#around that age and I remember feeling conflicted like go fuck yourself but

[everoutoftouch]

.

[mylovejimimi]

When three is a party, and you're the piñata | TH&JK ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: boyfriend!taehyung x fem!reader x bf'sbestfriend!jungkook — GENRE: smut +18. minors dni — WARNINGS: teasing, dirty talk, a threesome (duh), vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m receiving/giving), mild ass play, pussy slapping (but like two or so), ass slapping (like three times), LOTS of fluids, LOTS of spit (not apologizing lmao), breast playing, kinda dom!tae and dom!kook, a tiny tiny twinge of mxm, a lil angsty at some point but fluffy at the end, reader is bamboozled lol — SUMMARY: Jungkook disliked you, that's for sure. Then, why is he insinuating he wants to fuck you? And why did your boyfriend simply invited him to your bed to do so (or, better said, do you)? — WORDS: 8k (oopsy) Maybe I went a little overboard with this one lol but i added some plot!!! It came out a lot tamer than I thought tho and I changed some bits but I hope you like it anon!! I enjoyed writing the wild smut lmao Anyways please remember you can send me a tip by buying me a ko-fi if you like my works, it will meant the world to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Ever since you met the boys, their own friendship dynamics were as clear as the shots of vodka Jimin made you gulp down on weekends. Sometimes, Jin and Yoongi would go for a drink and complain about their ages and the youngest and things like that; in that same way, Jin would drag Jimin to a wine testing, or Yoongi would be cooped up with Namjoon in the studio, or Hoseok would help the two eldest with choreographies, or the maknaes would go shopping with Hoseok and so on. It was obvious to you that they had a very strong bond and had some kind of symbiotic relationship. But out of all of them, the two youngest seemed to be the more symbiotic of all.

When Hoseok introduced you to the group, you all clicked just as fast as you had clicked with Hoseok before (which was why he thought you should meet his friends). Soon enough, you were one of them, all eight of you inseparable – until Taehyung confessed his feelings for you, and you kind of been crushing hard on him the whole time. So, there began the first relationship in a big group of single men, and so, things had to shift a little to accommodate a couple. You were relieved, though, because the boys had taken it very well and were all happy and rooting for the both of you – well, almost all of them.

You never felt any animosity between you and Jungkook, though you always felt he didn’t like you as much as the rest. He was rather indifferent to you, in your humble opinion. Oh, but once you started dating Taehyung, his bestest friend in life? Just then you understood what real animosity was like: whenever you were around the boys, Jungkook would either talk to you curtly and unfriendly or not acknowledge your presence at all; other times he would just glare at you, making you feel self-conscious, even that one time in summer when you put on a new sundress and everybody complimented you and you felt pretty for once; and he even went as far as excusing himself to escape to the bathroom whenever you sat down next to him. Of course, you attributed this one-sided rivalry to that fantastic decision to fall in love with his best friend and taking him away from him, but you always made sure to never talk to Taehyung about the way Jungkook seemed to hate you, to avoid unnecessary conflicts.

But then one night...

“Y/N” Jimin sang, in his drunken state of being. “Can you be a dear and bring more beer?”

“Why me? You just told Jungkook to do it.” Just as tipsy, your reply sounded whiner than you wanted, but you met Jimin’s gaze with a frown. Then, you looked at Jungkook, completely inhibited when you said: “He told you to do it.”

“I don’t want to. Got a problem with it?” You gaped at the maknae’s answer, but you would not let yourself be ran over by this big brat of a boy.

“Yes, I have a problem with it. Move your fucking ass or I will move it.” The other boys shouted a collective ‘ohhhh’ at the exchange. Okay, maybe you were going a little bit too far with your attitude but you had lost count of how many drinks you downed and that was enough to excuse your attitude. “Get the fucking beers.”

“Come here and make me” he spitted, holding your stare from across the room. And just to provoke you further, he sat comfortably against the sofa, spreading his legs and tilting his chin to you. You felt some kind of way because in any other person, it would be a suggestive invitation. He even put his hand on his crotch! But it was Jungkook, so you didn’t think much of it.

“Oh, you better be sure I will.” However, before you could get up to do God knows what, Yoongi stepped in.

“I will go, you brats” he sighed, getting up from his seat. Your eyes didn’t left Jungkook’s though, and neither did his, even arching his brow to you. You scoffed and looked at your boyfriend beside you.

“Well, thank you Jungkook and Y/N for that interesting exchange. But I wanted to propose a little game to keep up the good spirits” Jimin smiled brightly and devilish directly at you. Your heart dropped a little. Park Jimin usually had the power of making you expose yourself, just because you were hot-headed and argumentative. “Do you all remember that game we played once, where we had to tease each other until one caved in? I mean, now we have a girl, it should be more entertaining.” Oh no. Your boyfriend squeezed your sides.

“I won’t play” you said, crossing your arms. “TaeTae?” But your lover ignored you in favor of smiling at Jimin.

“Why not? Are you afraid, Y/N? Afraid I might steal your man?” Jimin taunted you. He looked at Jungkook, before looking at you again. “Or are you afraid of being teased by Jungkookie?”

“What?!” You were genuinely startled at his insinuation. Another chorus of ‘ohhh’ filled the room. What was going on with these guys? “I’m not. I will play your stupid game.”

“Then, why don’t you sit beside our maknae and start the round?” And Jimin smiled like the Cheshire cat. Why was he so pressing about Jungkook? Was it because you snapped back at him earlier? Because of your general distance towards him? Jimin was sadist enough to laugh at his friends struggling; it could be anything.

You got up to sit near Jungkook, not close enough to be in his personal space, though you were expecting him to glare at you as always. But he didn’t. In fact, he looked at you briefly and gave you a small smile. Was he taunting you too?

“Y/N” Jungkook began, starry eyes shiny with drunken glow on yours, equally shiny and glowing. He moved one of your locks behind your shoulder. “Do you still enjoy getting it from behind like you said once?” The question came in a low, low tone, accompanied by a sleazy smile. He started strong but you didn’t budge.

“I do. Wanna try it? Want me to peg you?” You smiled, tilting your head sweetly. Once more, your public reacted in chorus.

“If I get to put something between those two, then yes.” And he ogled at your breast, causing your nipples to harden just a twinge.

“But could you? Won’t you wet your pants just by talking to a woman?” His eyes darkened and you felt the physical need to bit your lip.

“Leave it to me and the only wet things here would be my tongue and you.” A smirk and a wink but with a completely serious tone – like it was an invitation and a promise. The guys went crazy, laughing and shouting things you didn’t get. If you didn’t know better, your alcohol-induced reasoning would tell you that Jungkook was kinda flirting with you. Why was your boyfriend just laughing about it?

“You sure about that? You always look like you don’t know what is a pussy. Want me to show you one and give you a blowie out of pity?” He scoffed, now getting agitated. You tried to ignore how he flexed his muscles and when he tensed his jaw – but it was near impossible to ignore the way he rearranged his bulge mindlessly.

“I do know, baby.” In his growling voice, the pet name sounded almost menacing… and very exhilarating. Deep down you, you wanted to keep hearing him calling you all sorts of names. “And I’m not your boyfriend. A ‘blowie’ is not enough for what I have here.”

“Yah! Don’t bring me into your dumb beach off” your boyfriend complained with a pout. Running out of ideas, you drank the half glass of whiskey that Yoongi left on the coffee table, expecting to get creative once the alcohol got on your bloodstream. You saw Jungkook mirror you with his beer.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you continued. “I’m actually looking at your boner right now and it is very underwhelming.” Jimin cackled at that, the rest of them giggled. Jungkook had the tip of his ears red.

“Let me shut your mouth with it and see if it is that underwhelming,” and he put his big hand on your knee, squeezing. “babygirl.”

You inhaled deeply, because his hand was not only on you. No no, Jungkook played dirty and started stroking your thigh up and down subtlety. Was it bad? Yes, absolutely, because you felt a tingling between your legs and a confusing desire to be touched. But bad enough to accept defeat? Absolutely no. Instead of caving in, you changed strategies: you smiled your seductive smile, and placed your hand softly on his biceps.

“Is it as big as your arms, Jungkookie? You promise to make me choke on it?” His hand on you faltered. Everybody was silent for some reason. “You promise to make me swallow my words while I swallow it?” Those even weren’t the biggest weapons in your arsenal, and yet it had the effect you wanted: Jungkook stood up and almost ran to the bathroom.

“You think he went to jack off?” Hoseok asked Jin, who nodded.

“Yah!” you yelled at them. “Jimin, your game is shit.” You were in serious need of a drink that wasn’t alcohol-based, so you stood up and went to the kitchen, catching a ‘but it was real fun to me’ from Jimin in your way out.

“Looks like you and Jungkookie are having fun together, uh?” your boyfriend said casually, coming behind you. You scoffed.

“If you can call that fun,” you grunted, taking a sip from a random water bottle you found on the counter. You needed anything that could calm you down. “Whatever, at least he seems to be loosing up. I don’t know, he’s a dumbass but I rather have him talking bullshit than to be shy and silent around me.” Taehyung smirked and looked at you intently, as if he was internally laughing at you because of something you don’t know. And you know your boyfriend. He was definitely laughing internally at you because of something you don’t know. You frowned. “What is it?”

“What is what?” Taehyung replied, smirk intact, while getting close enough to you to put every inch of his front against yours and his hands on your waist. Suddenly, the air shifted, and new tensions began arising between your two bodies. Despite being in someone else’s home, you would be lying if you denied how your boyfriend was turning you on.

“Why are you laughing at my expense?” He did laugh at that, eclipsing your clarity for a moment with that beautiful laughter that you adored since the first time.

“I just love your innocence.” His hands ascended under your shirt from their place on your waist to the underside of your boobs, nearly cupping them, making your breath hitch. You were way too conscious of being in Hoseok’s kitchen, looking at the door while Taehyung touched you almost indecently, but his eyes never strayed from your face. “Look what you did, baby: you made me hard at my friends’ gathering with that silly game and your silly, bratty mouth.” And he thrusted a little, so you would feel his fattened and restrained member on you.

As soon as you opened your mouth to cuss at him for his antics, your boyfriend wasted not even a second to put his mouth and yours, dizzying you with a kiss that you doubted was appropriate to experience in someone else’s kitchen. His mouth was way too enthusiastic, his touch all over your body, and you knew it was not leading to a normal quickie. No, he was properly devouring you whole; sucking at your lips, tongue trying to go deeper inside your cavity, hands moving all the way down to knead your ass. You tried wondering what had him so worked up but your mind couldn’t focus on nothing but his tongue in your mouth, deliciously licking everywhere inside – and you had no choice but to reciprocate with the same intensity. You couldn’t judge your boyfriend, because you were just as worked up yourself. Playing with Jungkook was fun at first but then it became serious. And so did the situation in your panties: the moment he put his strong hand on your knee? You felt yourself getting slightly wet, whole core warming… which you knew was completely fucked up. Shame woke you up when Tae’s fingertips went under your skirt and made contact with your inner thigh.

“Taehyung!” you whisper-shouted once you separated from his face, but his hands stayed firmly on your body. “It’s rude to be doing this here.”

“But, baby…” he whined and moved a calculated inch so you could feel his very rigid bulge on your upper thigh. No, as much as you wanted it, it was not right to do it at your friend’s place. You still had some dignity.

“No, seriously, what if someone walks in and sees us like this?” And of course, the universe wanted its turn to laugh at you, because in that exact moment your words were commands. Jungkook entered the kitchen looking at his phone, immediately lifting his head at your words, watching you in all your glorious just-made-out-hotly, lipstick-stained face, boyfriend’s hands under your clothes. He was paralyzed, you were paralyzed, and Taehyung snorted. Not knowing what to do, you just blurted an “I’ll go to the bathroom”, and flew the scene.

…

On the way back home, once the alcohol’s effects wore out, you couldn’t stop thinking about everything that transpired between you and Jungkook. It was mostly playful, none of it insinuating — not even the touch on your knee. And here you were, twisting it for some sort of unconscious reason. Did you like Jungkook? Did you not love Taehyung anymore? How could you be so disgusting? It was undeniable how your body reacted to the maknae, getting weak with nothing more than a simple touch. What kind of girlfriend that made you? The cheating, slutty one for sure. You felt like crying, guilt eating you up fast.

 “You had been very quiet since the thing in the kitchen, love.” Tae mentioned when you left your shoes at his apartment door. You turned around to look at him absently, and he smiled tenderly to you, caressing your face. “Everything alright? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, baby, it was not that serious. I’m fine.” You lied. Unable to bear the loving look in your boyfriend’s eyes, you turned on your heels and headed towards his room, ready to hide underneath the covers forever. You were so bad at pretending.

The guilt and growing sadness were bad enough that you skipped your skincare, taking your make up off with a wet towel and going to bed on a shirt that was laying around and panties, instead of your precious silk pajama that matched Taehyung’s. By the time your lover got under the covers, you were on your side at the verge of crying, not wanting to see his face or else you would break down right there.

“My angel,” Tae started whispering on your ear. “I don’t know what’s wrong but just know that you can tell me whenever you’re ready.” You have to tell him, your conscience kept urging you. You had to tell him. It was so wrong and you knew it would break his heart, but all the love you had for him was enough motivation to tell the truth.

You shifted and faced him, your whole heart shrinking at the pure love that was on his face. All that love for you. And you ruined it.

As much as you wanted, no words left your mouth, but it was not needed because Taehyung kissed you, slowly, lovingly. It would be the last time, so you decided to enjoy it. You would miss the way he was nipping at your lower lip, probing it with the tip of his tongue for you to give him access. You would miss the way his hands always go directly to massage your breasts, his favorite habit since that one time you told him they were sensitive. You would miss the way he couldn’t resist you, hating to waste time with too much teasing, being the most efficient and desperate lover you had.

In no time, he threw the covers to the edge of the bed, caging you with his thighs between his warm body and the mattress. His mouth left yours to kiss a wet trail towards your neck, nipping and lapping from the spot under your ear to the point where your neck and shoulder met. You whined, because your neck was pretty sensitive too, and it only served to spur him on. He decided that near the base of your neck was a good place for hickies, so he sucked enthusiastically, kitten-licking the tender marks. While his mouth worked on your upper body, his always wandering hand caressed all its way to your panties, took them off in one movement and shamelessly pressed two fingers in your center. You hadn’t realized until that very moment that you were drenched.

“Shit, baby, what has you this wet already?” Taehyung exhaled in a deep, deep voice. Oh no. The spike in your hormones dropped suddenly and your whole body grew cold and rigid. You remembered and the emotions buried you like an avalanche. A sob escaped you, followed by tears and more sobs. “Love, love, wait, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”

“I- I can’t tell you. You will hate me…” you mumbled. Taehyung never stopped fondling your folds thru the panties.

“I could never hate you, baby. Not even if you leave me, not even if you fuck my best friend.” You looked at him like a deer in headlights, tensing from head to toe. He picked up the change in your energy and, honestly, deep down, he was enjoying the situation a little, tremendously excited for the surprise he had for you. Despite your reaction, he slowly stroked your folds, soaking his hold hand in your wetness. “Babe? Something to tell me? Maybe that Jungkookie made you wet tonight?” It was not possible to open more your eyes and yet, you did. Your heart was about to explode, scared shitless for being caught.

“N-no, no…” you mumbled, suddenly losing your capacity for communicating. So many things you wanted to say, apologies in every language, and the only thing you could do was to let out tiny tears at the corners of your eyes. To spice things up, Taehyung took the liberty of putting one finger on your clit, drawing circles. You inhaled sharply, electricity running thru every nerve in your body.

“Angel, don’t lie to me. I saw the whole thing. He was after you as he had always been, but our little Jungkookie can’t keep jerking off to the memory of you in a sundress forever, don’t you think?” You gaped at him, partially for his mastered skills on your pussy, partially for all the information he was dropping on you. After you? Always been? The sundress episode?! Your boyfriend gave you The Look: that look that promised to give you something so wicked but oh so fucking good, that you will be on the clouds for days.

He simply smiled at you, as sweet as ever. You sensed something big was about to happen.

“Babe, do you think you could handle both of us? Or is my baby too weak to take two cocks at the same time?” Blank. Nothing. Not even a fleeting, coherent thought crossed your mind. Of all things that could have come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, the most unexpected of them did. You had to ask to yourself in all seriousness if you weren’t hallucinating. Would your boyfriend Kim Taehyung really be up for a threesome? Yes, it was in character with him. With a friend of his? Well, he was a person that relied a lot on trust, so it would obviously be someone he trusted much like a friend. But with Jungkook? You never considered it.

You were too slow to reply to your boyfriend, it seemed, because he took his wet hand off your pussy and slapped you lightly on the thigh. It surprised you but sure took you out of all trance.

“I asked you something, doll. Are you too dumb to reply yes or no?” Oh. Oh. He was getting on that mood, one kink at the time. Generally, his domineering and demeaning attitude were enticing enough to get you going. That night was not exception. You gulped, your heart racing like never before. “Would you want Jungkook to join us or not?” His words were stern but he was the love of your life, you could read him better than anyone on earth, and in his eyes you saw the tenderness and love he always had for you. He wasn’t pressuring you, that was for sure. So, you found the confidence to confess your sins, and to agree to sin even more.

“Yes, Taehyung” you whispered because, how right was admitting out loud that you also wanted Jungkook? Though you couldn’t understand why he was looking for an answer so earnestly. His eyes darkened in no time; an enigmatic smile graced his beautiful face. Why did it feel like you just sold your soul to the devil?

He pressed a desperate kiss on your lips, condensing all the excitement and lust that involved the prospect of a threesome. Holy shit, you thought. He wanted a threesome this bad?

“Baby,” he said, kissing one last time “you just made two men happy, and am sure you are about to give us one hell of a night.” You smiled at him, happy that he was that overjoyed – until you let his words sink.

“About to…?” You frowned and, as always, he just smiled.

“Jungkookie!” your boyfriend yelled loudly; loud enough for someone outside the room to hear.

By instinct only, you looked at the door: lo and behold, the Jeon Jungkook opened it slowly, with his big Bambi eyes looking at the floor and his lower lip between his teeth. Your heart dropped to the first floor of the building. What was happening?

“Yah, Jungkook, did you come to fuck my floor or to fuck my girlfriend?” Your eyes were on your boyfriend on an instant, red all over your face. “Look how pretty she looks, all dumb and lost. And she is so wet already that both of us could slip in right now and she would just take it.” His words weren’t that dirty and yet, your body responded to his voice almost on command. Before Taehyung, you weren’t very fond of dirty talk, but the man made it his mission to find the right combination of words, the right timbre of his voice, that would work on you. And he was always successful on whatever he set his mind on.

You saw Jungkook taking a seat on the loveseat Taehyung kept on his room, diagonal to the bed to have the best view. His eyes were anywhere until they arrived on you, a fire burning on you as soon as you saw the arousal written on his face. Never in your life had you felt so much energy contained in a room, thick and suffocating: the heat of three young people that wanted nothing more than to jump at each other’s bones. You bite your lip, because desperation was overpowering your reason. You needed something, everything, whatever they could give you. You looked at your boyfriend, the only one that knew how to proceed, he looked back.

“Doll, I have to warn you. It’s been so long since Jungkookie wetted his dick that he probably will be like a dog in heat once he gets a taste of your pussy, so brace yourself and whenever you want to stop, we stop, all clear?” You nodded. “Good, all of us will use the color system so we’re all on the same page, do you understand me?” The question was directed at Jungkook, who nodded eagerly. Tae was silent for a moment, clearly thinking, and then he doubled the bet. “Jungkookie, get that seat closer to the bed. Closer. Yeah, right by our side.” And now you had your boyfriend’s best friend right by your side, as if he was about to examinate your body being fucked and needed to pay close attention to details. Well, yeah, that’s what was going to happen.

It was it. Everything was ready and set to start. For some reason, desperation evaporated instantly and nervousness took over your body, hands growing cold and heart jumping like crazy. You had never had someone watching you have sex, much less in a threesome. What if you did something awkward? What if you make him uncomfortable in some way? What if you can’t balance out right and end up giving more attention to Jungkook than your boyfriend? You would prefer to take your eyeballs out and eat them than to make your loverboy believe that you don’t want him. However, just as you read him expertly, so he does you, catching your worries as soon as they appear.

“Babe, you don’t need to worry about anything. This is for you more than for any of us. Just let yourself be, we will do the rest, okay?” You nodded, and the deal was sealed. Tae smiled once more before diving for a deep, wet kiss. It was so dizzyingly good, the expertise he had on kissing. His tongue entered your mouth again for a short time, before making the same path it did before, this time towards your breasts.

“Don’t- don’t take her shirt off” Jungkook stuttered gravelly, out of nowhere. Taehyung smirked at him. You frowned slightly.

“Why? Because you want to see me fuck my girlfriend while she’s wearing your shirt? You’re a pervert, man.” Your heart skipped a beat. Shirt? You went to sleep almost naked in Jungkook’s shirt? Your wide eyes questioned your boyfriend. “Baby, I had never worn that shirt in my life, Jungkookie left it here when he stayed over last week.” Stopping you from overthinking any more, he resumed where he left.

Taehyung had a specific routine for your boobs. Just like in that moment, he would suck lightly here and there, alternating between the two mounds. Then, he would lick one of them to the nipple, blowing air on it and giving you goosebumps, just to hear you whimpering. Finally, he would take the nipple inside his mouth for real; savoring it, licking it with his broad, hot tongue, moistening your chest with the saliva he let drip from time to time. And after he makes sure one of your breasts was as soaked as your panties, he goes for the other one and gives it the same treatment. It was messy and dirty and you both loved it.

