the drink Francesca had mixed for her. Needless to say, the vodka to orange juice ratio wasn't quite right.

"The P-O-What?" Sophie asked, turning her head in Jessie's direction so fast that Emma, who's got Sophie's hair wrapped around a curling iron, nearly burns both her hand and Sophie's forehead.

"Plan of action, duh," Jessie rolls her eyes at her cousin, making everyone else laugh as they didn't actually know what she was talking about either. Thankfully, Sophie was always willing to ask first, making the rest of them look smarter.

"Depends on what kind of plan you're looking for," Laura chuckles as she pulls the fourth crop top over her head, before reaching for the one she was wearing in the first place. Emma was sure she was gonna go through the cycle of those four tops at least two more times before they leave for the actual party. Maybe even try a fifth, nearly identical one.

"Well, does anyone have any prospects for tonight? You know, dick-wise? Virginity-wise?" she asks, turning towards Emma and Sophie, the only two virgins left in the room. Emma couldn't see Sophie's face as she was currently looking for any straight pieces at the back of her head, seeing if she'd missed some, but she was pretty sure that Sophie rolled her eyes in unison with herself.

"You're such a dude, Jess - only thinking about sex," Sophie exclaims, again, nearly making Emma burn herself again.

"We've literally only talked about sex for like four years straight now, you're just as bad," Francesca argued, turning it back to Sophie. Emma laughed, motioning for Fran to pour some shot into her mouth as she curled the last piece of Sophie's blonde locks. Sophie rolled her eyes again, though this time with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Emma has a POA, apparently," Laura laughs, "otherwise she wouldn't be taking so many shots."

"I do not!" Emma tries to sound believable, but fails immensely as a wide smile and a blush creeps up her cheeks.

"You so do!" Jessie calls out, a huge shit eating grin on her face.

"I swear I don't!" Emma failed again, not able to keep a straight face at all. The alcohol wasn't exactly helping.

"Who?" Laura asks, just as interested as Jessie. The rest of them turning their full attention to her as well.

"I don't know! I'm just thinking of getting it over with, that's all. Like, I do not care at all. Or like a little bit, but it doesn't have to be meaningful or anything like that. I feel like it's gonna take forever if that has to be a criteria," Emma explains. She did have someone in mind, that was for sure, but that person was unattainable, and not someone she was discussing with her friends. She would rather jump off a cliff than face that kind of embarrassment.

"I get that - just go for it," Francesca agreed while Sophie made a grimace - Emma wasn't sure if the grimace was because she disagreed or because she really wasn't a fan of red wine.

"I mean, there's lots of guys who would fuck you," Jessie shrugged.

“Let me know if you hear of any willing then,” Emma rolled her eyes, before motioning for Laura to change places with Sophie.

“Yeah, we’ll just go around asking if anyone’s willing to do you. We’ll have a line up for you to choose from at the end of the night,” Francesca chuckled, making everyone laugh. Emma included.

“Yeah, right,” she shook her head, praying for another topic or for the attention to turn back to Sophie. She took a long sip of her wine before she started sectioning Laura’s hair for curling.

“Seriously, Em, I literally heard Brownie and Tommy F. discuss the length of your skirt like two days ago,” Jessie argued, throwing her hands out in emphasis.

“Maybe they wished it was longer,” Emma shot back, making them all groan and roll their eyes. Emma laughed to herself, satisfied with her own self deprecating joke.

“Oh yeah, sure sounded like it when they talked about how you’d bent down to pick up your pen from the floor or something and Brownie had tried to catch a peak,” Jessie retaliated, making them all gasp in disgust.

“No way in hell you’re losing it to, Brownie, Em,” Sophie chimed in.

“You know what, maybe I will fuck Sam Brown. At least I’d get it over with,” Emma said, refusing to refer to any of them by their stupid hockey nicknames. Again, she was internally hoping, praying, begging for the topic to change. Sophie grimaced again, and this time Emma knew it wasn’t because of the wine or any other booze Fran had managed to supply them with.

“There’s always Barzy. He’d probably beg to be the one,” Laura came in with a more sensible option, mumbling the last part under her breath. Sensible, though completely unrealistic, Emma thought.

“Laura, you can kiss my ass. Fran, please pour something strong down my throat,” Emma finished the conversation. Before she’d managed to chase the vodka shot with white wine, Laura had started loudly doubting her fashion choices again, and the group of girls moved on.

Another hour went by too quickly and Emma had made sure that everyone's hair was curled to perfection, Sophie had consulted everyone's fashion emergencies, Jessie had painted every single nail in sight, Laura had provided comedic relief and Francesca had made sure that every single one of them had taken at least five shots and downed three cups of their alcohol of choice. They were ready to go.

Francesca's brother came through again, picking them up in their parents minivan. He deserved more than the 20 dollars they'd promised him for spending fifteen minutes just getting the five drunk girls into the car, let along pulling up with the screeching of "You Belong with Me" by Taylor Swift on repeat for another twenty while he drove them to the party. The party was to be held at Christopher Maxwell's house - their class' resident rich kid who everyone depended on to throw a huge party whenever the occasion called for it. Be it prom, start of summer, end of summer, graduation or just a random Friday night.

The ground was slightly wobbly beneath Emma’s feet as she made her way into the Maxwell villa, pulling at the tight skirt Sophie had convinced her to wear as it kept riding up with every step she took.

“If you’re planning to let it go tonight, you might as well let it ride up,” Laura grinned next to her, making Emma laugh.

“Might as well let everyone take a peak, see who volunteers,” Emma shot back sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s find someone for you to flirt with,” Laura pulled her under her arm, nearly making Emma trip on the threshold.

They slowly made their way through the house, stopping to talk to classmates and people they hardly knew along the way. It's weird how, all of a sudden, you’re talking to people you’d barely say hi to in the school hallway as soon as schools out and you’ve got some booze running through your system.

Halfway through the house, they lose Jessie and Sophie, and somewhere in the kitchen, they lose Francesca ass well. Somehow, Emma and Laura make it all the way out to the garden on the other side of the enormous villa before they split up. Laura got sucked into some conversation with some girls from her French class, and Emma finds herself placing one foot in front of the other in the direction of some nice patio furniture filled with jocks.

“Heyy, Emma,” a few of them greets her as she approaches them. Her drunken smile widens as they welcome her with somewhat polite compliments of how she’s looking tonight, helping her confidence just a little further. She scans the little crowd in front of her for a face she knows a little better than the rest, luckily finding Laura’s twin brother, Troy. He offers her a hand so that she can safely maneuver what feels like a hundred pairs of long legs between the sofa and the coffee table, all the way over to him where she finally sits down on the edge of his lap.

It’s easy then, to fall into conversation with Tristan from history and Corey who sits behind her in English. Ten-fifteen minutes go by and Corey becomes Tommy F. and Troy whispers in her ear that he’s going to the bathroom and pushes her to her feet in order to get up. She doesn’t bat an eye when another lap takes his place underneath her when she sits back down. They're all familiar faces, though soon, they're just that - familiar. She doesn't really know any of them. Mat Barzal sits down on the other end of the sofa, but he just shot her a short smile before he went back to his conversation with Jason Smith. In complete opposition to everyone else, he almost seemed less friendly here at the party than what he did in school. She tried to hide her disappointment.

When Tristan runs off with his on again, off again girlfriend and Tommy F. disappears to find Tommy D., Emma thinks maybe she should get up, too - at least move away from whomever's lap she was sitting in, now that the seat next to them were free. Tommy F.'s seat already taken by someone Emma was pretty sure graduated at least two years ago.

"Heyy, where are you going?" She hears the person underneath her saying, his hands finding her hips to pull her back and further onto his thighs, all the way until she's sitting sideways across his lap in the corner of the modular sofa.

"I'm not going anywhere, just thought I'd stop weighing you down," Emma puts on her flirty voice and cheeky smile.

"Oh, please, I can barely feel you there," Sam Brown grins before confidently placing one of his big hands on her thigh. Sam was huge and usually the one to end up some kind of brawl on the ice. He was also a little too cocky and a little too confident, though nice enough, and if you stared at him long enough he was handsome enough, too. His eyes were kind, though Emma knew enough girls who'd found themselves fooled by that. Luckily, Emma had no intentions that extended past tonight.

It became easy again, falling into conversation with Sam. Discussing his plans for hockey after high school and laughing along when he cheekily suggested that Emma became his trophy wife.

"I'm not sure, Sam, I'm no puck bunny," Emma chatted back, speaking his language and knowing exactly what she was doing when she placed her hand on his chest.

"Oh, please, just five minutes ago you were the only girl in a couch full of hockey players," he shot back, and once again, Emma laughed along. At this point, she was determined that he'd be the lucky one. It was clear that he was very much willing already from the second he started talking to her.

She kept talking to Sam, stealing sips from his beer in order to keep her courage going. The alcohol running through her system had her playing this role so well she almost believed it herself. Every now and then she'd catch Mat's eye for a short second, but it seemed like he pretended he didn't see her. Soon he was gone too.

"Hey, let's go inside," Sam suggested, disguising his proposal under the fact that Emma was getting cold outside in just a skirt and a short sleeved top.

"Sure," she smiled, flirtatiously. She let him push her to her feet with his hands low on her hips, as well as she let him escort her inside with his big hand low on her back. The same big hand that he'd slowly inched up her thigh, all the way until it was halfway under her skirt.

'Inside' soon became 'somewhere more quiet', and even though Emma had never done this before, she could tell that Sam had his way of going about this. She let him pull her upstairs to a quiet hallway, where he pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips. Emma was about to go back for more when a familiar voice called her name, somehow making her forget what the hell she was doing.

"Mat!" Emma heard her drunken voice exclaim excitedly, pulling away from Sam's grip to greet Mat, who was approaching them in the otherwise lightly populated hallway. Mat surprised her with pulling her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her middle while hers slid around his neck. She could recall hugging him once before, on his birthday back in May, but not like this. He even lifted her off her feet. Truthfully, she had no idea what was going on.

"How are you?" he asked, focusing all his attention on Emma, not even granting his teammate as much as a nod. Emma fell for it, right away. Falling into conversation with Mat easily, just like they did in math class, where they usually just talked to each other for 45 minutes straight rather than try to solve any of the problems Miss Lee presented them with. How either of them got through the year without failing math, she had no idea. Soon Sam was bored enough to dip into the bathroom instead of just standing there listening to their conversation and Mat saw his chance to finally pull Emma further down the hallway, away from Sam. Only then did Emma catch on to what was going on.

"Hey! You cockblocked me," she accused him, playfully shoving at his shoulder. Mat laughed lightly, but quickly found a more serious tone.

"What were you doing with Brownie, anyway? He's not a good guy, Em," Mat asked, settling his hands on her lower arms, holding her in front of him.

"I know that, Mat. I just- I just wanna get it over with," she admitted, feeling a certain color inch its way onto her cheeks.

