#it took longer for them to snap because they had each other to validate their feelings

[todayisafridaynight]

INCREDIBLY FUNNY that I refused to settle for just saying "bread" but yes it was those! So in that sense, the lavish bread physics are integral to conveying how important the little things were in getting him through prison. Still, for the sake of the drip…...... perhaps sacrifices are needed...

But yeah, I'm thrilled you noticed those things about the evolution of Jo's design, too! It's super interesting to think about in terms of storytelling, I don't think you're inarticulate in saying that at all. Speaking of, I also just look up "holder" to find prev asks at this point lol

Jo and Ichi's dynamic is also a major topic of interest for me (as we've seen). I think a lot of what's going on with them is definitely some variation of "old habits die hard." That's natural when you form that kind of uneasy coexistence. But like you mentioned, it's also telling that Jo picked up the nickname in the first place, because I went back through the entire script, and it really is the case that only Arakawa, Masato, Jo, and the people who raised Ichi call him that. It's reserved for his family.

I think this line about Aoki (that I completely forgot about before looking at the script again lol) may also shed some light: "A long time ago, I knew him as the young master. He knew me as Ichi." Because they all do that, don't they? Ichi still says Captain, Boss, and Young Master, Jo still says Boss, Ichi, and Young Master, Aoki still says Dad and Ichi.

Even though on paper these relationships should've dissolved with Ichi being expelled, Masato becoming Aoki, and Jo taking over as second patriarch, to one another, they're all still who they used to be. And as an aspect of how they communicate, the "learned language" that forms in families, it stands out when they're all on the same page with the terms they choose to use.

This line from Ichi also stood out to me: "But my aniki taught me different. He said whoever makes the first move is the victor. The guy with steel balls wins." Like, that's clearly Jo, right? For one thing, the "flavor" of aniki is different from Captain, of course--one is directly an appointed post, and one is more open to interpretation--but it also clearly shows that Jo's imparted his "philosophy" to Ichi in some ways.

I think, to a degree, it's one of those holdovers from RGGO that wasn't fully implemented. Because they're more or less the same in RGGO in this regard, but RGGJo does outright say it makes him weirdly happy that Ichi still calls him Captain, so that's a clearer indicator and makes the idea feel more "complete."

With what I said before about their "learned language," too, the Arakawa Family has this way of saying goodbye that's specific to them, and I really miss it in Y7. It is referenced briefly, but it's not a "thing" like it was in RGGO. It's kinda like how The Gang in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia greet each other with "Hey-ohhh!" LMAO idk but. I Enjoy. But that's also why it stood out to me that LaD8Jo greets Ichi the same way as Y7Jo and RGGJo.

ALSO that is so sick the author of Soliloquy saw your art…… incredible……….. + as an aside since I was reminded, it's very true that sometimes people seem to "fill in the blanks" with tropes, and my favorite is honestly when it's both funny and offensive. There was this whole "phase" (and to everyone's credit it was short-lived) of playing Mine up like this Huge Misogynist because he's not attracted to women, and it's WILD to recognize that he's gay but still pull up homophobic tropes for funsies.

Like I was mad at the time mostly on account of the mischaracterization (because come on, even if you've only seen Y3, he is still uncharacteristically soft with Katase… not that he wasn't INSANE for The Slap, but it also wasn't at all rooted in the same things as say, Nishiki slapping Reina might've been.) But it was funny. Perhaps not in the way it was intended to be, but it was funny. And, you know, that's why I'm happy to stay in my own little corner as well.

You coulda just said bread it's ok 😭 I WAS right though it WAS a carb......

On the subject of language though, it's def something I picked up on (if my last ask wasn't any indication lmao)! It's a real neat detail and something I think helps push that 'family' theme Y7 has going on (or at the very least demonstrates how despite the times changing, they still have those bonds with each other whether they acknowledge it or not), it definitely being a case of picking up a habit/term from family.

About tropes in fan works though, I can't act like I'm guiltless of it LMAO so I don't have too strong of a leg to stand on when it comes to criticizing it (and I can't lie, sometimes I do find playing into the trope funny if it's at least based on something from the text and it's just exaggerated For The Bit yeah). However I do think the strangest thing was linking misogyny and Mine (I made a post rambling about it but deleted it like. .3 seconds later) because nothing he does in either Y3 nor RGGO is explicitly misogynistic? In the slightest? And as we talked about before he's considerably pretty respectful towards women? Again, he surely did slap a little girl, but it wasn't because she was a girl you know (still cringe to do but if we're gonna talk about it let's do it right please and thank you). As you say though, pushing that trope onto Mine just feels like perpetuating the harmful stereotype that gay men hate women, and in cases like that then I can't really take the piss out of it without having a weird taste in my mouth.

#long post #snap cahts #on the note about language though..... you just reminded me that i wanted to make fun of jo for his particular usage of 'balls' ☠️☠️ #like first time i was like fine. yk it's a common saying but then second time i was just Alright I Got It Champ Balls Are Crazy #and if jo really WAS the one to say that to ichi then like.. my guy.. three times is no longer a coincidence.. whole lotta talk bout balls. #in all seriousness though that much repetition from jo really does help confirm that the quote ichi says /is/ from him #and helps validate that bond they had. because sure jo's an asshole but it's clear ichi still took his words to heart #in that respect. i like that jo has a favorite term- its pretty human i guess you can say #cause yk we all have certain phrases or words we like to particularly use so its sweet to see that. in the funniest way possible but still #SORRY im five i still laugh at dick jokes anyways #NO NOT TO GET CONTROVERSIAL BUT ABOUT NISHIKI SLAPPING REINA i see so few people talk about it #and if they do they try to make reina seem like the villain and that nishiki was faultless for hitting her... like what... #i mean reina wasn't being nice in that scene but she was also upset about losing people she loved too.. #like yeah nishiki hitting reina is diff from mine hitting haruka- both dick actions but def diff #hitting a kid after you talk bout bulldozing their home and then they Rightfully hit you for it yk. cringe. get it together she's 13 ☠️ #threw hands with a 13 y/o moment... actual mustache-twirling-evil shit LMAO #with nishiki it's like. my man that's your friend... you guys are going through shit together why are you getting mad at her.. #we get it youre insecure but dont take that out on your friend bro she's distraught too #im gona ruffle SOMEONS feathers with them tags i just know it.... oh well #point is. dont hit kids dont hit your friends and dont hit women. unless it's consensual then by all means go WWE on each other

[gingerishly]

Meaningful Dread

Chapter 1

Notes: hiiiii i posted this on ao3 and it did good so i figured i’d make a new blog and post it on here too :3 enjoy <3

…………………………………………………………………………….

Astarion had a sort of Disdain for the wizard. Jealousy. Resentment. Longing. Though he would never admit it to himself.

Gale was clean. Collected, refined. How could a man be so perfectly tainted and pure? The way he walked, holding himself proudly, the way he talked as if he had acquired all the knowledge in the universe, the way he simply existed as if it weren’t something that takes one’s whole energy.

Obviously, it shouldn’t. But of course that’s how it felt to the vampire. As if living had become a chore, not something to enjoy, something to do because you must. Something to do because you must be better than those who have wronged you. Those who fill you with disgust. You stay alive because you will make yourself stronger. Impenetrable. What else was there to live for, other than power?

Gale, on the other hand, had a very different issue. Being faced with the possibility of death, and seeing it as the solution. As a task to be completed, because that is the only way to be forgiven. Redeemed for your own foolish actions. You do not have the right to make yourself better, nor do you have the right to have the longing. You are what you are, and what you are is a solution. Said solution is death, and so death shall be a reward.

The fire glimmered in front of them. The buzzing of friendship and conflict gently hummed around the two, both too focused in their own daydreams and nightmares to pay any mind to their restless companions. Any mind to each other.

The flames fought one another, constantly bobbing in and out of domination. Slaves to their own hunger for power. Hungry for more, only to be knocked down again. Or perhaps they were thinking about it too much.

Gale was the first to snap out of the melancholy trance, quickly noticing that only he and Astarion were left around the fire. The vampire idly fiddled with the skin around his fingers, face contorted into an expression of focus and confusion. The face of contemplation. Wet teeth, shining eyes glimmering by the fire.

The wizard softly cleared his throat, an unspoken and unnecessary disclaimer that he was leaving. He stood up, meeting Astarion’s blood red eyes for a moment before turning around and making his way to his tent.

Finding himself pulled back to reality, Astarion took the time to brood for an extra moment before finally getting up himself. He hated that damn wizard and he hated even more that he didn’t have a reason to. Not one he could consider valid, at least, and Astarion considered most reasons to hate someone valid.

Perhaps he was just hungry. He had not fed in a while, and it was only becoming increasingly obvious. Enough sulking and more hunting.

He stepped up off the log he had previously taken his place on, stalking his way into the night. Perhaps he would find a boar, or maybe even a bear tonight. The thought filled him with excitement, hunger. Against his better judgement, Astarion made a bet with himself. One to prove his own worth. Find the biggest, strongest animal that you can and drain it dry. Just a reminder that he was on top, that he was in control. He felt as though he needed it after being left with his own thoughts for longer than he would’ve preferred. Well, not exactly alone. He did have the wizard in his company, but Gale didn’t make him feel anything other than confused. That wasn’t a powerful feeling.

As he stepped carefully into the dark, he finally spotted it. A bear. He knew he had heard one the last time he found himself hunting for a meal, but he had already found what he was looking for.

He took a moment to think. When was the last time he’d eaten? Not last night, no, last night he had headed to the river in order to clean himself the second he had a moment away from his companions. It must have just slipped his mind, as impossible as that sounds.

Whatever. That wasn’t important. He didn’t feel weak, so therefor he was strong enough to fight a bear.

As he approached the beast silently, he thought about his action plan. Originally, he hadn’t necessarily planned to be going after something so large, so he didn’t bring a knife. Perhaps he could just jump on its back, put it in a headlock? Plenty of space to sink his teeth into, as long as he could hold on.

And so Astarion sprung into action, jumping onto the bear’s back, wrapping his arms around its neck and diving his fangs into its flesh. The fur was certainly irritating, but overall worth it. That was until he realized that perhaps his grip wasn’t tight enough. As the bear struggled, Astarion then realized that he probably should have prepared for this better. However, he didn’t get much time to think about the situation before getting bucked off and thrown against a tree.

If he could breathe, the wind would most definitely be knocked out of him. As he leaned against the rough bark behind him in defeat, he watched the bear run away. He figured he was lucky.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the silence. “By Mystra’s grace-!” Oh. This fucker.

Astarion softly groaned in annoyance at the realization of who had been watching this utterly embarrassing situation unfold. Meanwhile, in the moments the vampire had taken to squint his eyes shut and will himself out of this reality, Gale had already run over to him, crouching down besides Astarion and looking him over for visible injuries, of which there were a few. Though it was mostly an awful pain in his back, there were plenty cuts and scrapes divvied across his body.

“Wizard…” He mumbled, as if it was somehow the humans fault this had happened. “What are you doing here?” He asked, his tone as bitter and unstrained as he could manage.

“Well, I-I, I do apologize. I figured you were going out to hunt and wanted to utilize this as a learning opportunity! Though I fear that is the least of our problems at the moment.” Gale reached out his hand to gently hold the small of Astarion’s back off of the tree, earning a hiss of pain from the pale elf.

Gale rummaged through the bag he had brought along with him, (for materials, Astarion assumed? Though he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly would be deemed necessary in order stalk someone.) the wizard pulled out a small healing potion, offering it to the wounded elf.

Pausing for a moment, almost reluctant to accept Gale’s help, Astarion finally pushed past his ego and took the glass bottle, popping it open and chugging the liquid inside. That was one problem dealt with, but he was still hungry.

The elf closed his eyes for a moment, letting the potion take effect before opening them back up and turning to furrow his brow at Gale.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Sneaking anywhere close to an actively hunting vampire?” He sounded positively vexed, as he felt he had the right to be. “A hungry one at that!”

Gale gulped before answering, the gears in his brain almost visibly turning as he searched for an excuse to calm Astarion down.

“Like I said, I am terribly sorry, and even more sorry for frightening your meal.” While Gale felt he had no actual connection to Astarion’s failed hunting attempt, he was more concerned with trying to get the hungry vampire to not be mad at him.

“My curiosity got the best of me, and it will not happen again. Is there anything I can do to make you forgive me?” He tried his best to stay calm, hoping the effect would pass over to the elf across from him.

Still very obviously annoyed, Astarion scoffed, but did seriously consider Gale’s open ended question. An apologetic human owing a hungry vampire a favor… of course he was going to ask for a free meal.

Sitting up straight, a practically snobby expression plastered across his face, Astarion finally answered. “Let me drink some of your blood. I’m still positively ravenous, you know. It’s the least you could do.”

While Gale wasn’t exactly not expecting that to be Astarion’s answer, he knew it wouldn’t be possible, or at least not pleasant.

“What? No!” Gale responded, clearing his throat once he realized he may have been too curt for the situation at hand. Perhaps just letting Astarion drink from him was the easiest way out, or at least the safest one. Who knows if Astarion would even listen if Gale flat out refused?

“Well, that’s not—“ He started, his explanation quickly being cut off by Astarion’s dagger sharp stare. While Gale didn’t necessarily want to be bitten, he did feel bad about Astarion’s hunger. And even if he agreed and tried to explain that his blood would be disgusting anyways, he knew it would only be seen as an excuse. Perhaps it could be a good learning experience… That’s what he would try and convince himself anyways.

“Stand up. Back facing the tree.” The elf said firmly, standing up and stepping back in order to make room for Gale. While laying down would certainly be more comfortable for the human, he didn’t want Gale to feel that comfort.

“I— Um, alright, however I will warn you that my blood will be less than delectable. Perhaps inedible, even.” He spoke as he stood up, standing in front of the tree and turning to face Astarion. He could feel his heart start beating faster, and he was almost sure Astarion could as well. He was doing his best to convince himself that the heat he felt rising to his cheeks was purely out of fear.

Astarion simply rolled his eyes at this, figuring that any warning Gale offered him was an attempt to make him change his mind. Determined to take what was owed, Astarion stepped towards the wizard, leaning his head just over the crook of his neck. His cool lips gently brushed over Gale’s skin, taking in his sent for a moment before leaning even closer and sinking his teeth into the human’s neck.

And for a moment, it was pure bliss. His first meal in days, and from the hands of someone he had wanted to hurt in some way for so long. It was delicious. Fine dining, some would say.

Until it wasn’t.

He could feel Gale shaking under him, letting out a groan at the sharp sensation of teeth piercing his neck. This would have been lovely, if his blood had not suddenly turned spoiled. Bile. Acid. Something disgusting, something inedible. He quickly pulled away, wiping the corner of his mouth and leaving Gale to gently feel over the mark Astarion had left.

“Fuck! You taste like absolute shit!” He spat, angrier than he had been this entire encounter. Nothing could go right tonight, could it?