This time, as your boyfriend finished one side and went to the other, you made the (lucky) mistake of looking at Jungkook. Damn, if he wasn’t a sight. Legs spread, hands on his inner thighs, and oh, his face. His face was enough to induce anybody into an early cum. He looked shaken already, with lips pink and parted enough to catch a glimpse of the saliva gathering there, clearly wanting to be in the place of your boyfriend; and his dark, lustful eyes were fixated solely on your chest, about to jump on you and feast on your body, nose exhaling shakily. It was the second man in your life that looked at you with such unbridled desire, the first one still entertained on your chest. The maknae must have felt you staring at him because his dark gaze shifted and now fixed on yours.

When did this man turned from the indifferent, jealous guy to this hot, hungry-for-you man? You didn’t know if it was your imagination but it was as if his eyes expressed every thing he wanted to do to you. I want to rip your clothes, you felt he thought, I wanna lick and suck and mark with my spit every inch of your body; I wanna open your legs and bury my head there, drink every drop of your sweet juices, make you come only with my tongue inside you, suck and lick your clit until you pass out but keep cumming; I wanna fuck all your holes, make you cry my name, choke you on my cock while I fuck your mouth so hard and my cum leaks from every hole in your body. Taehyung lifted his hear from your boob.

“Fuck dude, you been watching hentai again? That’s some hardcore shit and you recited it like a love poem. Even I got wet.” Oh, so you weren’t imagining it. Jungkook grew red like the ripest of tomatoes but his stare didn’t waver: his words were all for you to hear. You were… flattered, maybe? Definitely turned on, visualizing already all those things he mentioned. And Tae, the omnipresent-omnipotent boyfriend, noticed. “Babe, no. You won’t be an easy slut yet, not when the owner of this cunt is present.” And his mouth went down south, directly to latch on said pussy, slurping noisily at your drenched folds.

The moan you let out was loud and it didn’t stop, because your boyfriend suctioned just as loud, getting the tip of his tongue on your entrance to tease you. Your pussy tickled intensely, and you got a grip of Taehyung’s locks, pulling, which made him moan too. It was all too good. You could already taste the beginning of a climax…

And you don’t know when it happened but you suddenly felt something hot, fat, and hard on your unoccupied hand. You tensed and opened your eyes just to find Jungkook with his big, glorious cock out in the open, guiding your hand up and down on it. Your eyes connected again for a moment, before he licked his lower lip and threw his head back, moaning too. You could recognize when a guy put on a show for you, and it was exactly that what the man did, with his straining neck and tensed abs – that just now realized were visible, thanks to his open shirt. All this stimulation on you and yet it didn’t feel enough, so you couldn’t help but whine at the two men.

Both of them looked at you at the same time, Tae zeroing on your sloppy handjob with surprise. He now looked at his friend and adjusted his bulge in his pants while he said:

“So, the golden maknae wants to compete? With me? The unbeaten slayer of this pussy? Let’s fucking go.” Oh no, Taehyung was in a playful mood – That only could mean you were going to have a long, long night. Not a breath passed and your boyfriend had a finger up your entrance already and his thumb working on your clit. That angle always got him to that particular nerve on your clit that made you see stars, and what more advantage in their little competition that having you writhing and moaning non-stop. Your body was no longer yours. You accepted this fate happily.

Your eyes were closed when you felt a different shape on your left hand – the one that was on Jungkook. You looked at him just in time to see him take your wrist and pulling your hand away from his balls, getting your palm near his face so he could spit on it, and then taking it back to fondle his testicles. Your breath caught in your throat and warmth spread all over your chest. It was the new hottest thing you have seen in your life. Jungkook only smiled proudly at you.

Taehyung, who was also watching the spit show, scoffed and dived between your legs. His tongue accompanied his finger inside you, going out to lap at your clit here and there. One long finger became two, then three and all of them scissored, opening you up more and more until you could take those fingers and his thick tongue easily. One particular lick made you flex all your muscles, your left hand closing tight on Jungkook’s cock. You groaned, he sucked in a breath, your boyfriend slurped noisily again.

“Angel,” Taehyung began, sitting on his hunches. You felt more wetness dripping as you ogled at him in all his pussy-eating glory. Face soaked, hair disheveled, eyes in ectasis. He even licked his lips, collecting the juices you left on him. “do you think you could take more?” You nodded in a heartbeat. “Okay, so go suck Jungkookie’s cock while I get your pussy ready, alright?” This time, he didn’t spare you even one second to think before maneuvering you on your hands and knees, the maknae sitting on your bed and your head hanging over his red tip. Your boyfriend caressed your asscheeks from behind, getting a mewl from you and slapping you hard right away. “Get to work, slut.” Following his words, he licked a long strip from your clit to your wrinkled asshole.

But you still didn’t get to work on Jungkook, so your boyfriend gripped your hair from behind and pushed your head down, making you engulf the meaty length in front of you in one go. You choked, of course, gurgling and trying to swallow with a closed-up throat. The grip on his member made Jungkook moan and put his hand on your head, to keep you in place. You relaxed a little, allowing a smoother slide of him in your mouth, now taking control and hollowing your cheeks. Your tongue swirled around the whole diameter of his beefy cock, which was bigger and heavier than you initially thought, and then suctioned hard. The tip of your tongue teased his slit and the sides of his head, salivating more and more the longer you had him in your mouth. You guessed the maknae liked your blowjob technique because he seemed uncapable of stopping whining and writhing.

“Jungkookie” your boyfriend sing-sang suddenly. The maknae was barely able to maintain his eyes on him. “Tell me how is my baby doing. Do you like it? She sucks cocks like a champ.” It was difficult with his member buried to the hilt in your face but you still made an attempt to look up at the man. His eyes found yours and you felt more precum dribble inside your mouth. “But you seem too shy still. Why don’t you try living up your fantasies and fuck her mouth? I promise, she was born to take cocks.” You could feel Taehyung’s hands spreading open your buttcheeks, and then his tongue flitting over your puckered hole. Your breath caught in you and you had to let go of the dick to moan loud and long.

“You, uh – you focus on me, Y/N” Jungkook stumbled upon his own words, but didn’t waste time in taking your head with his two hands and pushing you down onto him again, which you gladly accepted. He tried snapping his hips up slightly, making you moan and send vibrations on his cock. That’s all he needed to fuck up into your mouth again, making you gag, eyes watering. “Yeah, fuck” he breathed out while speeding up his hips. Cock pushing your jaw wide open, you mewled as much as you could, enjoying the rough treatment and encouraging the man to give you more. “Shit, hyung, her mouth is amazing.”

“I told you, and wait until you taste her pussy” your boyfriend replied, voice low and raspy and touching your pussy in that same manner. With no warning, Taehyung’s cock prods a few times at your entrance before he thrusts in, pushing all air out of you. It was intense, your insides pulsing with the girth and length of your boyfriend’s member, and then the cock in your mouth throbbed too. “Talk to her, JK, she loves it.” He grabbed you by your hair again, yanking you up until you were face to face with his best friend. “Especially if you tell her what a filthy slut she is, and all the bad things you are going to do to her.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook started, looking directing into your soul. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth and you’re gonna drink it and say thank you, ok?” He sounded so serious that chills covered your whole body, and his command was so hot but he gave you no time to dwell on it because he shoved his cock in you.

“Bravo!” Taehyung celebrated with a rough snap of his hips into you. You gobbled the cock as much as he allowed you, which wasn’t much with the speed and harshness of his thrusts into your face. “Aww, doll, we found a good use for you as our cumdump, isn’t that lovely? Jk, make the honors of creampieing her mouth.” And he fucks up into you hard, making you move forward and choke on Jungkook. The stretch burns deliciously and you can’t help but moan, throat tight and vibrating on the cock you were sucking.

Jungkook cums at that, releasing ropes and ropes on your mouth while still fucking into it. The movements difficulted your swallowing, so most of it leaked from the corners of your lips. He whined at the sounds of you gargling. And in the heat of the moment, the maknae said:

“Yeah, fuck, slobber it all up, slut. You love being filled with cum until it spills, don’t you? That’s all what whores like you are for, anyways.” In an instant, your boyfriend, who kept fucking you frantically from behind, yanks you up with a hand around your neck until your back arched against his chest. From that angle, his cock reached new places inside you, making you scream and spill the remnants of Jungkook’s cum you didn’t get to swallow. Tae got close enough to your ear to suck at your lobe. It all was so overwhelming, you had to close your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Are you going to be an ungrateful bitch or are you going to thank JK for cleansing your disgusting mouth?” He took your jaw and moved it so you were facing down.

You opened your eyes to catch a glimpse of Jungkook moving towards you, but your brain couldn’t process anything until you felt his mouth on your clit. With every thrust, Taehyung grinded you over his best friend outstretched tongue, who moaned eagerly. Seeing you forgot what he just said, your boyfriend gave you a particularly harsh thrust, which made your whole pussy smash on the broad expanse of the tongue working on you. You screamed.

“Say thank you, you fucking whore. Are you that stupid that a little fuck breaks you?” You whimpered.

“Thank you, Jungkook” you said shakily, and that devil of a man smiled up devilish at you, before nibbling and sucking at your clit. And you came, squirting like a faucet right on the maknae’s face and neck.

“Holy fuck!” Jungkook exclaimed, lower part of his face drenched and dripping from the chin. His pupils were blown out, looking bigger and more menacing than ever before.

Your body lost all strength, becoming jelly in Taehyung’s arms, who didn’t stop assaulting your pussy. You tried squeezing your walls to bring him closer to climax, but the man had way too much endurance.

Instead of slowing down or getting sloppy, Tae descended on his ass, taking you with him to the bed head and accommodating you on his lap. While his cock was still into you, he moved you around like a rag doll so he could fold you in half, his hands coming under your thighs and lifting them, knees hooked on his forearms easily. He’s got you spread wide open, showing Jungkook how his cock went in and out of your dripping cunt. You wanted to whine and complain about overstimulation, but the reality was that the friction of Tae’s long and thick cock was so delectable that you felt a second release nearing already.

Jungkook’s eyes stared brazenly the place where you and Taehyung were connected, entranced by the easy slide in and out in your moistened pussy. Carefully, he put his hand on your used folds, stroking reverently the flesh all around where his best friend’s member was, and then his thumb went to your clit. You exhaled his name. He, in return, slapped your pussy.

“What a filthy bitch, moaning other man’s name while your boyfriend is fucking you” he reprimanded you, fingers still on your wetness. He shifted forward a little to be aligned with your pussy so he could spit on it, watching his saliva running down and disappearing between your folds and Tae’s cock. You moaned again. This time, it was Taehyung who reprimanded you with a harsh slap on your ass.

“Is playing with your pussy all it takes for you to let anybody use you? Stupid slut, offering your loose cunt to Jungkookie, dirtied and sloppy with your own juices. You’re too filthy, baby, we will have to cleanse you.” Then, your boyfriend unhooked your leg from his arm, and went to hold your jaw, turning you to face him, and dived in as if to kiss you – but before descending on you, he put pressure to make you open your mouth and just then let a dribble of saliva drop into your awaiting tongue. “Don’t swallow” he commanded, before offering your open cavity to Jungkook to do the same as him. The other man spitted with force, and got close enough to suck your lower lip into his mouth while Tae controlled you still. Your pussy throbbed and tightened on your boyfriend.

But they didn’t stop there. As your boyfriend went down on your neck and sucked and lapped sloppily, Jungkook went to your chest, dribbling more and more of his spit on your breasts, before capturing your nipples and nibbling them. You were so lost in the mess they were making of you that you almost miss the sensation of something tapping at the hole that was already filled.

You look down and can perfectly see the way Jungkook’s tip was pushing between your folds and Taehyung’s dick, like waiting for an invitation in. Even in the heat of the moment, you realized that maybe it was too much to fit the two of them inside you, looking at the girth of their cocks, and you panicked.

“It won’t be like that, don’t worry” your boyfriend, who sensed right away your worry, whispered in your ear. You relaxed, trusting him with your life.

Next thing you knew was that he lifted you from his cock, just to take your hand and make you guide Jungkook inside you. Your insides couldn’t stop throbbing; he was a little shorter than Tae but his girth, god damn, it barely could fit inside, even with your pussy as loose as your boyfriend’s own beefy cock made you. It took you a moment but as soon as he started thrusting, you moaned uncontrollably. Now you understood their plan: they took turns fucking into you, thrusting up a couple times before taking their cocks out and letting the other fuck your hole. You were really getting used by them as a mere hole to share, which was incredibly turning on.

All of you were reaching your peaks, movements growing erratic and wild. At some point, Jungkook took his cock out of you and started thrusting into his own hand, precum still falling over your mound. Taehyung was almost there, and so were you, both of you needing one last little thing to tip you over the edge.

“Jungkook.” The richness of your lover’s voice made you tremble. You didn’t realize you had your eyes close, but once you open them, you find Jungkook scooting over, his lips getting closer and closer to yours. Just when you thought he was about to kiss you, he goes past you, and you get to watch the single hottest image you had ever seen: Jungkook went in and kissed Taehyung. And at that same time, Jungkook’s tip nudged its way inside you, besides Tae’s cock.

You came like never before, so hard that all your lights went out.

…

You open your eyes once you hear whispering around you. First, you realize you’re on your bed, underneath the fluffy covers you love. Then, you realize you’re sandwiched between two strong, warm bodies (which makes you feel kinda giddy inside). You focus your gaze on the face in front of you. It’s your boyfriend, smiling as always.

“Hi, love” he says sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? Like you came back from heaven after being killer by a sixteen-wheeled truck running over you. Your body ached all over from exerting so much energy trying to keep up with your boyfriend, but it brought you so much pleasure that you still felt the vanishing ripples of your orgasm swirling in your insides.

“I’m okay” you simply responded. From behind you, you felt a warm body molding to yours, his arms hugging your hips lightly and his face nuzzling into your hair.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook sweetly asked in your ear. His voice sent goosebumps.

“It was all for you, love. Jungkookie sure put you in the spot at Hobi’s place, he had to make it better somehow.” You looked at your boyfriend and then at the other man over your shoulder. Before saying anything, you lay on your back, so you could watch and talk to both of them at the same time.

“I liked it, but I don’t know how to feel about it. What if I said no? Would you have just stood in front of our door, listening to us have sex?”

“No,” Jungkook answered instantly. “I was in the hallway; you can’t hear much from there. If Taehyung didn’t call for me after some time, I would just go home.”

“So you don’t hate me anymore?”

“Hate you?” both men exclaimed simultaneously. Was it that surprising? It’s all you felt from Jungkook since always. Taehyung laughed joyously.

“Baby, I think I never told you in what circumstances I started dating you.” You arched an eyebrow to your boyfriend. He smirked. “Jungkookie and I had to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who asked you out first.” They WHAT? “I won and Jungkookie had to eat my shit. But you’re too damn hot for your own good, dear, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you – because I can’t neither.” The explanation should have cleared up any doubts you had but if anything, it birthed more questions. All these times you thought Jungkook hated you were just him concealing his desires poorly?

“I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. I tried my best to be distant so you wouldn’t get mistaken and think I wanted to steal you from Tae. I like you but would never try to break you two apart.” You saw pure sincerity in his doe eyes. Though you were incredibly confused, you decided to believe his words, because you knew he was a good guy after all. And he loved his friends more than anything, that was for sure. Unexpectedly, his hand came up to caress the side of your face tenderly, looking deeply into your eyes. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” You wanted to say no, for your boyfriend’s sake; but he was the one that took your hand in his and squeezed it supportively, murmuring a ‘do it’ under his breath.

You got close to Jungkook, who couldn’t waste even a second more and crashed his soft lips on yours. He kissed you urgently, like a man that had been thirsty for so long and just now had a drop of refreshing water. He savored your lips, your taste, and sucked your lip sensually. Soon enough, his tongue entered your mouth, and fire burned in your lower half. Your body still ached but the open-mouth kisses that your boyfriend left on your neck got you ready for more in no time.

“Now let us make love to you, dear” Taehyung exhaled against your skin, while Jungkook got his hand under your panties and his lips on your collarbone. “Let us show you how much we adore you.”

How could you say no to that?

[sluttywonwoo]

the roster | part one of three

pairing: christopher bahng + lee sangyeon + choi seuncheol x f!reader

summary: what happens when all the guys on your roster find out about each other?

warnings: see here (mdni!!!)

word count: 4.4k

series masterlist

You’d been set up. You should have known something was off when Sangyeon texted you to come over. He never texted you first. He was the most reserved of the three, always letting you be the one to reach out to him if you wanted to hook up. 

You shot him an accusatory glare but he pointedly avoided your gaze, choosing instead to stare at something on the ceiling that was apparently much more interesting.  

Seungcheol was the first to speak, of course. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” 

You figured there was no point in lying. They already had you cornered. “Yeah, kind of.” The three of them scoffed in unison, making you hold up your hands in defense. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other like that!”

In fact, you had chosen each of them precisely because you thought there wouldn’t be any conflicts of interest. They were all in different groups, all the leaders of said groups which you thought would mean that they were almost always busy with their members. You didn’t think they had time for friends. Let alone friends who were of different ages and also leaders. 

Chris was the biggest gamble. You knew that he knows almost everyone in the industry and has a lot of friends but you didn’t think he knew the other two guys you were fucking well enough to put together that you were actually sleeping with all of them. 

Everything had been going so well. You had perfected your system over the months, using the boys’ schedules to your advantage so there was never any overlap. Seungcheol got weekends, Sangyeon got Wednesdays and Fridays, and Chris got 3ams on Tuesdays, Thursdays, (and sometimes Fridays if you weren’t sleeping over at Sangyeon’s) because that’s just when he was free. You keep your Mondays and the last full week of every month free so that you have time for yourself. Otherwise you’d drive yourself crazy spending all your time with men. 

You had never agreed to be exclusive with any of them. You made it more than clear that wasn’t what you were looking for. Still, they must have thought you weren’t seeing anyone else because all three of them had shown up to this confrontation and all three of them looked pissed. 

“Is it just the three of us?” Chris chimes in. 

“How much time do you think I have?” you mutter. 

“Just answer the question.”

You look away from them. “Yeah, there’s no one else.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol sneers. 

“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted something casual,” you remind him, your tone icy. “You wanted to sleep around with no strings attached and I agreed.”

You’ve known Seungcheol the longest. You were friends first, through your job, but it quickly turned into something more. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, spending nights and mornings together. Going to sleep and waking up and stealing kisses in elevators. Talking on the phone for hours and planning dates in the different cities he was touring in. 

He shut you down before you could get too delusional about it, though, stating plainly that all he wanted was a strict friends-with-benefits sort of situation. You still remember the feeling of your throat burning as you fought back tears, telling him that was perfectly fine, that you felt the same way. 

You couldn’t let yourself get too attached to a man who didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him so you looked for a distraction and found one in Lee Sangyeon. You met him through Jacob, a younger member of his group. Sangyeon was the perfect distraction. He was charming and funny, never one to take himself too seriously. He was a real gentleman and it didn’t hurt that he had a huge dick. 

You were the one to broach the topic of nonexclusivity with him this time, wanting to beat him to it. You knew exactly what all of these idols wanted. Choi Seungcheol had taught you that lesson early on. Sangyeon took it well, at least, as well as you expected him to. He told you he was on the same page as you, that he was just looking for something casual and you believed him. Now, looking at the expression on his face as he listens to the two other men talk, you’re not sure. 

And then Chris just sort of fell into your lap. You weren’t looking for anything else. Juggling two men was enough work. You just so happened to run into him at some after party, stopping him to compliment his music. One thing led to another and you were shoving your tongue down his throat in a dark closet. Apparently he had a thing for praise. 

Neither of you had to be the one to friend(swithbenefits)zone the other. You brought it up one night as you laid in his bed together and he was quick to agree. 

“Yeah, I don’t have time for anything more than... this, right now,” he sighed. He sounded a little regretful about it, like he thought he was being an asshole despite you voicing the same sentiment. 

So you hadn’t been doing anything wrong- even if your brain liked to tell you otherwise sometimes. You defined the (non)relationships with each of them, used protection with all of them, you weren’t leading anyone on... it had just so happened to get a little bit... messy, for lack of a better word. 

-

“No strings attached doesn’t mean I want you to fuck my friends!” Seungcheol huffs, running a hand through his hair. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with them!” you cry, throwing your head back onto the back of the couch in frustration and accidentally banging your head against the wall in the process. 

“Are you okay?” Sangyeon asks, wincing. 

The other two side-eye him. 

“I’m fine. But why am I here? Did you bring me here just to yell at me?”

“Not exactly,” Chris says, smirking. 

You look to the other men for an explanation but neither of them offer any further explanation. 

“Then why?”

Chris slides his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. “Well, if you’re up for it, the three of us thought we might have a little fun with you.”

“What does that mean?”

Seungcheol steps forward and mirrors Chan’s stance, cocking his head to the side for good measure. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing it would only make things worse for you. 

To be fair, all the posturing would be a lot more annoying if they weren’t the hottest men you’d ever seen in your life. 

“I think you know what that means,” Cheol adds, supplying absolutely nothing helpful. 

“Obviously I don’t or I wouldn’t have asked,” you argue. 

Seungcheol whistles and then looks to his friends. “Is she this bratty with you guys?” Chris gives an ‘eh’ hand motion whilst Sangyeon nods outright. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Did you think you were getting special treatment?” you taunt, surprising even yourself. 

He scowls but doesn’t respond, probably in an effort to maintain some semblance of self-control in front of the other two. If it were just you and him, you’d have a hand around your throat already. And maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe your mouth was working faster than your brain in order to get a specific... reaction out of them like you normally would. Or maybe your mouth just liked to get you in trouble. 

From the way they were acting, they obviously hadn’t lured you here just to hang out. It had to be some sort of sex thing, right? You certainly weren’t opposed, you just needed to figure out what game they were playing so that you could be dealt in. 

“We were curious about which one of us you like the most,” Chris says finally. At least someone was interested in getting to the fucking point. 