"Get what over with?" he asked. He truthfully didn't know what she was talking about. Though, as he watched her cheeks turn completely pink in a matter of seconds, he had to smile. It was kind of adorable.

Emma couldn't believe she was about to tell Mat Barzal that she was just trying to lose her goddamn virginity, but that was what she was doing. She took a step closer and leaned onto her tippy toes to whisper it to him, but the music was coming from down stairs was too loud and the line to the bathroom was getting longer and chattier.

"What?" he asked, and Emma tried again, leaning in closer and resting her hand on his shoulder. To no success, though. After the third try of telling it to him without yelling it so loud the entire upstairs hallway heard it, she gave up.

"Oh my god, come here," she laughed, shaking her head as she took his hand and pulled him through the first unlocked door she found.

"What?" Mat repeated once he'd closed the door behind them. By the time he'd turned back around to face her, Emma had covered half her face with her hands in embarrassment.

"My virginity," she told him, surprisingly loud and clear.

"Oh," Mat blurted then, realisation dawning upon him. He even found himself blushing a little bit too.

"Yeah," Emma confirmed, "so thanks for that, now I’m not getting rid of it tonight," she threw out her hands in emphasis before she took a few steps back to the bed and fell back on it. It looked neatly done still, so chances were low that anyone had managed to christen it just yet.

"Well, I'm not really sorry. He's like the worst guy ever when it comes to that," Mat told her, sitting down on the mattress, right next to where she'd spread herself out. Her skirt had ridden up when she'd thrown herself back onto the bed, and Mat didn't know if he should ignore it or help her by pulling it back down for her. He'd always been easily entranced by the skirts Emma wore. Before he could decide, she was sitting up - her skirt returning to its proper length when she pulled herself up.

"I know, I just wanted to get it over with, like, no strings attached. No hurt feelings. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she repeated the same words she’d told her friends earlier that night. Why the hell she was sitting on a bed in some rich boy’s mansion, telling this to Mat Barzal - the boy she’d secretly had a crush on since the third math class of last semester - she had no idea.

“I get it, Em. But I can’t tell you how many girls I’ve heard too many intimate details about in the locker room from him. It’s never ending and half of it is straight up fantasy. We’re talking everything from the size of their tits to some bullshit story he’s pulled from some fucked up porno he’s seen. And I just don’t want that to be you he’s talking about next,” Mat told her, calmly. He watched as her expression softened.

“Thanks, Mat,” Emma sighed, falling back on the mattress again. He was right, Sam wasn’t the right guy - even if she wasn’t looking for something meaningful and special. Not to mention how incredibly sweet that was of him, to go out of his way to stop her from making that mistake.

“Anytime, Em,” he sighed, laying back as well.

“Anytime, huh?” Emma tries to lighten the mood, looking over at Mat and finding him already looking at her.

“Yeah, wanna go take another spin around the villa? See if we find some potential matches? The night’s still young,” He shoots back, but his smile isn't as bright and goofy as it usually is.

“Hah, I’m sobering up now,” Emma groans, crawling her way up the bed to sit against the headboard.

“Maybe that’s a good thing?” Mat looks at her with a grin, soon following her to lean back against the headboard too.

“No, I can’t flirt for shit when I’m sober,” she chuckles.

“That’s not true, you flirt with me all time,” he teases, making Emma throw her head back laughing. The cackle pouring out of Mat’s mouth as he laughs along with her, has her smile spreading even wider.

"That's not true," Emma laughs, swearing that she was just being her normal self whenever she was talking to Mat. They just had a fun relationship, that's all. She would even go so far as to call it a coping mechanism for getting through math. And then there was the fact that she had that deep buried, never seen the light of day, crush on him.

"Well, that's what everyone says, anyways," Mat states, looking over at her, "not that they just say that about you, though. It's mostly me, really," he adds, laughing.

“Okay, okay, fair,” she grins, looking back at him. She has to pull her gaze away quickly, not able to keep her eyes on him long without blushing or staring at his lips. It was easier in school, then Emma was able to keep her somewhat hard exterior, but the vulnerability of the situation and the alcohol coursing through her system made all that was Mat Barzal a little bit harder to deal with. They both fell silent.

"I’m comfortable with you though. Makes it easier," Emma eventually breaks the quiet. This time she's keeping her gaze straight forward, not turning her head to the side to look at him. She could feel him looking at her though.

"Yeah?" Mat breathes, his voice low and laced with something hopeful.

"Yeah," Emma confirms.

"You’re like... safe," she adds, daring to look up at him for a second.

"Safe?" he asks, not really understanding what she meant by that.

"Are you trying to tell you're not? I'll be out of this room real quick," Emma turns the situation around then, making Mat laugh and shake his head no.

"You're safe with me, Em," he confirms, the smile still on his lips as he looks over at her, reaching over to give her two reassuring pats on her knee. Emma felt his touch on her skin long after it was gone.

"Exactly," Emma nodded, like that was just what she meant. She was safe with him.

"Why did you look at me like you barely knew me earlier?" she asks then, after a minute or two in silence. It felt safe to ask, and she honestly really wanted to know. Mat wasn't usually like that. She'd never really spoken to him at a party before, though, that was worth mentioning, but their paths hadn't really crossed either. But in school, Mat would always say hi, even go out of his way to come find her just to ask her some obvious question about their French homework.

"What, when?" Mat asks, but Emma could tell he knew what moment she was talking about.

"Earlier, outside on the couch," she clarified.

"I don’t know, I just - whenever I see you outside of school I just forget that we’re actually friends, like I think that I need to ask you something about French homework to be able to talk to you. But in reality, I could talk to you about anything," he explains, and this time it's him that's not looking at her.

"Okay?" Emma says, not sure what to gather from that.

"Like, I don't forget that we're friends, I just... I forget than I can talk to you about things that aren't school related, you know. And then whenever I see you at a party or something, I just overthink it," he went on. Emma just nodded, taking it all in.

"And I guess I was kind of jealous," he adds, kind of under his breath, but kind of not. He turns to look at her.

"Why?" Emma asks, looking back at him. Their eyes meet and Emma gets a little lost in the dark green.

"You were sitting on Brownies lap," he clarifies with a chuckle, like he's a little bit embarrassed to admit it.

"Oh?" Emma perked up, interested to hear more about this.

"I swear, that's not why I cockblocked you," he defended himself, a flustered smile spreading on his lips along with a redness on his cheeks.

"I don't know," Emma teased, the booze helping her compartmentalise the part where he apparently wanted her in his own lap. She couldn't focus on that part.

"I promise you, my intentions were completely pure with stealing you away from Brownie. I wasn't just saving you for myself. I meant everything I said about him," Mat defended himself, his expression softening when Emma's smile turned soft instead of amused.

"I know, Mat. I believe you," she said then, and Mat sunk down in his seat - only halfway sitting up against the headboard now.

"I'd just much rather you sit on my lap instead," he stated, putting the fact into the room. The fact that had been implied earlier, that Emma had just shoved away into the back of mind in order to not freak out.

"Oh," Emma smiled, trying her hardest to keep that smile at a normal width - to not let it get uncontrollably wide and take over her entire face. Her cheeks felt warm, too. Somehow Mat managed keep the color of his normal.

"Yeah," he breathed, keeping his eyes on her.

Emma couldn't keep looking at his face, though. That was too much. Her eyes traveled down his torso, over his white t-shirt and to his arm that laid across his stomach. His hands was really nice, she thought - long fingers and few prominent veins stretching from his forearm to the back of his hand. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed.

She felt his eyes follow her every move closely, she didn't dare look up to meet his eyes, but somehow worked up the courage to reach for his hand. He lifted it to meet hers, fingers spreading apart to let her right hand intertwine with his left. His thumb immediately starting to rub up and down the side of hers, slowly.

"You have nice hands," Emma complimented, her voice soft and barely audible. She dared meet his eyes and watched as the sides of his lips lifted into a smile.

"Thanks," he smiled, "yours are really soft."

"Thanks," Emma said softly, finding some deep buried bravery somewhere as she turned to her side, slowly swinging her leg across his thighs until she was straddling his lap. His eyes followed her every move closely, from the first turn of her hips until she settled on his upper thighs. Their hands slide apart slowly, Emma's settling on his chest while Mat's slowly slide up the side of her thighs, settling on her hips.

"Is this okay?" she asks, her voice soft and sweet. Vulnerable. Mat decides that he'll do everything in his power to make sure she's never uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I told you I wanted you in my lap, didn't I?" he smiled cheekily, but spoke softly. Emma laughed nervously. He'd started rubbing little circles on her hips with his thumbs, making her feel more secure immediately.

"You told me you'd rather have me in your lap than anyone else's. There's a difference," she flirted back, letting her hands slide down to his abs.

"I think you know what I meant," he said, his voice low and charming. His hands dropped to her thighs for a bit, before they slowly made their way back up her hips. Her skirt was barely hiding anything when she sat like that, but she didn't care. Emma bit her lip and took a deep breath. He was making her feel certain ways.

"Will you do it?" she asked bashfully, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth again immediately as she finished speaking.

"Do what?" Mat asked, though he was positive she was talking about her virginity again. Emma rolled her eyes playfully.

"You know what," she told him, playfully pushing at his chest. His hands traveled from her hips to her waist, and then slowly back down again. Every touch made Emma feel unbearably warm.

"You’re asking me like it’s a chore, some bothersome task," he stated, his smile sweet but a little cheeky. He was an eighteen year old boy offered with sex, after all.

"Well, I don’t know how you ask for it, not like I’ve done it before," Emma chuckled, feeling more comfortable in her position by the second.

"I won't do it just to help you get rid of it, okay? Only if you really want to," he said then, and Emma wondered where the hell all this maturity came from. She appreciated the way he spoke about it, but the way she was feeling just from sitting across his lap with his hands wandering up and down her sides, told her that it was nothing she wanted more. He was the one she'd wanted in the first place.

"I really want to," she whispered, softly but filled with so much lust for him. It was almost like she could see his eyes darken as he took the words she said.

"Fuck, just... come here,” he groaned, moving one of his hands up her back and to her neck as he sat up, immediately pressing his lips to hers. Emma's arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her, openmouthedly and hot.

His arm wrapped around her middle, while his other hand gripped the underside of her thigh, pulling her up in his lap and impossibly close. Their chests pressed together, just as their tongues met in, if not the best, but certainly the hottest kiss Emma had ever experienced. Mat's hand traveled from where he was gripping her thigh and further up, this time sliding in under the tight skirt that was bunching up around her hips. She felt his fingers gripping her ass, her body responding immediately by arching into him, moaning against his lips. The motion letting her feel what she was doing to him as well.

Their lips parted, red and swollen, eyes meeting for a second before Mat was attaching his lips to her neck, leaving wet kisses down towards her collarbones. One of his hands trailed up her side, covering her boob in his hand, applying pressure to the sound of breathy moans.