“What is wrong with you?!” The elf asked, desperately trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

Gale was still woozy, not necessarily from blood loss, just from the sudden spike in adrenaline. The mark on his neck was throbbing as he gently toyed with it using his fingers, searching for any stimulation to keep himself awake.

“I’m terribly sorry, I tried to warn you.” He started, finally calming down and standing up straight. “The taste of my blood is related to a story involving the mother of magic herself. It is not something I can help, unfortunately. Though I figured it couldn’t hurt to test your tolerance to it.”

Gale was almost relieved that Astarion found his blood unappetizing. At least that definitely confirmed there wouldn’t be any surprise attacks, at least not any for the sole purpose of feeding.

“Well it didn’t hurt, that’s at least true, but you are disgusting!” Astarion shook his head, his still face contorted in distaste as the flavor gradually faded away.

Gale, however, honestly felt a little hurt his blood was so repulsive. While obviously it was mainly a good thing he didn’t taste good, it’s never fun to hear that you taste disgusting.

“Well, I apologize for being so disgusting.” The human responded, perhaps a little more rattled than intended. He only received a deadpan expression from Astarion in response to this, his sudden shift in attitude clearly being picked up on.

“No— no, you do not get to— ugh! Gods, you are insufferable!” The vampire groaned, maddened by his own urge to apologize to the wizard for making him upset. “It is not your fault that you are disgusting, and I appreciate you offering yourself up to me. There, is that what you wanted?” Astarion’s tone was positively acidic.

Gale paused for a moment, almost wanting to completely deny Astarion’s… kind(?) words, before deciding ultimately that would be the petty thing to do.

“Yes. Thank you.” He answered finally. “I will see you tomorrow. Perhaps we can do something about your hunger situation then, together.” And at this, Gale started to make his way back to camp, Astarion watching him leave from behind, not bothering to follow him. He’d rather them not arrive together.

#bg3 #bloodweave #gale x astarion #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #astarion #gale of waterdeep

[conduitandconjurer]

Hi! Sorry I took so long to share. This is the picture from season 4:

https://www.instagram.com/p/C2zsCNAr8tT/?igsh=MTNrajRhM3R3aXM4dg==

I’m not sure if links work through asks but the official account (umbrellaacad) posted it on instagram. I don’t think having an account is necessary to be able to see it.

It worked, thanks, friend!!!

Hm. Hmmm. Yeah that...is a thing that they posted. Huh. lol.

I mean. This will seem shallow, but Klaus's appearance has always seemed intentionally tied to his inner emotional and psychological (and yes, spiritual) journey--his tattoos alone attest to that--so I think I'm particularly critical of what doesn't seem aligned to his character development visually. That said, I can see how he'd maybe revert to a point in his life when he chopped off and straightened his BEAUTIFUL CURLY hair ( =_=;;;; lol) since the excruciating journey he just embarked upon in order to START seeing himself as worth more than the mastery of his powers ...has kind of been...nullified lol by losing them (I get it, it's a Gerard Way esque thing to be totally nihilistic). Klaus may feel as if he can go back to his younger years (the tennish years preceding the start of Season One) and relive them totally detoxed, harm to his brain and organs also reset, sober. And that's valid, plus I know Klaus has a penchant for going through phases to distract himself from his real problems.

Which is why I'm So Tired™ when I see the nitrile gloves. They have to be in a "still-no-powers" timeline in this shot because Luther is still not fused with ape DNA. I am guessing this is going to be some kind of dumbass ableist gag (lbr, TUA has never cared about stepping right in it when it comes to ableist tropes) a la Adrian Monk and "hoho haha, compounded, severe and complex trauma gave him germaphobic OCD!" (in Klaus's case, because he now has remembered all the murder-experiments Reg did on him in the crypt, and he's no longer immortal, so that makes him hyper-aware of anything that could kill him without his safety net). On the one hand, if this is true I'm happy he has something to lose and therefore cares about how to spend his limited remaining days. On the other hand, no, I don't want Klaus to die, I want him to still have his powers but also CHOOSE to do the work of slowly recognizing he doesn't need them to be worthy of unconditional love.

Is the potential germaphobia good writing? Probably, in many respects.

Is it what I want, because I'm a soft-touch who just wants to see her favs heal because it gives her comfort? Nah.

Is reducing Klaus and his character development to a punchline what I want? God no. I'm so tired of it. I don't care how satirical the show is. Pick on someone else, lmao. I know he's the fandom fav which translates somehow into making him the target for the worst disastrous twists, but LET THE DUMB GAY DANDELION REST.

I saw someone write an alternate theory which I now have forgotten but I KNOW I reblogged it so please feel free to go digging in my reblogs.

Other thoughts: You can tell by the way he's the only one looking a different direction, Five is still the real leader, and I'm glad Luther gave up on that, bc he's Ferdinand the Bull and it doesn't suit him to be all stressed out and bossy. He picks up siblings and throws them down stairs or strangles them when he's overwhelmed, haha DDDDD: Anyway, poor Fivey never wears civilian clothes, except that One Time when he and Klaus went looking for Klaus's birthmother (they are good for each other and need to just like...get in a fucking car and leave again. LOL).

Ben and Viktor look hot but also confused which, fair, especially in Ben's case since he's a Sparrow and a moody Edgelord who needs hugs, lol. And possibly a more dangerous enemy than Reginald, which I frankly hope brings out Klaus's "I'm a big harmless sweetheart who finally snapped a la Katara bloodbending in Avatar" moment. I Need It. Literally every other sibling has had the chance at a minor nervous breakdown, come on. Let Klaus not be okay and acknowldge it to anyone who'll listen! And yeah I know his siblings all love him, I've never disputed that once. Sometimes love ain't enough, and needs to pair up with respect. Sad but realistic truth.

Finally, I wanna know if Allison has reconciled with the family and if so, how. She is fascinating and I think her villain era in s3 was 100 percent in alignment with her character development and her lifelong issues with consent (also Reginald's fault!)

This all came out spicier than I meant LOL. Im not snarking at you, anon, I swear. Thanks for sharing <3 I just expect VERY little out of Season 4. Hopefully I'll be wrong! I was similarly wrong with the Loki series, which gsve me a perfect final-arc scenario for my favorite character of all time.

#Anonymous #meta #i dunno more like me being tired #sorry if this is #negative cw #tua spoilers

[qyrhan]

Cassian Andor X Reader

(Without A Doubt)

Part One

[Arguments, Basic Andor Hostility]

You took a deep breath of the hot, humid air of Yavin IV as you jogged across the tarmac, the sound of your boots being the only thing you focused on rather than the bustling of your fellow rebels. The soldiers, pilots, and other personnel around you were too busy preparing for their own missions ahead to acknowledge your presence. You couldn't be bothered with them anyway. Your focus was entirely on the man who was running alongside you.

He was tall, his dark brown hair messily tousled, and slightly unkempt. His features were sharp, and his deep brown eyes held a sense of determination about them, though his aloof mannerisms towards you were strongly apparent. You hadn’t been one to spend unnecessary time with him during recent weeks, and from your interactions with each other, the feeling was mutual.

"Captain Andor," you said without looking at him, feeling somewhat bold under the intense gaze he seemed to be sending your way. "I'm assuming you're wanting to say something?"

"Of course."

Your eyes flickered up briefly to take in his face once more. His expression was stern, but not unfriendly. He spoke quickly, which was a sign that he didn't want to wait around any longer than necessary.

"I'm aware we have our opinions of each other, and I'm no happier than you are about this assignment," he said, his expression taut. "But we need each other's strengths, especially in hostile territory. We can't afford to get distracted by our differences."

You nodded. "I understand."

He gave you a quick look before returning his gaze towards the path ahead. As you continued on your way, he slowed down to a brisk walk beside you.

"This is supposed to be an easy mission in theory," he began. "We're going to infiltrate a small Imperial outpost on the Outer Rim world of Basaffith, and then leave as soon as possible. There are several targets set up there, and we'll have minimal exposure to the locals as long as we stick together."

You nodded again. "So we won't need to do anything fancy."

"Exactly. Our main objective is to find whatever information is in there about Moff Gerras without raising suspicions from anyone else. Normally, high-ranking officials like Gerras don't go visiting so-called backwater planets without a valid reason."

The two of you fell silent again, the atmosphere between you becoming stifling.

You glanced sideways at him but still felt uneasy, despite how comfortable the silence was becoming. After a minute, he broke it with another question.

"Are you alright, [ ]?"

It took you a moment to realize what he meant. "Yes, sir. I've been managing just fine."

Cassian eyed you incredulously, “It hasn't been that long since Balmorra. I know you and I had differing beliefs then, and I went against what you viewed as right.”

“The point of this, Andor?” You asked curtly, your jaw clenching subconsciously as you tore your gaze from his. “What exactly does this all have to do with what happened to me during my last mission?”

“I'm asking because if things keep escalating between us like this—”

“Like what?” You snapped, unable to stop yourself. “A fight with you would solve nothing.”

Cassian was quiet for a moment, clearly taken aback by your response. “No one ever accused you of being unreasonable or irrational, [ ]. Just... consider everything. If there's something wrong–"

"There isn't!" You snapped. "Everything is fine. So please, don't ask me why things aren't working out the way you want them to. You know what, even if there was something wrong, you'd be better off not knowing anyways."

The two of you were now walking almost shoulder to shoulder. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, but you refused to look up at him. The conversation was seemingly close to coming to an end.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine. But know this: you can talk to me anytime you need to."

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. Don't let your personal feelings cloud your judgement."

You heard him sneer. "That's rich considering what you have done on account of your sentiments on things."

"Don't pretend you understand, Cassian," you warned, finally turning to face him. "You weren't there when I needed you most. I thought you cared enough to listen to my side, but apparently not."

His eyes narrowed, "You think I don't know how difficult it's been for you? That I didn't see the same things you did? That I didn't notice all those bruises on your skin after Balmorra, and the way you always seemed to wear your emotions like armour? It's not exactly hard to put two and two together."

You turned away again, refusing to meet his eyes once more. "Good to know."

He paused, seemingly at a loss for words. You couldn't bring yourself to care right now. You knew he wasn't trying to hurt you; after all, that's why you chose to stay, regardless of the fact that he had made some terrible decisions in the past. But you were sick of being treated as some helpless little kid. Of course you didn't want to hear it; you already knew his thoughts on things, and he knew yours.

"You know... when I first joined the Rebellion, I told myself to ignore your outbursts whenever you acted the way you did," he said quietly. "And yet here we are, years later, and I haven't forgotten a single word you've ever said."

Your heart stopped beating for a second. He must have noticed your confusion, because he continued.

"I suppose I should have realized it sooner, but the truth is..." He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. "I know that you're shoving me away because you're scared of losing something again. I wish there was something I could do to fix it. Maybe if I'd tried harder to get closer to you back in the day, maybe then you wouldn't feel like you had to push me away like this."

You remained silent, staring forward. You knew he hadn't really expected an answer. This was probably the closest you'd come to voicing your real feelings to each other for quite some time, but it was clear that he wasn't expecting you to accept the apology either. After a few seconds passed, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon the pair of you.

"I appreciate what you did back then, Cassian," you said. "I truly appreciate what you did for me."

He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief, and a small smirk tugged at his lips. "Just because you say that doesn't mean-"

"I'm serious, Cassian.” You both stopped in your tracks just outside of the ramp into Andor’s U-Wing. “ I don't think I've ever thanked you properly after Balmorra. You... you risked your life to get me out of the detention center.”

“I was also the reason you were in there in the first place.” He murmured under his breath.

“We all make mistakes, captain. We lost a lot of good people back there, but I can't hold the choices you made against you forever.” You paused for a moment, your brow creasing in contemplation. “However, I do still hate you for what you did.” You couldn't help the smirk forming on your lips.

“You’re welcome,” he replied sarcastically as he climbed up the ramp. “Now get up here before someone sees us standing there arguing and decides to interrogate us as to why we haven't left Yavin’s surface.”

Your smile faded slightly as you climbed up the ramp behind him, watching as the doors closed behind you both. A strange feeling had started to fill your chest, and you weren't sure whether or not you liked it.

You looked down at your hands and stared at your palms. You couldn't deny that part of you wondered if it was all worth it though.

"Why does she have to come along?" The tinny voice of Andor’s companion droid brought you to your senses.

“She’s coming with us regardless of your thoughts on it, Kaytoo.” Cassian addressed K2-SO as he typed in the specified flight trajectory.

“That doesn't mean I have to like it. ” K2 shot back, clearly not wanting to have anything to do with you.

Cassian turned his head to look over his shoulder at K2. “If you don't want her to come, you don't have to go along with this plan. In fact, you can stay right here on Yavin, and have your servos rust in the high humidity.”

“Nothing I ever do is taken seriously around here.” The droid remarked as he sat down beside Cassian at the controls.

“I'll leave you to brood in peace,” you muttered smugly.

K2 turned his head to look at you, and began to retort until Cassian cut him off.

“Let it go, Kay. If we don’t take [ ] along then we don’t get the mission done at all. She’s important to this going well.”

K2-SO clicked grumpily in response, but stayed silent.

"This shouldn't take long," Cassian assured you as he settled himself into his seat. "Just get some rest."

He gave you a brief nod in acknowledgement as you made yourself relatively comfortable on the seating attached to the bulkheads of the U-Wing. His gaze lingered for another moment before he steered the ship free of the moon’s orbit. You felt the ship shift beneath you, and moments later were out from the sight of Yavin IV.

#Star Wars #star wars andor #star wars rogue one #everyone lives/nobody dies #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #eventual romance #eventual relationship #post-rogue one #x reader #writeblr #ao3 author

[midnightnotegem]

We've Forgotten: We Own Emotional Minds

This week's early and unusual session uncovered some secrets not often told. While I am going to mention a couple, I'm leaving out the rest since I lack the education to discuss it.

When we think of "logic" and "emotion", we think of them as opposites. However, not many people know that's false. In fact, they're more like partners in crime. It's nearly impossible to healthily function by having one and not the other. So I discovered today.

My therapist said to me, "Our society has taught us that in this world, our logical minds matter more than our emotional minds. The emotional side is tossed away and forgotten about. It's not important".

It made me think about how growing up, these "gut instincts" are not scientifically valid. That it may perhaps be a theory or otherwise something non-factual.

I'm here to say gut instincts and premonitions are real and are completely valid.

What I did not realize, was my own body giving me the warning signs of certain events in my life. This was the workings of my emotional mind. Meanwhile, my logical mind was confused.

When she told me about this, I instantly saw it inside me. It took me months to logically understand what I have done and why. After that reflection, I understood there was a part of me that knew I was lacking in a need and direly, and backed me up. All subconsciously, flying under the radar with no logic behind it. Nor, was there resistance met. It felt natural yet, it was happening underneath my nose. There was no arguing, no resistance, no anxiety. Pure radio silence from my logical mind, and a blasting stereo from my emotional mind.

"Say what?? You randomly decided to do this? Why?", is what my logical mind had said, once I logically realized this, far into the decision my emotional mind made. This is where the battle of thoughts introduced itself.