You blink at him then turn to look at Seungcheol who just nods in confirmation. “You want me to... rank you? Why?”

“You’re the one who has us on a little roster,” Sangyeon points out, sounding a little mean for the first time tonight. “Surely you’ve thought about it before.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t. I mean, I like all of you guys! I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.”

“We don’t care about hanging out, we want to know who you think is the best in bed,” Seungcheol clarifies. 

“What?”

“You know, who’s the best fuck?”

“Why do you even care?” you ask. “Like what are you getting out of this?”

“Just a little competition between friends,” Chris assures you with a wink. 

“I... wouldn’t even know where to start,” you insist. 

“We thought you might say that,” Seungcheol hums as he steps closer to you. “Which is why we thought we could test it in real time.”

“In real time?”

“Yeah, let us fuck you, then you tell us who’s best.”

“Right now?” 

Seungcheol shrugs. “You asked why we brought you here.”

“And you just assumed I’d be down?”

“Yeah,” all three of them say at the same time. 

It’s your turn to scoff. So that’s what they think of you. You shouldn’t have expected anything different, to be fair. It wasn’t like you were a saint. You literally had your dick appointments with all of them penciled into your Google Calendar every week. 

“C’mon, baby, we know you by now,” Chris adds, plopping down on the sofa next to you. He stretches his arm across the back of it like guys like to do, opening himself up for you to lean into him if you wanted to. “Are you saying you don’t want us to take turns fucking your brains out?”

You stay silent. 

“Should we take that as a yes?” Sangyeon asks. 

“I’d say so,” Chris agrees.

Seungcheol claps his hands together decisively and then points to the man sitting next to you. “Chan, you’re up first then, yeah? That’s how you do it in your group, right? Youngest first?”

He’s mocking him but Chris doesn’t acknowledge it. If there’s one thing you know about Bang Chan, it’s that he’s not one to back down from a challenge, and while going first in this sort of competition must be daunting he doesn’t look the least bit shaken. 

“Are we doing this here?” he asks the older two. 

Sangyeon considers it and shrugs. “We should probably move to the bed, right?” 

“Dude, it’s your house.”

“There’s more room on the bed,” Sangyeon decides, offering you his hand. 

You take it and he helps you up from the couch. You step in front of the boys and lead them to Sangyeon’s bedroom, calling “it’s this way,” over your shoulder just to be a menace. You can’t see the faces they make behind you but you hear Sangyeon chuckle under his breath. 

You flick on one of his table lamps and make yourself comfortable on the bed, patting the spot next to you for Chris to join you. He does and puts a hand on your thigh, squeezing your thigh comfortingly. Seungcheol and Sangyeon lean against the dresser across from the bed in the most non-awkward way they can manage. 

Somehow, they both still look intimidating despite the fact that they’re essentially about to be cucked by one of their closest friends. 

“What now?” you ask. 

Chris brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek and leans in. “Now, we do this.”

He kisses you gently at first. Whether it’s to ease your nerves or his own, you aren’t sure, but he starts slow, building up to what you’re used to. His thumb strokes your cheek as if to reassure you as he deepens the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth. His other hand that had been resting on your hip fumbles with your pants. 

“Just pretend they aren’t there,” he whispers. 

It’s impossible to do when you can feel the weight of their stares on you but you try to relax anyway, reminding yourself that something like this has been a fantasy of yours for a while now. You never thought it would actually happen and you definitely didn’t think it would be with them but with your luck you honestly shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. 

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t relax,” Chris continues, low enough for only you to hear. “I kind of have something to prove here.”

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you assure him. “You’re great in bed.”

“They don’t know that,” he hisses. 

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot this is just a competition to you guys,” you grumble. 

He chuckles. “What, you want me to make love to you in front of them? Because I will.”

“I think that’d be even more embarrassing, somehow.” 

“Exactly, now lay down and let me fuck you brainless so you can’t overthink anymore.”

He had such a way with words, that Bang Chan did. 

He shifts so you can lay down and take your pants off. Your shirt goes next, leaving you in just your underwear. It’s the most exposed you’ve ever felt even though you’ve been completely naked in front of all three men before. 

Chris snaps the elastic waistband of your cotton panties against your hip and smirks. “Cute.”

You pout, ready to defend your granny panties but Sangyeon pipes up from the other side of the room before you can.

“She doesn’t care what she wears over to mine because she knows it won’t stay on long anyway.”

That was actually true. You dressed the most comfortably to hang out with Sangyeon because you knew he wouldn’t care. It wasn’t like Chris or Seungcheol cared more, and you didn’t really dress up for them either, but there was a notable difference between the amount of effort you put in for each man, something you hadn’t noticed until just now. 

“She wet yet?” Seungcheol asks, sounding bored. 

You know it’s just a front so his jealousy and impatience won’t shine through because it’s not a very good one. Seungcheol is not and never has been good at hiding his feelings. 

Chris shoots him a look. “I was getting to that.” 

Seungcheol holds his hands up in defense but thankfully keeps his mouth shut. 

Chris sucks in a breath of patience and brings his hand in between your legs, fingers tracing your slit. Your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment because you are, in fact, wet. You have been since they sat you down and stood in front of you like you were going to be scolded for doing something wrong. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking wet,” Chris rasps. “Jesus Christ, baby. I bet your joggers are ruined too.”

His teasing makes you try to close your thighs around his hand but his reflexes beat yours and he catches your knee to force your legs back open. 

“Nice try.”

“You’re the worst.”

His fingers start to wander beneath the fabric of your panties, feather light touches that already have you gasping for breath. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, I really do.”

“Want me to stop?” he threatens.

“What happened to having something to prove?” you mutter back. 

“Always such a fucking brat,” he muses, jaw tight. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love that about me.”

“You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.”

Chris leans down and kisses you again, presumably to get you to stop talking. It works, of course. He lets his tongue explore your mouth while his hands explore your body, still not giving you what you really want. 

Eventually, he slips a finger inside, taking you by surprise and making you gasp as you grab at him for something to squeeze. He offers you his arm and you take it, fingernails digging into his bicep. 

“It’s just one finger, baby,” Chris coos. 

“Feels.... good, though,” you squeak. 

He adds another right as you start to get used to the feeling of the first and you have to take a deep breath to keep yourself from making another embarrassing noise. 

“Don’t hold back. Let the boys know how good I’m making you feel.”

Seungcheol scoffs, tonguing his cheek. “You don’t have to fake it for him, babe.” 

“Are you sure you guys are friends?” you pant. 

They don’t answer, leaving you to draw the conclusions yourself. You’re sure they were friends... whether they would be after this was another story. 

Chris crooks his fingers up, knowing you won’t be able to stay quiet once he does. He’s right. You moan, albeit quietly, and arch into his touch. 

“So what are the parameters of this competition?” Chris asks the other two and turns his head towards them while he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. 

“What do you mean?” Sangyeon asks back. 

“Like, does foreplay count? Or is she judging solely based on our stroke game?”

Seungcheol considers it for a moment before looking to Sangyeon. “What do you think?”

“I think the judgment should include foreplay,” he says. “Foreplay is part of sex after all.”

“Good point,” Chris agrees. “Any other rules?” They shake their heads. “What about you, baby? Do you have any rules for us?”

You purse your lips as you think, trying not to lose focus with his fingers inside of you. “Just don’t go too hard. I do have to work on Monday.”

It’s only Friday night now, but knowing them, you’ll probably be sore for at least a couple of days afterward. 

Chris laughs. “We’ll do our best. Right, guys?”

They mumble what sounds like an agreement and Sangyeon even gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Can I keep going?” Chris asks you. 

“You didn’t really stop,” you point out.

He had still been fingering you lazily throughout the whole aside. It wasn’t enough to get you off but it was certainly distracting. You had to try very hard to concentrate on what they were saying. 

“C’mon, this is nothing,” he teases, bringing his thumb to your clit as he starts to kiss your neck. “How’s that?” he murmurs into your ear, 

“G-good...”

“Just good? Must be doing something wrong, then.”

Before you can deny it, he adds a third finger, earning a loud cry from you this time. You feel him grin against your throat, hiding his smug satisfaction from the other two. 

“Spread your legs wider for me, baby. Let them see.”

You do as you’re told even though it’s hard. It’s so much. You want to squeeze them around his hand again but you know you’ll only get told off if you do. 

“Good girl,” he praises, making you whimper. 

“That’s all it takes, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol mutters. “We just have to call you a good girl and you’re making a mess all over us, right?”

You squirm, arousal and embarrassment pooling in your belly. You can tell Chris wants to give Cheol shit for butting in when it’s supposed to be his turn, but he doesn’t because his words are technically helping him. You get even wetter around his fingers, a detail Chris elects not to share with the room. 

You’re sure they can see it, though, or at least hear it. The sounds are obscene. 

It’s mortifying. You want to die. But first you want to cum. 

Two of your favorite things about Chris are his hands. They’re huge, especially for a guy his height, and absolutely gorgeous. Thick veins run across the backs of them from his knuckles up through his forearms- he’s a nurse’s wet dream, and yours. You’ve spent an absurd amount of time tracing them with your own fingers when you’re laying in bed together after hooking up and more often than not, it’s enough to make you want to go again. 

He’s good with them too because of course he is. Bang Chan is annoyingly good at everything he does, including but not limited to: making you cum. 

“Already?” Chris muses under his breath. “Does having an audience turn you on that much?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who can take their fingers away any time they want to.”

“No, please!” you protest.

“That’s what I thought. Do you want to cum on my fingers? Or should I make you wait for it?” He’s talking to himself at this point but you answer anyway. 

“I-I don’t know...”

“Probably should let you, huh? You’re still so tight.”

You don’t get another word out before it hits you, your body curling in on Chan’s hand as he finger fucks you through your first orgasm of the night. As soon as you come down, he’s taking his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth, kissing you right after so you can taste yourself on his lips. 

“Good job, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth as he adds his tongue back into the mix. “Ready for me now?”

“Mhm...”

“Condoms are in the nightstand,” Sangyeon says, nodding in the direction of the bedside table. 

Chris reaches over and pulls the drawer out, whistling at the other things he finds rolling around in the compartment. 

“This hers?” he asks, holding up a vibrator.

“Who else’s would it be?” Sangyeon mutters. 

“I don’t know what you do in your free time, man.”

He drops the toy back in its place and grabs a condom from the box tucked in the corner of the same drawer. The odds of one size fitting three different men were slim, but having slept with each of them you’re sure they’ll be able to make it work. 

Chris hands you the foil packet, allowing you to do the honors of tearing it open with your teeth while he works on getting naked. 

Seungcheol whistles jeeringly at Chan as he takes his cock out and pumps it a couple of times. You can see the back of Chan’s neck flush red but he remains steady as he rolls the latex on. You realize it must be difficult for him to have an audience too, though he has nothing to be self conscious about. Even if they aren’t showing it, you know the other two have to be impressed.

He’s the perfect balance of long and thick and just like his hands, defined veins run up the length of his shaft. You’ve spent what feels like hours tracing those veins with your tongue, watching him shiver under your touch. Most dicks aren’t pretty but Christopher Bahng’s certainly is.

“Ready?” Chris asks, rubbing your thigh with his palm.  

“Yeah,” you breathe.

Since he already made you cum, he’s able to slip in without much resistance- but he’s big enough that the stretch is still intense, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stifle a whimper. 

He gives you a moment to adjust once he’s fully inside you, teasing only a little bit with slight movements of his hips. 

“God, that feels good,” you moan.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs sweetly, “you’re taking it so well for me.”

He brushes a couple of strands of hair out of your eyes so that you can see him properly. Obstructed view or not, he’s beautiful on top of you. His own bangs have already started to stick to his forehead and the pink flush of embarrassment has somewhat faded and turned into that of exertion, spreading from the back of his neck to his chest and face and matching the kiss-bitten swell of his lips. The muscles in his arms and shoulders are engaged with the effort it takes to hold himself above you, making him look even bigger. 

His eyes are soft, even as the rest of his features take on a more sinister expression. That was one of the things that made sex with Chris so good. He genuinely cares for you, not just as a lover, but as a person. Lots of guys put effort into making the other party feel good during sex but that doesn’t mean they care about them. It’s not like that with Chris. 

“Want it faster?” he asks you. You nod. “Ask nicely.”

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“Please...”

He frees one of his hands and uses it to stroke your cheek. “‘Please,’ what?”

“Faster,” you squeak. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Seungcheol scoffs from the sidelines. 

“I’ll let her off easy this time,” Chris responds. “She can hardly think straight as it is, isn’t that right?”

Another nod. 

You get what you want and Chan picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours in quick, shallow thrusts. 

“You’re getting tighter again,” he grunts, faltering imperceptibly. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

One of the other two makes what you assume is a snide remark but you don’t catch it because everything starts to fade into the background as you start to cum around Chan’s cock. It catches both of you off guard, you can tell. It isn’t unusual for you to finish from penetration alone but it usually takes a lot longer. 

“Holy shit, you’re so- fuck, you’re going to make me cum.”

He keeps going after you come down, chasing his own release. It’s almost enough to send you into a third orgasm but he cums before you can get there which is both a relief and a disappointment. 

You whine as the feeling ebbs and let yourself go boneless underneath him. He follows suit and collapses face first next to you on the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he whispers to you. “I would’ve kept going but I didn’t want you to be too sensitive for them.”

You nod in understanding and pat him appreciatively on the back. 

The room is quiet as the three men wait for you to catch your breath. Chris ensures you’re okay before rolling off the bed and joining the other two by the dresser. He mentions something about cleaning you up when you’re all done and offers to fetch you a glass of water. 

“There’s a Brita in the fridge,” Sangyeon tells him after also pointing him in the direction of the cabinet that holds the cups. 

He disappears into the hall and you gather what little strength you have to pop your head up and address the two remaining leaders at the foot of the bed. 

“Who’s next?”

this has been in the works for way too long lol but lmk what you think! i always appreciate feedback!!

tags: @minghaosimp @butterfliesinthenightsky @lelestarmy @stolasisyourparent @brownbunnyb @tinkerbell460 @cixrosie

add yourself to the taglist here

[azrielsdove]

I literally had a dream about this last night and I had to get it out. 😬

Could I request Azriel x Rhysands sister Reader. Where her and Az have a one night stand and Reader becomes pregnant but she glamours her scent and goes to a healer for a tonic to get rid of it. She doesnt tell Azriel or Rhys because shes young and barely become of age for a fae, shes a princess and couldnt bring a bastard child into the high court and also Rhys would freak the fuck out and probably ban them both. Azriel somehow finds out finds out and that she wants to get rid of it and he begs and grovels for her to keep the babe but shes so so conflicted. Angst with whatever ending you'd like.

Side note: In my dream I don't know how it ended just that Rhys was newly appointed high lord and was under so much stress and was suuuper strict. And thats why I didnt tell him. I remember azriel stopping me outside of the healers and he just knew. Like serious spymaster look hovering above me cuz I was so much shorter than him and he was holding my arms telling me to keep it. 😩😩😩 I wish i would have remembered the baby making process tho. 🤣🤣🤣

Baby, My Baby: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Smut, angst, pregnancy + abortion talk, 18+

***

Your back slammed against the wall outside Rita’s, Azriel’s lips harsh against yours. You gripped onto his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. His fingers dug into your hips, groaning into the kiss. Everything about this was wrong, and you were both dead if Rhysand saw.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care as the Shadowsinger ground down against you. You gasped against his lips, pushing back against him. “Az,” you murmured, breaking the kiss just slightly. “Let’s go.” He nodded, wrapping you in his arms as he shot off to the sky.

He flew you to the House of Wind, your lips kissing his neck and face wherever you could reach. You let your fingers trail his wings, shivering at the noise that pulled from him. “If you don’t stop that, we will never make it there.” He growled, voice hot. You smirked against his skin, letting your fingers trail the delicate leather one more time.

Azriel landed you on the balcony outside of his room, lips immediately connecting to yours while he pushed you backwards through the doors. The tension between the two of you had finally snapped when you both had one too many shots that night. Your brother forbade you from laying with anyone, having given you a dreadfully long speech the night you turned of age. He warned you of the dangers of trusting males with your body, that it wasn’t appropriate for the princess of the Night Court to sleep around.

All his concerns were gone from your mind as Azriels fingers slid up your skirt. You arched into the touch, this feeling new and unfamiliar. He groaned into your mouth at your body’s reaction to him, tugging your dress and underwear off. He pulled away, gazing at your now exposed body. You felt self conscious for half a second, until he looked up at you with desire filled eyes.

“Can I taste?” He asked, pushing you onto the edge of his bed and kneeling between your legs. You nodded, not trusting your voice to work right then. Azriel gave you a wicked smile, head ducking down. Your back arched against the bed at the first swipe of his tongue, hands tangling in his hair. He gripped onto your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue worked expertly, licking and sucking you in a way that made you cry out with pleasure. He dragged one hand up to your stomach, pressing you flat onto the bed. You moaned loudly, the force of him keeping you still increasing the sensations he was giving you.

Your thighs squeezed around his head, gasps and moans falling from you as he worked you. He brought his other hand up, sliding one finger inside. You bit your lip at the unfamiliar intrusion, mind going blank when his finger curled in the most delicious way. “Mmm, you are tight.” He growled against you, pushing another finger in. You gave a squeak at the two large fingers inside, prepping you to take him fully. You felt the coil in your stomach threatening to snap, your hands holding onto Azriels hair like a lifeline. He sucked sharply, fingers doing that perfect curl inside of you, blinding white taking over your vision. You pushed against him, mouth open in a silent scream as the unmistakable pleasure wiped over you. Azriel pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling until you were shaking.

He pulled away, kissing up your body as he made his way back to your lips. You grabbed onto his back, kissing him as hard as you could. You tasted yourself on his lips, his tongue, the fire reigniting in your stomach. “Are you ready for me?” He asked, sliding his pants off. You looked down, mouth dropping a little at the size of him. Was he even going to fit?

Azriel chuckled darkly, titling your head back up to look at him. “It will fit.” He promised, leaning back to kiss you as he ran himself through the wetness between your legs. You groaned when he pushed the first inch in, the feeling new to your body. He went slowly, moving inch by inch. Pain erupted through you, quickly turning to pleasure the deeper he went. When he finally bottomed out, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He breathed heavy against you, breaking away from your kiss to rest his forehead on yours. “Tell me when.” He whispered, allowing you time to adjust to the size of him.

“Please”, you breathed out, “Azriel, please, move.” He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting his way in again. You screamed his name, nails digging into his skin. He started kissing and sucking on your neck, the feeling of his mouth and his cock overwhelming you. You moaned his name over and over, the only word you knew at the moment.

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned, feeling you around him. “Princess, fuck. You feel even better than I imagined.” He accompanied his words with a bite to your shoulder, a whine escaping your lips. He fucked into you over and over, having you on the edge again in no time.

“Az,” you moaned, “Az! I’m gonna-“ You didn’t even finish the sentence before release poured over you, certain you were drawing blood with the force of your nails on his back. He roared as he came right behind you, the pleasure of you squeezing around him too much for him to bear. He spilled into you, rope after rope of thick cum coating your walls. He stilled his movements, the two of you breathing hard against each other.

He slowly pulled out, rolling to lay next to you. Azriel wrapped his arms around you, pulling you comfortingly into his chest. “You were amazing.” He whispered into your hair, smiling at your already sleeping form, fucked out.

He chose to ignore the thought of what Rhysand would do if he ever found out what happened.

***

It was a few weeks after when you woke up one morning, body sore. You weren’t sure why, you had been too tired to even go to training the day before. You stretched, deciding to go down and get some tea to soothe your muscles. You were waiting for the water to boil when Cassian came in behind you. “Good Mor-“ He started, stopping abruptly. You turned to him, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. He was staring at you wide-eyed, mouth open in shock.

“Cass?” You asked, confusion turning into concern as he just stood there. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of his frozen state. “Am I okay? Are you okay? Does Rhys know? Whose is it?” The questions tumbled out of him, each one confusing you more and more. You held your hand up, signaling him to stop.

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. Cassian’s eyes got even wider, realizing you yourself didn’t know yet.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, shifting on his feet. He did not want to be the one to deliver this news to you. “Uh, you know. The baby?”

The baby? What was he talking about, ‘the baby’? You stared blankly at him, not sure what to say. “What do you mean,” you started slowly, “the baby?”

Cassian looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. “Your baby. The one inside you.” His words were quiet, cautious.

You laughed.

“Impossible, Cass. There’s no way i’m pregnant, i’m-“ You cut yourself off, heart racing. You weren’t a virgin, not anymore. You thought back to that night, remembering Azriel finishing inside you. Realizing you have never taken the contraceptive tea, a request like that would have guaranteed your brothers meddling. You foolishly believed it wouldn’t happen, it is so difficult for fae to conceive. How could you lose your virginity and fall pregnant all in one night?

You heard the unmistakable sound of your brother and Azriel talking, heading to the kitchen. You looked in panic at Cassian, glamouring your scent as quickly as possible. “Can you still smell it?” You asked quietly, breathing a little easier when he shook his head. You turned back to your now boiling water, filling your teacup as though everything was normal.

“Good morning sister! Cass!” Rhys exclaimed, walking into the room. Thanking the Mother, Cassian had managed to sit down and fill his plate with random food before they came in. Hiding the tense conversation the two of you just had. You turned to face them, sipping your tea nonchalantly.

“Brother. Az.” You greeted, acting like nothing was wrong. Like you didn’t just have the biggest bomb of your life dropped on you. Rhys came to give you a hug, your body tensing as if he would be able to feel that there were now two heartbeats inside of you. He pulled back, resting his hands on your arms as he looked into your eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asked, worry written on his face. You have him a small smile, sipping your tea.