Emma clawed at his t-shirt, begging to feel him naked against her. Instead of letting her pull the garment off herself, Mat pulls away and reaches for the material at the back of his neck, pulling it over his head in the way that guys do. The way that every girl finds hot, Emma no different. She's quick to reach for him as soon as he's gotten rid of the shirt, her hands sliding from his chest to the back of his neck as their lips meet again. Mat's arm slides up her back while his other hand grips her thigh as he swiftly turns them around and rolls on top of her. The way he presses his bulge against her, earning him a moan. A gasp leaving her soon after as he just as quickly pulls away from her.

"Need to lock the door," he smiles, almost innocently, as if he wasn't just pressing his erection to her barely clothed heat. Emma's head falls back on the mattress as Mat locks the door, making sure no one would walk in on them.

"Hey," he smiles when he comes back, climbing into the bed and positioning himself on his knees between her legs.

"Hey," Emma replies, smiling back at him. His hands fall to her bare thighs, slowly traveling up to the hem of her skirt that bunched around hips, surely showing him the lacy thong she had on.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, lifting one of thighs to rest at an angle. He's rubbing circles on the inside of her knee. All she wanted was for him to touch her where she wanted him most.

"I want you so badly, Mat," Emma told him, surprising both herself and him with the boldness of her words. Before he could say anything she reached for his arm and pulled him in closer. She leant up on her elbows, stretching her neck to meet him in a soft, but lustful kiss. She keeps her lips where they're almost touching his as her hand falls to his hands, slowly moving it to where she needed it.

"Can you feel how much I want you?" she spoke against his lips, pulling back slightly just to be able to look at him as his fingers found their way inside her thong.

"Fuck, Emma," he groaned then, falling forward just an inch or two, just to press his lips to hers again. He could feel her moans vibrating against him as let his finger run through her wet slit.

"What do you want, Em?" he asked, kissing her again before letting her answer - deep and toe-curling.

"Undress me," she demanded, and Mat was on it immediately. Hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband of her skirt, pulling it down while Emma helped by pulling her legs up. As soon as the skirt hit the floor, Mat was onto her top - Emma raising her arms above her head to let him pull it off, leaving her in the only matching set she owned, thoughtfully saved for Saturday night.

"You're so beautiful," Mat sighs, barely getting the words out before Emma is telling him to shut up and planting her lips on his in an openmouthed kiss, pushing him over to straddle him again. He curses against her lips as her hands immediately reach for his belt, opening it and undoing the button and zipper next - her hand disappearing into his jeans to cover his bulge.

Kissing down his neck and to his chest, Emma soon brings her hands back to the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down as she goes. She doesn't stop until her knees hit the edge of the bed, her lips just an inch or two above his bellybutton. Stepping off the side of the bed, she completely rids him of his pants. Her eyes fall to the bulge in his boxers before she's pulled back on top of him.

"You're fucking unreal," Mat beams up at her, smiling as he pulls her into another deep kiss. He's sitting up, Emma on her knees over him. Her hands are placed firmly on his shoulder and jaw, Mat's hands roaming all over her - traveling from her hips to her ass, up her back until he reaches the clasp of her bra.

"Can I?" he asks, pulling away from the kiss.

"Please," Emma just begs, leaning back in for more as his fingers work on opening the clasp, soon getting it and helping her pull the straps down her arms. They pull apart again, Emma throwing the black push up bra away as Mat is entirely too busy taking in the sight before him.

Rather than touching her chest, Mat brings his hands to her thighs, pulling them up until she's able to wrap her legs around him. His arm snaking around the small of her back allows her to lean back as he finally starts leaving sloppy kisses from her collarbones to her boobs, soon fitting his lips around one of her nipples - sucking it into his mouth to the sound of her breathy moans.

"Come on, Mat, I need you to touch me," she begs, halfheartedly grabbing at his hand to hopefully steer it on the right path. Instead of sticking his hand in between their bodies, Mat runs his hand over her ass and all the way back until he can stick his middle finger in between the soaked material of her thong and her slit, easily slipping the finger inside her.

"Oh, fuck, please," she begs him again, trying to push herself closer to him and the hard bulge sitting between his legs.

"Patience, baby," he mumbles against her skin, though she can picture the smile on his face as he says it. He earns another moan from her when he pulls his finger out of her and then pushes it right back in again along with his ring finger. The hand that she's currently got in his hair, tightens.

"I really need you to fuck me now, Mat," she goes on, soft and sweet and every thinkable contrast to what she's saying. He groans against her neck, pulling his fingers out from her and swinging her around to place her on her back in the middle of the bed.

Mat didn't really know what to do with himself, his fingers moved to the sides of her thong to pull it down her legs - he knew what to do, but damn if he knew how to handle someone like her. This wasn't his first rodeo at all, there had been two girls before her - one older that he'd lost his virginity to, and one who he'd had some kind of arrangement with, who he'd gone home with a couple of times after parties. But none of those experiences had been like this. No one had begged him to touch them before, nor fuck them. No one had been so sure of what they wanted, like Emma. He felt lucky to be her first, and he was terrified to, in any way, shape or form, fuck this up.

"Take off your boxers," Emma dictated, her eyes falling to his dick as soon as it sprung free from its constraints.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself, reaching out to wrap her hand around him once he was back in his position between her legs again.

"What?" Mat asked, barely getting the word out as she surprised him with a long stroke and her lips attaching to his neck. She pulled back to look at him with a smile on her face.

"Always thought dicks were kinda funny looking, but yours is kinda pretty," she grinned, loving the disbelieving smile that spread on his lips.

"Pretty?" he repeated her compliment in a question.

"Yeah, pretty," she confirmed, cheekily. She gave him a couple more thugs before Mat reluctantly placed his hand on top of hers. He didn't want her to stop, not at all, but he knew that it was necessary.

"Never heard that one before," he chuckled, slowly taking her hand away from where he wanted it, moving it to his side as he lowered himself down to lay on top of her. Though both still smiling, Mat pressed his lips to hers, immediately opening his mouth to let their tongues meet in a searing kiss. Emma moaned into it as he finally pushed himself against her bare heat, his hand disappearing between their bodies to place a thumb on her clit, moving it in circles while they slowly made out.

"Need you inside me," she pleaded in between kisses. Her nails running down the back of his head to his neck.

"Nothing I want more," Mat mumbled against her mouth, pulling away.

"I have a condom in my bag," Emma told him, pointing to the the little black bag that was on the floor, next to her shoes.

"Do you now?" he grins, putting one foot on the floor to support himself as he reached for her black, leather bag.

"Well, I came here with a fucking agenda, didn't I?" she chuckled, almost feeling embarrassed about the things she'd told him tonight. But now was not the time to be embarrassed, not when it was all working out and turning out to be so much better than she'd anticipated.

"It's in the little pocket, with the zipper," she clarified to Mat, who was now rummaging through her purse for the promised condom.

"Got it," he smiled, holding it up like he'd won a trophy, making Emma giggle.

"Your agenda worked," he added then, bringing them back to the original topic. He handed her the condom before climbing back into position, sitting down on his knees between her widespread legs. He let one of his fingers slide down her slit.

"Not really how I imagined it to work out, though," she said, leaning up on her elbows to watch what he was doing.

"No?" he smiled, cheekily.

"The way I see it, it worked out a lot better than imagined," she said, a moan interrupting her mid-sentence, as Mat pushed two fingers into her hole. Mat's smile widened and Emma didn't really know if it was from hearing what she said or if it was because he made her moan like that. Either way, she found it intriguing and weirdly cute how he was smiling like that as his eyes moved between her face and his fingers that were moving in and out of her.

"Yeah?" he breathed, giving himself a few short strokes before that hand came back to rest on her hip.

"Yeah, and that's one hell of compliment, considering you haven't even fucked me yet," Emma told him, playful tone gone and lust clouding her eyes. Mat looked up at her, biting down on his lip.

"Fuck, Em," he groaned before he pulled his fingers out of her, making a particularly loud moan fall from her lips. She took the condom to her teeth, biting down on its edge to rip the foil open.

"Here," she breathed as she took the condom out of its packaging and clamped the top between her thumb and her index finger. Mat came closer, cursing to himself again when she took him into his hand, holding his erection in place as she positioned the condom on his tip and rolled it down his length.

"You ready?" he asked, lowering himself down between her legs - one hand coming down to wrap around his length in order to position himself at her entrance. He knew the answer she'd give, but he asked anyway.

"Yeah, please," she begged, moving her gaze from in between their naked bodies to his face, right above her. She gasped as he pressed the head to the top of her slit, letting it slide down through her arousal before pushing into her. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in her, but he needed to make sure she was alright first. He watched her as her eyes closed and her mouth fell open.

"Fuck, that feels good," she sighed, opening her eyes to see Mat smiling above her.

"Yeah? You're good?" he asked, just to confirm. A wide smile spread on her lips.

"I'm so good," she grinned, placing her hands on the back of his neck and pressing her lips to his as he finally started pushing in and out of her. Mat's lips fell apart and Emma immediately licked into his mouth. With every thrust of Mat's hips, another moan vibrated against his lips.

"You feel so good, Em," he sighed, pulling away from her lips only to bury his head between her neck and shoulder. She moaned in response while she ran her nails down his back.

"Can you go faster?" she asked him, and again she surprised Mat with how vocal she was about her needs.

"Yeah," he breathed against her neck, adjusting his position to sit on his knees with his hands planted in the mattress on both sides of her head. He rolled into her at a faster pace, watching her carefully as her eyes closed in pleasure, her mouth falling open as moans erupted from her throat with every thrust he delivered. Her fingers clawed at his chest, desperately begging for something to hold on to.

"Oh, fuck," she exclaimed when Mat grabbed onto on of her thighs and pressed it against her torso, hitting even deeper inside her. His self control was running out, though, and after a minute more or two he was getting desperate.

"Wanna try something else?" he suggested, quickly pulling out as soon as she gave her approval, giving himself as much of a break as possible without completely stopping up. Placing his hands on her hips, he flipped her around quickly - a cocky smile spreading on his lips when she gasped in surprise.

"Fuck, Mat - even that was hot," she whined, making that smile of his grow even wider as he found his position behind her.

"Yeah?" he grinned, letting his fingers slip between her legs for a little bit, rubbing at her clit for a little bit before slipping through her wet folds.

"Yeah," she confirmed, a groan erupting from her throat as he stuck two fingers into her, fingering her for a little bit while he placed kisses down her spine.

"Please, Mat," she begged him, and she if she was begging for an orgasm or for him to press back into her, he didn't know, but he did feel like he'd bought himself some time before he needed to let go.

"Yeah, baby," he hummed, grabbing her hips and pulling them up to the perfect height. He lined himself up again and pushed into her, immediately finding a good rhythm. It was apparent in her moans that he was doing something right, hitting somewhere good.

Emma found herself getting closer and closer to the feeling that she'd only gotten to experience on her own before. Something was building up in her lower stomach, begging to break free. She snaked her hand between her torso and the mattress, pressing her finger to her clit.