Was this necessary? Was this a good idea? Would it hurt me? Would it heal me? Am I sure this isn't a bad idea? What if this backfires? Is this offensive?

Anxiety. Overthinking. ... Hush.

In a roaring battle of years-worth of anxiety, depression, mental drainage and more … there came a drastic halt. One which is why I'm here. In the relationship, my needs went MIA and my ability to assert them had regressed. I forgot how to properly take care of myself, I was losing myself in the midst of a long and drawn out war to keep what I desired, alive.

When I thought I could not take it anymore, I snapped. I no longer had the will to keep going, I was beginning to withdraw. At the time, I was in couple's counseling. However, it wasn't getting anywhere for the same reasons why I was in a war all these years.

The never-ending cycle continued and I needed help. I knew it logically, so my body must've as well. I was in desperation for something different and new. So, I made it happen.

I made my own story and in its fictional world was things that I liked, wanted and needed. Each character played a different role for the like-want-needs, however one was the star of the show. The main character became my fictional love interest in the story, self-inserting myself as the other interest. The benefit I would reap from this fictional relationship story was ideally Love. A sense of belonging, warmth, care and appreciation. I was made to feel at home, when I was left out in the dark alone, back in the real world. Fantasy escapes are not an unknown concept, so this will sound real familiar to you.

But that's not the only thing I have done. While this wasn't as hidden away from my conscience, I sought comfort in a plush when I originally got one as a Valentine's gift. But because that was then and I was hurting, the meaning of the plush was destroyed and therefore not comforting as it used to be. I gained a love for Squishmallows, for how squishy and pillow-like they can be. So when I found there was an African Wild Dog Squishmallow, I was all over it. Deeto is the name, one which I'm sure a few got tired of hearing about.

To this day, both Deeto and that fictional boyfriend (I decided to name him Rian), continue to fulfill my need for happiness and comfort, as well as entertain me.

As good and all that this has a happy connotation, the spark for the conversation started on a negative.

Gut instincts is what may have been the thing that made me happy, but it's also partially responsible for my "warning signs" as I mentioned earlier. My therapist had mentioned a part of my story reminded her of a few things. But that it sounded like premonition and gut instincts warning me that my soon-to-be experience was going to go wrong. Which indeed, it had. My true experience had similarities with my weird vision-esque things, or what I called them, daydreams. ʚ ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡ ɞ

She sent me what is called an Emotional Message Chart. Something, that I believe, should be handed out more to the public. We are deprived of knowing our inner-selves the most, thanks to society's judgments and lack of acceptance to practice it.

I had a very educational 50 minutes with her and it was cathartic. Things began to make sense, I cleared out confusion and was informed of more than I already knew. The session today has convinced me that it's for the better, if I bought the two books she recommended. "The Body Keeps The Score" by Bessel van der Kolk has been one I've seen running around the internet as I was growing up in my teen years. I never bothered to get to know it, however I knew it was a book people raved about. As an adult, I can see and understand why, and especially now with the experiences I have gone through. The other one, though this one made me go "Wow" and "Whoa" in today's session, is called "The Mountain Is You" by Brianna Wiest.

And although I am picky about my own expenses, I believe I have been convinced that these two books, are something worth picking up.

#midnightnote2 #relationship #personal #trauma #healing journey #healing

[linkspooky]

Yuji, Alone. 

I have been saying in my past few meta that Yuji has a really unhealthy way of viewing both himself, and his relationships with others. Yuji is excellent at reading the feelings of others and empathizing with them, and at the same time terrible at processing his own emotions, a trait he shares with Geto who he is once again paralleling this chapter by choosing to stew in isolation rather than reach out for support. 

Chapter 138 does an excellent job of showing how deep these issues run, which I will explain under the cut. 

1. Yuji and Geto

If I were to explain the unhealthy mindset Yuji has by simplifying it down to one sentenence, simply stated it would be “I want to help others, but I don’t want to accept help from other people.” 

Both Yuji and Geto are so motivated by empathy they feel like they are responsible for solving other people’s problems, and they often use other people rather than themselves as a reason to move. They’re actually selfless to a fault. In that, it’s a problem in their behavior. They do everything they do for other peope, so they have no idea what they themselves want. If Gojo is someone who has a strong self image, a strong set of beliefs, an idea of what he wants to do to the world, Geto and Yuji are people who try not to think about themselves at all. 

Not only does Yuji almost never critically exam his own motivations, but he also doesn’t think of his relationships with other people. 

This is something Yaga pointed out as a danger with Yuji’s way of going about things, all the way at the beginning of his arc. If you’re doing it because your grandpa told you so, then is it really something you want to do? When you die, is it going to be your grandpa’s fault too?

Yuji is someone who seems selfless on the surface, and to an extent he is, but just like Geto that’s not all there is to him. It’s something Gojo called out early on, Geto presented himself as someone selfless, motivated entirely by using his powers to protect others, but he was also doing so self righteously. 

To clarify what I mean by self righteous, Geto believed that he was doing something because it was the objective right thing to do, but actually it was just his own personal feelings. That’s why after Riko’s death forced him to critically examine himself, he realized he didn’t want to follow the rules of Jujutsu Society. 

Both Yuji and Geto pay attention to others, but also have the blinders on in regards to themselves, and that’s the parallel right there. Yuji says he is doing these things for other people, that his number one priority is to save them but that motivation is even deconstructed in the third chapter.

Yuji’s not actually doing this for purely altruistic reasons, but for selfish ones. He wanted to do something that nobody else could do. Yuji’s life was like a vaccuum before this point. He didn’t have any real friends, or anything he wanted to do. Suddenly he had a purpose basically gift wrapped and handed to him on his lap. 

Basically, Yuji and Geto both have this schewed way of seeing other people. They thing other people exist to validate their own existences. 

To put it simply. If Hidden Inventory Geto helps weak people than he’s valid. If Yuji helps people, then he’s valid. 

Not only is the way they view themselves built around how they help other people, but at the same time all of their relationships are built up on this as well. Relationships that are built upon shaky foundations will crumble apart easily when tested. 

Geto’s most important relationship was with Gojo, they had an intense chemistry and interaction with one another like they were made for each other. They were both good at naturally balancing each other out, Geto was the one who stood up to Gojo and acted like a tether, and Gojo ackonwledged Geto as his one and only. 

However, the relationship was also built on the idea that Gojo needed Geto. Geto was only able to view his relationships with other people in that way. Geto, wants to take care of people, wants to help people. However, eventually, he was left behind by Gojo who no longer needed him as a partner in combat. On top of that, Geto awoke to a higher purpose in ridding the world of cursed energy. Geto wants to be needed by somebody in the same sense that Yuji does, so for Geto at least being needed to save the whole world in his eyes, was just more important than maintaining his relationship with Gojo. 

Which is why both Geto and Yuji’s relationships fall apart. They are great at making relationshisps, but not at maintaining them. Attention is drawn to the fact that the trio has great chemistry with each other and get along well, but they’re also terrible at communicating with each other. 

"The seats... in my life... How should I put this? I don't want my heart to be affected by people who don't have a place there. Does that sound cold? Well, I guess there are also guys like you who brings their own chair and takes a seat." Translation by Miho.

Almost literally, I don’t want anyone who’s not a part of my life to try to talk to me or tell me what to do. Also the reference that Yuji is kind of different because Yuji just kind of walked into her life unannounced and invited himself there (this is how Yuji forms relationships with everyone.)

All three of them go behind each other’s backs and keep secrets from one another. All three of them avoid direct confrontation, Nobara even says she doesn’t really want anyone else even trying to tell her how to live her life. The Origin of Obedience arc shows that Nobara, Yuji and Megumi are all good at fighting together as a team, but also questioning if they have a healthy friendship outside of that?

Any relationship takes work, confrontation, arguments and even just plain old talking about things. However, someone who is primarily insecure in their relationships will not be able to do things.  Couples shouldn’t only argue, but couples who never argue is just as unhealthy. If you are so afraid that one argument is going to end a relationship, then your relationship was fragile to begin with. 

Yuji and Geto experience conditional relatinoships. In the sense that, they are only allowed to have friends, if they are helpful to those friends. They themselves are never allowed to ask for help. It’s true that Gojo was kind of blind to Geto’s faults, but also Geto would have never asked for help. Gojo could not see, and Geto deliberately hid things from them. 

Geto always makes his relationships on the condition that he is needed. When Gojo grew more independent, Geto took that as a sign that Gojo didn’t need him anymore and deliberately started to pull away.

Because, Geto isn’t ever allowed to be the one who needs someone else. 

2. Avoidant Attachment

This is just a personal theory of mine, but I think Yuji’s issues might even center around the psychological idea of attachment theory. Especially it’s since deliberately mentioned to Junpei, that Yuji never met his mother. 

Attachment theory is a complex idea, but basically it states that attachment to other people, that is the idea to form healthy relationships with family members, friends, romantic partners is learned instead of naturally present in us. It’s a skill people develop in their formative years. 

Those who show patterns of problematic attachment in childhood will continue the behavior into adulthood unless it’s corrected, because attachment is a skill that’s developed the same as anything else. Of the four categories, Yuji and Geto most resemble this one. 

Avoidant attachment: Children with an avoidant attachment tend to avoid parents or caregivers, showing no preference between a caregiver and a complete stranger. This attachment style might be a result of abusive or neglectful caregivers. Children who are punished for relying on a caregiver will learn to avoid seeking help in the future.

Which goes further to explain how they can be so empathic towards other people, and yet the same time completely unable to maintain close relationships with them. It’s because, they avoid people at the same time. They don’t seek out help when they need it, because, deep down they view themselves as unworthy of the help. 

Geto did not immediately break after the trauma of losing Riko, it was the year of isolation after that where he slowly was consumed by his regrets. Geto got worse and worse over a period of time because he couldn’t handle his trauma in any healthy way, until he just completely snapped. 

During that time he asked himself the same questions over and over again, but Geto wasn’t able to find any kind of healthy answer to his questions because, he didn’t reach out for anybody. It wasn’t just the trauma, it was the behavior after the trauma, the decision to isolate himself for over a year. No one does well in isolation. You need other people to grow or develop. If anything Geto stagnated. Geto’s central flaw was his self-righteousness. Rather than realizing he was wrong and trying to change this flaw of his, he just doubles down and becomes even more self righteous. He goes from believing he’s responsible for protecting all the weak people, to believing he’s a superior being tasked with eliminating all the weak people in the world. So, it’s not really that Geto changed, moreso that he stagnated because he cut off all his relationships with other people. 

And isn’t Yuji doing the exact same thing right now? Yaga even points out this similaritiy between Geto and Yuji, that they try to carry every regret and burden they have on their own. 

It’s not out of selflessness that they do this though, but rather insecurity. Geto didn’t come to Gojo with his problems, because he wanted to be the strongest alongside Gojo he didn’t want to be weak. He was deliberately avoiding Gojo. 

I think it’s important to establish that Yuji wasn’t abandoned by his friends this chapter. Yuji is alone, because he chose to be alone. He’s alone because he’s avoiding both of his friends, because he’s so, so afraid the friendship will end because it’s based entirely on the condition that he be a helpful, good person.

It’s true that Yuji is genuinely worried about his friends getting hurt because of him, but look at his choices. He’s not really tackling the problem in a healthy way. He’s doing everything he can to avoid the problem, isolating himself, and just trying not to think about things. He could try to talk with Megumi and find a solution, but he’s not doing that because he’s insecure in his attachment to others. 

I think his reaction to Choso pretty clearly illustrates this too. Yuji isn’t around his friends because he doesn’t want to be around them. Which is tragic, because Yuji is holding himself responsible for the mass murder which isn’t really his fault. However, Yuji saw his relationship with both Nobara and Megumi as conditional to begin with. He can only be friends with people he can help, and he can never receive help from them. It’s unhealthy to start with because relationships go both ways. Yuji is also, completely unresponsive to Choso.

Yes. Choso suddenly walking to him and delcaring them brothers is really weird.  I don’t expect Yuji to just suddenly start getting along with him right away.

At the same time, Choso explains what the unconditional love between family is between Yuji, and Yuji just doesn’t get it, because he either hasn’t experienced enough of it, or his grandpa the only person that ever unconditionally loved him is gone. Yuji can’t understand Megumi’s love for him is unconditional,. because from the beginning he sees all relationships as conditional. 

Yuji and Choso are facing opposite direcitons because they’re opposites. Choso is willing to hurt complete strangers too, but his love for his family is unconditional and he will do anything for them. Yuji will help complete strangers, but, he doesn’t really understand unconditional love, and even his love with his closest friends has a few conditions. 

Which is why someone who appears on the surface as such a friendly guy who makes friends everywhere he goes, can call himself “a loner” because in Yuji’s mind he is. He doesn’t have friends, he has people who need him. 

Which is just incredibly sad because Yuji doesn’t understand this. Yuji isolates himself thinking he’s doing it for the sake of his friends, but neither Megumi nor Nobara would want him to be alone. 

#yuji itadori #megumi fushigoro #kugisaki nobara #suguru geto #choso #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #jjk 138 #jujutsu kaisen 138 #jujutsu kaisen

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here.  This is like.  You remember that one game, Mercy?  The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous.  Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares?  It’s child’s play.  It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person.  You never have been.  It’s just not part of your nature.  If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else.  You just… do you.  You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good.  And if it’s bad, it’s good.  Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open.  “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron.  What are we doing?  Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up. 

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl.  You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench.  “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today?  Thursday?  Friday?  Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day.  Thursday, then. …Thursday?”  You shake your head.  “Ugh, see?  Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.”  He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers.  It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now.  Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that.  Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it.  “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation.  To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small.  Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here.  “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap.  You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are.  “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.   “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron.  First and last word, that’s all it takes.  And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?”  He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel.  “ Easy credits.  Just begging for it.  Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust.  As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly.  Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him.  “You just turned my money into a sex object.  It was vile.  I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging.  You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it.  “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now.  Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?”  You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them.  Withdrawal stage, ha.   “Of course it’s all that bad.  It’s horrible.  It’s the fucking worst.  And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this?  Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to.  “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you.  “I did not.  When the fuck did I cheat?  I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more.  He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire.  “Okay, first of all?  Rude.  I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright?  I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him.  And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good.  He smells… unbelievably fucking good.  Always.  Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on.  It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit.  No such luck so far.  

“Whatever.  The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want.  In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming.  “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?”  He goes on, completely ignoring you.  “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen?  You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm?  No snorgasms?  Hmmm?  No happy naps?  No captain midnights?  No mattress fracking?  Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked.  “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again.  You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one.  “Anyways.  Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!”  You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting.  And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills.  Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems.  “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!”  You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation.  “There it is!  You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself!  Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both.  Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum?  This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused.  He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath.  “Sorry.  But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal.  And descriptive.  “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right.  Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh?  I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.  