“Yes, just tired. I think i’m coming down with something.” You responded, throwing in a little cough at the end. “I’m just going to go lie back down, i’m sure some rest will help.” You smiled at your brother, turning to leave the kitchen.

The Shadowsingers eyes were burning into your retreating form.

***

You paced your room, every inch of you panicking. Should you tell Rhys? Should you tell Azriel? No. You shouldn’t tell either of them. Azriel will probably be ashamed of you, not wanting to claim your child as his. You’ll be forced to bring a bastard into this world, into the Night Court. And Rhys, oh he would kill you. No, he would kill Az. And then he would kill you. He’d make you and your bastard child leave the Court, not allowing that kind of shame to be brought on his family.

No, you decided. You had to get rid of it. Rhysand would never recover from the mess of it all. His barely of age sister, knocked up by his best friend. He was too new at being High Lord, the last thing he needed was something as complicated as this weighing him down. You fell into a fitful sleep, knowing what you would be forced to do the next day.

***

“Cass?” You called, knocking on his door early the next morning. Your brother kept you in the House of Wind, ensuring you would have to ask before you went to and from. You were not gifted with the Illyrian wings of your mother, and you did not care to trek 10,000 steps down to get where you needed to go.

Cassian opened his door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What is it?” He asked, looking down at you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly self conscious.

“I need you to take me down to the city.” You spoke quietly, the words harder to say than they were to think. “I’m getting rid of it.”

Cass stilled, staring at you for a long moment. Finally he nodded, turning back to get dressed. He lead you out to the balcony, folding you into his arms before taking off. It was a wordless flight, neither of you knowing what to say. He flew you all the way to the healer on the edge of Velaris, knowing it would offer you the most privacy.

You thanked him when he landed, turning to go into the small building. Cass stopped you, a hand on your arm. “Are you sure?” He asked, conflict in his eyes.

You nodded, giving a sad smile. “Rhys doesn’t need this stress. His unwed, young sister bringing a bastard into his court? And Az-“ You stopped yourself, feeling Cassians hand tighten on your arm in shock. You looked at him wide-eyed, realizing what you had confessed. “Do not tell him Cass. Please, please. He doesn’t need to deal with this either.” You begged, eyes filling with tears. He slowly nodded, releasing your arm.

“Okay.” He said finally, looking over you one last time. “I’ll stay in the area, watching for when you’re ready to go back.” You smiled gratefully, watching as he flew back up into the sky.

You turned to the building in front of you, suddenly feeling nauseous. Maybe you should just run away, run to a different court and hide. You don’t know how long you stood there, lost in your thoughts. The sun rose higher in the sky, signaling the time that had passed. You took a deep breath, whispering “It’s for the best” as you took a step forward to open the door.

“Stop!” You heard the panting cry from above you, and then a thud behind you. You whipped around, shocked to see Azriel standing there. “Stop.” He said again, quieter. He took a hesitant step towards you, looking like he wanted to grab you and take you away. You couldn’t say anything, mind blank as you looked at him. “Cass told me. He is scared for you.” He explained, hands fidgeting at his sides.

A flash of anger goes through you, he promised not to tell. “Go home, Az.” You said, voice clipped. “You don’t need to deal with this.” You ignored the pain on his face as you turned back to the door.

“No!” He grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the building. “No.” He said softer, making you look at him. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You ripped your arm out of his grasp, frustrated and embarrassed at the whole situation. “Do not pretend you want a child, Az. Especially a child with me. You’ve barely talked to me since that night, and now suddenly you think you have a right to my choice?” It wasn’t so much anger at him that was coming out of you, more an anger at everything.

He looked like you had slapped him across the face, hands falling to his sides. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.” He said softly, eyes on the ground.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“The next morning, when I woke up, you were gone. I thought maybe you weren’t sure if I was okay with you staying there, so I went to find you. I wanted to let you know that it was more than a fling. That I needed it to be more than a fling. When I found you in the kitchen, you smiled and said good morning like nothing had happened. I assumed you weren’t interested in more than that.”

Silence.

“You are a fucking idiot.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“What?” He asked, looking back up at you.

“I acted like everything was normal because I assumed that’s what you wanted. I’m your best friends younger sister, can you imagine the trouble you would get in with Rhys if he knew?”

“I imagine the trouble i’d get in with him is tenfold now.”

“Go home, Az.” You demanded again, staring him down. He took a step closer to you.

“No.” He said, reaching out to grab onto your arms. “Whatever choice you make, it is yours. I will respect what you decide, and I will never bring it back up if you wish. But please, know you are not alone. I want to be by your side, baby or not. My best friends sister or not.” You were taken aback by the honesty in his eyes, the tears begging to fall there.

You swallowed thickly, voice quiet when you spoke. “I want to be by your side too, no matter what.” He gave a soft smile, wrapping his arms around you. You stood in his embrace for a few, debating the choice you were going to make. You finally pulled away from him, sliding your hand into his. You took a deep breath, turning to walk into the healers office with Azriel next to you.

***

“You WHAT?!” You hear your brothers roar, sighing as the House began to shake with fighting. You pulled yourself up, walking out to the training ring to see your brother and Azriel. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of you. Cass came up beside you, watching as well.

“I take it he told him?”

You nodded.

“Guess it didn’t go well.”

You shrugged. “He isn’t dead, so.”

Cassian laughed, agreeing with you.

The two of you watched as they fought, Rhys yelling countless insults to Azriel. Really, it was less of a fight and more of Az letting Rhys get his anger out, deflecting enough to escape serious injury or death. “You dirty, disgusting pig! My sister?! You’ve chosen to be with my sister?!” He throws another punch at Az, deflecting it with a glance at you.

You and Azriel had grown closer since that day at the healers. He was so gentle with you in the few days after, caring for you and treating you like a delicate piece of art. You didn’t stand for that for very long, desperate to get back to training. He allowed, modifying it at first so you wouldn’t overwhelm yourself.

Rhys and Az fought for a good while, Rhys finally winding down. He was breathing hard, looking between you and his friend. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “I can be happy for you, or whatever.” He didn’t sound very happy, but there was a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Azriel sighed in relief at the fighting being over, a wicked smile coming across your face.

“Brother dear,” you called, directing the attention over to you. Azriel sensed what you were about to do, shaking his head vigorously behind Rhysands back. You waved your hand, allowing the glamour you’d kept up for the past seven months to fall away. “How does ‘Uncle’ sound?” You watched your brother take in your smell, the rounded belly your hands now rested on. His face reddened, anger coming back in full force as he whirled onto Az.

“YOU GOT HER PREGNANT?!”

***

Extra:

Rhys held the tiny girl close, letting her little hand hold his finger. He cooed and awed at her, already willing to do anything to make her happy. Azriel smiled at you, holding your tired body close to him. Your labor had been long, but without incident. By some stroke of luck, the healers discovered you had the Illyrian anatomy of your mother, just without the wings. When you went into the building that day with Az, you asked for a pregnancy confirmation. The healer had been able to confirm one healthy child, a child that unmistakably had wings. Fear had overtaken Azriel in the few weeks after, constantly debating if he should tell Rhys. At your next appointment the healer did an internal check, delivering the news that all would be well.

You were thankful, laying in the arms of Azriel as you watched your brother hold your daughter. You were thankful Azriel stood by you as you decided to keep the baby, supporting you every step of the way. You even became thankful Cassian told him what you planned to do that day, even if the betrayal had stung for a while after. You were especially thankful Rhys didn’t murder Az when he found out you were pregnant. You looked up to the male next to you, a soft smile on your face.

All was well.

***

i LOVED this request!!!!! sometimes dreams are the best story inspo haha! also the “i wish i would have remembered the baby making process” SENT me lmao! i hope i did it justice for you 😉😅🫶🏻

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: decided not to include smut just yet, it didn't feel right considering the story, next time i promise we'll f the raisin

Warnings: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking Cigs

Summary: The camp gets attacked, and as such, important changes are forced to develop. Cross-Posted on AO3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Old. He feels old. 

His age is like a thief in the night, it creeps up on him, slowly, before sinking its teeth right into his bones. There are centuries to his name now, and still, he doesn't learn from his mistakes. It's him chasing a woman, that has gotten him in this mess in the first place, and now he's doing the same damned thing. That's the only explanation, why he lets you get away with as much as he does. 

Here you sit, curled into yourself, his lasso secured tightly around you, your hands raised towards your face. He watches with confliction, as you put a cigarette up to your lips, the bud lighting your features for just a moment, before a cloud of smoke escapes into the dark night.  It's a deep, heavy inhale, your chest expands. He can feel the lasso move under his grip, and he flexes his fingers against it.

He's never seen anyone smoke in such an elegant manner, not after the bombs anyway. This regal air, a natural sort of poise, intrigues him beyond any reason. How did the Wasteland not destroy all this grace, how are you untouched by the roughness of this world, is beyond him. He tries to categorize everything he knows about you, all the small tidbits of information he has gathered through the short time you've been travelling together. Still, nothing explains this strange nature of you, and Cooper leans back, the sound of your Geiger meter spiking every time he moves. 

Cooper reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, your cigarettes. Feeling your gaze on him, he takes one and lights it against the small fire you both got going. Well, in all fairness, it was you that started the fire, while your captor watched you struggle, keeping his leash on you. 

Those strange little power trips seemed to be one of his favorite games. He wouldn't be the first man that got off on power you've met, but he was definitely the most annoying. Your throat still burns slightly from the smoke, as you throw him a displeased look. 

The nicotine is barely noticeable to him, like a grain of sugar in a very large chocolate cake. In his case, the cake is made of every drug possible to find in the Wasteland. 

Still, Cooper tastes the pre-war chemicals with a strange sense of melancholy. It makes him remember, again, and he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke, not bothering to smother a low groan of pleasure. Your eyebrows jump to your forehead, but you compose yourself quickly, throwing your burning bud into the fire. 

The events of the previous night are still vivid in your mind. His fingers flexing against your tongue. His knee between your legs, close but not close enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one getting off on this uneven relationship, but you were not about to admit it, even to yourself.

- So - your voice is rough from the smoke, and you swallow around a lump in your throat - Where are you taking me?

He doesn't answer for a long while, just enjoying his cigarette, your cigarette. And he seems to be enjoying it very much, more than what's considered proper. Honestly, with the way he's been groaning, you wouldn't be surprised if he came on the spot just from the smoke. The thought makes your cheeks redden, and you chastise yourself for even thinking in that general direction, again. Has it really been that long?

- Shady Sands - smoke pushes past his teeth, surprisingly intact for a Ghoul.    - For real?

- Yup - another drag, you watch his chest expand under his coat - Shady Fucking Sands.

Your head slumps down, as you turn your gaze back to the fire. Hunger creeps up on you, and with your hands tied, you reach over to an Iguana on a stick roasting over the flames. Your tongue burns from the heat, but as soon as the chewy meat hits your stomach, you're ready to sing to the heaven's. 

- That's an awfully long way for a bunch of caps - you note, between quick bites of your food - What was my bounty? Five hundred?

The last time you've checked, it was something around that number. Not too shabby, but not worryingly big either. Just enough to keep you on your toes for any desperate newcomers, but not enough to warrant attention from anyone actually dangerous. The Ghoul, as desperate as he looked back at the bar, started to look more and more like a professional, every second you've spent with him. There was something in the way he walked, the way his eyes stayed vigilant and aware, that screamed danger. Still, for five hundred caps, times must've really been hard on him.

- Try ten thousand.

A piece of meat lodges itself into your throat as you inhale with surprise. As soon as it happens, you cough it out, and it flies back into the fire, leaving you heaving with tears in your eyes. 

- How much?! - you demand, hands trying to massage the pain in your chest. 

The Ghoul smirks, taps the brim of his hat with his gun, which he kept trained on you for over three days now. 

- Had I known I'm worth that much, I'd turn myself over a long time ago - you murmur, and the Ghoul shoots you a mirthless laugh.

- Thought you ran a charity, Healer - he spits your name out like the worst of slurs, and with half a mind you wonder why it bothers him so much. 

Still, his words hit a little bit too close to home, and you turn to your skewer, chewing in silence, until he gives you a wordless permission to sleep.  Tugging your messenger bag under your head, you listen to the various liquids sloshing inside, your Geiger meter cracking away on your hand. The Ghoul stands up to put out the fire, as cold was better than anyone finding you in the wilderness. Then, he sits down, a short distance from your curled up form. 

You can feel him, even if you can't see him, and with tired arms, you tug your robe closer around your body. 

- I try to be good - you whisper into the night, into the hot coals of the bonfire, into his unyielding indifference.

- You ain't gotta explain yourself to me, sweetheart - he answers in a low voice, and it's the nicest thing you've heard him say, since you've met him. 

***

The raiders come at night, as they always do.

You're still halfway into deep sleep when the first shot rings out. The bullet lodges itself into the ground right in front of you, dirt exploding across your face. It doesn't wake you at first, confusion and remnants of some distant dream muddling your senses. 

The Ghoul springs to action with record speed, and before you can truly react, he shoots three shots in the direction of the tree line. That's when you jump to your feet, ears ringing and head swimming with confusion. 

A man in a tattered blouse falls to the ground, right next to the small fire pit, ash flying into the air. You can see his blood seeping into the coals, but before you can react, The Ghoul grabs you by the shoulder, all but throwing you behind him, as he levels his gun in front of him. 

The ringing in your ears mixes with the wild beating of your heart, as you try to wrestle the panic into submission. The Ghoul's tattered coat whips itself across your ankles, and you've never wanted to be free of your binds as much as in this moment.

Silence. Complete, and utter silence engulfs the two of you, and you grab onto the bounty hunter's arm to steady yourself. His head turns in your direction for just a second. Eyes lock together, something flickers across his face, but it's gone before you can even begin to decipher the expression. 

- I'll check the parameter - he grumbles, and walks towards the closest tree. 

At first you don't even know how to voice your protest, as he all but ties you to the tree, securing his lasso, and consequently cutting off any means for you to escape. Like a wild dog, you're left there, watching him turn away in favor of walking into the trees. 

Panic rises in your gut, as you tug on the rope.

- Hey! - you whisper-yell after him, eyes searching for any more attackers - Don't you dare leave me here!

But he's already walking away, keeping himself low, his rifle tight in hand. A couple of steps into the tree line and he blends completely with the surroundings, like he belongs there, amongst the trees. Chest heaving, you double the efforts of freeing yourself, the rope digging painfully into your wrists.

Frustration quickly overcomes fear, and you kick out, the ash from the bonfire swirling around you like a cloud.

Then, a twig breaks somewhere behind you, and your blood freezes in your veins. 

***

Cooper moves through trees like he's one with the southern wind. 

His coat shuffles around his ankles, as he presses further into the tree line, more bothered by the small attack than he would like to admit. 

The bullet almost hit you. In the head no less. Ten thousand caps, gone in a second

He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, barely a second, and it was all it took. When has he become so sloppy, he couldn't tell, but he supposed it had something to do with the way you looked like, when sleeping. 

So at peace, like this hard ground was the most comfortable bed in the world. Your cheek squished into your messenger bag, as if it was the softest of pillows. He wondered, what warranted such trust, such peace of mind, that you fell into deep sleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes. 

Did you really trust him that much?

A dangerous idea, he thinks. An idea he might've entertained centuries back, when he still had a nose and didn't look out onto this hell of a world through layers upon layers of cynicism. Still, your curled form tugged on something, some shadow of his former self, that he needed to squash sooner, rather than later. 

He was getting too damn old for this. 

Cooper finds the raiders camp in a matter of minutes. Two sleeping bags, a bunch of empty bottles and, to Cooper's dark amusement, a half-eaten human leg. 

So, not just raiders, but fiends as well. 

Cooper kicks at one of the sleeping bags, his eyes searching for anything of use. And that's when his mind catches up.

He hears your scream tear through air.

His head whips back, hat almost falling. 

A shot rings out.

Ten thousand fucking caps. He's an idiot, an old idiot. 

Cooper starts to run, branches snapping under his boots as he cuts through the trees with surprising agility. Another scream, raw and gut wrenching, and he can almost see your bloodied body twitching under the second fiend. The one he didn't get. 

Rifle first, he all but barrels into the clearing, for a split second not knowing what he's looking at. 

Because yes, there is a bloodied body in the camp, it's face barely resembling human features with the way it's been brutally eviscerated. But it's not yours. Too thin, too male, too hardened. 

That's when he sees you. Curled against the tree, where he tied you down and left you. Your hands are gripping some large stone, blood drips from your fingers, down to your arms. Your shoulders are moving, up and down, in a steady rhythm of deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Cooper allows himself to feel relief. 

You don't even look at him, still holding onto the rock, nails biting into it's surface, and he can't clearly see your face, but he can see the blood. Your Geiger meter crackles, as he comes closer, kicking at the dead fiend, just to be sure. 

- We gotta get moving, there might be more of those fu-

His words die in his throat, because suddenly, something collides with staggering force onto his body. Landing on his back, he immediately lifts his arms up, to shield himself from bloodied fists, slamming into his chest, into his head, wherever they can reach. 

- You left me! - your voice sounds like a wounded animal - You motherfucker! Why did you leave me?!

There is no real force backing your punches, all your strength apparently drained by what you did to fiend just moments ago.. They do become quite irritating, and Cooper wrangles your, still bound, hands until he has your by the wrist. And that's when he sees you. Finally, truly sees you.

You're hunched over him, straddling his waist, hair whipping around your head like some deranged angel's halo. Features twisted into a mixture between fury and anguish, your face is red, sticky with drying blood. 

Beautiful, tragically beautiful, Cooper thinks, and this time doesn't chastise himself for it. 

- Why did you...?! - your voice cracks like a broken mirror - You're the one killing people, not me. I'm not... I've never...

Cooper fights through your spasming muscles, as slowly, your anger dissipates, leaving nothing but tears, which are now creating pathways down your cheeks. Finally, he understands. Your poise, your elegance, the gentleness in every movement. 

You've never killed anyone. Never taken a life. 

Unknowingly, he has made you into a killer. 

Shoulders sag against his hold, as you slump into him. He feels you, the length of your torso on his, your shallow breathing warming his shirt. And he lets you rest, lets you curl into him like he isn't worse than both of those fiends combined. Like he hasn't just put you through this hell, hasn't tied you up, dragged you through God knows where. 

- He... - you choke out, and Cooper curses at the way his hands slide around your back to hold you closer, tighter - He tried to...

- I know - he doesn't know what has possessed him, but he comforts you just the same - I know, sweet thing. I'm sorry.

Tears fall heavy onto his collarbone, as you let yourself be held. And he holds on with everything he has, deciding that perhaps, you both have some time left. Fingers trace the pattern of your curved spine, the dips between your shoulderblades. He dares not move lower, even though perhaps he wants to. Perhaps he would take advantage of this situation and try to find out just how much he can get away with. But some missplaced feeling of decency wrangles itself onto the surface, swallowing down all the murder, and the lies, and all the horribly depraved things he has thought about, while keeping you hostage. 

 It takes some minutes for you to calm down, and when you do, he pulls you up. Not the usual tug of the rope you're both used to, but a gentle hand in your hand, helping you steady yourself against him. The warmth of your body is all but a memory now, and he clings to it for just a moment longer, a souvenir for later. 

The silence is heavy with unsaid words, with actions that will have disastrous consequences. But as he unties you from the tree, as you look over at the bloodied body of the fiend, he finds that there are no words left to be said. 

So you swing your messenger bag over your arm, and let him lead you further into the Wasteland. No longer yourself, no longer the Healer, but something else entirely. 

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦

Being the reason of the magic in the whole world was pretty classy to some people

And yeah, in a way, it was because how many people could actually say "I'm the one who gave magic to my children and later other people."?

Now it wasn't that you were the Merlin, but more like a reincarnated one. You would have different dreams of those before you and what they felt and then wake up almost feeling... Empty.

It wasn't until you showed your eyes and strong magic that your "family" believed in who you were and decided to hide it from everyone else to have you, and by extension your powers, all to themselves and celebrated the good news...

But that also meant your family was the oldest magical family ever, which meant every other "pureblood" family tried to get into your family for more power.

Utter bullshit if someone asked you, and the Merlin himself inside you

"What the fuck are they talking about being 'pure'?! What is this nonsense!?"/ "Calm down hoe, ı'll explain."

Needless to say... He was pissed, but that was for another time to talk about.

All their attempts backfired and now everyone knew who you were and you had to learn how to defend yourself at a young age while rejecting whoever tried a move on you. (It wasn't that hard to punch them and scare the shit outta them anyways.)

At one point, the news of Hogwarts reached to you and you insisted on going there even if it was against every plan your family had, which consisted of brainwashing you so that you would believe in their ideals.

(which was also why you were doing it and get away from them before they did something)

The point is, there was a time the Four Founders knew you, and therefore the Sorting Hat also knew you very well... And instead of sorting you, you two gossiped together about those four.

"Do you remember how Godric was left in his underwear because Salazar was mad at him for changing his potions?"

"or that one time Rowena had to be held by Helga, who never liked conflict if I may add, because Godric stole her crown and danced around the castle?"

But the Hat knew that you had to be sorted, yet again, sorting the literal pure and ancient magic holder was... Absurt.

So, it made the best and most hilarious decision of all the History of Magic under the shocked eyes of everyone present.

" Y/N Y/L/N belongs to all houses!"

"you could have put me in Godric's house at least, stupid! They seem funny at least..."

And the hat only cackled and shooed you away under your teasing eyes as you sat at the corner while the teacher gave their speechs.

But, just like everyone else there, four sets of eyes followed you after that day. Wherever you went or whatever you said.

They thought you would be evil, or extremely cocky and bullying everyone. They even planned a grand joke for you to teach you a lesson...

But none of them ever came and instead they often found you... Sleeping at corners in different positions.

At first, they thought you were merely acting so that you got away from their pranks.

But when they shook you awake, and you just faceplanted on the ground and continued to sleep, they were absolutely bamboozled.