"You close?" Mat asked, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He saw the hand reaching towards her centre and hoped it meant she was just trying to reach the edge.

"Yeah, so close," she whined, desperately rubbing circles on her clit as he rammed into her from behind, making her feel better than she ever had before. His fingers were surely gonna leave marks on her hips from the way he was gripping her, but neither of them minded. Moving a hand to her shoulder, Mat made sure to go as fast as he possibly could, truly tiering himself out in the quest of getting her to reach her orgasm before he did. It didn't take long before Emma's moans became frenzied, then soft and breathy.

"Did you?" Mat asked, still going at it.

"Yeah," she breathed, letting go of the pillow she'd fisted into her hand.

"Fuck," Mat cursed to himself, finally letting go and emptying his load into the condom, almost collapsing on top of her as he did. He managed to tip them both to the side, though, making sure they ended up in a sort of spooning position instead of him falling on top of her - his length still buried inside her.

"Yeah," Emma sighed, still catching her breath from the intense activity.

Mat pressed a kiss to her shoulder before he pulled out and made his way into the ensuite of the totally random bedroom they'd ended up in well over an hour ago. He covered the condom in some toilet paper and threw it in the trash before quickly washing off, both his hands and his dick. The feeling washed over him just as he was stepping back out into the bedroom again, that maybe she'd feel awkward now, or regretful, scattering around to get her clothes back on. But Emma smiled bashfully to him, still very much naked, when he came back out.

Mat pulled on his boxers before he climbed back over her and laid down next to her, almost like he did when they'd first started the conversation. Again, he thought he was incredibly lucky to be in this position, able to just look at her as she laid there on her back, completely naked and still flustered from the orgasm she'd just had. He'd had a crush on her ever since that day in late August, when she sat down next to him in class, beautiful and charming.

"Thank you, I guess," she chuckles, turning from her back to her side, to face him. Mat rolled his eyes, though smiling.

"Don't thank me, Em. Like I said, it wasn't a favour. We did it because we wanted to," he told her, staying on his back but turning his head to rest in her direction.

"I know, I know. But still, you're so respectful and nice... and safe," she trailed off, smile still on her face. She reached for his hand, only to start making little trails across the palm of his hand.

"Well, that's just how it should be," Mat explained, thinking it wasn't fair to paint him as some sort of saint. Even if he knew that it wasn't a matter of course for everyone. Well, for most guys his age. Still, he didn't feel like he'd been the hero tonight - he'd gone in to stop her from hooking up with Brownie, and then he'd ended up doing it himself. He didn't like the way that it sounded. Not that he regretted it, though.

"But it isn't," she said, "and maybe it should be expected that everyone treats girls like you do, but that's just not the way it is," she added, and Mat agreed. He decided to let it go though, just take the win that she was so willingly giving to him.

"Do you feel any different? Now that you're not a virgin anymore?" he teases, turning the conversation in a slightly different direction, making Emma laugh.

"Except for the fact that I feel fucked and satisfied, then no," she grins, making Mat smile proudly.

“I have to say it, though, I really didn’t have any ulterior motives when I pulled you away from Brownie. I didn't mean for this to happen,” he repeats what he said earlier, after a few seconds of silence. It was on his mind and kind of bothering him.

"Hey, even if you had, I'm glad," Emma smiled, wrapping her hand around his wrist and pulling him towards her.

"I didn't, but I'm glad, too," Mat agreed, the smile on his lips matching hers. He willingly followed the pull of her hand, rolling to his side. She didn't let go of his wrist before she'd successfully placed it on her waist, her fingers then trailing up his arm and coming to a stop on his bicep.

Mat's gaze wandered down her body as he took in every curve and every dip. He observed how her chest rose and fell with every breath, how thin, pale stripes stretched over her hips, all while feeling the softness of her skin under his fingers. There was a slight hitch in her breath when his thumb ran over her erected nipple.

"You're so beautiful," he hummed, looking up to meet her stare. Her smile turning up on one side, before her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth.

"Thanks," Emma breathed, finding herself leaning closer to him without even thinking about it. It was something about the way he was looking at her; he was flat out staring at her body, but the look in his eyes felt everything but predatory. She felt admired and wanted, and suddenly she was reminded of why she hadn't wanted special and meaningful - this one was gonna hurt.

Mat saw how she'd leant into him, and sensed her apprehension to press even closer in the hitch of her breath. He thought that maybe he was making it up or completely misinterpreting it, but either way he moved in closer and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Emma's hand fell to the back of his neck immediately. Her breath hitched again when he made a trail of kisses up her neck and his hand dropped from her hip to her ass, grabbing it lightly. He continued leaving kisses up her neck, only stopping when he reached her cheek. Their eyes met for a second, just long enough to share a smile before he pressed his lips to hers again.

Even if Mat was grabbing her ass and Emma was raking her fingers through his hair, their kisses didn't get too heated. Mat pressed himself closer to her, and Emma moved her leg to rest over his. Neither of them were trying to initiate another round of sex, but both enjoyed the way their tongues slid against each other and how their naked bodies felt pressed together, just exploring.

"Oh, Mat," Emma sighed as she slowly tore away from the kiss, his fingers playing with her nipple and his thigh firmly pressed between hers. She rolled to her back, giddy smile on her lips.

"Emma," Mat smiled, letting his hand fall to a rest on her middle. She bit her lip again, eyes falling from his face to his chest, to the tent in his boxers. Mat followed her gaze as well, grinning when their eyes met again.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, making Emma laugh.

"Nah, I would've had a boner right about now, too, if I had a dick," Emma grinned.

"Oh, yeah?" Mat asked, touching her knee.

"Yeah," she breathed, letting her knees fall apart. She looked at him with an invitation, biting her lip when his fingers ran up the inside of thigh - a gasp sounding from her throat when his fingers finally hit her wet slit. Mat cursed to himself when he felt what he'd done to her, soon hearing breathy moans coming from her lips as he played with her. She moaned louder when two fingers finally slipped inside her.

Mat managed to make her come again, only using his fingers this time. Emma felt like she was on cloud nine when they eventually redressed. She was beaming when they made their way over to the locked door, hair finger brushed and mascara carefully wiped from under her eyes. Her phone was buzzing in her purse as Laura had been calling her once at least every three minutes for the last fifteen.

"Hey, you know," Mat started, stopping her by grabbing both her hands. He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her into him, leaning down to be able to press a deep kiss to her lips. He took a step or two forward, until Emma's back hit the wall.

"we've still got all summer," he went on, kissing her once more - this time with tongue. Emma rested her head back against the wall as she looked up at him, biting down on her lip as she took in what he just said. Mat thought maybe he'd gotten ahead of himself when she finally answered by wrapping her arms around his neck and stepping up on her toes, mumbling yeah against his lips as she kissed him even deeper.

This one was going to hurt, probably more than she thought it would - just not yet.

#how did this become a fucking slowburn #I am so confused right now #and insane for doing this #literally spent three days where I have taken time off work to rather do this than write my fucking exam #well enjooy #mat barzal smut #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #new york islanders #hockey smut

[bunnieshoneys]

i can't comment on the new chapter before bed but i had to come shout at you quickly because the raindrops... THE RAINDROPS! the raindrops.

oh i hate u.

(i love you, you're incredible 😩 i cried too, fucking amazing chapter!! thank you for the words and the music and just everything. YOU are everything 🫵 i will express all of this more eloquently in a comment tomorrow, promise 🙏)

tumblr mutual fushiglow i am in love with you

anyway, time for unsolicited authors' comments on the raindrop scene (below the cut, spoilers for chapter 15 of coanda)

I think a really off-hand comment that goes unnoticed is Suguru's:

“When we race endurance we can afford to be distracted,” Suguru scoffs, “it’s not the same as open wheel,”

When. A really common post-retirement activity for f1 drivers is endurance racing. Particularly 24 hours of le mans. Obviously Suguru is being kind of an asshole here talking down on endurance, but he's an idiot, don't listen to him. but he says: when. As in, when he retires, he's going to keep racing. he cant see a future without it. not particularly important, and not the main focus of the scene, but worth noting that, at this point, suguru sees himself racing for a long time, even after retirement from g1.

Then he groans. “That’s like, the third time my raindrop has merged with the one it’s supposed to be racing, are you kidding?” 

Suguru is Satoru's third teammate in g1. First Toji, then Mei Mei, now Suguru.

“You’re picking the wrong raindrops,” Suguru laughs, “you’re just bad at it.” 

Satoru’s eyes refocus on a raindrop in the top corner of the window. “I’ve never been bad at anything, look.” 

Satoru, up until this point, hasn't really gotten on with either of his teammates. Whether its outright disgust, like with Toji, or a quiet distaste like with Mei Mei, Satoru has just been unlucky. He feels like he's seperated from his peers on the grid by his age and attitude, and this time, he's picked his teammate (we get more into it later, but he basically pushed yaga for suguru, specifically). His teammate is his best friend. So this time, his talent won't swallow his teammate whole like it has with the previous two teammates. he genuinely believes their relationship is strong enough to withstand the ordeal of being teammates, and that suguru is more than talented enough to avoid being overshadowed by him (to some extent, satoru is right, but that's for the sequel and fan impressions of getou, which likely will only just be touched on in coanda).

They both watch as the raindrop trickles down, down, down-

And merges into one big blob midway through its descent. 

If you've ever played this game, you might be aware that after a few times, the raindrops will take a pre-determined route down the window because a path has been created. So if you keep picking the same raindrop, it'll keep merging because the path is already set (at least, the path of least resistance).

suguru and satoru are kind of destined to blow up badly. their communication is awful, suguru is actively hiding his struggles and the fact that he knows satoru is in love with him, and just how badly he wants to win to make up for said suffering. they're already misunderstanding each other constantly. there are a few catalysts: riko's death, the way the higher-ups deal with it, haibara's injury, but sooner or later, these two would have clashed in a pretty awful way.

and that's what this silly offhand scene represents. :)

#fic: coanda effect #bunny answers

[wahbegan]

H.P. Lovecraft Summaries 2

My post “So you’re new to H.P. Lovecraft” has gotten a couple notes recently and i’m reading a book of his stories right now, so what better time to educate you all with brief summaries of some of his work! I did the more famous ones last time, so let’s do a few beloved ones sprinkled in with a lot of weird and/or very racist crap everyone forgets about!!! I promise to be as objective and informative as possible. So let’s get started!