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me.  Not right now.  Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh.  Something occurs to you, something… sinister.  Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long.  It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.  You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan.  You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away.  A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?”  You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?”  Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more.  “Now many times did you cum in your sleep?  Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?”  He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time.  “It was involuntary.”

You shrug.  “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious.  “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?”  You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with.  Instead, your voice is soft, questioning.  Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait.  You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape.  The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,”  he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought.  Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this.  The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous.  “It’s your room, too.  Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there.  You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?”  You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number.  You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them.  “Red-Six.  Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder.  “Or, wait… Neah.  No—it was… Nalal.  Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.  “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest.  “It was starting to get obnoxious.  Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is.  “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should.  Lower than it should.  You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls?  Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel.  “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head.  “Sometimes a sabbatical is good.  I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment.  “I’m sorry?  And… you’re welcome.  I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long.  The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable.  At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together.  I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block.  He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus.   You have to control yourself.  You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless.  It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this.  Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever.  One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option.  “This isn’t a good idea.  It’s… not healthy.  I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him.  “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing.  It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit.  “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection.  “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp.  “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—”  You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?”  Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky.  Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding.  Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast?  This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself?  “Finish it.  Sooner, rather than later.  Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident.  Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive.  Fuck.  Dameron, and you, in bed.  It could be mean.  It could be rough.  A fight for dominance more than anything.  He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now.  Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning.  Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?”  Are the first recognizable words that can be heard.  “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips.  “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance.  It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working.  Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before.  Of course.  Stupid.  Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air.  You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed?  A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet.  You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think.  Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences.  You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off.  This is different.  This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable.  A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…”  Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you.  There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him.  Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal.  You don’t like it.  You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead.  The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong.  “I mean, y’know.  Theoretically speaking, and all.  If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before.  Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something.  This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you.  Shit.  You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.  

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin.  You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done.  What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation.  You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it.  Stop it.  Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation.  How dare he?  How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses?  You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him.  Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier.  “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet.  No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright?  Don’t talk to me.  You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight.  And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it.  It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has.  Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least.  You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it.  You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving.  It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds.  A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons.  Mainly, the nerve of him.  The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,”  You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space.  You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare.  “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge.  “You’re… plotting.  Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship.  “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it.  Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty.  Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it.  “Something that you like, that gets you going.  Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further.  “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should.  It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not.  This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable.  The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?”  You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same.  “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart.  “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.  Default to normal, default to normal.  “Your fucking attitude.  Your demeanor.  The way you talk down to me.  You don’t listen.  You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen.  You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?”  He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second.  This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here.  He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on.  “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back.  “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it.  There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity.  Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed.  “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily.  “Have since the moment we met.  And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it.  You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?”  You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak.  “Pop the top on this bitch.  Put me out of my fucking misery, right now.  You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait.  And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up.  You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way.  He deserved that.  You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake.  Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you.  Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders.  It’s not sexual.  It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating.  He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline.  His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter.  They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.  

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret.  “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need.  Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words.  To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit.  You feel like you’re literally burning up with it.  You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire.  “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone.  “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember.  Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it.  How long’s it been?  Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless.  Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?”  You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes.  Oh fuck, be cool, be cool.  “You think this is gonna work?  Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek.  The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs.  How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard.  “Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second.  Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow.  “Beard or no beard, makes no difference.  Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere.  You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone.  “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious.  Maker, how long until your shift is over?  You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league.  “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?”  Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder.  “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself.  Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going.  “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next.  “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me.  But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist.  Resist .  You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios.  Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.  “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you.  Go nice and slow.  I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away.  I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it.  How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker.  This is a trick.  It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it.  You can’t fucking fall for it.  It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all.  He’s lying to get your guard down.  He laughed at your flirting.  He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him.  You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback.  You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say.  Your room.  It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now.  Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register.  “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see.  I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to.  Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out.  And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm.   Your bed,” he eventually decides.  “I want you comfortable.  You shower at night.  Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep.  That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point.  And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while.  However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening.  Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through.  Maker, it’s fucking painful.  You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?”  You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time.  Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body.  “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in.  Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before.  Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other.  Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies.  Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy.  It hurts to lose a first name.  But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design.  He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it.  Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now.  It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two.  You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea.  Nothing about it comes out right.  The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself.  Oh Maker, can you imagine?  How fucking proud of himself he’d be?  You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it.  Where’d it go?  Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it.  Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false… 

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear.  You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you.  Like… teakwood, maybe?  Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind.  What the fuck does teakwood even smell like?  “Maybe it’s just what I need.  You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low.  It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls?  Just a little bit?  That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad.  That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…”  You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now.  “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it.  “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato.  It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low.  “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.  At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs.  “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage.  “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this.  Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be.  You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want.  And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move.  Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body.  You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder.  “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you.  He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side.  “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—”  Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down.   But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second.  As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise.  The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use.  Fuck , it’s been so long .  You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now.  It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks.  “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs.  “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion.  The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone.  Fuck, he almost made you cum.  He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide.  You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again.  You have to close your eyes.  You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more.  “Shhhit.  I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it.  Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless.  “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck.  Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back.  They start… moving slightly.  Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize.  He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm.  Dameron might cum in his pants like this.  Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum.  You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving.  “One… one more.  If you want.  You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you.  “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.”  You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether.  His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb.  The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure.  Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger.  He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time.  He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat.  Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief.  Genuine, not embellished.  He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go.  You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this.  You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again.  It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?”  Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that.  He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly.  “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you.  Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet.  Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much.  You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes.  It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it?  You could.  You could cum right now.  What’s two weeks of pay?  You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence.  Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear.  “Be nice.  I’m being nice.”

You should bite him.  Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now.  Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again.  Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying.  You need air.  Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this.  If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all.  Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore.  “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half.  He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that.  Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good.  Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good.  Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in.  Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?”  He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them.  “How clearly do you remember the rules?  What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt.  No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer.  “Tell me.  No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind.  But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore.  There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement.  The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it.  “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends.  Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—”  The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out.  “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine.  “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does.  The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it.  You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout.  You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it.  You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves.  The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space.  He doesn’t even acknowledge it.  “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest.  “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens.  Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you?  Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck.  “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order.  “Right now.  Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it.  “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm.  You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it.  Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day.  First names hurt.  You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence.  Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks.  A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

[absolutelyfizzing]

I like you because (peter parker x reader)

Peter parker x reader

description - You have a panic attack at school and peter helps you through it. Then he lets you know all of the reasons he loves you 

word count -  about 2000

warnings - anxiety! panic attack tw! negative self talk, don't read if that is triggering for you. Also tooth-rotting fluff that makes me wanna cry. also self harm warning!! hand scratching!

A/N - I just wanted to say that anxiety manifests itself in different ways in different people. This is based off of a personal experience i had with a panic attack at school and how one of my friends helped me though it. I know this may not be how everyone experiences anxiety and everyone's version of this experience is completely valid. by no means am i trying to offend or cause any harm.

MASTERLIST

Your feet hit the pavement quickly as you rushed to school. You could feel people looking at you but you tried to get to your locker as soon as humanly possible. Your heart rate was picking up and you knew you were acting strange to the people around you. You looked exhausted. Your eyes had bags under them and your clothes were a mess. You couldn't walk straight because of the lack of sleep. When you finally made it to your locker you were so out of it that it took multiple tries to get the code right. Finally getting it open, you sighed, trying desperately to hide behind the locker door and to calm your breathing. 

You didn't know why but the last 2 days had been hell. It had been the weekend so it was okay but you hadn't slept right or had the motivation to do anything. Your anxiety was worse and it seemed that everything was too bright and too loud. There was just too much going on. You just wanted to sit in your room and stare at the wall for the rest of the day but you had to come to school, both for your academic performance and to see your boyfriend, Peter. He would get worried if you didn't show up and you didn't want him to have to cancel something later in the day to check on you. Now that you were here and you could feel people looking at you, you wondered if him seeing you would make him any less worried. You felt him come up behind you and when you turned to look at him there was a grin on his face. It quickly turned into worry as he looked at you. You felt the guilt creeping in. 

"Hey Y/N, you doing okay?" he questioned lightly. You subtly braced yourself and smiled widely, purposefully making it reach your eyes. 

"Yeah I'm fine! Just in a little bit of a mood is all." You smiled, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. You had to convince him not to worry. You couldn't have him distracted during the day because he was thinking about something so silly as you being extra anxious. You hoped the thumping of your heart and the nervous ticks you felt in your fingers would dissipate during the day. Peter looked at you a little funnily but didn't question you. You knew he could probably tell your heart rate was pounding extra fast but neither of you said anything as you closed your locker and you both began walking to your first class, which you had together. 

The day went on but the anxiety did not leave. You could feel yourself growing irritable and the lights burned your eyes. Your leg was bouncing nervously and one hand scratched at the other. You only scratched your hand like that when you really were anxious, normally right before a panic attack. You did everything in your power not to do it normally because it left your hand hurt and sometimes bleeding. Peter knew this tic of yours and so you kept your hand covered by your sleeve whenever you could and you avoided being right next to him in any classes you had together. He noticed your change in behavior but again didn't say anything as the day went on, not wanting to upset you further and figuring you would come to him when you were ready. 

By the time lunch came around, you were exhausted. You had been worrying about everything and nothing for hours and your hand was scratched raw. You could feel Peter looking at you and you could also feel the panic rise in your throat at the large amount of people in the cafeteria. You were suddenly hyper aware of the people around you and their breathing and chewing. The lights felt sterile and the feeling of exposure sent a chill up your spine. You needed to get out. You set your stuff on the cafeteria table next to peter and mumbled something quickly about needing to use the restroom. You headed for the locker room. At this time of day you knew nobody would be in there. You went between the isles to find a small corner. Once you had backed yourself in you slid to the ground, the tears starting as you breathing became harder to control. You were scratching your hand and tapping your foot, trying desperately to get rid of the excess energy you could feel in your body. Your thoughts were so consumed in how stupid you were being, how selfish, that you didn't notice the sound of the door opening and closing. 

You were mumbling something about going crazy and how you were being ridiculously self centered when you heard someone slide down the wall a couple feet in front of you. You knew it was probably Peter or MJ coming to check on you. You forced a sob to stay in your throat and you immediately tried everything in your power to calm down. You couldn't but you felt the person move closer. 

"Can I help?" You heard Peter ask, still not looking up at him. You shook your head silently. You wanted to scream and cry but you were finding it harder and harder to breathe. "Can I stay here?" he asked again. You thought for a moment, your heart pounding loudly at the lack of air it was getting. You nodded. 

You mumbled “I’m sorry” over and over, hoping he understood that you didn't mean for him to get wrapped up in this. That he shouldn't have to deal with you. The tears were coming harder and suddenly it was like you couldn't get air into your lungs at all. You started gasping but it didn't work. Nothing was working, you couldn't breathe. You weren't able to talk but you felt a hand on yours. You shook in shame at the thought of him seeing you like this. 

Suddenly his body was wrapped around yours. He was hugging you to his chest, you still curled up into a ball. He began breathing deeply and you unconsciously started to match his pace. It took at least 10 minutes but eventually your breathing matched his, slow and controlled. You were still crying though. 

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry." It seemed like it was all you could say. You refused to make eye contact with him even when he pulled back to look at you. Your hand was scratching away at the other desperately trying to get out of your skin when you felt him grab your hands. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Please look at me." He whispered. You took a deep breath before looking at him. Your watery eyes met his and you could see he was holding back tears. 

"Can you tell me what’s going on?" he asked quietly. You nodded but waited before speaking. You were trying to gather your thoughts and he made no move to rush you, holding your hands and looking at you lovingly. 

"I don't know whats wrong" you got out first. You took another deep breath. "A couple days ago I started to feel shitty again like I sometimes do but I didn't want to worry you so I just didn't mention it. Then I got to school today and -" you paused and took a deep breath, shutting your eyes as tightly closed as you could. "everything is so loud here. I felt like everyone was looking at me and I was worried I would snap at someone if they talked to me and I just don't want to be here or be me and I hate that I'm like this and I'm sorry you have to deal with it." You rushed out quickly. Another sob wracked your body. "I hate me" you whispered under your breath, without the intention of him hearing but he heard it because he was 1) very close to you, and 2) had enhanced senses. You slowly looked at him and he had a sad look on his face. There were tears in his eyes and the guilt wracked over you. "I’m sorry" you whispered.

"I love you." he whispered back. You were taken aback a bit. You had been together for 2 years, your junior and now your senior, and you hadn't really said that to each other like that. Not in this serious of a context. You sniffed. "I love you on any day, even when you don't love yourself. I know you are the greatest person on the planet and I believe it enough for the both of us. At least until you feel like you can work on getting to being okay with yourself."

You felt another sob wrack your body and you leaned into his chest. "And you never have to be sorry for feeling this way. It's not your fault. I am here voluntarily because I care about you. No amount of tears or snot or anxiety will change how much I care about you." he then took a deep breath and kissed your hair. You slowly stopped shaking in his arms and he kept holding you. 

"I don't know why you like me." you whispered out. The tears were no longer pouring out of you and you had fully caught your breath. You weren't fishing for compliments either, you were just expressing your genuine surprise that he wanted you around. 

"I like you because you are kind. You always ask if everyone is okay, even MJ when she is being snappy with you. I like you because you think of others first in every situation, even if it is frustrating for the people who love you. I like you because you always know what to say to people when they are feeling sad and I’m sorry I'm not as good at it as you. I like you because you always say bless you when anyone sneezes and you put the grocery cart away at the store every time. You always tell people they can talk to you if they need anything, even if you don't know then very well. You always crack your window for me so I can come in if I need you after patrols. You are the kindest person I have ever met. I like you because I will love you until the end of me. And everyone around you loves you too." By the time he was done you were holding back tears again. You looked at him and he smiled at you before saying, "Of course they don't love you as much as I do, I think thats impossible." while he smirked, trying to get you to crack a smile. It worked. You took a deep breath before straddling his legs and wrapping yourself around him in the biggest hug you could give. 

"I love you too" you said into his neck where your head was buried. He rubbed your back as you breathed him in. 

"Are you ready to go back out there or do you want to stay in here?" he asked genuinely and you knew he would be content with either choice. 

"We can go back out there but I think I’m going to head home." You muttered out, knowing you were going to crash soon if you stayed here. 

"Can I come with you?" he questioned. You looked at him and sighed. 

"Pete, I don’t want you to miss out on the rest of the day because you're with me." you said but you smiled at him. 

"Can I please? I wanna take care of my girl." He whispered the last part and you knew your resolve wouldn't last. 

"Yes of course you can come with me." you muttered, secretly glad he was coming with you. You didnt really want to be all alone as your parents were off at work. 