"Are they alive? I think they are..."

"How can someone sleep like that?! Especially after falling down?"

But this wasn't their first official meeting with you.

It was when they were sitting down for dinner and you appeared behind Remus to look at the book he was reading.

Even he didn't feel your presence and the soft hum you did, and he was a werewolf.

"Hello, gentlemen! How are you?"

And Sirius, being Sirius, did what he always did the best: Complimented you, which would turn to flirting as the years passed.

What they did not know was that you were the Merlin. Sirius and James were aware of your existence, Sirius with being the heir of the Blacks and his mother trying to prepare a date in the future, but they never knew what you looked like.

No one did.

When they realized it, they thought you were one of those pure-blood extremists and their opinion changed about you fast

They thought you would bully Remus or Lily...

Which was already a big no-no

But they were proven very wrong when one day, they caught you bringing chocolate and books Remus wanted to read for a while, the pile of books flying in the air behind you in a long line

"Hi! Uh, I hope I'm not being a complete nuisance but I couldn't help but notice your love for chocolate and hear your list of books you wanted to read and... I just wanted to talk?"

What? Giving something to someone to gain their trust, though it was for an evil ulterior in your family, was the thing that was taught to you.

And you weren't like them, you really wanted to be their friends and prove that you weren't like any of them but... At that moment, you were just a shy bean full of anxiety as you fiddled with your fingers shyly and they looked at you puzzled with shocked pikachu faces.

The stare they had given you in shock would never leave your mind as you giggled at them, the sound making the boys blush as Remus stuttered out a thanks and you gave a wide smile and asked to sit down with them. That was when the doubts started to bloom in them.

No bloody racist could be that sweet and shy while talking to someone "lower" to them.

And besides you seemed genuine but they still had doubts...

Until James remembered how you protected Lily at the Great Hall one time and then, as he heard it later, baked her cookies and helped her study.

"Y/L/N, we need to talk! There is an important matter..."

You sluggishly woke up and looked around you after your beauty sleep, only to see Lucius who had been working hard to pursue you, looking at you with what appeared to be... Anger. You stared at his face for a few seconds and then at the bustling Hall where everyone now stayed silent to watch you two.

Everyone knew that you and Lucius weren't on exactly good terms. You didn't do anything that could make you seem like "a barbaric" person, even though you had half of the mind to do so after everything he said about Lily and muggleborns in general, you had to stay calm and also ease the angry ancient wizard inside you as he fumed like a dragon.

Or else, this summer wouldn't be too nice for you.

"important matter?.. Okay, what is it?" You mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes and slapping your face a few times to sober up a bit. Even if your eyes were half open, you still kept them closed as a yawn left you and pretended to listen to him while leanin over the table.

"I believe, as true magic holders, you would agree on the fact that there are people who shouldn't be here." said Lucius sneering, emphasising on true magic and people while looking especially at Lily as the girl suddenly curled in on herself in fear. James seethed from where he was sitting as his eyes wandered to the girl and then his friends, silently planning another prank for Lucius so bad that the blonde wouldn't be able to walk outside.

Their eyes drifted to you though, Peter eating anxiously, Sirius raising a brow as Remus lifted his head and stared with an expectant look. This was the moment they would get their answers, whether what you had been telling them was true.

Whether you really cared about being pure or not.

"This is a magic school Lucius, anyone who has magic can enter. I heard that the bullying of pureblood nonsense wasn't as bad in other schools and they are also welcoming so... Suck it up." You explained bored and waved your hand dismissively at hım as he widened his eyes and sputtered out in disbelief.

How could someone as powerful as you say such thing?

His eyes drifted to where the group of your "friends" were sitting and cheering you excitedly, clapping hands as your eyes shone with happiness for being accepted by them wholeheartedly finally. Their smiling faces were cute, and you'd later go and buy some chocolate and sweets for them but right now, you couldn't be the sugar mommy.

You needed sleep. Immediately.

"Now, I will sleep and you better not wake me up..."

"They are the ones who feed you with lies, are they not?" He sneered angrily as he came closer to your form, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips at what he foolishly said while forgetting who you exactly where, instead seeing one of those submissive girls he was used to having around at his beck and call.

How easily you could end him and his whole lineage.

"If you think them, you or any other person can manipulate me, that's your problem. But I'd like to point that I can suck the magic out of you, alter your memories and even make your hair turn pink without you or anyone realizing what's happening. Don't tempt me..." your eyes snapped an angry yellow as your hands glowed with golden swirls of raw magic, making him take a step back in slight fear.

"you're only angry because one, she is pretty. Two, she is wicked smart and three, she is one of the few girls who said no to you." You mumbled tiredly and bored as you rolled onto your other side on the bench and continued to sleep soundless as if you didn't just threaten him with unaliving. The only answer you got, not that you cared, was just a grunt and feet stomping away.

"Fucking git of a witch... And she is supposed to be Merlin? Only a fake öne with those she hangs out..."

Needless to say, as you snapped your eyes open and slowly rose up, your eyes glowing in the usual golden color as your hair floated up and the ground shook angrily... Lucius was fucked.

After that flipping you did with Lucius, practically all the school was on their knees worshipping you

Because fucking finally someone stopped that menace

After that, the Marauders rarely left your side. Always demanding attention, begging you to teach them and all that... Except Sirius.

He just wanted to bring you over to his home so that you can roast his family too lol

When you learnt what happened to the Black Brothers, after they both warmed up to you, you flipped and choked on the water you were drinking.

"Those fuckers did what?!"

The sight of the Merlin, hair up and floating menacingly as an angry sneer left you was one that would haunt their wildest nightmares to come.

That was when one of them fell for you.

Perhaps, it was Regulus since he had been harbouring a huge crush on you ever since forever or Sirius when he had come to you wounded as you healed him and hugged him thightly to your chest, patting his hair and assuring him that everything would be better as he clinged to you and cried his sadness out.

Sirius... Never thought that he would relate to you.

To what ... What happened to you.

A soft smile as you healed him. "The same as whatever happened to you."

"All my life people failed me. Just because I'm Merlin doesn't mean that I was an exception to the torture you and Regulus went through."

"many times my family told me to just conceive a child and just be a wife... Seeing what I hoped my magic would bring to this world fail and see my descendants suffer... It wasn't what i wanted."

That was a shared regret of both you and Merlin, after all, magic was for everyone. He himself was born to completely human parents with absolutely no relation to magic. He lived through an era when pretty much everyone was hung for magic but still managed to survive for... this?

For his own children to do the same?

Apart from the angsty traumatical life experiences you all had and literally parenting a bunch of sad kids...

Their pranks were fucking genius.

Now, you didn't join them in their shenanigans much, especially if it included poor Severus

But from time to time... You would come up with the weirdest, most AWESOME and jawdropping jokes ever developed by mankind

Such as changing all the toilet papers on the bathrooms with an identical realistic cake version of them that would explode with lighters as soon as they were touched, just to piss off both female and male bullies that picked on the poor students- mostly muggleborns

And then, as if you had a better mental state, there was the weekly sessions you had where you just listen to them vent.For more than once, you assured Remus no, he wasn't a mindless monster and yes, you were totally sure he deserved happines, or making Peter see his true worth and not living on what people thought of him, making him gain some confidence. Then there were the "tea parties but actually drinking parties" you went with Sirius in the muggle world where he just cried about his life and then proceeded to pole dance like a maniac as you calmly sipped your water.

Or sitting with Effie and James as you three gossipped and talked shit about the most pureblood families.

But... even if you seemed lively and happy, every listener needed someone else to listen to them too and they were ready to pay back for every time you took care of them.

But it wasn't that easy.

Another fact of having a fucked up family life: Inability to actually react

Such as crying

( why the hell do I keep coming back to angsty side??)

For the longest time you thought it was a hard thing to do.

Like.... how does a person just tear up?

Ohhh, and you didn't even want to cry with an audience watching. That shit was scarier than any Boggart possible.

Then you saw James cry after he saw a Puffskein and... yeah.

Then the day came when they were all talking about birthdays and you said you never celebrates it and... They all stared blankly.

" Wait... like at all?"

"nope, never seen the thrill of it." You answred noncholantly, groaning when Sirius suddenly jumped on your laying figure on the carpet and shook you frustratedly.

"Even I had a birthday celebration in my life! What do you-"

"It never was a celebratory thing, except reminding my family how good of a tool I am... So I never brought it up and-James are you crying?? Remus-no,no not all of you!

Aghh, come on... * affectionately yet awkwardly patting their back as James cried on your neck while the four clutched you from all sides*

After that, it had become a mission for them to show you just how much they appreciated you by showering you with gifts, your favourite meals and even taking you to a muggle concert with the girls.

You totally didn't get wasted and ended up making out with one of them drunkenly after they made you get loose a little bit after that strict life-

They were the family you wished you had but never did, they showed you a lot of things and made you have fun. They showed you how to love and care and they were now... family.

You were ready to, quite literally, die for them

And therefore, as the only one with the knowledge of what was going to happen to them... You had to take action and protect those silly kids from the evil clutches of the common enemy.

"Are you not a kid yourself though?" would be James' answer whenever you spoke about the war, since he too was worried but couldn't let it affect your friends when they relied on him, teasing you playfully with a smile though he was happy you cared about them just as much as they cared about you.

"It's different, I'm Mer-"/ "You are Y/N and our friend who is also 17. It's okay to be scared, you don't have to shoulder everything."

That fucker and his sudden cute yet emotional talks-

It did nothing to even slightly stop you tho, you already made a plan.

Dumbledore obviously knew who you were, how powerful and strong you were and could easily become a supreme wizard/witch, therefore he thought the best way to deal with you was to get rid of you.

Jinxes, poison, harsh training, hard missions that not even the best wizard or witch wouldn't be able to complete...

You stopped all of them, it was as if you were like a killing machine, never wavering back and diving first to the fight just to protect your friends so that they could sleep peacefully for one more night, so that they could smile even slightly a bit more.

Even if you turned back bloody and bruised, having to listen to them scold and pamper you, you just didn't die.

And you knew who was behind all this, and why he was doing it.

"Look, Dumbledore, I don't care if I'm messing up with your plans- which I'm so delighted to do so, you have no idea- but if you get on my way and threaten my friends one more time, know that it's not gonna end up well for you."

"But the prophecy-"

"Damn the prophecy! I'm not letting you manipulate young children into a war that's not theirs to fight! If needed, I'll be the one to fight him off... But if you bring them into this death game, I'll gladly finish you as well."

"Remember, I'm the reason why you have that magic coursing through your veins. And I can take it back."

*dramatic standing up and leaving coolly without the cloak like the Batman*

And even with all these shit going on, having 5638 different meltdowns and existensial crises

"Oh, isn't that the traitor hanging out with those bastards?"

Lucius Malfoy, a pain in my ass

"Oh, if it's not my favourite brat in the world! What is it this time, Malfoy? Are you going to whine because I refused to marry you?"

Well, that was something the Marauders didn't expect. You were supposed to marry him?

What the hell?!

"You should be grateful that it was I who asked for your hand in marriage, Y/L/N-"

Remus clenched his jaw at the clear insult, at him seeing himself above you when it was the other way around. He saw how you fisted at your clothes and he took a hold of your hand under the table. He knew, just like the rest of his friends, that you wished your identity to be hidden, that you didn't want others to see you any different.

But Malfoy was making it very hard for you, for the past 4 years or so.

"Trust me, brat, you are the one who would have been all over the moon if that were to happen."

That cold voice didn't mean something good.

"What did you just say?"

"I said that you are hust pissy bevause for the first time in your life, someone, a woman, stood on her ground and flat out ridiculed you with rejecting you. In front of people. It's very sad that you, like the other blood-suprematists, are void of love and care but guess what?"

"My family marries for love, we are the ones who gave all of you this magic and you dare to belittle me, boy? Patheatic, little man."

Okay this was hot, and now the one who had a crush on you had a bleeding nose-

And that, was the story and the first entry of your "Marauders Diary".

[carlosfruitsnacks]

"your favorite worst nightmare" - part 4

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5

summary:

— Visited by hidden memories, you're conflicted because you remember your history with the killer. Everything you've ever learned has been overturned, what do you do?

genre:

— serial killer x detective au & aged-up

notes:

— female reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong.

warning/s:

— mentions violence & foul language/cussing

a/n:

— wassup guys and no I'm not dead so here's another update lmao

The summer's scent, the sun's rays, and the sound of wheels from a bicycle rolling down a grassy hill. Blissful laughter from teenagers echoed, and two raced each other in their bikes.

"Slow down, Carlos! You're too fast!"

"Come on, I know you can do better than that, [Name]!"

The two exchanged. Suddenly, there was a burst of color as another scene unfolded. Glimmering moonlight illuminated a small river, and whispers of crickets and shining fireflies filled the air. The same teenagers now lay peacefully on the grass, shoulders touching.

"I can see the big dipper from here"

"[Name]?"

"Yes, Carlos?"

"We're...we're friends right?"

"Correction, best friends"

"You won't leave me, right?"

"Never"

One of them smiles, it was a boy with curly auburn hair as he makes the move to intertwine his fingers with the girl beside him. She smiles back at him as she holds his hand. A bright light flashes and it shows grey skies, loud thunder rang in the heavens, as a strong downpour invaded the area. The girl chased after the auburn-haired boy.

"Carlos, wait!"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Carlos, please!"

"¡No, dejame solo!"

"Let me help you—ow!"

The boy whips his head around and his eyes go wide at the girl who slipped and fell down to the wet pavement. Immediately, he rushes to help her, he notices the reddish wound on her knee.

"Shit, are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that, look at you"

She laughed and pointed at his face, it was decorated with cuts and bruises. He purses his lips and sighs.

"...I'm sorry, okay?"

"Hey, I'm not mad at you, just worried. You got beaten up pretty bad back there"

"They're a bunch of assholes"

"I know. Let's get back inside so I'll clean your face up"

"...Fine"

He admits defeat as she lets him pull him inside her house. Quickly, the scene was replaced with birds singing in the trees. The sun was hot and bright as it shone over the two teenagers again, but both of them were screaming under an apple tree during spring.

"You fucking lied to me, [Name]!"

"I had no choice, Carlos!"

"You broke your promise!"

"I didn't mean to! There's nothing I can do!"

The argument paused, he glared at her, and she stared back with teary eyes. He holds himself back as he saw the tears drip down her cheeks.

"When are you leaving?"

"...Tomorrow"

"I fucking hate you"

"I'm sorry, Carlos"

She cried, he looked away but his eyes betrayed him as he looked back at her. Her eyes pleaded for him to not be upset, but he can't but feel like a part of him was torn away knowing the only one he loved was leaving him. The girl rushed over to him and grabbed his hands, he gasped.

"I'll come back to you, I promise"

"...And what if you don't?"

"Then go look for me"

She said with a reassuring smile. It brought a small portion of comfort to the auburn-haired boy, he holds his breath as he gave her one last embrace. A tear slips down from his eyes when she hugs him back tighter.

"I love you, Carlos"

"Yo también te amo"

Your eyes snapped wide open with a gasp, your breathing quickened as you scanned the surroundings. Slowly, your memory of yesterday floods in your head, and your breath hitches. You're still inside the serial killer's home.

"Fuck"

You cursed as you tried to wiggle yourself out of the tight restraints. You were bound to a wooden chair, your head begins to pound, and your face was filled with cuts and bruises. You noticed the sunlight seeping through the window, it was already day. Your heart leaps out of your chest when you hear the door creak open, with bated breath you waited.

"Ca-Camilo?!"

You said, blatantly shocked. You were not expecting Camilo to arrive. Immediately, you assumed that he was here to rescue you, it was good timing! Once you're free you and he can go back to the police department and...wait.

"[Name]..."

Camilo spoke, his voice almost filled with regret. You were frozen, your jaw almost hitting the floor as you saw who followed him inside the room. It felt like you were staring at clones at first, but it sinks in on you.

"Look who's awake"

It was the killer, no, it was Carlos. He smirks at you, smugly. He walked over to you as Camilo keeps his distance, he avoids your gaze. You frowned.

"You fucking knew all along, Camilo?"

"Awww, poor baby"

Carlos teased you, Camilo only spared you a guilty look. You didn't know how to deal with Camilo being in cahoots with the serial killer who you're supposed to arrest. Not only that but also with the revelation that they're identical twins. But Carlos felt familiar, and you discovered it through the memories you locked away for so many years.

"Doesn't this feel familiar to you, [Name]?"

"...Carlos"

"Does it give you that sense of betrayal?"

He was face-to-face with you now, his hot breath landing on your face. You knew what he was talking about and it makes your chest grow heavy. You didn't know what to do. Apologize? Say a smart remark? Stay silent? Your emotions were all over the place. But there's another thing you realized, you looked him in the eye.

"...You found me"

Carlos went rigid, he was not expecting you to say that. You let out a raspy chuckle but he can see your eyes slowly turning glassy.

"You actually found me, Carlos"

"Well, I'm not like you who breaks promises"

He grinned, he was surprised that it brings a laugh out of you. He missed the sound of your laughter, not that he'll admit it.

"God, I'm so fucked aren't I?"

"You had it coming, [Name]"

Carlos saw your face dropping, the trace of laughter disappearing. Finally, the tears exited your eyes and it felt like someone stabbed him in the chest.

"Is this what I get for abandoning you? I knew I should've done something but my family won't let me be with you"

"Maybe it's for a good reason"

"Why are you doing this, Carlos?"

"Because I have nothing left to lose"

You felt his calloused hand cup your cheek, it felt almost gentle and comforting. Why did you let yourself forget about him? Why didn't you go look for him? Why...why do you still love him after what he's done?

"Do you think that I've forgotten about you?"

"I never thought of it, Carlos"

"Do you realize what I'm gonna do to you, [Name]?"

"What?"

"I'm never letting you go"

Carlos whispered, menacingly and you gulped. He undid your restraints and carried you over his shoulder, you whimpered as he begins to make his way to the door. You looked at Camilo and begged for him to help, but he was stoic.

"Carlos, don't do this..."

"You're a fool if you think I can't resist you"

He said and he manhandles you on the way to his car. Your heart was banging against your ribcage as your head begins to spin. This was bad, very fucking bad. Before Carlos could open the door to the driver's seat, somebody slams against him causing him and you to tumble to the ground. You landed with a groan, you looked over and realized that Camilo has tackled Carlos to the ground.

"Go! Get out of here!"

Camilo screamed at you. Suddenly, you spring into action. You got up to your feet and began sprinting away. You can hear Camilo and Carlos trying to fight each other but you don't dare look back. Carlos screamed.

"¡Cómo te atreves!"

"Lo siento, mi hermano. But I think it's time to put an end to your game"

Carlos glared daggers at Camilo as he pushed him off of him, he swiftly pulled his gun and aimed it at him. Camilo halts, gazing at the gun and at his brother.

"You wouldn't pull the trigger"

Camilo's blood went cold when he saw his twin crack a toothy grin. Carlos tilts his head, playfully.

"You made the wrong choice, hermano"

As you continued running with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you almost stumbled on your feet when you hear a gunshot ring all over the area. You froze, and a choked sob emitted from you. But you started running again because you knew Carlos is gonna go after you, one way or another. You knew he was gonna find you again.

taglist: @pochi-moochika , @cahmilo , @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings , @eichenhouseproperty , @nort-the-simp , @megs2world, @ducky-is-dead-inside ...join here

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[mydissociativediaries]

2/1/2023: Disintegrate

The "old" me is still in there. Which surprises me because I don't see how she could be. When you change this significantly, wouldn't you lose every part of yourself? I could see myself remembering the old me but not having her floating around in my head.

But yep...the person that I would've grown up to be is still here. I can imagine being her. She's wearing a pink-and-black flannel shirt (interestingly, I saw her wearing that in a meditative vision ages ago) and has shiny shoulder-length brown hair. Like mine except it's shiny, straight and clean. Does she go to the hairdresser? Maybe she just takes great care of it.

I think she's a little pretty. She's a little odd and has a strange, blunt sense of humor. But she can be warm and loving, too. She thinks about her mom a lot and imagines being her. She and her mom are pretty tight--they've had conflicts, and her mom made some mistakes while raising her, but they're close overall.

When I think of her, I think about the color gold. Maybe with some dark brown or black--but a warm, friendly black. She shines with warmth. She's not an amazing person, but she's affectionate in her way. Just a little blunt and hard to understand or get along with sometimes.

She's also close to her dad. One of the few things that I have in common with her is that she's a liiittle afraid of him. He's mostly been a good dad, and she thinks she has the best father in the world, but she's seen his male rage a few times. She pretends that it doesn't exist.

But yeah--she's generally a happy person who grew up in a flawed but loving household. She's a little dependent on her parents, but she has her own life. I don't have an idea of what she's doing in that life. I'm not sure what job she would have ended up with.

Yep...she seems like a likable person. I think she's still timid and introverted, but she stands up for herself better than I do. I wouldn't call her a badass who doesn't take any shit. Buuut she's more confident and speaks up more easily.

And maybe she's not QUITE a "family girl," but she has good relationships with them and enjoys learning about her other relatives, especially the ones who have passed.

She still has anxiety--that would have existed regardless of my life circumstances--and maybe depression because of it. It didn't spiral out of control, though. People helped her before it got to that point.

Maybe she's a holdover from the days when I still felt like myself even though my life had taken a giant left turn. Or maybe she's who my parents thought I'd grow up to be, or both. Either way, she grew up without a fucking sibling!

She wouldn't recognize me. My personality has disintegrated so much. I feel like a shell of a person.

Still, she's intriguing to think about.