The Terrible Old Man: You know that movie Don’t Breathe? Like that, but instead of a blind psycho it’s a ghost....pirate....psycho? Also more racist The Cats of Ulthar: I FUCKING LOVE CATS I LOVE CATS SO FUCKING MUCH IF YOU LAY ONE FINGER ON A KITTY CAT I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU I WILL LITERALLY FUCKING MURDER YOU YOU SON OF A BITCH I HATE YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU I HOPE CATS EAT YOU ALIVE YOU BASTARD MAN The Statement of Randolph Carter: Not gonna lie, this one kinda reads like a man hook hand car door story The Picture in the House: You know how when you reach a certain age, you just start eating human flesh? Old people, man. Fucking terrifying The Hound: Don’t rob graves or the Hound of the Baskervilles will get you. Also my evil glowing dog has bat wings, so eat your fucking heart out, ARTHUR. Herbert West-Reanimator: Maybe after the first 20 times you try to bring a dead person back to life and end up making a cannibal zombie, you can’t complain when it ends with cannibal zombies eating you. Wait, there’s no racial parable in this, is there? Quick! Describe the black boxer as an ape and a thing! The Horror at Red Hook: I fucking HATE Middle-Easterners. I’m not joking, I hate them. I fucking hate them so fucking much I want to just fumigate the fucking-what? Oh, yeah, horror story uhhhhhh ffffucking Lilith or some shit, yeah, fuck it, that’ll do. Facts Concerning The Late Arthur Jermyn and his Family: I’m not sure if I made it clear enough, so let me spell it out: I think Africans are descended from apes and if i found out i had ONE SINGLE DROP of black blood in me, i would LITERALLY light myself on fire. The Unnamable: Idk why i tried marketing this as a short story when it’s very obviously just a very verbose, loquacious, long-winded, some might even say purple prose way of saying: Fuck you saying my monsters are indescribable is cool and makes sense you just don’t get it. The Festival: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCK MY ANCESTORS ARE WORM PEOPLE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CHRISTMAS IS EVIL (relatable) (best story on this list tbh) The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath: HOURS of fucking around just to reveal that no dream could ever be as lovely and beautiful as MY HOME IN SUBURBAN NEW ENGLAND I LOVE IT AND EVEN THE GODS ARE JEALOUS. P.S. I would rather befriend and learn the language of a literal corpse-eating ghoul than trust an Asian person. On the Creation of NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK???? WHAT THE FUCK?!?! THIS IS A THING HE WROTE???? THIS IS WAY WORSE THAN THE FUCKING CAT WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT THIS JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

#H.P. Lovecraft

[gunmetal-ring]

I'm so sad you left Caryl fandom. You've got to do you and self-care is important, and you've been on your way out the door for a while now, so it's hardly a surprise. Still, the loss of your voice and presence in our fandom leaves an empty space.

You were one of very few people whose fics struck the right note between the heaviness and the playfulness that encompass Caryl, while still keeping them in character, so that will be missed too.

I wish you happiness, in life and your new fandom.

Aww anon 😥 you are so sweet and kind and your words uplift my spirit wow. This is one of the nicest compliments ive ever gotten

Granted i did mean all of that when i said it - i knew i was being dramatic lol but it definitely still hurts too much. Also makes me too angry. So its still how i feel now.

But...

BUT...

BUT....!!!!!!

Putting it under a read more bc holy fuck its SUCH a long fucking unnecessary response lmao sorry in advance

If - IF - the rumors are true, that caryl will be in daryl does paris, TOGETHER, with ACTUAL SCENES TOGETHER, not this whole a story/b story, trying-to-find-each-other-and-making-amis-along-the-way bullshit (amis is french for friends bc i think im funny) that lasts until the last scene of the last episode of the last season that twd loves to do...

IF we see caryl ON SCREEN, TOGETHER, doing whatever THEYRE doing, TOGETHER, on THEIR spinoff, AND they are UNAMBIGUOUSLY CANON - for those of you at amc fervently reading my blog (lol) that means a kiss on the lips with romantic intent, i.e. FRENCHING (how appropriate) and confessions of being IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER FOR YEARS AND WISHING THEY DIDNT WASTE SO MUCH TIME WHEN THEY COULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY TOGETHER, and then FOLLOWED WITH AN UNAMBIGUOUS SEX SCENE WITH EACH OTHER, bc if we can have french zombie strippers we can have a fucking sex scene...

If we get that - if we get caryl together, both in physical proximity and romantically - then i might return. If we get proof (which, apparently, can no longer be a greenlit show or pilot script or location scouting or contracts or YEARS of press or fucking talking about it IN THE MAIN SHOW) - proof such as melissa and norman posting pictures of themselves on set, bts photos released by amc, interviews with melissa and norman talking about theyre filming the spinoff and theyre having fun and how its nice to be filming together again after having collectively 1 hour of screentime together in 24 episodes, hype from amc both in print and on sm about the spinoff, promo art with them together, officially naming the spinoff as something to do with CARYL, not just daryl dixon, a table read of the pilot script (where caryl is actually, yknow, holding a conversation, not just carol talking to some french dude and daryl talking to fleur delacour), positive statements straight from mels mouth/her agents (rather than jdm tweeting angrily at 2am and norman parroting the tweet for six months that deliberately and directly contradicts mel's statement along with amc's statement), sneak peeks of CARYL TOGETHER on THEIR spinoff, things that are unambiguously proof that a) mel is back on HER show, b) carol actually has screentime, c) caryl actually has screentime, d) that theyre actually filming with the intent of releasing the show, e) that its not just daryl does paris with a carol cameo at the last scene of the last episode...

IF we get this kind of proof... not only will i resubscribe to amc+ like amc so desperately needs, but i will watch and rewatch until les vaches (french for "the cows" lol) come home.

And then you know what will happen? The caryl fandom, as always, will do the heavy lifting for amc. They will create gifs, fanart, praise the show on sm, spread the word, buy tickets to conventions, buy merchandise FROM AMC, PAY FOR AMC+, tune in to the talking dead (if thats even going to happen? I hope chris hardwick is far far away ugh), write fanfic, create fanvids, post and repost and repost this content all over sm, which will entice carylers who left the fandom due to constant ship trolling and baiting and refusal of amc to do what theyve been implying theyll do for like 8 years - including carylers who left the fandom fucking YEARS ago, as well as carylers like myself who have given the fuck up due to s11 and the spinoff fuckery - and all of this will hype up the spinoff for the general audience too. Even if GA viewers arent specifically carylers, carol is a fan favorite. Carol and daryl is a fan favorite dynamic. People want to see them together.

Amc is finally realizing that they have nailed the coffin shut with this bullshit and thats why theyre scrambling to dangle the possibility of melissa/carol in every single press release and interview they can. They are aware now of the massive fuckup that is daryl does paris. Far too late to make amends, but if they pull this off, they can save the sinking ship (lol) that is amc. Theyre losing money left and right and laying off staff bc they cant keep their fucking heads on straight, and they are well aware its bc the money they were banking on - daryl does paris - is a complete and utter shitshow and will ultimately cost them far more money than it will bring in.

The only way to salvage this is to bring back caryl. Thats it. Bring them back in the 1st episode - together - and in every single episode following that - TOGETHER. No separation, not ambiguous will they wont they, no ship baiting, no cameos.

Actually the exception to the cameo can be the last scene of the 1st episode. Ill allow it.

Wow i went off on a tangent lol. But the point remains: if they do the CARYL SPINOFF right, they will get me back in the fandom as well as everyone else who bailed.

So who knows? Maybe we have a chance. I know @weaintashescltv has been loud and proud on Twitter about what we need to see. Maybe ill even join them lol. Even tho Twitter is an absolute hellscape full of bottom feeding goblins lol

All in all... maybe ill be back.

As for the new fandom its probably a hyperfixation lol considering the main ship i have is 2 dead teenagers that would make literally no sense to ever bring back to life - altho i have to say its refreshing that both of the actors (and even other tertiary actors on the show whose characters interacted w/ had a dynamic involved in the ship!!!) have so much respect for the ship and the fans and the shippers and have spoken at length abt how they also absolutely intended for the ship to be canonically romantic. A couple ships on that show do that, actually - no trolling or baiting or inciting fandom wars or whatever.

Theres something to be said about an obsession w a literally dead ship lmao. Esp when the rest of the show is like GENUINELY good and interesting (like how s1-s5, and then s9-s10 of twd was) and not just the shop.

Goddammit another tanget. This is why all my fics are like 30,000 words longer than i intend them to be. Sorry for the word vomit lmao. But thanks again for popping in anon ilu and wish you happiness and i hope you will continue to find love and fulfillment in one of the greatest ships in television history (and in case its unclear, im talking about caryl)

💗💗💗

#op #caryl #anon #ask

[radiation-risk]

Sudden Sickness - Chapter 6 - TRUE ENDING

Holy fuck. We’re ending 2023 today, and this story. There’s truly nothing that will compare the laughter I had when I got this idea. There will truly be no end to my suffering. This may be what I am known for. This probably is already how some people know me. Either way, it’s time.

TW for rabies, semi-accurate death, grieving depictions and a depiction of a burial! Wooooooo!

I might make a joke post with some end credits, so stick around for that. One last note though.

@a-narcissists-warren thank you so much for enabling me to write this absolute dumpster fire. For anyone unaware, they made a joke artpiece of Airy with rabies, so I said “I’ll write this”. Here we are, finishing that writing now. Enough rambling, though, we have to write Airy’s death!

Liam was sure that soon enough Airy would pass. He was sitting with Airy. He might not have liked Airy, and he’d be at risk of getting bit, but he still stuck with him. The last thing Liam would want was for Airy to be alone after all this time.

He tried to talk to Airy. “Airy, I know it’s rough. It’s going to be over soon. I hope you find me again if you are able.” He didn’t know if Airy would understand, or even hear him. Airy was at least laying down, albeit on the ground now.

Airy couldn’t think. All of his ability to was gone. The small amount of light was bright enough to light up the room as if there were four lightbulbs. He could see well. Liam’s words were just garbled ideas to him. He couldn’t hear good.

Airy was laying still. His heart was starting to beat slower as his brain started to finally fail. He started to breathe faster to try to get his heart going. His heart then started to speed up when his breathing increased. It was getting too fast.

Liam noticed what was happening. He couldn’t do anything, though. He started to sob. He couldn’t keep himself from doing so. After all, he had been with him the entire time. Thinking of the pain Airy must’ve been in, and how nobody could do anything about it was depressing, to say the least.

Airy’s heart still beat too fast. It kept increasing too. His vision started to glaze over with colors. The pain was big, and then… nothing. Airy’s heart stopped in a near instant, his eyes glazing over with the look of death.

Liam looked over, but he barely could. It was too much. He kept crying. He just saw the man he’d have as his only companion, possibly for forever, for five months they’d gotten to know each other, die. Airy was undoubtedly dead. Liam ran outside, sobbing. Running over to the cave, he started to talk to the contestants.

“I have horrible news,” he sniffled before continuing, “Airy has-” he couldn’t even say he had died. The contestants knew, and a sense of grief fell upon them all. After around three minutes, a contestant asked a question. “Can we go home? Do you even know how?” Another spoke against the other’s words. “We all should stay. Liam needs more support than ever now.”

The contestants started pondering what they could do to comfort Liam. Liam was still crying. It was all he could do for the next hour, before debating how to handle Airy’s corpse. He took the next few moments asking the contestants for advice. They decided on a burial, albeit a short one.