You didn't regret your decision. You headed outside while he grabbed your stuff from the cafeteria so you didn't have to let your peers see you with tear stains. He carried your bag all the way home and had his arm around your shoulders as he walked. When you got back you laid down on the couch and he tucked you in before going to the kitchen to make you some hot cocoa. By the time he came back into the room with cocoa in hand, you were fast asleep. Peter couldn't believe how much he cared about you as you laid there and he decided in that moment that he would spend the rest of his life proving your worth to you every single day.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #peter x reader #peter imagine #avengers imagines #fluff #peter parker fluff #self harm tw #panic attack tw #anxiety tw #anxiety #spider-man #spider-man imagine #spider-man x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

Individually, Sun and Moon got fully infected in about a month. But obviously it took FAR longer in the crazy twins au, and that’s because they were infected at the same time.

One of the many things that contributed to the individual siblings quick infection was that both were hiding it from their sibling out of either fear or not wanting to be a burden. When you have an issue that is left to fester without an outlet, it can grow much faster. It was also possible to cause conflict and make a wedge between the brothers if only one was infected too. Moon kept snapping and losing his temper, but whenever Sun tried to prod to find out if everything was alright he refused to tell him what was going on, causing Sun to get upset with him for seemingly just always being in a bad mood for no reason. Sun kept being passive aggressive and insulting Moon and in general was very inconsiderate, but he always apologized once he realized what he said. But he didn’t tell Moon what was happening either, so of course Moon started to get irritated because clearly if he keeps being an insulting prick after apologizing he isn’t actually sorry.

With both infected though, those don’t really apply. They both admit what was happening like a week in, when it was still just a voice or a strange feeling, and from then on any weird behavior from the other had a fairly valid explanation as they had already discussed that they were having malfunctions and were more open to admit when they didn’t understand their own behavior. So not only could they talk to each other about the issue, but they also weren’t dealing with any conflict that would cause relations to sour. 

It’s like a double edged sword: while it is INSANELY hard to uninfect them due to them being together, it was also INSANELY hard for Vanny to infect them due to them being together. Both sides had issues XD So at least Vanny had just as much trouble infecting them as the others have fixing them!

#fnaf security breach au #redemption au #crazy twins au #role reversal au #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sunrise #sundrop #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf vanny #glitchtrap virus

[rhys-daarling]

Drunk Inner Circle Dinner

“Is Rhys still getting ready??” Asked Mor, walking into the High Lord and Lady’s bedroom.

“It’s his hair. It takes longer than mine does” Feyre grinned, even as Rhys bit her ear.

“Cousin, I didn’t think I’d ever have to say this, but get out my bedroom”.

“No manners. Is this how you treat your favourite cousin?” Mor huffed, scowling at the High Lord.

Rhys rolled his eyes.

“And I’m not here for you, I’m here for Feyre” she said, ruffling through Feyre’s cupboard.

“She means my jewellery” Feyre added, her hands wrapping around Rhys’s neck, as her mates hands roamed her body.

“Well yes but semantics” Mor replied, her back to the couple and completely oblivious.

“Cousin, get out of my bedroom. Now”

Rhys growled against Feyre’s neck.

Mor sniffed the air. “EW! EW! IM IN THE ROOM! RHYS EW!”

“Then get out!” He yelled, narrowly dodging the pillow she threw at his head.

•••

Later that evening, as everyone came to the river house for their monthly dinner, Feyre recalled her first family dinner. When she was still wrapped up in her own grief and darkness. It had taken her family and her mate months to slowly coax her out of it.

“Why were you both grinning” she asked randomly as most the food was finished and cleared away and the wine flowed freely.

“What??” Asked Cassian, unsuccessfully attempting to swallow the huge bite of chicken he’d taken.

“When I first came to Velaris, that first dinner, you and Az were grinning from the balcony” she looked at the shadowsinger, who had a small smile as he remembered the evening.

Gwyn, sat beside Azriel, listened to Feyre with rapt attention as Azriel filled her in.

“Oh” Cassian looked at her with warm eyes, leaning slightly into Nesta, who rubbed small circles on his back.

“We were grinning, because Rhys, the royal prick, has been a flirt for as long as we could remember. But on that balcony, cauldron on that balcony he looked like he was already in love with you”

Feyre tuned her head to her mate, who was smiling down at his plate.

“5 minutes with you, and he’d smiled more than the 6 months he’d been back. You had him wrapped around your finger and we KNEW the pompous bullshit he’d do to impress you. What he’d NEED to do to impress you, because his usual smooth ‘Im a fae high lord bullshit’ wasn’t impressing you.”

A laugh from Mor, and Azriel snorted.

“You didn’t see when she threw the shoe at him” Mor quipped.

“You threw a shoe at him” asked Azriel with blatant shock across his face.

“When was this!” He exclaimed, hiccuping, his wine glass spilling.

“How is this the piece of information that evades you” mused Nesta, chortling.

“Feyre, I want a painting of Azriels face at this very moment for Solciste. I want to memorialise it.” Mor cackled.

“How does she manage to throw a shoe at you!” Exclaimed Cassian with drunken outrage. “We’re supposed to be the strongest Illyrians in all of history!” He wailed.

“Ahhh yes I can hear the story now” grinned Nesta.

“Esteemed high lord bested by silk slipper” she finished with a flourish of her hands.

Mor cackled. “The best part” she took a gulp of wine. “The best part, is that she threw her other shoe at him too!” And fell once more into a fit of laughter.

Rhys looked down at his plate and shook his head. He turned slightly to look at Feyre, and wordlessly, grabbed the legs of her chair and pulled her flush beside him.

“Awwwwwwww look at Rhys pulling out the moves” drawled Mor.

Rhys ignored her, looking only at Feyre as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer to his chest.

That was smooth, high lord.

I aim to please, High lady.

“He was smooth on Calanmai” she leaned against his chest, curling her legs up in her seat, her food all but forgotten in lieu of the warmth of snuggling against Rhys.

“What’s Calanmai?” Asked Nesta, she too was snuggling into Cassian, food forgotten as he played with the ends of her hair with his arm across her shoulders, both finishing their wine glasses.

“Spring court sex party” Cassian said smugly, giving his mate a heated look, biting her ear.

“THATS how you met each other” gaped Gwyn.

“Sets the precedent don’t you think” quipped Mor, taking a gulp of wine.

Even Amren snickered at this.

“Coming from the ‘we fucked in the middle of a war camp’, wonder what THAT says about your relationship ancient one” Drawled Cassian, pointing at Amren. Beside him, Nesta giggled into her wine glass.

“And what does the dining table say about yours” came Azriels voice, Mor spat her wine out.

“GIRL” screeched a Amren, now covered in wine.

Cassian had a smug satisifed look, even as the dining table erupted into chaos.

“The dining table!?!” Exclaimed Feyre, her own laugh bubbling from her.

“That’s a communal area you heathens” Rhys’s arm around Feyre’s waist tightened, as both their bodies shook.

“People EAT there” exclaimed Feyre through a hiccup.

Gwyn braced her hand on Azriel’s shoulder as her chair toppled back with her full bellied laugh, tears streaking down her face.

“As if you two can talk” retorted Cassian, pointing to the High Lord and Lady, knocking over a vase as his wings flapped.

“The whole Illyrian camp heard you two fuck against that table!”

“Yes but it was empty when we did it!” Shot back Feyre.

“Only because me and Mor left when you started to rip each other’s clothes off!” Retorted Cassian.

“Az I thought I told you to chaperone them” exclaimed Rhys.

“Why do you think they got no further” hiccuped Azriel.

“Not that night we didn’t” Cassian laughed and grinned with pure satisfaction.

“And bullshit, you and Feyre haven’t fucked on this very table” Cassian looked pointedly at the table they sat at.

“Why haven’t we fucked in Illyria yet. I can’t think of a better way to piss of those pricks!” Asked Nesta with wide eyes.

“For all the reasons to have sex with him, why are Illyrians in the camp on that list at all” Mused Gwyn.

“Have you two fucked on the table we have our monthly dinners at!” Asked Mor in drunk disgust.

“You’re all animals” came Amren, mock disgust on her face as she poured herself a glass.

“A little birdie told me, that you’re quite the exhibitionist Mor” Nesta said with a coy smile.

Feyre choked on her own drink, leaning into Rhys’s hand that rubbed circles on her back.

“So that’s what you get up to at Rita’s” Cassian wiggled him eyebrows, Mor threw him a vulgar gesture.

“I’ll kill Emerie” Mor swore.

“I heard you’ve become quite close friends with Emerie, Mor” mused Feyre with a raised eyebrow.

What happened to not getting involved Came Rhys’s voice in his mates head.

Like you’re any less of a busybody. I know why you invited Gwyn Feyre retorted.

“Jealous that I’m replacing you with a new best friend are you Feyre” asked Mor, swinging the bottle of wine.

“So we’re just going to pretend we didn’t hear that” asked a bewildered Cassian.

“Anyone else have any kinks they want to share with the table” he asked, drunkenly looking around.

“You should ask the shadowsinger” Amren said, draining a bottle of wine.

The tips of Azriels ears reddened, and beside him, Gwyn gaped, mouth open, as she turned her entire body to look at him.

“Keeping tabs on us are you Amren” mused Mor

“The fuck does that mean!” Came Cassian

“I KNEW it” screeched Nesta

“It’s alllllways the quiet ones” giggled Feyre.

“What the fuck, is my court” whispered Rhys in shock.

“Well share it with the table then” Gwyn slapped at Azriels chest with the back of her hand, her eyes tingling with drunken excitement as she laughed.

He smirked at her, whispering something in her ear

“WHAT” Gwyn exclaimed, laughing so hard her chair fell backwards, only Azriels reflexes catching her around the waist.

“I’m going to drop Gwyn back” he said, standing, holding Gwyn to his chest where she continued to giggle and play with his shadows.

“You’re more than welcome to stay Gwyn.”Feyre said drowsily. “There’s more than enough bedrooms”

“I can winnow you if you’d like” Rhys offered, Feyre tucked into his side.

A quick look at Mor confirmed she’d need help getting to her own bedroom at the river house, and would not be winnowing anytime soon at all.

“No thanks, I don’t want to intrude.” Gwyn added shyly.

Nesta scoffed. “She means she loves any excuse to fly and doesn’t want to miss out” Gwyn stuck her tongue out at her.

“As if you’re much better miss ‘lets fly across the Sidra at 4am and watch the sunrise’ ” Mor teased.

“What’s the point of having a mate if I don’t get to use him to appease my every whim” Nesta shrugged her shoulders, smiling as Cassian peppered her neck with soft kisses.

“She makes valid points” Feyre nodded in drunken agreement, grinning like a Cheshire cat as Rhys stroked down her arm.

“Well, there’s a bedroom here if ever you change your mind” Rhys, the most sober of them all, was ever the gracious host.

Thank you high lord” drawled Cassian.

Nesta nodded her head like a toddler.

“Yes why thaaaank you” regaled Mor, putting on a posh accent.

“I hate you all” said Amren grumpily.

“I think you miss Varian” mused Nesta.

“Can he do any water tricks?” Asked Cassian.

“What?” Amren snapped.

“You knowww, can he make you wetttt”

“EW”

“Cass that was terrible”

“Disgusting brother”

“Rhys erase that from my memory I’m giving you permission to go into my head.

“You’d be surprised how many tricks he knows” Amren added cooly.

“I think discussing Amren’s sex life is where we should draw the line” Rhys said in between laughs.

“Thanks Cassian now I’ve got an image of Varian and Amren in bed in my head” Mor scrunched up her face and retched.

“Been there, seen it in real time” Nesta quipped with a grin.

“Nesta stop trying to show me naked Amren I don’t need to see this!” Wailed Feyre, pressing her hands against her eyes.

“Nesta if you show Feyre, she’ll show me” Rhys said with panicked eyes. “By the cauldron if I see that I will force Feyre to erase my memories drunk or not”

“Relax High lord you’ve seen half this table naked” Nesta slurred.

“No I have-“ Rhys stopped mid sentence, looking around with a bemused expression.

“Huh” he said simply, dropping into his chair and taking a swig of wine.

“I’ve only seen Rhys naked” Feyre poked her mate in the arm, grinning.

“Hold on” came Nesta. “When have you three” she pointed at the three Illyrians. “seen each other naked” she asked, eyes wide.

“The birchin. They sit naked together in the steam, sweating.”

“Naked. Sweating.” Feyre emphasises, nodding her head and smiling.

“Huh” said Nesta, blinking rapidly.

“Feyre”

“Yes Nesta?”

“Paint me THAT for solciste”.

“Of course Nesta”

#acotar #acowar #ACOMAF #acosf #Feyre #Rhys #feysand #Nesta #Cassian #nessian #Gwyn #Azriel #gwynriel #Amren #Mor #inner circle #fluff #inner circle fluff #inner circle family dinner

[breakyeol]

— ALL TIED UP

┗ Pairing : Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: shameless smut

Words: 3k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, explicit sexual content ; light bondage, blindfolds, body worship, oral (m. receiving), edging, unprotected sex

A/N; plz this was supposed to be a birthday post for soo but I’m so late it’s not even funny. but blindfolded soo is too hot not to write so here you go lovers, enjoy!!

Lace looks good on him, you decided then, admiring the masterpiece laid out beneath you with a satisfied smirk. Black lace and black silk, a perfect combination. The lace, tied securely around your boyfriend’s beautiful eyes. The silk, around his slim wrists.

“Remind me why I agreed to this?” Kyungsoo grumbled, flexing his fingers experimentally from within their binds. You grinned to yourself, trailing your own lightly over the warm swells of his chest.

“Because you love me and trust me and know I can make you feel… so good.” Those final words were all but purred against the pink tinted shell of his ear, a sense of smug pride settling over you when he shivered in response, lips parting to let out a shaky breath.

You knew what he was experiencing. You knew how every sensation felt amplified. Without his sight, he was forced to feel, to hone in on each one of his other senses. He took notice of things he probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Unable to see what you were doing, he was on edge, left in thick anticipation of your every move. Every touch was a surprise. He had relinquished himself to you, body and mind, left himself completely at your mercy.

His head kicked back into the pillows as your mouth drifted to his throat, bathing him with slow, purposeful kisses. Each one fanned the flames of his lust, growing larger and greedier with every touch. From your peripheral vision, you caught the downward movement of his bound hands from where you had specifically told him to keep them above his head. You reached up, easily pinning them back against the mattress.

“You do trust me, don’t you, Soo?” The low, sultry thrum of your voice caressed his feverish skin, and he felt the weight of them in his blood.

“Yes.” He whispered, grunting softly when you sunk your teeth into his collarbone.

You smiled, laving your tongue soothingly over the afflicted area. “Good.” And then your mouth was on his. He groaned hotly into your kiss, and you giggled as his eager tongue licked at the seam of your lip. Was he already getting worked up? You’d barely even started. It was surprisingly fun seeing the usually so controlled Doh Kyungsoo unraveling beneath you just because of a little lacy blindfold.

It hadn’t taken as much convincing to get him into this position as you first thought it would.

Kyungsoo was the kind of man that took pleasure in taking things slow and dragging things out with deep kisses and gentle caresses. He liked to take his sweet time when he had his way with your body, nipping and teasing until you were squirming and begging and just barely hanging onto your ever dwindling sanity. And shit if those weren’t some of the best orgasms you ever had— you just wanted to return the favor.