Thanks for reading,

💼

[malereaderpage]

grind on | hamada asahi

► asahi x bottom virgin male reader

► smut

"what club is this exactly, haru?" you ask your friend. he smirks at you. "a gay bar, duh." he answers your question. "why are we at a gay bar exactly?" you question him. "to loose our virginity, dumbass. come on, don't you get horny frequently? now that we are of legal age, let's get our grind on." says haru. 'he does have a point.' you think to yourself. you give in. "alright, alright." haru claps his hands in excitement. "okay, let's have a few shots just to get us tipsy, i'm sure we'd like to remember this unforgettable night!" he squeals.

you chuckle and nod in agreement. "okay, now, let's split up and meet here again at midnight which is in four hours. if something goes wrong, call me my phone will be off of silent but please just call me if it's something serious, got it?" you hum in response. "got it, i will and same goes for you, haru."

the two of you split up. you roam around inside the club, not sure how to do this. you don't have alot of experience, especially when it comes to wooing someone. you sigh and lean against the wall. "what am i doing?" you mumble, asking yourself. you look up and allow your eyes to scan through the dance floor of dancing guys. a few catches your eyes  but you don't dare go up to any of them, too scared that'll you'll just embarrass yourself.

while you contemplate your life choices, someone has you peeking their interest. he stops a waiter and whispers something in his ear, still keeping his eyes on you. the waiter nods and approaches you. "hey, uh, someone told me to tell you to meet him in room 569." he leaves before you can interrogate him.

after a few moments of silent conflict, debating in your head to go or not, you decide to go. 'come on y/n, you came here to loose your virginity. oh god, please be a young handsome man and not a old creepy guy.' you think to yourself as you approach room 569. you knock on the door, hearing no one you invite yourself in and close the door behind you. there's no one. you sit on the bed that's provided. you stare at your lap until a knock rings through your ears, making you look up.

you gulp. the door opens and it reveals a handsome looking guy. you feel yourself relax and you mentally sigh in relief. 'good lord he's hot.' you think to yourself. "are you the one that told that waiter to tell me to meet in this room?" you ask him. closing the door behind him and leaning against the wall, his hands sliding into his pant's pockets he nods in response. "you are of legal age, right?" he inqures. you nod. "...why?" you ask him. he pushes himself off of the wall and approaches you. you lean back when he reaches the bed, his hands on both sides on the bed next to your thighs. "because i want to fuck you." he says lowly. "that's if you grant me permission to, of course." he adds. your heart skips a few beats.

you are nervous yet excited, already you can feel your starting to become hard. "may i fuck you?" he questions, his hand goes onto your thigh and he squeezes, making you gasp as your breathing escalates. "y-yes." you stutter. "what's your name, pretty boy?" his hand travels up further. "y/n." you reply. "w-what's your n-name?" you curse yourself mentally, still very nervous so you can't help your stuttering state. "asahi." he tells you. asahi comes closer and you find yourself moving back so that he can hover above you properly. he senses your nervousness. "no need to be nervous, y/n."

"is this your first time?" he asks you. you nod in response. "well then you are in good hands," he reassures you. "i'll be careful." asahi adds, leaning in. his lips meets your neck's skin. "don't be," you tell him. he pulls back and smirk. "if you can handle a second round, i promise i'll be anything but careful." you are definitely hard by now and a feeling of thrill rushes through your body. you only nod. asahi leans back in but this time he captures your lips. while he kisses you, you allow his hands to roam across your body.

your hands on the other hand is positioned awkwardly by your chest, not really sure where to put them. asahi's hands comes in contact with yours and he guides them to his head. asahi pulls back slightly. "grip them and tug on them as hard as you like, play with them if you want to." he tells you. his voice is just so attractive you almost don't get what he said. just like asahi told you, you grip his hair and he goes back to making out with you. "open your mouth, pretty boy." he says. you oblige and you gasp when his tongue slips past your lips. asahi's hands travles to your thighs and then your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

you whimper when your crotches brush against each other but you moan when asahi sucks on your tongue. becoming desperate for friction, you buck your hips against asahi's. asahi groans. he wraps his arms around you as he sits on his knees, you sitting on his lap. he breaks the kiss and trails wet kisses from your jaw to your neck and then sucks. you moan, tugging on his locks which makes asahi grunt, loving the way you are handling his hair. asahi pulls back, your arms around his neck. "let's get rid of this shirt, hm?" you allow him to take off your shirt. "c-can i take off yours?"

asahi finds it cute how you shyly ask. he nods in approval and you take off his shirt. asahi lies you back down and he discards your pants and boxers, you doing the same to asahi. asahi hovers above you, kissing from your chest to your lower stomach. you gasp once again when his mouth comes in contact with your hard dick. you grip the sheets as he begins to suck you off. his tongue works expertly as he licks and swirls your dick. "f-fuck." you choke out. "does it feel good, pretty boy?" he asks you as he strokes your shaft. you hum and nod. "so good," you say breathlessly.

asahi picks up his pace and you begin to become a whiny mess. you feel tension build up within your stomach and you arch your back. "hmm, i'm gonna c-cum!-" you are cut off by your orgasm hitting you. you gasp in surprise and girp asahi's hair as he works on your hole, licking it your rim. "this is gonna feel very weird at first, y/n." he warns you and his finger slips inside of you. he's right, it does feel weird, however, as you get use to the feeling he adds another finger in attempt to stretch you out and you start to become more vocal which tells asahi he can speed up and does just that.

as your second orgasm for the night builds up, asahi stops and you whine in protest but immediately stop once you feel asahi's dick run against your entrance. "this'll hurt but i'll be careful as possible." he alerts you. you nod and grip his shoulders for moral support. he enteres slowly and your grip on asahi's shoulders tightens, your short nails digging into his skin. once fully inside he distracts you by praises and soft gentle kisses.

after a few minutes you feel yourself relax around him. "o-okay, you can move." you inform him. asahi thrusts are slow and gentle, your whinning drives him crazy but he controls himself from fucking you mercilessly.

"f-faster...p-please," you beg. "as you wish, pretty boy." asahi's thrusts escalates and you become a moaning mess, skin slapping much more audible and asahi's groans and grunts are much more frequent. your moans are driving asahi crazy. he loves the way you clench around him. "fuck." he curses under his breath. you hum in content as he continues to pound into you, you moan loudly when he hits a certain spot and asahi smirks. "right here huh?" you only nod in response as your grip on the sheets tighten.

you arch your back and your hands finds asahi's back and you can't help but scratch at his back as he continues to abuse your prostate again and again, familiar feeling builds up within your stomach the second time. your dick leaks of precum, aching to be touched as your orgasm nears. one of asahi's hands grips your dick roughly which makes you gasp and asahi sees this as a opportunity to kiss you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and you moan into the kiss. asahi begins to stroke you, matching the speed of his thrusts.

"ah!" you moan again, only for it to travel into asahi's mouth. you arch your back which causes breaking the kiss, asahi's lips attacking your neck. you cum and asahi then focuses on reaching his own high. "where can i cum, pretty boy?" he pants, close to cumming. you whine, sensitive after cumming. "i-inside of me." asahi nods and cums inside of you. asahi pulls out, still hovering above you he smirks. "next time i won't be as gentle. here, to contact me. let's meet up soon, pretty boy."

with that, he get's off of you and get's dressed, leaving you alone in the room. you squeal, beyond content. "wow. that was amazing." you say to yourself. "i can't wait to tell haru. and i can't wait to meet up with asahi again."

[strawbxrryneptune]

Level Two

Word count: 2.6K

Cw: pussyjob, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, oral (fem!receiving), infidelity if you squint, unedited.

This fic and the fics following will contain monster fucking, cucking and threesomes!! If you are not comfortable, try out some of my other works, and Miggi's creations, but if you wish to proceed, remember, sharing is caring.

Prev~♡ Next ~♡

@miggiisdumb

From a young age you were taught to keep your emotions in check. Queens must never show weakness to enemies. Crying and screaming were to be left in private, so that you came off as cool and collected. The Mushroom kingdom needs someone level-headed. They need someone they know won't act rashly.

You came to a conclusion that you were the one they needed, the Queen that could handle herself in any situation. You could get a husband, rule a kingdom, maybe even raise some spawns of yourself. You were convinced you had the bag, but now, sitting on a boulder at the falls and watching two sweaty, bulky men wrestle and growl at each other, you weren't so sure.

You had been trying to keep your emotions in check the whole week. Kirishima was constantly inviting you to hang with him and Bakugou, and you didn't know how much you could take. Kirishima's kisses had you on fire,, his big hands grabbing at your ass and tongue sliding against yours, but Bakugou's heated stares and occasional touches had your head spinning in confusion and arousal. He had a weird thing for grabbing and kneading at your hips, and it was starting to get to you.

Kirishima had invited you to join him and Bakugou in a swim at the falls, the water there crisp and beautiful, said to bring years of youth to whoever was worthy. Of course, you agreed. Any princess would jump at the opportunity to swim in a magic body of water with her suitor and his dreamy friend. Kirishima had shown up in blue swim trunks, an extra change of clothes cradled in his strong arms and some sandwiches to munch on later. Bakugou wore a black loin cloth, bigger and a little longer than the one he usually wore. His choker and bracelets were laid out in the grass next to Kirishima's clothes and the food, but he didn't look any less intimidating. If anything, he looked even scarier, hair drenched and falling down around his eyes, glowing red as he growls and bares his fangs, pouncing on Kiri and snarling out threats.

"M'gonna destroy you, Red."

"You have to catch me first, Bro!"

Kirishima dives under the water, Bakugou following shortly after, and you chuckle to yourself. 

Soon, though, you start to get worried, cause it's been almost 2 minutes and they haven't come back up. 

Calling their names, you shrug your cover up off and get in the water, shivering slightly at the chill. As you get deeper and deeper, water up to your chest, you start to panic.

"Kiri? Bakugou? If this is a joke it's not-ah-!"

You scream in surprise and slight fear as you're suddenly lifted onto a broad, scarred chest. Your thighs are on either side of it, and  tense up when you feel the vibrations of a deep, raspy chuckle, and you fight the urge to thread your shaky fingers in ash blonde hair.

"Bakugou, put me down."

You try to keep your voice leveled but he picks up on the tremble, big, warm hands reaching up to grab at the fat of your hips, lifting you up further onto his chest.

"That wouldn't be fun now would it Princess?"

You gasp, glancing down at how your cunt is inches away from his mouth, drool spilling around the corners as he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Seriously, y-you gotta…” your voice wavers as you meekly push at his drenched hair, momentarily losing your train of thought when he’s tongue lolls out, sticky with saliva and long. “What if Kiri sees us?”

“If ya keep quiet, he won’t.” The fleeting look of hunger and a nip on your thigh is all the warning you get. 

Bakugou guns for your cunt before you can answer and you act like he shocked you by the way you lurch forward, jaw slanted, clinging to his curved horns, entire body shivering from the firm laps on your mound. Even with the bottom half of the swimsuit on, you could still feel every lick in pin point detail, every nudge of his hot muscles between your folds, just barely pressing into your hole and tongue flicking over your clit. Bakugou can feel it too- the way you're throbbing on his tongue, can even taste the mix of his drool and your arousal seeping through quicker then he was lapping. It drove him wild.

He groans, eyes a little crossed to watch his handy work, hoists you higher and shakes his head further between your legs and your eyes roll back when he starts sucking on your entire pussy. Too hard for you to keep quiet. Too hard for the slurps not to sound exactly like what it looks like. 

“B-Bakugou, it’s too much!” You pant, quick and shallow, yet use your weak grip on his horns to hump his face desperately. “I think I’m g-gonna… gonna…!”

He growls, literally growls like the beast he is, and you almost do cum just by his fiery look up at you with a mouthful of your twitching cunny, unlatching with a wet pop that has sticky strings of your slick smacking on his chin. 

“Take it off.” He demands, words coming out muffled because he’s already back on your cunt. “Wanna taste you cummin’ in my mouth. C’mon, Princess. Lemme drink you up, baby.”

A shaky hand slips between the two of you, pulling your bathing suit to the side, and the next moment you’re squealing to the heavens above when Bakugou curled his tongue into you, spreading your walls apart on his tongue. His eyes flickered closed with a deep moan at the sensation of you spasming around him, juices nearly flooded into his mouth, but he gulps it down greedily, Adam’s apple bobbing and cheeks hollowing. 

You have no idea how long you stayed arched in his mouth riding out your orgasm, unable to tell if you were seeing clouds or if your vision really went that blurry. For one last time, Bakugou shook his head on your cunt and pulled back with a “puah!”, hot huffs of his breaths panting on your drenched up sex. God, you tasted better than you smelled. Bakugou would live between your thighs if he could, make you moan and squeal like you did, make you flush and look completely fucked out, so pretty as you stare down at him with lidded, hazy eyes, plump lips parted to catch your breath, gentle fingers raking his hair and the base of his horns that sent shivers down his spine. 

He’d have you forever if he could. If only you weren’t promised to-

“Bakugou, you drowned or something? Where are you, man?” Kirishima’s voice comes from behind some boulders a small distance away from where the two of you are and your heart skyrockets to your throat, the sudden tightness in your gut clenching all of you up in dread. Bakugou on the other hand just slid you down into the water, trying to keep any splashing sounds to a minimum, though both of you had to swallow back a sound when you brushed over his bulge on the way down. 

Bakugou swims by you in time to Kiri finally rounding the rocks, brows creased and a little pout on his lips, and you relaxed a bit when you realized he was upset over swimming alone all this time. His eyes flick from Bakugou to you, pout disappearing as he perked up a bit in surprise.

 “(Y/N), when did you get into the water?”

You open your mouth but don't get a word out. “Came in lookin’ f’us.” Bakugou says nonchalantly, glances over his shoulder to you and you don’t miss the heat of his stare bouncing up your form for a hot second. “Clearly worried over nothin’.”

Oh, this bastard…

Kirishima hums as he swims your way, gives you his million dollar sweet smile with a gentle cup of your cheeks. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Your bottom lip puckers in a pout even though you’re already long since mad, specially with his thumb brushing drawing circles on your cheek. “Just warm me next time. Thought you idiots drowned yourselves…”

“Sorry sorry.” He laughs and pecks you a few times all over your face, until he’s kissing you on the lips, a kiss that goes on longer than expected as he slots his mouth with yours and moves his lips with passion and adoration. Your mind gets fuzzy, consumed by Kiri’s kiss and body still reeling from your moment with Bakugou, your thighs clenching underwater because your insides craved for more. 

When Kirishima pulls away, you catch a fleeting glance over to Bakugou, a heavy and solemn look on his face, conflict in his eyes before he turns away too late once he caught you staring and it all comes rushing down on you- the clear weight of guilt on your shoulders. The worst part is that you don’t know what it’s aimed at- for going behind Kirishima’s back like this? Or for making Bakugou see you with someone else while he gets scraps of affection?

You tell Kirishima that you’re alright when he asks if something is wrong, then go back to growing when he turns to resume wrestling his friend. 

Way to keep your emotions in check, huh?

The rest of the morning goes by fast, the guys wolfing down their sandwiches and still being hungry, Kirishima offering to run into town quickly and grab some more food.

You agree, standing up to go with him but being surprised when he pushes you back down, a look you can't place in his eyes as his own flicker to Bakugou, who's uprooting weeds next to you.

"Stay here, 'kay?"

You nod, dazed, and watch him disappear into the bushes, stealing a glance to Bakugou. 

"Bakugou…"

"M'sorry."

You tilt your head at him, but he won't meet your eyes, a scowl on his face as heat creeps up his neck. 

"I said I'm fuckin' sorrry. I went too far. You belong to Kiri, it's not m'place to-mmpf!"

You cut him off with a searing kiss, sliding yourself in his lap and grabbing his hair, making him stutter out a moan into your mouth, big hands gripping your hips and lifting you onto his abs, grinding you against him. 

You furrow your brows, the feeling of his abs rubbing against your puffy clit feels heavenly but you wanna touch him. You felt him when you were in the water earlier, throbbing and pulsing against you. You wanted him in your mouth.

He snarls against you, demanding attention back on him as he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours, panting heavily as his hands flex against your hips. You try to slide down a little more, moving your hands to rest on his meaty pecs and getting distracted by his puffy nipples.

They were so plump and flushed, they looked so sensitive it probably fucking hurt. You pull away from his mouth with a whine, trying not to smile when he chases your lips.

"You sure about this, Princess? If Kiri finds out he'll be-fuck, baby, Whaddya'doin?"

You don't answer, just give him a look under your lashes as you suckle on his nipple, eyes closing in bliss as the smell of him envelops you, fresh and crisp from the water but still musky and smoky. 

You scrape your teeth against him gently, then lick over the reddened area and moan as you suck once again.

You notice he had gone almost deathly still, and you look up at him only to almost cream yourself at the sight.

His eyes were rolled back in his head, fist in his mouth and drool spilling around the corners, dribbling down his flushed face and neck. He was trying so hard not to moan, cause he knew if he made a sound it would be loud enough for the whole Mushroom kingdom to hear.

He fucking loved getting his nipples played with, but virtually no one knew and he tried to play it off but fuck, you had him melting. 

"Yhew don' like it?"

Your words are muffled around his tit, saliva slowly trailing down his chest and forming a puddle in the divets of his abs.

"I-fuck, cut it out brat."

He tries to sound authoritative, but his voice is whiny, and you can already feel the bruises he's pressing into your hips. You hum, leaning back to look at his flushed chest, earning yourself a sigh of relief-quickly turning into a choked whimper when you switch to the other nipple, using one of your hands to tweak and pinch one while the other hand threads into his hair, grazing the sensitive base of his horns and knocking his eyes back, mouth dropping open and hands coming up to silence himself, allowing you to try and shimmy your way down onto his lap.

His unoccupied hand grips your hip even tighter, trying to keep you up and away from his cock.

"Bakugou-! Wan' yer cock"

You slur, grinding your hips onto his stomach, covered clit rubbing against his bushy pubes.

"You couldn't handle it sweetheart. We shouldn't even be doing this."

You roll your eyes, popping off his nipple and withdrawing your hands from him, reaching down to pry his hand off of your hip.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot handle? You don't know what-oh."

You're cut off when he drops you down, cock sliding through your folds even over the bathing suit, so big and veiny you could feel every pulse and twitch through your bottoms.

You immediately push your swimsuit to the side, rubbing your slit up and down his dick, clit getting caught on various ridges and occasionally twitching when a throbbing vein rubbed against it. You couldn't keep your sounds down even if you wanted to, leaning forward to moan into Bakugou's ear, feeling a shudder rip through his spine.

You were making his mind foggy, he couldn't stop his hips from rutting up, knot starting to swell even though he tried to hold it back. He couldn't do this right now, even getting this far dangerous, he was way too close to his rut and couldn't risk getting you pregnant, no matter how much that thought made his head spin. Fuck, he couldn't stop thinking of you slamming those perfect fucking hips down onto his knot as you begged him to give you his kids, pleaded with him to make you a mommy-shit

His head falls forward and sharp teeth dig into your shoulder, a snarl vibrating your body before your thighs, pussy and stomach are drenched with thick cum. He can't stop, hips jerking and thighs shaking as he roars into your skin, knot still swollen and sensitive but the burning need inside of him is satiated for now. 

Before he can even lift his head up to say something, he catches a whiff of arousal, and strangely enough it isn't yours. It smells more woodsy, intense with a sweet musk, somewhat...manly?

Oh fuck.

Kirishima.

Bakugou scrambles to get up, looking at you in horror and then looking over to the trees, catching a glimpse of dark red eyes before they disappear behind a nearby tree.

"Clean yourself off in the water, Kiri will be back soon."

You stare dreamily up at him, confused as to why he looks so uneasy all of a sudden but obeying nonetheless, standing on wobbly legs and feeling dense and gooey cum drip down your legs in long streaks, a nagging feeling in the back of your fuzzy mind telling you how much of a waste it was that none of it was inside you. You make your way back to the water, unaware of two sets of red locked onto you.

[saturndivine]

Your Inner Child (4th House): Healing from Childhood Trauma

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹◃ ۪۪۫۫

The fourth house in Astrology deals with comfort, home, and family but it is also an important house angle known as the imum coeli or nadir. The nadir pairs with your childhood and points to your inner child and what might have harmed you growing up. You can use this house to heal from the trauma that tainted you. 

Aries on 4th: When it comes to holding this ferocious sign on such a gentle house, the native had a rough childhood growing up. They might have been known as the abrasive or aggressive ones and now hide that part of themselves because of it. They want to be seen as kind because they assume that is the only way to gain love. To honor your inner child, you must remember that your passion, your heart, is beautiful. You are made of resilience and there is no need to hide your power. 

Taurus on 4th: With Taurus on the fourth, these natives have deep wounds when it comes to feeling loved and appreciated for who they are. They often had to prove themselves early on and now think they have to give, give, give, to gain an ounce of love. Please remind yourselves that you are deserving of love because you are you and not because of what you do. To honor your inner child, release what does not serve you, and welcome those into your life who see you for all your beauty. 

Gemini on 4th: Oh how these children had the busiest minds and the most excitable hearts! Why do you cover this part of yourself now? Who told you to keep your voice suppressed? Your innocence is refreshing, the optimism you hold for the future astounds and inspires those around you, do you see your power? Often these natives are forced to “mature” their minds and are forcibly removed from their daydreams. To honor your inner child, make sure you take a dip into those daydreams and relax in the pool of your own mind. You hold so much mental power, release it. 

Cancer on 4th: You were put in the maternal role at quite an early age weren’t you? It is beautiful that you know how to take such good care of those around you but early on you missed out on how to take care of yourself! There may be issues when it comes to self-care and making sure you are putting yourself first as you ultimately deserve. You cannot take care of others if you are not okay. To honor your inner child, take some time to sit with yourself, how are you mothering your identity? Are you being kind to yourself? Treat yourself with tenderness, stop being so hard on yourself. 