He started to take a flat stone attached to a stick because of an indent, and dug a hole. It was a rough hole, but it was a hole. It was around the size of Airy. He walked into the cabin, seeing Airy’s motionless corpse where it was left. He started to lift him off the ground. The last 5 months of gathering wood really helped him to carry Airy to the grave.

He did his best to place Airy in the hole he had dug gently. It was sorrowful, and the last thing Liam said was “I hope you do well again.”

#AND THERE WE GOOOOOOOOO #AEUGHHHHHHH #Anyways joke about an optional ending incoming

[herofics]

hi! you don't have to do this request if you feel uncomfortable (im sorry if it did)

could I have todoroki and bakugo after a stressful day lashing out at reader because reader kept being "difficult" by asking them to do somethings and refusing to do them themselves (if it makes sense)? but it turns out that reader has bad anxiety and other mental health issues that they didn't tell them about. so maybe this was the last straw for reader who ends up admitting themselves before they become a danger to themselves? and after some weeks they return to UA? you can change some stuff in here if you want! I don't want to make you uncomfortable

I’m not uncomfortable with this, no worries. I felt like this was a bit more time sensitive than a lot of the other requests I have, so I tried to write this quickly. Also I didn’t do Todoroki, because I feel like this wouldn’t really fit him. He so strongly doesn’t want to be like his father that he would never snap at the reader like that. But I do have these HCs about the same subject. This isn’t my best work, but I found it good enough to post

“Oh my fucking god! Shut the fuck up and leave me alone!” Bakugou yelled straight in your face.

You immediately stopped talking and just stared at him in disbelief for a few seconds, before marching out of his dorm room and towards yours.

Bakugou was so fucking pissed. He felt like you had been bothering him for hours, even though it had actually been a maximum of ten minutes and he just snapped. He had been so stressed lately and he had things to do, he just couldn’t deal with you right now. So he yelled at you, which he regretted almost immediately as you marched out of the room, but he couldn’t be bothered to go after you. He just slammed the door shut after you and threw a book across the room while yelling incoherently.

You got all the way to your room before breaking down. You barely got the door shut before your legs gave out and you were on all fours on the floor. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like there was a weight on your chest you just couldn’t get off.

You crawled towards your bed and sat down with your back against the edge of it. You just started sobbing inconsolably. You found yourself thinking “What’s the point if even he hates me?” and “Maybe I should just die”. Those two thoughts made you realize that maybe you needed help. You should’ve probably gotten help quite a while ago, but better late than never, right?

The next day you didn’t come to class, which had Bakugou wondering where the fuck you were. He didn’t exactly feel like apologizing, but he found himself getting worried, since he didn’t see you all day.

When he got back to his dorm room, he found a note taped to his door. He ripped it off and opened it.

“Hey Katsuki, I’m going away for a while to make sure I’m not going to hurt myself. Take care, see you in a few weeks”

Bakugou’s face fell. Was this his fault? Had he almost driven you over the edge? He would’ve never forgiven himself if that was the case. If you hurt yourself because of something he did, he would hate himself forever.

He tried to call you right away, but it just went to voicemail.

“Fuck” he hissed, and hit the door with his fist.

A few weeks passed, and the pit in Bakugou’s stomach just wasn’t going away. He had been trying to contact you every day but he never managed to reach you. Or maybe you just didn’t want to talk to him, but he hated to even think that could be the case.

Finally that same evening, he noticed you walking back to the dorms from the window of his room. You greeted your classmates that were hanging out in the common room, but wiggled your way out of the whole situation quite quickly and headed to your room.

Bakugou could hear you walking in the hallway past his room, but he didn’t have the courage to open the door and face you. How could he? He had been so awful to you. He just hit his pillow a few times, before placing it over his face and yelling obscenities into it. Your footsteps passed, before returning after a few minutes.

“Katsuki?” he heard from behind the door, which made him immediately perk up.

When Bakugou opened the door, he had an expression on his face you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Guilt. Clear and undeniable guilt.

“I’m so fucking sorry” he muttered, before pulling you into a bear hug.

“You’re suffocating me” you murmured.

“Sorry” he said and let go, still keeping his hands on your arms.

“I appreciate your apology, but I think we should also talk a bit” you said, motioning for him to let you into the room.

You both sat down on his bed and he kept holding your hand. You weren’t really sure if it was more for your comfort or his.

“I just want to make it clear that you did upset me, like a lot, but you’re not the reason I went away for a while. I just had a lot of shit going on in my head and what you said, made it all kinda come crashing down, so I decided I needed to do something before I did something bad” you explained.

“I know I can be a total asshole when I lose my temper, and I didn’t mean to upset you like that” he said remorsefully.

“I know” you sighed. “I’m pretty tired and I need to unpack my clothes, but you can come with me if you want to”

“Sure” he said, following you out of the room.

Bakugou had seen the destruction and dismay his actions could cause, especially in his friends and the people he loved. While he had learned a lot after coming to UA, he still had a long way to go before he could face some people on equal ground.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #comfort #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #suicidal tw

[omeganixtra]

Hunger for more - chapter 3

Wordcount: 5.8K

Warnings: mature content, sex, safe sex, painfully awkward flirting

Note: originally posted on april 30th, 2023 on AO3

Chapter 2 — Chapter 4

---------------

The first time Ghost sleeps with you is two weeks after the shitshow in the jungle.

It’s barely past midnight and Ghost still hasn’t quite relieved himself of his newfound hatred of Colombia. They’ve dragged themselves back to Bogotá covered in so much filth it’s a miracle that no one’s gotten an infection, and Ghost has spent approximately ninety percent of that time stressed out of his fucking mind.

Istanbul had been a bloody piss-take by comparison.

Neon lights bathes the hole-in-the-wall bar that Soap has dragged them into. They’re strung up beneath the fabric that shields the night-time party-goers from the worst of the downpour that seems to have held the country in a death grip for weeks now.

He’s holed up in the corner booth that Gaz somehow managed to weasel out of the owner with some truly horrendous-sounding Spanish that had you and Soap struggle to keep face. All in all, it could be worse. For one, he could still be out in the rain rather than squirreled away like this with a drink—untouched since he ordered it. He’s got his back to the wall, a clear view of the bar, his squad mates with him.

Yeah, could be worse. Ghost ignores the way that the rain drums against the sheets keeping everyone dry.

Price abandoned them little over an hour ago, citing something about getting some well-deserved sleep in a real bed. Personally, Ghost considers it somewhere between mildly hypocritical and obscenely hysterical. Especially considering just how insistent he had been on Ghost joining them all for this little night out before they all ship back home to base.

“Get your fucking arse off that seat and dress down. That’s an order, Riley.”

Price has always had such a way with words.

A soft brush of something against his lower leg has Ghost tense. His eyes shoot to the right, immediately pinning you with a glare. Your foot is yanked back towards yourself and Ghost scowls moments later, already missing—hating—your touch.

“You planning on drinking that?” you ask, bathed in the neon light from above and warm gold from the straining candle sputtering its last few moments. Ghost follows your pointed finger to his drink and automatically he curls his hand tighter around the glass.

“Maybe.”

Your eyebrow rises. “After staring at it for the last hour and a half? Bet you anything it’s all gross and warm now.”

Ghost smirks. “Eager for a taste, are you?”

 “Maybe,” you echo his own words back at him. The grin on your face should not be so endearing.

You turn and rummage through the small bag you brought with you—“That’s the easiest way to get pickpocketed, idiot.” he had said and you had smiled. “That’s why I’ve got you watching my arse, lieutenant.”—looking triumphant when you pull out a metal straw.

He narrows his eyes. “The fuck is that?”

“It’s a straw, obviously,” you say as if it is the most normal fucking thing to carry around metal straws. “I like to go out prepared.”

Now, that has his eyebrows rise up a fair bit. He still sees the way you’re eyeing his drink, however.

“You’ve not havin’ my fucking drink, Birdie.”

Great. Now you’re rolling your bloody eyes at him. “Come on—”

“This is the first bit of peace I’ve had for two fucking weeks now,” Ghost growls. “Fat fuckin’ chance of you getting your fingers on my drink.”

“Your bedside manners are shit, lieutenant.”

“Good thing I’m not the bloody medic, then.”

The two of you are glaring at each other. To anyone passing by it must be quite a sight to behold. A hulking, dark-clad man staring at someone much, much smaller. Intimidation meets stubbornness—he knows that it’s just a matter of waiting you out but for fuck’s sake, you’re so bloody difficult.

Is it really so bad to just throw in the towel?

Apparently, it is that bad because you lean back against the seat with crossed arms and a scowl on your face, giving him a pitifully ineffective glare. Quiet settles over the booth after that, only broken by the occasional shout from the other bar-goers or the music blaring through the speakers. It’s not the worst that Ghost’s ever heard in his life. Bearable is probably the word he’s looking for.

“John and Kyle are having a grand time,” you suddenly say, nodding towards the two alphas on the other side of the bar currently engaged in a dart game of all fucking things. How the two of them managed to find that in the middle of downtown Bogotá, Ghost has no idea. Quite frankly, he couldn’t care less. Those two have gotten up to weirder shit back home, he really shouldn’t be surprised.

Ghost glances at them for just a second or two before his eyes are back on you, warily testing the tension-filled air between you. “Hmm.”

When a soft smile appears on your face he is stumped for a moment. Seconds ago you were annoyed with him, looking like a petulant child not getting their way instead of a grown woman. Just as quickly everything seems to have been swept away, hidden under the rug as if you’ve got better things to do than waste time and energy fighting with him.

It’s exhausting trying to keep up with you. It’s absolutely worth it.

Your lips are twitching upwards. “You barely even looked at them, Ghost.”

“Sure I did. Bet you anything, Soap’ll have ‘em all fleeced by the end of the night,” he says candidly as he carefully swirls the still-untouched drink around in his glass.

“John barely even speaks a word of Spanish,” you laugh and it’s like fucking bells in Ghost’s ears. Sweet and perfect—omega.

“Why d’you think Gaz is with ‘im?”

At that you let out a snort, covering your face with your hand as you try, and fail, to stifle the delighted snickers erupting from your mouth. “You’re terrible, Ghost!”

Ghost smirks beneath his mask before reaching out to swipe the metal straw from your side of the table and putting it into his drink before nudging one end under his mask to have a sip. The taste of bourbon is familiar as it spreads in his mouth, familiar and yet still strange. Maybe not the most glamorous way to have a drink, but it keeps his face covered.

How is it that you’re always so fucking thoughtful?

Eventually the laughter dies down. The table returns to the mellow, sticky-sweet atmosphere of happiness-content-omega-softness Ghost felt a second ago when you first started laughing.

“I can’t figure you out, y’know,” you say quietly enough for Ghost to have to strain his ears to hear anything over the beat of music. Your head is tilted to the side as you watch him, still grinning from ear to ear as your fingers tap a nonsensical melody against the slightly sticky wooden table.