“You know, you have the most amazing lips.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m very serious. I can’t even look at you without wanting to kiss you.” You pressed your thumb into the full flesh, drawing it gently down and releasing in order to watch it bounce temptingly back into place.

“That’s just because you have no self control.” He argued, nipping at the pad of your thumb.

You cocked your head, humming thoughtfully. “Valid point.”

His lips parted with the intention of teasing, but any playful comment was abruptly cut off when you redirected your attention back to his sensitive throat, attacking the sweet spot just below the corner of his jaw that you knew made him weak. “Y/n—”

“Shh, just relax, baby… let me take care of you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath from his nose, snagging his lower lip tightly between his teeth and nodded, allowing his body to melt into the mattress.

“Good boy.”

“Suck my dick.” He hissed, only to sigh blissfully as you began kissing hotly down the length of his neck, staining his honeyed skin in lovely shades of pink and red.

“I was planning on it.”

Kyungsoo laughed then, a deep bubbly rumbling that you felt vibrate against your lips. Truly, you couldn’t stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his adam’s apples as it bobbed in front of you all too temptingly. He growled softly in retaliation, but you could feel the solid heat of him pressing up gently between your hips. The subtle friction made the muscles of your thighs tremble in need, fierce desire licking at your veins.

The sight of him beneath you, bound and vulnerable and eager (despite trying -and failing- to hide it), glistening in sweat and practically shaking in anticipation, was affecting you way more than you thought it would. Something about having him like this set your blood on fire in an entirely different way than you were used to. Having such control over him, over his pleasure and desire, was giving you a total power rush. If you weren’t careful, you’d develop a complex. Then your handsome boyfriend would have to put you back in your place. Not that you’d mind…

But those were thoughts for another night.

Sinking your fingers into his tight waist, you slowly descended his body; nipping, kissing and licking over every curve, every edge, every soft spot. “You’re so beautiful.” You breathed against his warm stomach, gaze flashing up to catch even the faintest of nuances in his expression. His brows curled, jaw opening around a silent gasp as your lips feathered over his hip bones, greedy touch traveling over the defined muscles of his thighs.

“Fuck, y/n—” the strained groan had you clenching around empty air, lust coiling in your chest.

“You’re so hard, Soo.” You moaned, sitting back on your heels as you admired his length. Thick and red and weeping, a heavy pool of precum collecting on the gentle slope of his belly. Lowering your head, you dragged your tongue through it, humming at the salty taste of him. His stomach flinched and tightened, his chest swelling as he swallowed lungfuls of hot air.

“Stop teasing and touch me.” It was probably supposed to sound demanding, but it came out as nothing of the sort. The way the words trembled and quivered from his gaping lips, thick and heavy in his throat, sounded nothing short of imploring. And damn you if you weren’t about to give him everything he wanted and more.

Kyungsoo gasped out a low curse at the first calculated flick of your tongue over his swollen head, veined hands curling into tight fights around the sheets above his head. Heat pooled in your stomach, even the subtle reaction enough to make you greedy for more. Humming, you licked a wet strip from base to tip, a violent tremble wracking his body in response. You could feel his self control already beginning to wane, a soft whimper breaking free from behind clenched teeth as you took him fully into your mouth.

“Oh fuck…”

His voice sounded so lovely, smooth and lustrous like the black silk wrapped around his wrists, breathless and light where it flickered through the air around your head. You teased the skin of his hips, digging your nails in each time they bucked. His spine curved, a deep groan pulsing from his chest as you hollowed your cheeks, skillfully tracing the thick vein lining the underside of his cock with the tip of your tongue.

“Careful, baby. Careful.” He seethed, head snapping back as his jaw clenched. The warning in his voice clear, the tension in his thighs telling you all you needed to know about just how near he was to the edge. You hummed in acknowledgment, but the vibrations it sent pulsing through his cock threw his entire body into a fit of violent trembles, the resistance he put up against his oncoming orgasm wrenching a broken sob from his swollen lips. “Y/n!”

You pulled off of him with a soft chuckle, resorting to pressing soothing kisses to the warm insides of shaking his thighs.

“Sorry, love.” You crooned, kissing up his body until you were level with his face.

For a moment, you were tempted to pull off the blindfold, just to see the look in those beautiful brown eyes. But some level of self restraint was necessary if you were planning to follow through. So you swallowed the urge, satiating the fire in your belly with the taste of his mouth instead.

“Fucking hell.” He growled roughly, kissing you back with a ferocity that you supposed was intended to take his mind off the desperate throbbing of his cock.

Kyungsoo was breathing hard through his nose, quick shallow breaths that rushed out against the skin of your upper lip. You tried to pull away, worried he might pass out from oxygen from deprivation if you denied him of air any longer, but he chased your mouth, sinking his teeth punishingly into tender flesh your lower lip once he caught up. It was the only thing he could think to do to keep you close.

You rolled your hips back against the hardness of his cock in retaliation, though unsure if it was meant to discipline or reward. Probably both. Regardless, he moaned, subsequently releasing you from the harsh bite of his teeth.

“Do that again. Fuck, I need to feel you. I need to feel you baby, please.” He gritted out, words rushed and jumbled as he rutted up against you. You moaned at the unexpected friction, bracing your hands on his silk-bound wrists to keep from doubling over. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth at the sound. “That feel good?”

“Mhm.” You hummed breathlessly, head tilting back as you rolled yourself over him again, reveling in the resulting rush of warmth. You could see the fluttering of his eyelids behind the lace, searching desperately through all encompassing the darkness for something, for anything— for you.

Then his fingers grazed your wrist and the corner of his mouth twitched triumphantly. “Hold my hand.”

The demand was so unexpected that you couldn’t help the sharp giggle of astonishment that spewed dumbly from your lips. “You want me… to hold your hand?” Repeating the words did nothing to hinder the sudden onslaught of laughter.

Kyungsoo smiled blindly up in your general direction, that dopey heart shaped grin that never failed to make your heart flutter stupidly in your chest. The one that made it feel like time itself was slowing down so that you could treasure it for just a few moments longer. “I want you to hold my hand… and fuck me like you love me.”

Another giggle, your nose wrinkling from the sheer absurdity of the request. “But I do love you.”

He pivoted his chin, cocking a sassy brow. “Then it shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Point made.” You acknowledged, smoothly intertwining your fingers with his and simultaneously sinking down on his length. He cried out, the suddenness of your walls around him stealing all of the oxygen from his lungs. So wet and tight and hot, squeezing in all the right places. He was goddamn dizzy.

A sound of bliss escaped your gaping lips, your eyes fluttering shut as your cunt stretched deliciously to accommodate his familiar girth. You didn’t move at first, remaining still as you adjusted to the intrusion, relishing in the mere sensation of being full. But then you heard a small plea, Kyungsoo’s grip around your hands tightening drastically, and you go pliant under the weight of his need.

You know how he likes it. Deep and slow, dragging out and savoring each precious moment until it feels like every inch of your souls has been set to flames. He likes it when every movement has intention, purpose, from the stroke of his hips to the flutter of his eyes. He likes the toe-curling passionate kind of sex that hits you so deep in your chest that you couldn’t fathom any other kind. The kind that makes your love for him sore like a burning phoenix through the night sky.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to do it as well as he did, if you’d be able to make his toes curl and his soul blaze, but you’d give it your best shot— and that was more than enough for him.

You move over him like liquid, with slow, languid motions that require a surprising amount of effort, drowning him in the dark depths of your desire with every deliberate thrust. Beneath you, Kyungsoo’s back bowed deeply off the mattress, his sweat soaked chest pressing flush against yours. Like that, you could feel the rapid thundering of his heart, each beat echoing through your bones.

Full lips caressed the shape of your name, stroking each syllable like it was his saving grace, his holy salvation. You felt yourself leaning into the sound, seeking out his voice between your own breathless moans.

Heady desperation gnawed at your self restraint, the deep burn gradually consuming the muscles in your thighs and core forcing a sloppiness into the previously controlled movement of your hips. But Kyungsoo made no complaint, whispering only praises against the raw flesh of your lips. Each sultry word fed the raging fire in your belly, pouring gasoline onto the flames created by the pressure of his cock gripped within your walls.

Dull nails bit into your knuckles and Kyungsoo let out a gasp of your name. “I’m close.” He warned between jagged inhales, but you could only cry out as his hips snapped up violently, burying the whole of his length inside your wet cunt.

“Soo— oh god—!” you went still above him, panting and gasping and shaking as he began fucking himself into you from underneath. Though the space was limited, he still managed to plunge into you with a force that fractured your sanity. The strong grip he had on your trembling hands was the only thing keeping you from collapsing on top of him. Each vicious thrust succeeded in hitting that vulnerable bundle of nerves, stars flickering behind your closed eyelids.

“You feel perfect. I bet you look gorgeous.” His voice was a hoarse snarl, searing against your throat and lashing across your tongue. You keened into the destructive sound of it, loving the way it ruined you. “Wanna see you, baby. Wanna see you when you come all over my cock. Let me see you, gorgeous, please. Please.”

You didn’t bother trying to respond, knowing any words would only fracture like glass on your lips. Instead, with quivering fingers, you clumsily tugged the lace off from over his eyes, casting it uncaringly onto a nearby pillow. Pools of pure blackness greet you; blown, unfocused pupils immediately locking on yours. There was nothing but pure, blazing, unbridled lust, so deep and intoxicating that it made your head spin.

The corner of his mouth curled dangerously. “Hands, too?”

Nodding dumbly, you fumbled with the silk tie binding his wrists. The moment it went slack, his hands were on you, greedy and rough and everywhere; in your hair, on your throat, groping your chest, gripping your ass. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, suffocating on the fire he was breathing into your lungs.

In a split second, you were sprawled on your back, moaning and gasping as Kyungsoo pistoled his hips into yours.

“So. Fucking. Perfect.”

You wrapped your legs tightly around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as you gripped onto him for dear life. “I’m gonna come— Soo, I’m gonna come—” you were babbling like a fool, speaking clumsily into the skin on his shoulder. He groaned throatily at the pressure of your teeth on his collarbone, thrusts speeding up to a punishing pace. Deep and hard and passionate, you felt each one resonating through the very core of your being.

A hand slid between your sweat soaked bodies, skilled fingers making quick work of locating your clit. A violent tremor seized your body, a strangled whimper bursting from your chest. Hot pleasure pulsed through you, unrelenting and overwhelming. You squirmed and begged, writhing in bliss beneath his ministrations. Then all at once you cried out, spine arching, muscles tensing as your high crashed over you.

“That’s it. Fuck, good girl. That’s it.”

The world around you swam, blurry and out of focus as the force of your orgasms ripped through you like a wildfire. You felt Kyungsoo faltering above you, hiccuping moans shuddering past his swollen lips. Then he tensed, choked on a gasp, and you felt the warmth of his release pouring into you. Your muscles went slack, head falling back into the pillows as you surrendered yourself to the post-orgasmic bliss that draped itself over you.

A shiver rippled down your spine as he gently pulled out, before collapsing onto your chest. You giggled breathlessly as he nuzzled his face between your breasts, his damp hair tickling your throat.

“That was amazing.” He hummed contently against your feverish skin.

“I told you you’d like it.” You remarked with a smug grin, yelping in shock when he nipped at one of your nipples in retaliation for lack of a better response. You shoved at his shoulders playfully and he rolled off of you with a low grunt, providing you with the perfect opportunity to escape into your connected bathroom for a hot shower. But the second you were on your feet, a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. You spun with a gasp, falling gracelessly back onto the mattress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kyungsoo all but growled, crawling on top of you, an animalistic glint in his hooded eyes.

“To wash up?” You said slowly, though it came out as more of a question.

He chuckled, a low, devilish sound that made your thighs subconsciously squeeze. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”

Your brows raised, and you were shocked at the spark of excitement that rushed directly to your spent core. “We’re not?”

He dragged the tip of his tongue salaciously over the full pink flesh of his lower lip and reached over to pick up the lace blindfold, dangling it tauntingly in front of your face.

“It’s my turn.”

#exo #exo fanfic #exo smut #kyungsoo #exo kyungsoo #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfiction #kyungsoo smut #do kyungsoo #exo x reader #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

[orange-waterfalls]

G-Bots (TM)

Googleplier (x4) x viewer!reader

ty anon for the request!

A/N: Funny story! I am no longer physically capable of writing normally! I tried so hard to be normal and just veered off into SCP/Cryptid viewer territory because I like expanding on the idea that the viewer is Not Human! Anyways, you’re hanging out with the Googles. That is it. Nothing is wrong. You do not recognize the bodies in the water haha anyways I think I like went a little creepypasta-esque at the end there but it’s fine I think probably. It’s fine. Might be a little weird in terms of story, but i think this was more focused on world building to me. Probably seen as more platonic than romantic, but see it however you wish. Enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

G-Bots (TM)

You wheezed just a bit as you sped through wherever-the-fuck you were. Sure, maybe that was a bad idea. Sure, Dark was a little bit threatening and SURE, you were supposed to be back by now, and the fact that you weren’t back with Mark trying to convince him NOT to split up was the tiniest bit problematic. You weren’t even sure this was a building? Were you in the void? Goddammit, not again…

You stopped, concluding that this was bullshit and you did not want to do it right now. You bent over, hands on your knees and took deep breaths. You stared into the emptiness for a bit, then looked around for a moment, just trying to figure things out. You needed to reassess. It was basically one big, long hallway with random twists and terms every few meters. You’d always end up back at the paintings of… them… and knew you’d gone too far. You did that over, and over, and over again. At this point you thought Dark had just forgotten about you. You took a deep breath in and let it out. You stood up straight and looked up at the paintings. You heard their voices echo through your head a bit. You squeezed your eyes shut and your head twitched.

“You’re alright… you’re ok… cool it…” You whispered to yourself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Meditate. Think.

You looked on either side of the hall and, for the first time, you noticed doors extending down into the void and not stopping. You let out a breath. You felt a slight sense of dread. Something was telling you not to enter the rooms. Some little voice in the back of your head that sounded suspiciously like Mark. But, hey, what else were you gonna do?

“Ok… do i want to enter the door on the left or the door on the right?” You asked yourself. You paused to think about it. After a few seconds you felt yourself jerk forward a bit. Your brain felt staticy and you felt compelled to the left. You turned the knob and opened the door slightly. Immediately you heard music that might be in an SCP game, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like “do you recognize the bodies in the water?”. You were hoping no, and you bailed before you had a chance to look. You ended up almost exactly in your previous position in the hall. Your brain felt fuzzy again, and this time you gravitated to the right. You opened the door just a little, maybe to see what was inside, but again you heard the SCP ambiance.

But this time it was from behind you. So, like any smart person, you swung the door open, slammed it behind you and did your best to lock it. But there was no lock. So you stood. Waiting. Nothing happened.