Leo on 4th: It must have been so hard to have your light dimmed at such an early age. You were meant to shine out like the sun angel you are but you weren’t allowed that, forced to live in the shadows of others or circumstances or just life itself. You are worthy and you deserve to be as effervescent as you desire. None of your light should hide under a bushel. To honor your inner child try to find what makes you shine and dive into it. You have so much skill and your confidence should shine out and stimulate others, you are an influencer. 

Virgo on 4th: Were you allowed to authentically be yourself ever? It pains me how restricted you were when it comes to finding your identity, so much so, you may even search for it now. Your childhood, to put it bluntly, was a mess. And it was a mess you were in charge of cleaning up, so now you go about life cleaning up after everyone to fill some void in your soul left open from the wounds of your childhood. To honor your inner child, make sure you tell yourself you are not in charge of anyone but yourself. You only have to be mindful of your actions and that is all. 

Libra on 4th: You aren’t in charge of making everyone feel good about themselves. I know in the past, you were the peacemaker, the peacekeeper, everything runs smoothly under you because conflict is stressful and easily affects you and it’s just easier to take control but sometimes it’s okay to simply release. Not everyone can be saved and you are not in charge of saving everyone. To honor your inner child you have to learn to set boundaries and not take on others’ issues as your own. Your energy is precious, keep it protected. 

Scorpio on 4th: Out of all the signs on the 4th, I worry for you the most. You have deep repressed wounds that tend to fester because once you open up, you may be scared of getting more hurt in the process. Please do not fear the idea of vulnerability, people want to love you, people want to know you but they cannot unless you open up at least the smallest part of yourself, you are blocking yourself from beneficial opportunities. To honor your inner child, you have to learn to be vulnerable and find the power in vulnerability. You are lovable, let people fucking love you. 

Sagittarius on 4th: I think it’s very cute how you joke yourself out of the pain that stems from your childhood but there is no progress in simply skimming over your trauma with jokes, why not analyze it? The planet Jupiter urges you to dive into what has occurred in the past as it wants you to build into your new expansive and optimistic future but can only do so if you stop fearing what has been. To honor your inner child you must welcome what is to come by dealing with the past by analyzing and embracing it. 

Capricorn on 4th: You have been old ever since you left the womb! You came out with responsibility and simply took it and kept running and running with it. You haven’t really ever taken a break, have you? It’s simply been go, go, go. So much so you missed out on your childhood completely! That sucks! However it is not too late to get your childhood back and I hope you know that. To honor your inner child, simply be a child. Whatever that looks like, go on a swing, eat ice cream at 10 a.m., dance in the rain! Give yourself that childhood pleasure. 

Aquarius on 4th: You were shamed out of being yourself for quite some time, forced to hide a part of you that yearns to shine, your eccentric and individualistic side that makes your own rules and follows them as well, and now have to find out how to navigate this part of yourself without overwhelming yourself with the possibilities of you are and who you can become. To honor your inner child, do what makes your heart happy. Im so serious, don’t think, just do, be impulsive! No more shame, only embracement. 

Pisces on 4th: You had such intense dreams early on, you dreamt of your future and your life and were forced to come back down to earth earlier than you like, yet your power is found in your subconscious, and to be stripped of that connection could have easily sent you down a dark path of unawareness when it comes to authentically knowing yourself. Now you have to search for something to fill the hole in your being. To honor your inner child, relax into your subconscious and find out what you ultimately desire from the life before you. Figure out what fills that hole.

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[prettyboykatsuki]

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

__

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,”  he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

__

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning  on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart  in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

__

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You  cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part.  Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid.  It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help.  You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day.  There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great.  At least for you.  It’s sluggish.  Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in.  Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle.  As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore.  Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate.  Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side.  There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally.  You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened.  You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it.  You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys.  They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up.  There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured.  They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso.  The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat,  his dark curls sticking to his forehead.  He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands.  You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet.  You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly.  You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving.  You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you.  You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching.  Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you.  After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip.  “Seriously.  That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring.  Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away.  You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now.  You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup.  Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself.  “We…”  Your voice sounds absolutely shredded.  “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you.  “But we are alive.  Hey.”  He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand.  “We’re alive, right?  Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative.  A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence.  You’re alive.  Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering.  Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back.  But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking.  Full of light, and hope.  It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death.  Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies.  Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife.  You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort.  For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that.  “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!”  You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?”  Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position.  Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them.  “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him.  “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with.  “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too.  These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?”  Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close.  Why is he so close to you?  You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space.  Since when did he have that effect on you?  You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in.  You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness.  Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though.  Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands.  Hey.  Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips.  “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under.  Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement.  You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though.  His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head.  Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else.  Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

*** 

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and.  Well.  Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him.  But like, fuck him.  You know.  In the negative sense of the word.  The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it.  Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here.  Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall.  You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today.  You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again.  So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him.  Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now.  You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots.  He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you.  What have you done to deserve this torture?  Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay?  No, you’ve decided.  It’s not okay.  He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him.  In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie.  Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues.  “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps.  “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly.  “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?”  You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite.  Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug.  “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question?  It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache.  Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in?  “Ever.  The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?”  You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit.  You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more.  Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is.  “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies.  “Maybe some Reds.  Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear.  Where are stress headaches localized?  Are those the ones right under your brow bone?  Because stars, you feel it.  “Fucking… why?  Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?”  Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you.  “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what?  No.  I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit.  This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that?  It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him.  The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you.  “Quit being so sensitive.  Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering.  You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset.  You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell.  But today was… a lot.  You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names.  These people aren’t your friends.  Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it?  You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle.  You almost died today.  You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit.  This is your squadron.  These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs.  You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that?  You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine.  How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you.  No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?”  You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy.  Ooh, you can already feel it burning.  It would be so fucking typical.  Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight.  How could he not know?  With as many friends as he has?  If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too.  You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it.  “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?”  Zhang turns his head.  “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No.  Yeah?  What?”  He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?”  Rossi confirms with a shrug.  “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right.  Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage.  You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel.  His pool is probably up soon, you figure.  That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today.  He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time.  Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—”  You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it.  Nobody has any fucking idea.  Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually…  “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—”  You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster.  Dameron had some… what?  “Wait.  Explain.  You’re saying he didn’t…”  You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together.  “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What?  No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated.  “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten?  He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…”  You blink, stunned.  “But… why?  Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs.  “Fuck if I know.  All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it.  Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t.  He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again.  You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today.  Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half… 

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here.  You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all.  You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.  

This is why he said that about Nine?  Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head.  Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today.  You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone.  Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow.  “What now?”  You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?”  You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder.  “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably.  “Well, uh.  We tried.”

“What?”  You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples.  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?  I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more.  “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing.  So we thought we’d buy you one instead.  Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air.  You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right.  Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar.  He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes.  The past… whole day.  Month and a half.  Or… fuck, how long have you known him?  Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours.  His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately.  You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on.  Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base.  You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here.  Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal.  Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around.  At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation.  You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly.  Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them.  Constant, never-ending.  Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe.  Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts.  You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance.  Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was.  Doesn’t matter now.  They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise.  It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary.  You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now.  But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms.  You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship.  You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized.  Spectacularly so.  Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary.  There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it.  Get each other.  He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly.  You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising.  Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive.  It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason…  You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you.  It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission.  How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.  

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name.  Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time.  The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him.  The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically.  Remembered, or at least asked the right person about.  But why?  It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit.  He’s notorious for not giving a shit.  He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours?  You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself.  He was… singing your praises today.  He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him.  As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier.  Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him.  Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you.  He… he defended you.  Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back.  And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you.  What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago?  He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier.  The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh.  This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck.  The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder.  Shower, you’re in the shower.  Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck.  As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard.  You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here.  Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it.  If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today.  Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it.  You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you.  You enjoyed the fuck out of it.  You wish he’d do it again.  Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer.  He was doing you a favor, you realize that now.  Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point.  He turns you on, you fucking admit it.  He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore.  Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition.  You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that.  Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it.  You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room.  A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise.  Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that.  You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.  

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight.  You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today.  Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing.  What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level.  It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition.  Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review.  He could’ve thrown… three games, even.  Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls.  The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers.  You’ll be able to cum, at least once.  It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think.  You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention.  He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze.  It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist.  He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements.  He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy.  Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been.  Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork.  Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you.  It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy.  He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop.  You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you.  He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open.  He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this.  He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there.  You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it.  Fuck.  This is torture.  Fuck him.  Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him.  Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum.  Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now.  Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change.  Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur.  Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months.  You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register.  Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight.  Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you.  You deserve this, you deserve some relief.  Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind.  You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open.  The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t.  You don’t have to give it fucking anything.  You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have?  Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower?  You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist.  And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck.  Was his hair wet?  Fuck, why can’t you remember?  His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much.  Post-shower, then.  Probably.  Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk.  You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started.  His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it.  The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point.  You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away.  Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor.  The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him.  A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way.  Still, what can you say?  Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him?  Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it.  Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you.  Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now.  Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed.  Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way.  You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it.  You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion.  He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more.  Fuck, are you positive that was an accident?  Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before.  You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form.  How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep?  Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what?  Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again?  Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move.  Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you.  Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support.  When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week.  Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight.  Nothing.  You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up.  Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut.  After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room.  However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams.  He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on.  The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines.  Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do.  He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one.  The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to.  Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it.  You never tell him the truth.  You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel.  He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight.  Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio.  The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind.  You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind.  I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next.  The silent promise that his actions allude to.  You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in.  Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth.  Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth.  You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought.  You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it.  A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine.  “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight.  Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too.  His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs.  You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit.  Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago.  Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers.  The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow.  Why is he going so fucking slow??  The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be.  You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him.  He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he?  So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation?  Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air.  You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk.  He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing.  His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins.  You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is.  Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you.  You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind.  Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult?  You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why.  Why did the fuck did you stop?  There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still.  It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it.  There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?”  Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly.  Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first?  Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic?  “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body.  The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.  

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards.  But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.  

Fuck him, bad way.  This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin.  It’s not a warning, it’s a threat.  If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you.  It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it.  “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again.  Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere.  Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all.  The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want.  As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy.  “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone.  Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen.  You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami.  You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment.  A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude.  Where’s the drop?  You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat.  It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There.  There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress.  It’s fucking mayhem.  You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it.  You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard.  Fucking hard.  It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow.  Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is.  Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other.  Stars, what did he do to you?  You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves.  Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago.  They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight.  Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance.  Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping.  This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now.  Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary.  He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now.  Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it.  He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck.  He was right.  You needed this.  Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it.  He’s not just pliant, he’s willing.  His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns.  Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it.  He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing.  Accommodating.  Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation.  You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again.  “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first.  “Mm.  Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing.  Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair.  Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it.  Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy.  You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive.  After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan.  He’s so… fucking hot.  Fuck.  He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side.  But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge.  The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself.  You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely.  Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself.  You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are.  Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip.  “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now.  Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm.  Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack.  “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What?  W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply.  Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart.  “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress.  And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body.  The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect.  Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works.  “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him.  By this point, you’re worrying again.  You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists.  If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand.  He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him.  Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t.  “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk.  You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain.  Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp.  It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just.  You need a hard reset.  You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again.  It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again.  The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine.  Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds.  “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly.  It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his.  Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself.  After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say.  You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now.  Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at.  He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think.  He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something.  How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do?  You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him.  Why can’t you figure out something?  You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent.  Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?”  Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking.  Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours.  “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried.  He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?”  He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time.  Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions.  “Well what do you want, baby?  You wanna just hang out?  That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want?  The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest.  “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?”  You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body.  “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears.  “You can—?”  Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious.  “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now.  “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right?  So why not?”  Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust.  “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated.  “You don’t get it.  You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet?  Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm.  He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip.  An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud.  “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?”  He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs.  “Just say fuck it all and race for last place?  Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself.  “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room.  “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh.  Well, to sum up.  May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it.  Okay, you get it.  He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it.  You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk.  Only now, you’re… humbled.  By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight.  It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it.  It’s big.  It fills his whole palm without much room to spare.  Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow.  Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his.  You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing.  The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right.  He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock.  He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it.  It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance.  “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct.  The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh.  Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening.  “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself.  You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it.  Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip.  “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point.  You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore.  He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression.  His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this.  You know then that it must be really fucking wet.  You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it.  You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you.  He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast.  From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative.  You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it.  It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts.  But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad?  It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right.  You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you.  But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off.  The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it.  You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up.  You underestimate his self control, time and time again.  But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you.  “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad.  You make me so mad.  I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you.  I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound.  The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity.  “Say it.  ‘You…’—what?  Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves.  Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.  

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more.  Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this.  Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious.  “Not tonight.  I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs.  His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.  

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl.  “Fuck.  Tight little baby.  Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit.  You already feel it.  You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire.  And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone.  “Can you feel it coming?  Fuck, I can,” he shudders.  “Already.  Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point.  Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back.  Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow.  You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit.  It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more.  “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift.  His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?”  Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration.  “Tell me.  You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed.  After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it.  You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again.  Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you.  And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle.  It’s tender.  It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.  

You handle it silently.  At first.  You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all.  Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides.  Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter.  Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice.  It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him.  Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one.  You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy.  You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose.  You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more.  Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome.  He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack.  He tastes like you.  He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you.  It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still.  But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours.  His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves.  Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time.  What is he doing?  What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace.  You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum.  He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you.  “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up.  He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him.  “Never… fuck.  Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet.  Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice.  You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels.  So intimate.  You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again.  Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again.  He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down.  Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him.  When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation.  You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need.  That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right?  Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe.  Fuck.  His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open.  Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller.  And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going.  He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you.  He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied.  Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock.  Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it.  Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating.  Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy.  Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while.  You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you.  Same speed, same control.  

Your eyes nearly fucking cross.  “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat.  He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this.  This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with.  Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you.  Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more.  Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you.  Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl.  Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you.  “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl.  “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…”  His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening.  “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging.  But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.  

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come.  You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore.  You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend.  But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?”  He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours,  “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?”  You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else.  Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?”  You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once.  All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away.  You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does.  It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant.  Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying?  You don’t know anymore.  Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope.  Not even close.

He ruins you slowly.  Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination.  Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words.  You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted.  He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed.  He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this.  If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you.  It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours.  But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver.  He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him.  He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum.  You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants.  “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you.  Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up.  You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack.  “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late.  He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

“Fuck me!”  You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole!  Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far.  He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm.  Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go.  His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars.  Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours.  Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?”  He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs.  “Huh?  Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything?  You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you?  Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t.  You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it.  You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open.  You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him.  But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore.  You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet.  You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it.  Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.  

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you.  He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him.  All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown.  You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief.  He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid.  It’s so fucking stupid.  You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound.  Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room.  And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times.  He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him.  He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty.  Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile.  That one is practiced and alluring.  It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy.  Amazed, and uncoordinated.  Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow.  It makes you feel… alive.  Colorful.  Radiant.  Sunshine.  Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time.  You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable.  Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance.  “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?”  You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest.  You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals.  “Oh.  Pfft.  You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades.  Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget.  You forget everything.  You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had.  It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration.  Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval.  No.  This is good, this is how you want to stay.  The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect.  “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze.  A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you.  Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out.  “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again.  Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it.  Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement.  “Gah—look what you did.  I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times.  “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs.  It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again.  The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason.  You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap.  Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again.  You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.  

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing.  Not saying anything.  Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker.  So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes.  You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is.  Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings.  You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it.  You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue.  But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo.  It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks.  Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier.  Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?”  Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters.  You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency.  After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what?  Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once.  You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you.  It seems appropriate.  And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap.  You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again.  Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips.  He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does.  The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun.  You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?”  You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it.  Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling.  He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

[quindolyn]

General Relationship Headcanons || Sirius Black

”Request: hi, love! i adore your new remus headcanon and i was wondering if you could write a general relationship headcanon with sirius black? if not, that’s completely fine. have a good day!

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m sorry this took me a little longer than I anticipated but I also went really over the top, it’s twice the length of my Remus Headcanon I just got really into it. I was once again inspired to write Dad!Marauders so maybe I’ll get around to that. I wanted to thank you all for such positive feedback on my Remus Headcanon. I hope you enjoy this. Also thank you anon, I love you.

Warnings: fluff, smut, a bit of angst, canon can go fuck itself, Sirius Black deserves to be happy, not proof read because I wrote most of this in one sitting and didn’t have the heart to go back and reread. The ending is a little choppy

Masterlist

Sirius Black was never shown enough love as a child

Even at age 11 you were able to pick that up, when you were dragged into a train car with four other first years. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black

He seemed nervous, he kept on looking out the window of the train car and fiddling with his fingers

James tries desperately to get everyone to talk, he feels likes he’s responsible for forging your guy’s friendship

Remus, Peter, he, and you hit it off immediately and you see Sirius smile at some of your jokes out of the corner of your eye but he’s nearly trembling

When you guys start talking about what houses you want to be sorted into he turns green

And when James says how he doesn’t want to be sorted into Slytherin he looks like he’s about to vomit

“Are you alright?” You ask him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder

He seems uncomfortable with the contact so you move your hand away

“I’m just a little nervous” He admits that he comes from a long line of Slytherins, you offer to hex James for saying that for him, but he lets out a quick laugh and tells you it's fine

He’s actually really worried that he’s going to be sorted into Slytherin whilst simultaneously being terrified about what would happen if he gets sorted into another house.

Ravenclaw could be one thing

Hufflepuff another

But Gryffindor, that just couldn’t happen

You don’t touch him this time because you saw how he reacted last time but you reassure him that it will all be fine and no matter which house he gets sorted into you’ll still be his friend, no matter what

That earns you a real smile

A smile that takes your breath away

And even though you’re too young to understand what you’re feeling that’s when you start to fall for him.

You hold your breath while he gets sorted

Like him you feel very conflicted, you’re glad he’s not in Slytherin because of what he shared with you about his family

But at the same time you’re afraid for him

You might’ve only known him for a couple of hours but you have an inexplicable attraction to him and the idea of him being so scared breaks your heart

If you’re a Gryffindor he sits next to you and the others but doesn’t really say much because he’s too busy trying to figure out what he’s going to do

If you’re in a different house then you send him a smile across the Great Hall and go to find him after the feast

“How are you doing Sirius?”

He brushes you off, tells you he’s fine but you can tell he’s not, you let it go though and decide to give him his space, telling him that if he ever needs to talk you’ll listen

The next day in the Great Hall he receives a Howler from his mother, telling him how much of a useless disappointment he is. He plays it cool like it doesn’t really bother him but you can tell that he’s hurt and it makes you unbelievably sad

Your first lesson that day is together and though you sit with one of your dorm mates and he sits with James, you watch him the entire time, you just can’t seem to pry your eyes off of him.

As the year goes on and he starts to come to terms with what his life is going to be like now, he starts to come more and more out of his shell

Answering questions in class, laughing boisterously with his friends during meals, hexing people in the corridors, pranking Slytherins for shits and giggles

But it’s almost as though he’s forgotten about you, he smiles at you when he sees you in the halls or in classes but he doesn’t actively seek you out like you wished he would.

And you’re too scared to because you told him that you would always be there if needed someone to talk to but he hasn’t come to you yet

So that obviously means that he doesn’t want to talk to you

And that’s fine

You’re not going to force a friendship

You still study with Remus in the library

And talk with James about his day when you bump into him

And help Peter if he’s having trouble in a class

But you and Sirius don’t seem to click the same as you do with the rest of them

This continues through your second year until about 5 weeks into your third year.

At this point he’s starting to physically mature a bit, not a lot, that doesn’t come for a few more years, but his shoulders get a little broader, he gets a little taller, his legs start growing hair.

Girls start paying him attention, and more attention than the harmless crushes from previous years

His blossoming looks paired with his wit and sarcasm have every single person in his grade and younger turning their head to take a second look

Sirius being the humble soul he is-

No I’m just fucking with you

Being the little shit that he is, all of this just goes to his head

And he becomes even more insufferable than he was

But you’ve never found him insufferable, not really

You just told yourself that because it was easier than confronting your feelings for him

One day he, James, Remus, and Peter pull a prank that ends up with you covered in quill ink while on your way to Herbology

You weren’t their intended target

You still spoke quite a bit with three of them

It really was just a prank gone awry

But it still sucked

You stalked back to your dorm abandoning your friends in the hallway, not making eye contact with any one as you passed by

Sirius noticed this

He couldn’t stop himself from watching as you jogged down the hallway

Head down

Trying to evade people’s gazes

He’d barely talked with you in 2 years but he was hit by a tremendous feeling of guilt

He hadn’t meant to upset you, he really hadn’t

So he told the others that he wouldn’t be attending History of Magic that day (what else is new?)

And instead took off for you down the hallway

Never mind your house, when you come back down into the common room after taking a shower there’s Sirius Black, lounging on a sofa like he owns the damned place, looking around the room, taking in every little detail if it's not his common room. If it is the Gryffindor common room then he’s staring up at the girl’s staircase, waiting for you to come down.

When you see him you blush

“Si-Sirius, what are you doing here?”

Immediately you become more aware of your appearance, fixing your hair and straightening out your skirt.

“I just wanted to apologize (Y/N) we didn’t mean for that prank to backfire onto you, we’d never do that to you, it was meant for Snivileus-”

“Severus”

“Yeah sure, whatever. What’s important is that you know that I didn’t mean for that to hurt you, I’m sure the other boys will apologize too I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry”

Does Sirius Black look… nervous?

“It’s fine Black, really I was just having a bad day.”

He doesn’t know why but your usage of his last name is like a knife to the chest, why wasn’t he just Sirius?

Then he remembered, because he’d barely spoken to you in the past 2 years

“I’d like to make it up to you though.”

You turn him down, telling him that that’s not necessary, you’re fine

But he’s not having it, so the next day when you sit down for breakfast you find yourself surrounded by not only Sirius but all of them

They’re acting like this is completely normal but you’re lost

What the hell are they doing?