“That supposed to mean somethin’?” Ghost huffs before taking another sip. This time the familiar burn is muted.

A blush darkens your cheeks in a way that has Ghost’s teeth aching to get a taste of you. But you you’re your eyes downward, suddenly finding it much more interesting to study the grain of the wood beneath your hands rather than look at him. “You haven’t asked for… well, more.”

Ghost blinks.

He’s not an idiot. It doesn’t take a genius to know what you mean, or at least what you’re hinting at. Quite frankly, a part of him can’t help but feel disgusted over the fact that the thought has even crossed your mind. That a part of you might have thought that he’d be one of those alphas who were too caught up in their own self-importance. Another part of him can’t help but nod approvingly over your caution. Being a woman in the military is certainly no breeze. Being an omega has only stacked the odds against you even further.

And Ghost knows his reputation, even within their own ranks.

He lets go of his drink to scratch at a spot on the side of his neck, shrugging. “I’m not a fucking animal, Birdie. Some of us knows how to behave ‘round women.”

Immediately your eyes widen. “N-no, I—I wasn’t—”

“Birdie—”

“I promise, lieutenant, that’s not what I—"

Ghost cuts your blubbering mess of an apology off by reaching across the table to encircle your wrist with his much-bigger hand and squeezing lightly, just once. “Quit.”

Just one word but you immediately still. Your eyes zero in on where he cradles your wrist so carefully, the heat from his skin slowly transferring to yours. He can feel your pulse, thrumming like the hummingbird he likened you to what seems like an age ago. Small and fragile—the small scar he knows your head now carries beneath your hair is proof of this. Rather than detract from your loveliness, it only adds to it instead.

His Birdie.

His omega.

There’s a cheer across the room and Ghost’s attention is stolen away by the commotion happening up there. Too many people are here. He knows what he wants to convey to you but not out here in public where people can see the two of you. Ghost craves the privacy of a dark room, the door locked and the key thrown away—a thing to be worried about in the morning when he isn’t two seconds away from pouncing on you like a starving beast rather than the human being he supposedly is. When Ghost turns his attention back to you, he sees how your pupils have grown larger, the shellshocked look on your face turning into something hungrier. Something that craves his touch as much as he does yours.

Oh, the things he wants to do to you.

He traces the shape of your lips with his eyes, longs to bite the plump flesh swollen and lave at it with his tongue until all he can taste is you and salt and omega infused with a layer of himself. Beneath the table he feels your foot return, tentatively brushing up against his leg. This time Ghost remains perfectly still as your foot slides along his trousers. Compared to how he has touched you before this is utterly tame, a meek imitation of everything he wants the freedom to do to you.

“Still thirsty?” he asks, internally surprised over just how calm his voice sounds when he speaks. Inside Ghost feels ravenous, hungering for you in a way that almost scares him.

“I—” your mouth is open for a few seconds, then closes with an audible click. “Y-yeah. A bit. Could do with a drink.”

“Don’t think they have anythin’ here that isn’t alcoholic.”

“Might be some back at base,” you say, practically breathless as you look up at him.

A smile makes his lips twitch upwards as he leans closer, intrigued by this little act of yours. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought you weren’t planning on anything more,” he says, not even bothering with keeping the innuendo out of his voice anymore. There’s enough noise around the two of you to mask the blatant interest he’s laying out before you, more than a little intrigued in seeing if you’ll accept or not.

“The night is still young, isn’t it?” you murmur and twist your wrist in his hold until your palm is pressed against his, fingers splayed out as far as you can stretch them. Slowly, giving him more than enough time to pull away, you wrap your small hand around his and holds on as tightly as you possibly can. Your palm is a little sweaty, blazing hot against his. The look in your eyes is turning a little wilder, hungrier—mirroring the look in his eyes, most likely.

Not like he’s going to get a clearer answer to his question than this.

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost grunts and moves to stand. Before you’ve gotten out of your own side of the booth, he lets out a sharp whistle towards Soap and Gaz. The two materialise out of fucking nowhere, cheeks flushed and more than a few drinks deep by this point.

“Problem?” Gaz asks as he looks from you to Ghost.

“I’m taking this one back to base, making sure she’ll get there alright,” Ghost says as he lets his eyes linger at the rowdy crowd. “You two stayin’ here?”

“Planning on it, yeah,” Soap nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you get out of the booth. “You keep our Lt safe and sound, y’hear? Won’t have ‘im show up tomorrow with bruises all over that dainty skin o’ his.”

Ghost glowers at Soap while you erupt into giggles.

“Don’t stay out too late, boys,” you tell the two of them, squeezing Soap’s arm just once before pushing it off you and going to Ghost’s side.

It’s a challenge to not wrap his arm around you the moment you’re standing still, some urge inside him insisting on erasing Soap’s scent and replacing it with his instead.

“I’ll keep an eye or two of Garrick,” Soap snickers before making a shooing motion with his hand at you and Ghost. “Now fuck off and be boring back at base.”

Before he can let out a scathing retort to Soap’s indifference, you’re tugging at his arm. Ghost levels a glare at the other two for a few seconds, enjoying the apprehensiveness that slowly starts to build in Gaz’s eyes the longer that their lieutenant keeps eye contact.

“Let’s go.”

Ghost’s voice is gravelly. Raspier, as if he’s been punishing his lungs with several cigarettes one after another all evening. But you nod so obediently before falling in right beside him and doing your level best to keep pace with his much-longer strides through the rowdy crowd of people.

From there, things are a bit of a blur.

The bar is not far from the base they’re staying at until shipping home and for once the company he has isn’t a complete waste of air. You’re looking up at him with such pretty eyes—all of you is pretty in one way or another—completely trusting of him to steer the two of you in the right direction. At one point he feels the briefest touch against his hand and a quick glance down reveals that you’ve wrapped your fingers around his. It’s loose. Ghost could slip out of the hold all too easily but the smile that he sees on your face when he doesn’t is near blinding.

For the entire hour that it takes the two of you to wander through Bogotá’s streets and back to base Ghost lets you keep a grip on his fingers. The time passes by all too quickly. Between one moment and the next Ghost finds himself walking down barely-familiar hallways with you by his side, hands no longer connected but still within touching distance. He feels too in-tune with you, hyper aware of every little movement you’re making, even if it’s just smoothing out a crease in your shirt or sliding a finger beneath the hem of your trousers to fix something into place.

One right, a bit further down the hall, two lefts and then—his room. The officer’s quarters are separated from the barracks that you, Soap and Gaz were shoved into when everyone came back from the wilderness. You’re still standing beside him, still smiling so prettily that it makes his teeth ache. He wants to explore as much of you as he can get away with, wants to taste your skin, your tears, your cunt—everything that makes you into the temptress he sees standing before him.

Ghost wants to see if you taste as sweet as you look.

He unlocks the door but you are the one who steps inside, Ghost following close behind you and closing the door again with a soft click once he’s inside. He remains in place in front of the door as he watches you take in the bare officer’s room. The barely-used bed, the dirt-splattered carry-all sitting by the end of it. Ghost swallows when your hand runs over the towel he used before meeting up with the rest of you hours ago, immediately clocking how your nostrils flare ever so slightly. You’re taking in his scent, what little of it has started sticking to the furniture and air in here.

When you turn around to look at him while slowly getting seated on the edge of his bed Ghost just about loses it. He’s across the room in seconds, looming over you like a vengeful wraith, nostrils flaring beneath the mask. Even now, under layers of perfume and salty sweat and the liveliness of Bogotá, he can still smell that strong chemical stench on you. The blockers are still there, overpowering the faint traces of his scent that has been clinging to you since those first few days out in the Colombian wilderness.

The urge to fix that is growing stronger. It’s all he can think about when you’re sitting there so docile and pretty. Slowly, Ghost leans down until his arms are caging you in on either side. There is still ample room behind you and yet you don’t move an inch, remaining in place until his face is a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You still want this?” he mumbles, eyes flickering all over your face, searching for even the tiniest sign that you want out.

It’ll hurt like Hell. But he’ll do it.

He’s not the kind of cunt who forces themselves on omegas. He’s not.

When you nod Ghost feels excitement thrumming throughout his body—but still.

Precautions.

“Need words, pet,” he says dryly and runs his fingers over your thighs, his chest feeling strangely tight when he feels you trembling ever so slightly beneath his touch. “You nervous?”

“A bit, yeah. It’s been a while,” you admit shyly before hesitantly leaning closer. Ghost forces himself to remain in place when your cheek rests against his own and he hears, rather than sees, you inhale softly. “But I… I want this. Want you, Ghost.”

Ghost.

You want him.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Ghost feels what little remains of his control finally snap into pieces. His hands on your thighs tightens, holding on to you with more strength than necessary. In response one of your hands comes up to rest against his chest, the sweetest fucking noise he’s ever heard you make sounding a moment after when your lips part.

You want him.

Ghost’s head is still reeling from that particular realisation when he starts pulling at his clothes. There is nothing hurried about it as you mirror him, smiling so sweetly up at him—as if he deserves this.

Does he?

He doesn’t even know anymore.

For so long he’s been craving this, getting the chance to have you beneath him, and yet here he is without the faintest idea about what he actually should do. If it’s even something he’s allowed.

Something warm and impossibly inviting is starting to fill the air with every inhale of air he takes. One hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your head back until the tempting expanse of your neck is revealed to him, and Ghost just can’t help himself. He leans in close, running his nose along the slope of your throat, allows himself a moment of pressing his lips to your pulse, even if the mask is covering him.

Fuck. Clarity returns to him with a vengeance as Ghost feels the familiar sensation of his mask rubbing against his skin, fabric tugging lightly at the stubble covering his cheeks beneath it. He pulls away from your neck even if his hands remain fastened around your hips. Ghost allows his fingers to hook over the hem, tugging trousers down just far enough to get a peek of your underwear.

Grey. Utilitarian.

Somehow still the sexiest thing he has seen in months.

“Lieutenant?”

Your question is slow to divert his attention from the mask and back to you, but eventually he meets your eyes. He doesn’t quite know what to say, instead fastening his eyes on your lips rather than your eyes.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur after a few seconds have passed, your voice sweet as sugar. When he doesn’t answer right away, you continue. “The mask, I mean. It’s not a dealbreaker for this, Ghost.”

Somehow, Ghost manages to feel relief at the same time as disappointment. It’s a strange feeling, all things considered. On one hand the relief is enough to ease some of the tightness in his chest, removing the tiniest bit of the automatic anxiety that starts to sprout the moment he even thinks about removing it. Doing it back on base—his actual base—is different. Ghost knows everything about those rooms and corridors, knows the smells that are familiar and the ones foreign to his nose. Here in Colombia all he can smell is you and the stench of animalistic need to have you. It wouldn’t be safe. He wouldn’t be able to feel safe, even with a locked door and the near-total darkness of his temporary room to shield him.