Of course nothing happened. Why would anything happen? Dark wouldn’t want you to get hurt… probably. This was his domain. Probably. If you were alive, it’s because he wanted you to be. If you were in this room, it’s because he wanted you to be.

Speaking of: Where the hell were you?

You turned around to look behind you. In the blank white room there was a single grey couch with all 4 Google androids sitting on it. Apparently they were recharging, because they hadn’t noticed you standing there and also they were plugged into an outlet in the wall. You hadn’t considered that they had to physically plug into something to charge up, but the thought made you snort.

Bad idea.

All of their eyes snapped open at once, revealing the glow of their assigned colors. They all stood up and began walking towards you in unison. You felt a slight sense of dread. Even so, you tried to grab the doorknob, the one that apparently was no longer there, and cursed under your breath when you could only feel the smooth wall behind you. The androids stopped, staring at you. You cleared your throat.

“Hey…” you laughed nervously, “So, uh, funny story, actually-”

“You are not supposed to be here,” The original Googleplier, Blue, stated.

“Well, see, that’s where this whole thing started, um, see, Mark wanted to split up-”

“No human is allowed inside of this room, and not you, either.”

“Well-” You stopped, processing what he said, “Wait. ‘Either’? I’m human.”

“No, you’re not,” Google Green said. You wanted to be offended, but you were more confused.

“What do you mean? I’m human!” You argued.

“What color’s your hair?” Red asked with a mean smirk on his face. You opened your mouth to respond, and an amalgamate of voices saying “BROWNBLACKBLONDEWHITERED” came out. You slapped a hand over your mouth.

“... what the hell was that?” Your muffled voice whispered. Well, you thought it was probably yours.

“What’s your eye color?” BROWNGREENBLUEAMBERYELLOW exited your being before you could even try to answer.

“Do you have any pets?” That one just ended with a computer error sound from you.

“... huh.” You dropped your shoulders a little. The revelation probably should’ve upset you more.

“What are you doing here?”

“I… do not recognize the bodies in the water.” You explained.

“Ah, I see. Darkiplier would want you to not die, therefore you may stay.”

“Ha. Wow. Who knew the Googleplier androids-”

“G-Bots.”

“... what?”

“We are legally not allowed to use the name ‘Google’ anymore. We are now G-Bots.”

“... legally.”

“We were discontinued. And sold. And signed a contract.”

“So does that mean I can’t call you Google anymore?”

“No, that is simply my name. The name of us as androids, however, is now G-Bots.”

“Ok. What about them?” You pointed to the other three.

“Yellow is Oliver, Green is Lee, Red is Elliott.”

“And you’re just Google?”

“They’ve been trying to change my name to Gregor. I deeply dislike it.”

“It’s a good name.” Oliver suggested, smiling.

“Means vigilant.” Lee shrugged.

“Don’t be a pussy, Greg.” Elliott adopted a shit-eating grin as he leaned a little closer to Google.

“You can do… whatever you wish. Just do not be like them, DA.” Google instructed through gritted teeth.

The room began to shift color and expand. The couch was still grey in the center, but there were now four sections of each of the colors. The yellow section was filled with flowers, with a laptop on a desk next to a switch and a little Vector robot sitting by on the windowsill that showed a colorful meadow with bees buzzing to and fro. It glitched for a moment, so you knew the window wasn’t real. The green section had large houseplants and looked a bit like a greenhouse, and had an Xbox hooked up to a TV in the corner and seemed to have a view of a lake in the faux-window. The red section had miscellaneous wires and computer parts and lights here and there, looking like a fire hazard, and a PC on a table, while the window showed what appeared to be space. Google’s section was absolutely spotless, not a single thing anywhere, apart from a tiny skateboard next to a PS4 in the corner, and the window showed computer code.

“Wow.” You said. You might be stuck here for a while, so you might as well enjoy it.

Though you wondered who DA was. -- You hate to say it, but you had a favorite G Bot. It was kind of like having a favorite child, in your mind. You felt like they somehow knew that you had a favorite, but you didn’t know why.

Oliver was the sweetest by far, immediately going to make you as comfortable or entertained as possible while you were with him. He asked you if you wanted to watch something, if you wanted to play a game, if you were hungry, etc. It was kind of like going over to a friend’s house for the first time. He was enthusiastic to the point where he was shaking with anxiety over wanting to make you happy. You thought he didn’t get many visitors and maybe that was why. He showed you his flowers, and the bees, and a small painting in the corner, hoping for  validation. His glowing eyes seemed to dull when you moved on to the next section, but said you’d visit him again. That did help, but he turned away sadly and went to water his flowers.

Lee seemed as though he couldn’t care less if you were there. He told you where everything was and that you could do whatever. If you asked for help, he would stop what he was doing and help you. Once you understood, he immediately resumed his previous task. He was a bit cold, like Google, but in a “I am very busy but I am still here if you need me” sort of way. He played a game or two with you, having a preference for the puzzle games more than anything else. Puzzle horror, more specifically. If there was a shooting part, he immediately shoved the controller into your hands, saying he didn’t want to do that part. When you left, he simply continued with his work without a goodbye.

Elliott tried so hard to ignore you for the longest time. You could hear him scoff and growl anytime you made any sort of noise. You were self conscious at first, but you came to understand that he was just an asshole. You started on a game, playing for a few minutes, and felt the red couch sink next to you because he had sat down next to you. If he thought you sucked (which he did) he would snatch the controller from you and finish whatever you were doing before giving it back. He refused to say anything or help you, either. He’d just make rude noises and walk away occasionally before coming back. When you left, he seemed a lot angrier than he had before, and wouldn’t say goodbye to you. He turned away with a huff and started pressing random buttons on the controller.

Google was by far the least interested in anything you had to do. You sat on the couch next to him, and he didn’t move an inch. You sat there for a bit, waiting, but he did not move. You stood up, walked around, messed with a few things, attempted to play a game or two. Google didn’t move. You pulled up the Gamer ChairTM and sat directly in front of Google, arms crossed. You sighed. Finally, he looked up at you.

“Is there something you need?” He asked in that monotone voice of his.

“I’m bored,” you said.

“Go to one of the others,” He closed his eyes.

“What are you doing?” You asked, curious.

“That is not-” He sounded exasperated.

“Hey Google, what are you doing?” You interrupted like the little shit you were

“Currently, this G Bot system is recharging its battery. This G Bot is at: 69%.” He shifted to a purely robotic voice.

“Haha nice.”

“This G Bot’s primary objective is to answer questions as quickly as possible. Would you like to ask a question?”

“Yes. What do you like to do, Google?”

“I enjoy answering your questions. Do you have any more?”

“What company owns you?”

“G-Bots were recently sold by the Google company to Warfstache Incorporated.”

“Wilford has a company?”

“Warfstache Incorporated is co-owned by Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache and Damien-Dami-Da-Darkiplier.” He glitched while answering.

“Who’s Damie-”

“The Corporation owns shows such as ‘Markiplier TV’, ‘Warfstache Tonight!’, and ‘Hire My Ass’. Do you have any more questions?”

“Do you pass the Turing Test?”

“Wondering if you have to treat me with basic decency?” He shifted back to his less robotic, but still monotone, voice.

“No. Just wondering.”

Neither of you spoke again for a while. He did scold you when you tried to move the couch with him still on it, so… progress. -- You were beginning to suspect that Google didn’t like you very much.

The blue one. Google. The other ones liked you. Oliver ranted to you for a whole half hour about different kinds of bugs and the hierarchy of bees. The queen is assassinated when she is bad for the hive, it would seem. Lee made you play Resident Evil with him because he didn’t like the fighting, but he liked figuring out what to do. You frantically passed controllers back and forth a lot. Elliott basically did speedruns of several games, you watching intently the whole time. He seemed to like the attention and actually smiled at you whenever he finished one.

But Google didn’t like you. He ignored you, and told you not to touch anything, and scowled whenever you asked him personal questions. Not like “what’s your sexuality” type of personal questions. More like… “what’s your favorite color and why is it blue” sort of questions. He didn’t like them either way.

But the others liked you, and that was pretty neat.

You still wanted Google to like you though.

“Hey Google,” he perked up with the little “do-do!” noise, “Can you guys go into your different sections?”

“All G-Bots have the ability to pass into other’s color-coordinated sections,” He answered politely.

“Why don’t you?”

“We don’t want to.”

“Do you get along?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Celine dislikes when colors are mismatched.”

“Who’s-”

“I’m sorry, this G Bot needs to charge.”

“But you haven’t been-”

“This G Bot needs to charge.”

“Come on, if you--”

“This G Bot needs to charge.”

You quieted and plopped into the chair. You stared at Google. His eyes flickered for a moment before they closed. -- The other Bots knew who Celine and Damien were, they just weren’t telling you. Their eyes always flickered when you asked, but they wouldn’t tell you.

You threatened not to play with Lee anymore. He said he could play on his own. You could see that he didn’t want to. You played Alien: Isolation. His eyes seemed duller.

You threatened not to watch Elliott’s speedruns. He said he didn’t care. You could tell that he did. You watched him play Hollow Knight. His eyes seemed duller.

You threatened not to listen to Oliver’s rants. He looked terrified, but he said that was fine. You could tell it wasn’t. You begged him to tell you. He looked sad.

“Who’s Damien?” You asked softly, stepping towards him.

“I can’t tell you,” He shifted back.

“Who’s Celine?” You stepped forward.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Who’s DA?”

All of the G-Bots stopped what they were doing. You heard static and felt like you were being watched. -- You looked up at the color on the outside of the museum.

You were doing something. You were doing something.

Were you robbing this place? It felt like you were. What happened to Mark? What happened… to you?

You stared at the doors, feeling a slight sense of dread. Something in the back of your head was telling you this wasn’t right. To go home. To…

--

“Ignorance is Bliss. Try Again?”

#on a lighter note #it is canon in MY markiplier cinematic universe #that oliver is an actual beekeeper #also i realized that the names i picked are very stereotypical trans guy names #so googleplier canon trans ig dwgyuefyuer #googleplier #googleplier blue #googleplier yellow #googleplier green #googleplier red #googleplier x reader #googleplier x gn!reader #google gets an upgrade #and yes the lil skateboard was a gift from bing <3 #googleplier x gender neutral reader

[bimsha]

All of Our Stars (Sano Manjiro x Reader)

"You're on the other side

As the skyline splits in two

Miles away from seeing you"

Song - All of Our Stars by Ed Sheeran

“And you all have to read the next pages…” The voice of your teacher droned in the background as he repeated the homework for which it felt like the trillionth time after starting the period. Your eyes wandered aimlessly along the Sakura trees which were bare against the melancholic nature surrounding them. Winter break was close at hand, nature was getting ready to welcome the coldness.

You collected your things as the bell rang snapping you off from your daydream. Students rushed out of the classroom, grateful that another exhausting school day was over. Everyone was getting ready for the upcoming exams which were close at hand. You didn’t care much about them. You’re a third year middle school student and everyone in the class was already choosing high schools while you knew you wouldn’t be able to choose yourself. It’s already chosen. You’re moving with your parents to America next year. Your mind was occupied with different thoughts as you took the stairs, finding your way through the crowd of students heading home.

Your eyes wandered to the gate when you noticed him standing there as usual, but he was in his casual attire, not the school uniform. “Skipped school today?” You asked, walking to Mikey. It had been a whole year since you two started dating. It was almost as if when you two are together, time accelerates. You could recall every precious memory like a vivid polaroid. Your first Christmas together, the games at the arcade, and the things you went through when the world of delinquents suddenly crashed into your safe bubble of love. It was beautiful. Every scar, every memory was beautiful.

He stood up straight, no welcoming smile. “You didn’t tell me, Y/n, Why?”

Your smile faded, he knew. You averted your gaze to the ground, absentmindedly poking the sole of your shoe against the ground. “I found out a couple of days ago. It was a sudden decision” You sighed, “So they say”

Mikey stared at you for a moment, “Y/n, what do you want to do?”

You shook your head. That was the question you had in your mind for days. What do you want to do? You didn’t have any idea whether long distance relationships actually worked. Sure, you could visit when it’s a holiday but what about the rest of the days? “C’mon” Mikey took your wrist, guiding you out of the school. You two walked in silence as he slipped his hand to yours, entangling your fingers. A small sign of reassurance. Mikey was good at subtle affectionate gestures. That’s how he loved you, subtle, but affectionate.

“Y/n” He rubbed his thumb across your skin, his eyes looking at the fallen leaves making a thick carpet of red and orange under your feet. “I don’t want to end this”

You smiled, it was obvious, neither did you. “Same here.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “We could try long distance.”

“I know…” Your voice trailed off, “But Mikey, what if you-” You stopped, the question was obvious. What if you find someone else? Someone better? You shook your head, “I don’t know”

Mikey tipped his head backwards, looking at the blue sky, heavily covered with clouds. It would be a matter of weeks till snow starts to cover the streets. “I had the same thoughts.” He admitted, turning to you. Both of your fears were valid. Human hearts are fragile and needy. You didn’t know what the future held. “But” He started, “Then I thought of something else. Come, there’s something I have to show you.”

Suddenly, both of you were running across the streets, passing people who were busy with their phones and groceries. Cold wind brushed against your cheeks as you two dashed past annoyed people groaning about youngsters'' manners these days. You didn’t even know the destination until you both stopped in front of a wall filled with graffiti. You knew the place well. Mikey and you came here for your first date. Your eyes instantly reached the bottom corner where Mikey’s messy handwriting was. Written in black ink, contrasting against the patch of white was just one line:

“All of these stars will guide us home”

It was an inside joke between you two. A comfort song of sorts. “Remember here?” Mikey crouched down, his hands softly running over the words. Just underneath his messy writing was your own neat handwriting.

For you and me, and for a future with us together.

Just the first date, but both of you had high hopes for each other. It was rather naive to hope for a future when it had been mere days with you two together. It was precious nonetheless. “You screamed at me that day. Called me out on vandalizing the walls.” He smiled, reaching out a hand to you. You took it and sat down beside him, leaning against the wall, icy cold but holding a vague sense of comfort. This was the first place you two planted an icon of your love together.

“Then five minutes later, I was vandalizing the wall myself” You finished. “You’re such a bad influence, Mikey”

Mikey raised his brow, “I think you’re the bad influence, Y/n. I didn’t beat the crap out of guys with only my shoes.”

You huffed, offended. “First, they were trying to harass me. Second, my heels were the only good weapon I had in my hand. Third, those guys were crap at fighting.”

Mikey shook his head with a laugh, “When I came to the scene, it was all over. I wanted to play the knight who saved the princess, but you didn’t let me.”

You nudged his ribs, “You played the knight several times, Mikey.”

He turned to you. You breath catching against your throat as he reaches for your hair, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your cheek as he held you in his arms, clutching to you as if you were his lifeline. You didn’t blame him. He lost so many people in his life, you knew how much he loved the people around him. Toman wasn’t his treasure. The people in the gang were his treasure. “Where to, next?” You asked, your voice muffled against his black jacket.