But the disappointment is still there. He won’t be able to indulge in your skin the same way he could back home in England. Won’t be able to tug up the balaclava or face mask just enough to lick along your jaw or nip teasingly at the skin around your scent gland until the only thing he’ll be able to smell would be the heady mess of your arousal. Too risky.

Suddenly there are hands on his thighs and Ghost blinks, glancing down to see your own fingers dig into his belt loops. A short but firm tug is enough to have one corner of his lips twitch upwards in a smirk.

“Got a condom in my purse, y’know,” you say, voice still sticky sweet, immediately causing Ghost’s thought process to come to a screeching halt as his eyes jerk up to look at you.

The realisation that you’ve been carrying that around with you all night, most likely since you came back to base and had a chance to wash up, is making his mind come to a complete stop. You… you planned this. Have wanted him like this the entire night.

Between one moment and the next he has you pushed down onto the bed and he crawls over you, caging you in between his arms as a low, teetering on feral, growl escapes him. Your eyes are so wide when you look up at him, want and excitement blatantly on display as your legs come up and wrap around his waist, making your hips grind against his when Ghost lowers himself down just far enough to blanket your entire body.

You’re still so tiny compared to him. A slip of a thing, really. Breakable.

But he doesn’t want to see you broken. He wants to see you thrive.

His hand slips beneath your shirt as yours pull his trousers down over his backside and Ghost nearly lets out a hiss when he feels his cock spring free between the two of you. He’s so busy watching your face as you look at him that he nearly startles when that first tentative touch of your hand against his cock registers.

Ghost keeps still as he feels you explore, fingertips running over his skin. Your eyes look back at his, half-lidded and heady as your hips lift up just enough to grind against the underside of his cock. He narrows his eyes at you as his hand slides down to cup your rear, squeezing until he hears a sharp gasp from you, but your hand never disappears from his cock.

The haze returns as instincts take over. Ghost thrusts against your hand, his forehead coming down to rest against the too-firm mattress as he revels in the sensation of your touch. It’s too much and too little all at once. He needs you closer.

“Omega,” he growls and nudges his masked face against your cheek. You let him do as he pleases for a few more glorious minutes before your hands return to his shoulders and pushes lightly. Just enough for Ghost to blink himself back into reality while the smell of content omega is thick in his nose.

“Condom, sir,” you murmur. “Not gone enough to start fucking without protection.”

Ghost groans and can’t help but smile behind the mask. Hearing and seeing your lips form to speak such vulgar words, even if it’s just the one, shouldn’t be sexy. He’s as fucked up as he is reluctantly enamoured with your levelheadedness.

You may be the weaker link in the chain that forms the 141 but right here and now there isn’t a lot of things that Ghost wouldn’t do if it meant you’d stay. Here, with him. At base. In the field. He knows himself well enough to recognize the dependency that is forming inside him. And yet, he doesn’t care. For once, Ghost wants—is allowing himself to want.

He needs—no, craves you.

It is with great reluctance that he pulls away from you, looking more than a little satisfied as he looks down at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, sees the way your clothes are ruffled and shoved halfway to the side.

You look good like this with your doe-like come-fuck-me eyes blatantly on display and your nipples straining against your bra and top.

Ghost locates the purse and throws it your way before starting to work his trousers open properly, shoving them down his legs and stepping out without taking his eyes off you. He feels something like hunger-pangs burst in his gut when he sees you pull out a small packet from your purse, a ravenous grin spreading on his face when he sees you open the bloody thing and wave him closer.

He pulls off his shirt and undershirt, unable to keep from preening a little when he sees the appreciative gaze you’re giving him as he comes to a halt right by the edge of the bed. Slowly, carefully, you crawl forward until your face is level with his cock. Ghost holds his breath as you wrap a hand around his base, the other used to roll on the condom. It’s a test of his patience as he watches you, grunting out soft warnings whenever you squeeze around him or teasingly slows down.

“Having fun, lieutenant?” you ask teasingly before pressing your lips to his tip, kissing his cock almost reverently.

Ghost responds by grabbing you by the elbows and pulling you up into his arms. Your legs are back around his hips immediately, an endearing squeak escaping you at the sudden movement.

“Omega!” he near-snarls, frustration and the urge to prove himself for the pretty thing caught in his arms running circles around his head. “Playing a dangerous game there, pet.”

You giggle. The sound is like fucking bells in his ears. “Am I, now?”

With a low growl emanating from all the way down in his chest Ghost gets the two of you situated back down on the bed once more. You’re pinned beneath him as he reluctantly lets go of you to pull off your clothes.

He needs this. The skin-on-skin. Seeing your naked body with his own eyes, even if he can’t return the favour to you. At least, not all the way.

When your arms wind around his neck and pulls him down to you, Ghost follows willingly enough. He uses an arm to support his weight, ensuring that he doesn’t brush you completely.

“Hm?”

“You’ll have to go slow, Ghost,” you whisper into his ear and rolls your hips up against his cock. The groan he responds with is downright pornographic when you add a bit more. “I meant it when I said it’s been a while.”

Careful.

You want Ghost to be careful with your body.

He feels like a fool just barely fumbling his way through getting his knot wet for the first time when he takes himself in hand and runs his cock up and down your slit. Ghost hasn’t looked between your legs just yet, too fixated on your face and the bloody perfect tits you’ve been hiding beneath non-flattering army clothes for too fucking long, in his personal opinion.

Ghost pushes inside you.

A whimper is the first noise that comes out of you and Ghost immediately snaps to attention. He’s not a small man and you’re so small compared to him. The look on your face is pinched as his cock sinks an inch inside you and your hands are digging into the meat of his shoulders as your body struggles to accommodate this new sensation. But you hide your face against his neck and pant out something that sounds like a garbled “Oh, fuck…” when he tries to pull out of you again.

“Don’t—” you choke out between tight breaths.

Ghost stops. “But you’re—”

“Jus’—stay,” you grunt before giving the shakiest fucking smile he’s ever laid eyes on. There’s a pinched look on your face but damn it if your determination to do this with him isn’t enough to drive him absolutely wild on the inside.

Ghost stays. He doesn’t dare move, no matter how much his instincts are screaming at him to take you. He finally has you beneath him, his alpha crooning sweet things and bloodstained desires into his ear with every second that passes.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps out as you slowly relax around him, your breathing smoothing out. Ghost keeps up running a soothing touch up and down your neck and shoulder before daring to push a bit further inside you. “My good little omega… doing so good for me, yeah?”

Time seems to slow down around him, wrapping itself snugly around you and him right here in this dingy officer’s room.

Ghost croons sweet words to you as he coaxes you through letting him inside. It isn’t until he finally bottoms out inside you that he comes back to the present, staring at your slightly-vacant eyes. You’re making the most delicious little noises with every move he makes, your cunt firm and warm around his cock in a way that almost feels too good to be real.

The world-weary battle-hardened part of him barks that he ought to be grateful, to get this over with as quickly as possible so he can clear his mind. And yet, there’s another part of him—the soft remains of Simon Riley buried beneath the shadowed mantle of Ghost—that yearns for this softness. For a chance to prove that he can be more than the feared operative.

That he can be someone deserving of this gift you’ve granted him.

He thrusts against you, keeping the pace as slow as he can stand. Both of you let out groans of pleasure as your muscles squeeze around him and Ghost has to fist his hand in the sheets rather than grab your hair and yank it back hard enough to expose your neck.

That’s not why he’s doing this. Why you are doing this.

Ghost is stronger than the budding bond that hungrily feeds off of your close proximity. He has to be.

Can’t afford not to.

“G-Ghost, I—” you whine, pressing a desperate kiss to the base of his throat. “Please… n-need you to move!”

He obliges readily enough, moving in and out of your wet heat in steady motions until you’re whimpering his callsign like a prayer. Not that Ghost is any better. You’re not the only one who hasn’t fooled around for quite a while. It is almost embarrassing how quickly Ghost is feeling the pleasure spread from his cock to the rest of his body, how he revels in the tingle that starts in his gut as his release draws closer.

Once again, he can’t help but loathe his incessant need to have his face covered, even in a situation like this. His teeth ache to sink deep into willing flesh, into marking your throat with his essence, ensuring that everyone will know.

A pleasure-clumsy hand is pressed between the two of you, Ghost making quick work of locating your clit. He barely even touches it before you’re crying out, clenching rhythmically around him as your release overwhelms you and bathes Ghost in the sweet scent of slick. It’s running thickly between your legs, getting smeared over your thighs, and his as well. Ghost winds his arms around you, suddenly desperate to get you as close to him as humanly possible as he struggles to keep his momentum.

Then—he nearly shouts when his orgasm washes over him, bucking his hips frantically against yours as he cums inside you, filling up the condom seconds before his knot firms up around his base just enough to remain stuck inside you. His breathing is ragged as he tries blinking the stars from his eyes, trying to keep from collapsing right on top of you.

Ghost can feel his cock twitch inside you, how your muscles are still eagerly milking every drop of seed from his balls.

He shoves his face into your hair with a satisfied hum, eyes blinking lazily as he takes in how soaked through with sweat you are. How he can barely move without feeling a sharp pang in his crotch from how intimately the two of you are joined.

“Been a while for you, too?” you mumble, tone teetering between teasing and just as worn out as he feels right about now.

“Maybe,” Ghost sighs noncommittedly, face still buried against your hair as he takes in long, deep breaths. His cock feels like it’s getting strangled between your legs, but with his knot having gone off and the fact that he has your scent flooding his nose, Ghost really can’t find it in himself to give much of a fuck right now.

You’re quiet for a while, one hand running up and down his back as you patiently wait for his knot to go down. It’s been long enough since he had a lay that Ghost has no idea when that’ll be. He will treasure this moment for as long as it’ll take, though.

The quiet of the night slowly settles as the sweat cools on his body, and yours as well. When you shiver, despite the fact that Ghost has turned into a human blanket for you, he reaches for the creased and stained blankets beneath the two of you, wrinkling his nose slightly when he presents them to you. The blankets smell of you and him. Of sex. Not exactly the ideal presentation to a freshly bedded omega.

Still, you make a pleased little noise at the sight of them and Ghost carefully turns the two of you around so you’re on top of him before he does his best to tuck the blanket around your form. He’ll be fine. His body temperature has yet to go down and the warm air isn’t doing the slightest thing in terms of cooling him down. It’s not a problem—he’s dealt with worse situations. Plus, getting to see you so blatantly covered in something belonging to him—Ghost—is almost obscenely satisfying.

“Feeling proud of yourself?” you giggle as you smile down at him, no doubt recognizing the look in his eyes.

Ghost chuckles. “Maybe.”

“Sounds like the sex took away your vocabulary, lieutenant,” you murmur and lean down close enough to press a soft, barely-there kiss to his masked cheek. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“That so?” he hums, hands sliding down to your hips and cupping them loosely. His brain is pleasantly hopped up on a heady cocktail of dopamine and endorphins. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it, Birdie.”

Nothing about this is ideal. It’s messy. A problem.

And yet—Ghost can’t bring himself to fucking care.

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