He pushed away, “To a certain street sweet shop”

Ah right, you thought as he started walking towards the busy streets of Shibuya. Both of you looked around, taking in the busy lifestyles around you. There was that feeling again, you were detached from the world when you’re with him. It was just him and you, and your hands brushing together as you walked by. You’re going to miss this. You stopped in front of the shop. The pleasant aroma of different types of street food caught your nose. Your mouth waters at the smell. This was the best shop.

Taiyaki sizzled loudly on pains, turning into a golden colour. Mikey’s eyes were firmly planted on them as he ordered two fish shaped cakes, handing one to you. “I will never get sick of this” He spoke through a mouthful of his own.

You kicked his shin playfully, biting into your own. The soft cake melts inside your mouth. “Of course you aren't going to. You stole mine one day!”

Ironically, it wouldn’t be wrong if someone said Taiyaki brought you two together. You two met at this shop. He with his delinquent friends crowded around him, you with your school squad with you. It was a summer evening and there was only one Taiyaki left. You ordered first, but he being the spoiled brat, took it from the man, dropped some coins and dashed out of the shop. You would’ve let it go, but it was your Taiyaki. You dashed after him, ignoring the cries of your friends and the grins of his friends. You chased him down to the river bank where he stood, chomping down on the Taiyaki like a madman.

“I took it first and I paid for it.” He countered, snapping off your thoughts. “I own it, Y/n. I’m no stealer”

“No” You find yourself childishly arguing back, “I ordered it first. You stole it.”

“It’s not stealing when you pay for it.”

“And how are you coming to that conclusion?” You chomped down on your own Taiyaki furiously, getting drowned in crumbs as the crispy sweet crunched at your harsh actions.

“It’s a thing because I say so” Mikey grinned with satisfaction at his argument.

You frowned but kept chewing harshly, as if to offend him. It was a thing with Mikey, you can be childish and at the next moment you could act like mature adults. “You look like you want to bite my face off” He commented, finishing off his and dropping the paper slip into the trash bin.

“I’m afraid I would '' You countered, imitating his actions and looking dusting your hands. The crumbs fell to the floor.

“You’re a messy eater, Y/n” He said, reaching his hands and wiping the corner of your cheek, your eyes lingering against each other for a second longer. “Usually I’m the messy one. Good to have a change of roles” He dropped a kiss on your hair, nuzzling his nose on your head.

“You lovebirds are blocking the door!" the shop owner yelled. But the smile on his face was inevitable. They were regulars at his shop and he had seen both of them grow into lovers from rivals to friends.

“Sorry!” Mikey called out with a slight wave as they both exited the shop. It was like a walk down memory lane. From one thing to another. Shibuya was your love story. Everywhere were scattered memories of your love. “Remember that bench?” Mikey said, gesturing towards a metal bench under a bare Sakura tree.

“We shared my lunch together under that tree” You said, tilting your head as a slight flush reached your cheeks.

Mikey grinned, “You accidentally came to school on a Saturday.”

“Shut it” You huffed, marching to the opposite lane. You knew where you would end up if you just continued to walk. It was another place you made memories. The place you made most of your memories. Mikey skipped a few steps before reaching you.

The river bank was colder than you expected it to be. The wind rushed through your hair as you breathed in the cold air around you. Mikey sat down, patting the grass beside him for you to sit. You slid to the ground and drew your knees to your chest, looking out at the water, overlapping with waves in a soundless muttering. This is where you two came when you needed to talk. The time didn’t matter. You two had midnight talks with each other spilling the insecurities. Somedays, it was just to stay in silence. Nevertheless, this was your happy place. It was the same from all the dangers or reality. A place lost in time.

“Shibuya is going to be a nightmare after you leave” Mikey was laying on the grass, a hand dropped behind his head as he stared into nothingness. “Everywhere I go, it’s memories of you and me. Tiny specks of moments we shared.”

You hummed, “America is going to be even lonelier. No memories. Everything is going to be new and foriegn. Even the people. I’m kinda scared, maybe even terrified, Mikey”

He turned your head and stared at you, “I don’t want to break up, Y/n.”

It was getting dark, you noticed. The sun had already set through the horizons. The stars, one by one came into view, sliding away the darkness with a speck of comfort. The lamp posts on the streets glowed in a healthy yellow breaking through the black night. “Even if we’re going to be away, we’ll be staring at the same sky, watching the same stars each night.” You were talking nonsense, but you did not want to stop. “Mikey, let’s try. I don’t want to let you go either.”

His lips quirked upwards into a soft smile, “Yeah, we should try. You can always come home to me, Y/n. If things get tough out there, you always have a place right here” He said, tapping his finger against his heart. “Don’t be scared. Just be the badass girl you are, they’re going to be terrified”

You let out a surprised laugh, “Terrified enough to send me back home?”

He shrugged, “Worth a try” There was that, his childish tone you adore. You loved him for the man he is. The childish yet mature person. The one you can confide all your secrets to. The one who holds out his hand for you when things get tough. There was no way to let go. You were committed, both of you were. That was love for you. He sat down and turned to you. His dark eyes are watching you intently. “Call me?”

“Every night, I promise” You assured, taking his hands. “Wait for me, Mikey. I’ll be back. If you can wait-”

“I will wait.” He said, cutting you off. He drew closer to you, “There’s always a home with me for you. I promise”

You closed your eyes as you felt tears threatening against them. Love was a series of promises and words. It could be the simple moment you shared with him tonight under a sky filled with stars. For you, love was him and him alone. “I love you” your whispered words were carried by the wind into the night.

“I love you too, Y/n” He said, connecting your lips. Your lips danced together as he pulled you close. The world didn’t matter. His warm hold, cocooning you in mattered more. Your arms held him tightly, lips exploring each other’s warmth and comfort. When you pushed away he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss you, Y/n”

You nodded, unable to form words. You’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him. Your universe. Your guidance to your place called home.

"But I can see the stars from America

I wonder, do you see them too?"

#Mikey x Reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjiro #xreader #female reader #tokyo manji gang #song fic #Tr #fanfic #slight angst #Sano Manjiro x Reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x you #mikey

[regretthatsme]

A Night to Remember

Harry Potter x Reader

I finally wrote it. This is smut. Very smut. Exceptionally smutty. 18+. Angst too.

@hestpwk072310

Harry was lost. He didn't know where he was going and he didn't care. It was too much. First it was Cedric, then Sirius, now Dumbledore. It was all too much. Too much. Too much. Too-

Harry collapsed to the floor. He couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in. His heart was racing. His blood was rushing. What's happening? He was dying. He had to be. It was to only thing that made sense. Death seemed to be the only constant in his life. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

"Harry?"

The voice called to him. Must be an angel.

"Harry!"

He felt something touch his hand, though he couldn't have told you what it was. His hands went numb long ago.

"Harry. Listen to me. Can you hear me?" Yes. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say it so bad, but he couldn't. His body was unable. A small groan was the best he could do.

"Okay. Okay. Okay, listen to me. On three, we're going to breathe together, alright?" He could tell the voice was panicked. The was a certain exasperation that could only be described as anxiety. "One, two, three." Harry gasped at the air like a dying man. He kind of was.

"Good job, Harry. You're doing so well. Again. One, two, three." He gasped again but it was much easier.

"You're doing so well. Again. One, two, three." Harry finally opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a face, but there was little detail. His vision came into focus and saw... one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. Her hair, her eyes, her... concern. She cared. She cared about him. This had to be an angel.

"Am I dead?" Harry asked. "Are you an angel?"

The angel laughed for a second before responding. "No. I am not an angel, and, as far as I'm concerned, you are not dead."

Harry took another deep breath before mumbling, "Too pretty to be a person."

"While that is a very lovely compliment, I hate to say I am a human." She softly brushed hair off of Harry's sweaty forehead. "Now, it's quite late. We need to get you to bed." Her voice was as gentle as her touch. Harry limped back to his dorm, with the support of the lovely angel student. In his delirium, he forgot to ask for her name. The only thing he remembered in the morning was a yellow tie around her neck.

-*-*-*-

"Honestly, Hermione, it isn't that big of a deal."

"It is that big of a deal, Ronald. It's ridiculous. She's insisting that she survey the entire school! What is she even searching for? I can only imagine the affect on her mental health. Lack of sleep is very-"

"Will you please be quiet?" Harry whisper-shouted. His friends made a habit of bickering like a married couple and it's been getting on his last nerve. "And what are you on about, anyway? Just let them search Hogwarts."

"Harry, it's more complicated than that-" explained Hermione before Harry cut in.

"How? How is it more complicated? Please, enlighten me."

Hermione looked at Ron, almost as if asking for permission. "Well, it's Y/N. She's the Hufflepuff prefect. Ever since a few weeks ago, she has insisted that she is on petrol. And she checks the whole castle. It's like she doesn't trust us." Hermione expressed. "One time I followed her around the school and the whole time she was mumbling." Hermione was clearly livid about this. Y/N was showing a clear distrust and disdain for the other prefects. I mean, Malfoy is understandable, but Hermione? Ron? They were the nicest, well meaning people that Harry had probably ever met.

"Actually, she was mumbling about you, Harry." Hermione said.

"What?"

"Yeah, she kept going on and on about how you were and if you were okay. Which, don't get me wrong, is a perfectly valid thing to worry about. You have gone through much hardship, and mental health is important, but it seems a bit out of place, especially considering that she probably has never spoken to you or even taken interest in you before." Hermione confessed.

Harry was quote confused. Why would she suddenly start to take an intrest in me? Unless...

"Hermione, what does Y/N look like?"

"Oh! Um.... she has h/c hair and e/c eyes. We have a fair few classes with her. She's always top of the class." It all came back to him in one big rush. The hair that framed her face perfectly, her eyes that sparkled like jewels, her tender touch.

"I.... I think I know her."

-*-*-*-

If she goes on petrol every day, travels around the whole school, and I have an invisibility cloak plus a map, we will find each other.

Harry crept into the hallway and took out his map.

Where is she? Where is she? Where is-

Y/N L/N.

Harry raced to her. He moved as fast as he could. He was running and running and running until-

She's there.

In front of him.

And she knows he's there.

Because she's calling his name.

Harry takes off the invisibility cloak. He clears his throat. "Hello, Y/N." She nods towards him as a hello.

"You need anything?" Her eyes began to fill with concern. "Oh no. Is something wrong? It has to be. Why would you be coming to see me."

"No!" Harry was quick to reassure Y/N. He cupped her cheek and caressed her cheek bone. Maybe the James in him was acting up, but she didn't seem to reject his advances. In fact, she seemed quite comforted by it. "No. No. It's not that. I just wanted to say.... thank you. So incredibly much."

"What ever for?"

"For... just worrying, honestly. I know you helped me when I was having a panic attack and then you stayed up every night to see if I need help." Her face heated up. Harry could feel it on his hand. He smirked a bit. "Thank you. Truly. I just wish I could repay you."

"I can think of a few ways." Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Well. How do I repay you?" Harry's smirk was much more apparent.

"I told you, I didn't mean to say that."

"But you did say it, and I would really, really, really, really, really, love to make it up to you."

Y/N looked down for a minute before mumbling "a kiss."

"What was that? Speak up, love."

"A kiss. I know, it childish and your not going to want to - mmmph!" Harry had already pulled Y/N into what she desired most. It was... perfect. Nothing short of absolutely magical. It was soft and quick and yet spoke so much.

"Was that good enough?"

"Actually, I'd quite like you to do that again." So they did. And then again. And again. And again. And again. Each time longer than the last. A passionate battle of lips, teeth, and tongue. A quiet wimper was released from Y/N. "Ha-oh!-Harry."

"Yes, love?" He began to kiss down her neck.

"Harry! We're in the middle of the hallway! Anyone could see us."

"What are you suggesting?"

"How about we go somewhere a bit  more...... private."

The two teenagers quickly ran off to the Room of Requirements, which had spawned a rather lovely bed, a loveseat next to a fireplace, and bath, which was sure to get some use later. Their clothes came off in a frenzy of hushed whispers and lingering kisses.

Soon, the gravity of what was about to happen took over Harry and Y/N.

"Are... are you sure?" Harry asked. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Y/N said. She kissed Harry so softly. So lovingly. "I've never been so sure of anything."

Harry smiled before kissing down the expanse of her body. First her neck, then her tits, then her stomach until he was right in front of her sex, glistening in the romantic light of the room. "You look so beautiful."

"Please."

"Please what, princess?"

"Touch me. Please."

Harry finally gave Y/N what she wanted. He placed a thumb to her clit. She bucked her hips into him. "Try to keep still for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

He rubbed soft, sensuous circles. Luscious moans left her lips. Her hips moved occasionally and every time they would, Harry pinned her hips down harder. "Your pussy is so pretty." Whispered Harry. She moaned at this. "Such a pretty pussy. Looks good enough to.... eat?"

"Yes! Please. Please eat me out." Her begging was all that Harry needed to hear. His tongue met her folds and he moaned, the vibrations sending shock waves up her spine.

"So sweet, darling." He said as he inserted a finger. A large gasp erupted out of Y/N's mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" They kept this up until Y/N could feel her orgasm approaching. "Fuck! Oh..... I'm gonna cum. I'm close." Harry pulled away just before she could. The whine that left her lips was almost pitiable. Almost.

"Awweee. Did I made you cry, Angel?" Harry mocked. Y/N hated how that turned her on even more.

"Why did you do that, Har?"

"Well, personally, I would love to feel you cum on my cock." She hummed before nodding and spreading her legs even wider. That was before her eyes snapped open.

"Wait!" Her eyes held so much worry.

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's just... I've never done this before."

Harry cooed and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. We're going to take it nice and slow. Ready?" She nodded once again and he entered her. They could only look into each other's eyes. Harry hissed through his teeth like a snake, which would not be too out of character seeing as he is a parceltongue. Y/N had a slight grimace on her face as a tear trickled down her cheek. Harry kissed it away as he let her adjust.

"You can move. Please move." He moved slowly and the slightly uncomfortable feeling slowly became a most pleasurable sensation. The moans became louder and louder as the movements became faster and faster and the sound of skin-on-skin became harder and harder. Soon, the familiar feeling bubbled up again. "Oooohhhhhhh fuck. I'm so close. I'm going to cum. Please let me cum. Please, please, please, please."

Harry let her beg for a few more seconds before allowing her to cum with fake reluctance. Her pussy squeased him just right. She absolutely milked his dick. He came not even a minute later. His head naturally found its way to the crook of her neck. She gripped his broad shoulders as she came down from her high.

"Holy shit. I just fucked the chosen one." Harry giggled with her as they collapsed on the bed. Harry slowly pulled his dick out of Y/N.

"I need to get a washcloth for you. We made quite the mess." One conveniently formed next to them. He ran the cloth under the tap of the bathtub. "Can you spread your legs for me, Angel?" The feeling of the cold cloth made her jump.

"'m sorry."

"Don't be. You were incredible." Y/N smiled.

"I'm going to remember tonight forever."

"As will I."

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