“Making it up to you of course”

Suddenly they’re everywhere, he’s everywhere

The others were already friendly with you so its not as much of a difference

But all of a sudden Sirius Black is everywhere

Eating meals with you until you relent and come sit with him and the other Marauders at their spot at the Gryffindor table

Suddenly he’s hefting the bag off your shoulder and slinging it around his

The year seems to fly by with him at your side

Sneaking you guys food from the kitchens

They show you the invisibility cloak

Pitching the idea of the Marauders map

And all of a sudden it’s the end of your 3rd year and the care free, witty Sirius you’ve come to know over the past year had morphed into someone far more reminiscent of that scared little boy you first met on the Hogwarts Express

The night before the last day of the term you find yourself alone with Sirius in the Gryffindor common room

You ask him if he’s alright, the past few days he hasn’t been acting like himself

He doesn’t have the energy to try and lie to you anymore, he lets it all out, he tells you about all the backlash since he was sorted

He tells you about Regulus

And how they don’t even talk anymore, “I can’t talk to him (Y/N), I want to but if our mother knows that he associates with me then he’ll be punished, and punishments in the Black house aren’t getting grounded they’re, unforgivable”

You gasp at the implication and reach out to touch his shoulder, but then you’re thrown back to the train and remember how uncomfortable it seemed to make him

But it’s too late, by the time you realize your hand is already on his shoulder

You start to apologize and pull it back but his hand wraps around your wrist which brings your eyes to his

They’re brimming with tears

“Don’t leave”

You pull him into your arms, raking your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear

Explaining that you just didn’t want to make him uncomfortable

He tells you it's fine, he likes it when you touch him

You two sit there in silence until you think Sirius had calmed down

You tell him you’ll write to him every day

He tells you that you don’t have to do that

You still insist that you will

You two sit there for Godric knows how long but eventually you yawn and that alerts Sirius to how late it's gotten

Tells you he’s sorry that he’s kept you up so late

You tell him it’s fine, it was worth it to make sure he was okay

He blushes but its too dark for you to be able to tell

He walks you to the staircase even though it’s literally 5 feet away

“Good night Sirius”

“Good night (Y/N)”

The next day on the train back to King’s Cross you purposefully sit next to Sirius so you can keep a hand on his arm the entire time

It’s so subtle but doesn’t go unnoticed by the other Marauders

Though they decide not to mention it, he’s having a hard enough day as it is

You hate watching him trudge over to his parents when you arrive at the station, you and James exchange an understanding look.

You both care about him so much, watching him be this wretched physically hurts you

As soon as you get home you sit down and write him a letter

He told you that he probably wouldn’t be able to respond to most of your letter

And that’s fine, but every now and then you get one back

And your heart soars

You count down the days until September 1st, when you finally get to see him again

When you’ll know for certain that he’s okay

You nearly have a heart attack when you can’t find him on platform 9 ¾, but he was just already on the train with Remus and Peter, waiting for you and James to show up

As soon as you can you ask him how he is

He’s doing better than he usually is after an entire summer with Walburga and company

He thanks you profusely for the letters

You tell him not to sweat it

You’re just glad you could help

Once you know he’s okay you allow yourself to relax a little and that’s when you notice that he’s grown up quite a bit since June

His shoulders continue to broaden, his hair is longer, but he looks thin, too thin

And you want to hug him again, but you stop yourself

The sexual tension between the two of you 4th year is unbearable

And borderline uncomfortable

Poor Peter doesn’t know what to do with himself

You write to him again every single day over the winter holidays when he’s forced home to his wretched blood family

When you’re both back at Hogwarts things are even weirder than they were before

Sirius clams up every time you get near him and goes vermillion in the face

You’re sitting in the library the second Monday of the term when he approaches you

“What do you want, Sirius?” You ask without lifting your head

“You sound frustrated.”

“I am Sirius! You’ve been acting weird for a week and I’m sick of it. What do you want?”

He just sort of stands there looking at you, because he didn’t expect you to yell at him.

He’s not sure if he’s ever heard you raise your voice in his entire life.

“I should leave”

“Just tell me what it is Sirius!”

Everyone is looking at you

“This was a bad idea!”

“What is it!”

“I like you!”

This wasn’t how he imagined telling you how he felt about you

Yelling it in the library

Which a bunch of 2nd years gawking

“You what?”

He suggests you guys leave the library for somewhere more private

You agree, and he takes you down to a tree by the Black Lake

When he first told you he liked you in the library you couldn’t believe it, this boy, whom you’ve harbored a crush for for literal years, likes you too

And this isn’t just any boy, this is Sirius Black

And that’s when you remember, shit, this is Sirius Black

“This isn’t a prank or something is it?”

He starts denying it before you can even finish your sentence, it stings a little that you would think that but he understands why.

When you tell him that you return his feelings his his  face breaks out into a smile and he lifts you into his arms and spins you around

“Really?”

“Yes really, now put me down please”

He sets you down but he pulls you so close to his body you can almost feel his pulse thrumming through his body

He asks to kiss you and you let him

From that day forward Sirius always has an arm around your shoulders or around your waist

He likes to pull you into his side so he can whisper things into your ear

He likes it when you perch yourself a top his thigh when he sits down

He also likes you sitting in between his legs

And he likes to sit in between yours too so he can smooth his hands up and down your calves

As you get more comfortable with touching each other, he’ll like to slink down so that his head is right in between your thighs so he can just turn his head and kiss them

Having his hands on you reminds him that you’re there, and if you’re there with him then everything is going to be fine

He’s going to get through that History of Magic Lesson

He’s going to finish that Potions essay

One day James might finally stop talking about Evans

He’s not going to bite Snape’s head off

Everything is going to be just fine

He takes you on dates to the Black Lake, you guys like to sit on the dock and dip your toes in the water, especially when it's warm and sunny out

Sirius will slip off his shirt so he can tan a bit and you’ll set your head on his chest, with your toes brushing up against the water

By the time the two of you finally got together you’d already spent multiple nights in the Marauders dorm room

But you usually slept with Remus in his bed because his was the cleanest

But now that your Sirius’ he sleeps with your head tucked under his chin, your body pulled flush against his chest, his arms have an iron grip on you, you couldn’t get out of bed even if you wanted to.

Waking up with him when he’s had a nightmare and the two of you lie there, chests pressed together, fingers tangled with each other’s, whispering about whatever you can think of

When he can’t sleep he’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to the beating of your heart to calm him down

He loves to do this with your shirt off, not in a sexual way he’s just like a baby and skin to skin contact is good for him

It centers him

He really likes sneaking into the astronomy tower with you at night to look at the stars

You murmur into each other’s ears about everything ranging from the your purpose in the cosmos to the color you should paint your nails next, he always votes red and gold, no matter your house

Painting your nails the colors of your house in spite of him if you’re not in Gryffindor

He volunteers to paint your nails once and does them in red and gold

One year for his birthday you give him a bunch of old muggle magazines your parent/guardian sent you when you wrote requesting them

The two of you lay on your stomachs, elbows bent, legs tangling with each other in the air as you skim through them

You point out the different muggle contraptions and what they do and how to use them

When you get to a mechanic magazine you have to explain to an overly excited Sirius what a motorcycle is

He becomes absolutely enamored with them and begs you for more magazines and reading materials on them

For Christmas that year you get him a miniature motorcycle that you charm to fly around his dorm room.

If you’re on your house’s Quidditch team that idiot is there every single one of your games, decked head to toe in your house colors

He also frequents your practices bringing you water and food for when you’re done

Sirius can get pretty jealous

He’s always been insecure in himself so seeing other people get to friendly with you just hits all of his buttons

He never takes it out on you, because he knows how it feels to be the object of misplaced anger

Instead Sirius will come up behind you when you’re talking to them and loop him arms around your waist, pulling you close to him

Or if you’re sitting down he’ll put his hand on your thigh

He doesn’t go overboard, it's not like if you’re talking to someone he’s going to challenge them to a duel

He just needs everyone to know that you’re his

And he doesn’t share

Letting you do his makeup once after you begged him and now he’s the one who’ll beg you

“Please Princess”

He looks so hot in eyeliner

Like no one has the right to be that good looking

And the mother fucker knows he looks good

You and James plan extravagant gifts and parties for his birthday every year because no one on this planet loves Sirius Black more than the two of you and you’re dedicated to making up for so many lost years

You and Remus bake him a cake every year and he loves blowing out all of the candles, he insists their quantity matches his age, none of that cop out bull shit where its just candles in the shape of numbers

No

He wants to blow out all of them

Your first birthday together Sirius has no clue what to get you, because it’s not like previous years, you’re together now so this gift has to be special, it has to be perfect

He consults everyone he can think of

Lily

James

Remus

Your dorm mates

Hell, he even writes to your family asking what he should get you

In the end they all only make it worse because he has all of these wonderful ideas and can’t choose because what if he chooses wrong and you would have preferred something else instead

So he gets you everything he can think of

You told him 3 weeks ago how you wanted to try a new quill, he’s bought you 7 different types to try out

He can’t decide whether you’d be prettier in rubies, emeralds, or diamonds so he buys you each

You wish you could say that it lets up as years pass

And it does

But only slightly

When his parents kick him out of the house James floos you instantly, tells you its Sirius and that he’s going to be fine, but he needs you

When you get to the Potter’s he’s bloody and bruised and looks like Hell

You have to stop yourself from sobbing at the sight of him

No one gets to hurt Sirius that way

Absolutely no one

When he sees you he starts crying and opens his arms for you to come to him

You help bandage him up and wipe away the dried blood

Once he’s clean and in new clothes you take his face in your hands and press your foreheads together

“I love you Siri, I love you to the moon and back.”

That’s the first time either of you have said “I love you” to the other

He starts sobbing

You pull him into your arms with his head on your chest and you pet him hair, telling him how much you love him and that he’s safe, you’re never going to let anyone touch him ever again

James comes into his room that night, neither of you are asleep, Sirius is still crying only now silently and less violently into your top

Wordlessly James slips into Sirius’ bed on the other side of him and both of you hold him all night long, telling him that he’s safe and that he’s loved, and that he never has to see his mother ever again

That he has a family right there and neither of you will ever make him feel like this

You spend the rest of the summer at the Potter’s

You and James were already good friends but you spend the rest of the holidays bonding over your love and protectiveness of Sirius

Sometimes he jokes that his girlfriend is trying to steal his best friend, but he really doesn’t mind

He loves it actually

The love and protectiveness you feel for Sirius goes both ways

He will not hesitate to kick someone’s ass for you

He often forgets that he’s a wizard at these moments and throws a punch instead of a hex

Cleaning him up after he gets into a fight and scolding him for not thinking, a professor could’ve seen him, he could still get in trouble

When you graduate Hogwarts together the Potter’s come for both him and James

He cries when they congratulate him and tell him that they’re proud of him

Your family also tells him how proud they are of him and he hugs every single person there

You guys move in together, you live a 5 minute walk from James and Lily

He doesn’t wait 2 months before he’s proposing to you

You accept of course

Engagement sex

The man was virile when you were still at Hogwarts but when you first move in together he insists you christen every single room in the house

He loves to make you scream out his name as he overstimulates you

He’s not as hard of a dom as Remus but he’s meaner, he doesn’t just mock you

He degrades you (as long as you’re comfortable with it)

He calls you every dirty name in the book

He loves to put you in barely there lingerie and make you touch yourself as he watches

Will mock you while you do it

“What puppy, your fingers aren’t making you feel good enough? Course they’re not, you’re a desperate little thing aren’t you? Need my cock in order to stretch you, make you feel good. Look at how small your fingers are, how are they supposed to do anything?”

He loves to punish you

To the point where he’ll set expectations that are impossible for you to meet so he can punish you for them

You’re both very open with what you do and do not like and try experimenting a lot

He is so kinky

Loves to edge you and watch you squirm in his grasp

Won’t let you cum until you’ve begged long enough

He loves ruining your orgasms, especially as punishment after you’ve broken one of his rules, but sometimes he does it just to be mean

He has very talented fingers and can make you cum in a matter of minutes if he wants to

Loves eating out, your little whimpers and whines make him want to just destroy you

Enjoys watching your cunt clench around nothing

Will laugh at this and smack your clit

Gets you a collar that says “puppy” or “slut” on it

He’ll tug on it with his finger to get you to look at him

Back to the engagement sex, as soon as you say yes he is on you

You jerk him off onto your tits so he can see the ring on your finger while your hand is wrapped around his dick

Breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink

Especially when Harry is born

The minute he sees you holding little baby Harry in your arms he feels the overwhelming urge to take you there

When you get home that night he tells you how gorgeous you looked with Harry and how much he wants to have a little “pup” of his own

“Gonna fill my puppy with my pups”

Makes you lay with your ass in the air once he’s cum inside you to make sure none of it gets wasted

Will plug you full

“How’s that feel puppy? Good?”

He’s always been able to get you to subspace but now its like he barely has to try, loves calling you his good girl and telling you how well you did for him

You guys don’t get pregnant immediately, which Sirius does not take well

In his mind there’s absolutely no way that you’re the problem

It must be him

He sees his inability to impregnate you as his first failure as a father

Gets really sad

You tell him how much you love him and that this isn't him failing, it could very well be you who is making it difficult to conceive

You have very soft, passionate sex that night as you ride him

He runs his hands up and down your body as you tell him how good he’s making you feel

Maybe it was that night, perhaps it was a different one but a month and a half later the Healer at St. Mungos tells you you’re pregnant

He’s ecstatic

Sirius literally can’t stop smiling

Not that he wants to

But his face almost hurts from how much he’s grinning

Sirius is the best person to have with your when you’re pregnant

He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need

He’ll try out all your weird pregnancy cravings with you

Especially if you’re feeling a little shy about asking for weird combinations

He loves kissing your belly

He’ll sing French lullabies to it as he moves his hands in circles on your skin

Man never slows down as you progress through your pregnancy, watching you swell just makes him fuck you harder

At first the prospect of decorating a whole room for an infant seems mundane to him

But as soon as you and Lily are pulling out the paint swatches and wallpaper samples he gets so excited and loves helping out

He has to have James and Remus come over to help him put together the crib, he just can’t do it

When he learns he gets to buy clothes for his kid he’s so excited

He and James spend hours going through baby clothes and like with everything Sirius has a very strong opinion about this too

“No Prongs, I’m not putting my child in that, I actually like them”

When the Healer tells you you’re having twins he loses his mind

He’s so excited

Twice the clothes to buy

Twice the toys

Twice the cribs and diapers

He’s thrilled

When the baby comes he doesn’t let himself freak out because this isn’t about him

It’s about you and your baby

He holds your hand the entire time and lets you squeeze however hard you’d like to

Kisses your knuckles and tells you how good of a job you’re doing

You’re in labor for 15 hours

And it nearly kills him

Seeing you in so much pain makes him physically unwell

He wishes he could take away all of your pain for you

But he can’t, so he does what he can

Feeding you ice chips

Massaging your back

He read somewhere that orgasming can help speed along labor

So he does what he does best and makes you cum a few times on his fingers

It's possible that that’s what actually worked

It could’ve also been something entirely different, but he will claim it was making you cum, that finally worked

Your son is born first, and as much as Sirius would’ve been happy with whatever sex, his heart swells with pride to know that he just produced the first half-blood heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black

Next is your little girl

He cries when he sees her

She’s so beautiful, and looks just like you

The two of you sit there kissing and doting on your children for hours until you eventually pass out because you just pushed two humans out of your body

Fast forwarding a bit, the first time his daughter, who has him wrapped around her finger, calls him “Dada” his heart swells and he looks over at you but you’re already staring at him, tears in your eyes you whisper to him

“You’re doing a good job”

tagging: @randomoutsiders​

[uwuwriting]

Affectionate moments with the Todorokis

Request: Can I get some Todoroki fluff and when I say todoroki I mean all of the todoroki children thank you very much- anonymous

Okay now we can proudly call Dabi a Todoroki. The waiting is over, we’ve won this war ladies and gentlemen. I need some soft Dabi right now so I’m happy to oblige. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: fluff, maybe some angst if you squint

Dabi/ Touya Todoroki 

-He isn’t the most affectionate person both in private and out in public. 

-The maximum effort he will put while out in public might be just a hand on your lower back to ground you when things are kinda spiraling out of control. 

-But apart from that nothing. 

-Now when you were just fuck buddies he couldn’t care less about affection.

-He was just here to have some fun and then he was out the door. 

-But when things change drastically between the two of you and he realizes that he really can’t stand the idea of losing you, his demeanor changed. 

-He had come to see how important you were and how dependent he had become of your presence. 

-Boy really couldn’t function without you around. 

-So he changed his antics around you. 

-He no longer left after your shared nights and he would even go as far as to hold you or help you clean up. 

-You thought that that was the most you were going to get from him, that he had nothing else to give apart from those moments of affection. 

-You were wrong though. 

-After a rather hard mission he would come and cuddle you  out of nowhere. 

-He would bury his face in your neck as his torso lay between your legs while you gently stroked his hair. 

-It would help him fall asleep most of the time but on the rare occasion he could manage to stay awake he would talk to you. 

-Those conversations weren’t of any value; it was dumb stuff that came to mind and he just felt like sharing. 

-Then after one too many close calls he would begin to tell you your importance. 

-After witnessing you almost getting killed time and time again, making his heart almost come out of his mouth every time you nearly dodged an attack he couldn’t hold back. 

-He would pepper you with kisses as he would flip you over so you were on top of him, your head tucked into his neck while his rough cheeks would rub on your plush ones. 

-It always hit him hard when he couldn’t protect you. 

-He wasn’t *that* stupid, he knew his job wasn’t to protect you and that you could handle yourself better than anyone in that dumpster fire of a league but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. 

-Those shared moments of pure domesticity and normality between the both of you made it hard for him to deny that he was indeed falling in love. 

-And he hated it because he knew that at some point, when push comes to shove, he would have to choose between you and his goal. 

-And he wasn’t so sure what he would decide to follow. 

-When you broke the news to him that you were expecting, around the time Shiggy was putting his grand plan into action, he knew what he would choose in an instant. 

-But you wouldn’t budge; you knew what his dreams meant to him and you wouldn’t let him throw it all away for you. 

-He could have this new life after the battle, after the dust had settled and all had been revealed. 

-So, with a camera in hand, you helped him make the masterpiece that would show the world who Endeavor really was. 

-And you couldn’t be prouder of your lover. 

Fuyumi Todoroki

-Ahhh soft girl hours. 

-Okay now Fuyumi is the type of person to go all out for their significant other. 

-So PDA is on the table even if it makes her a little uncomfortable at times. 

-She’s kind of a people pleaser so as long as you are happy she is happy no matter how uncomfortable she might feel at the moment. 

-But like the great girlfriend that you are, and because you would kill for her, you push her to tell you what she really thinks about certain situations.

-And the moment she tells you that PDA is kinda meh, you yeet yourself away from her. 

-Holding hands wherever you are is a must, a request or rather a demand made from the queen herself. 

-She just likes feeling you next to her and what better way than holding your hand? 

-Apart from that demand of hers she never ever asks for anything else in that department. 

-Like girly believes that you have to earn your love and others won’t just give it to you. 

-That you need to prove yourself as useful so you can get affection. 

-An effort-reward dynamic. 

-And you can safely assume that we can’t have that here. 

-THIS IS A LOVE INFESTED HOUSEHOLD GET YOUR ASS HERE AND TAKE SOME OF MY LOVE.

-When you ask her to move in with you, she sees that as her opportunity to shine, to show you that ‘oh I’m not useless’. 

-Baby will try doing all the house work and such. 

-You legit have to call her to cuddle. 

-You’ll be working on your laptop, sprawled on the couch when you see your girlfriend just mopping. 

- “Fuyu come here.” 

- “But I still have to-” 

- “Forget about that, you’ve done enough I just want to hold you.” 

-She just flushes bright red before putting the mop away and moving to settle in your lap.

 -Her head is on your shoulder while she plays softly with your hair, her legs stretching across the coach as you continue to type mindlessly on your computer. 

-You give her the occasional forehead kisses while she nuzzles your cheek. 

-Last we have chaotic girlfriend hours when she’ll straight up straddle you and start doing your makeup. 

-You both burst out laughing every five minutes because you get overwhelmed due to the fact that she’s a) straddling you and b) she’s too close to your face and you can’t help but want to kiss her. 

-I want a girlfriend…..

Natsuo Todoroki 

-College boyyyyy.

-He is in general a neutral person. 

-I mean he will give you a kiss on the cheek while he is leaving for his class but he won’t full out make out with you in front of others. 

-So things are pretty chill between you two. 

-He has almost the same mindset as Fuyumi so at first he would try to prove himself to you so he would be worth your love but once you caught on you smothered him. 

-Now baby loves his kisses. 

-He needs them to function okay?

-Every morning he will wake up and if you have slept over he will wake you up with nuzzling his nose in your neck and softly tracing shapes on your stomach.

-Then after his kiss good morning and his first I love you of the day he is ready to go. 

-If however you are in your dorm/apartment, he will sulk until he sees you. 

-He has that puppy love. 

-Natsuo suffers from trauma from his family. 

-It’s common knowledge. 

-He hates looking weak, especially in front of you, so whenever he has a fight with his father or Touyas’ anniversary rolls around he tends to become distant.

-Try as you might, you can never truly get him to speak to you about those issues and let you help you. 

-You weren’t part of his childhood, you don’t know what it was like but you can try to make him feel better. 

-In reality you were ready to devote your every waking minute to him if he let you. 

-But that Todoroki pride gets in the way and he doesn’t let you see him like that.

-Until the villain attack when his father saved him. 

-Endeavor looked so genuine when he talked to him and all he did was scream at him. 

-Was he too cruel? 

-So he made his way to your apartment and without missing a beat he attached himself to you and finally, finally, letting himself be vulnerable. 

-After his break down you started to rock back and forth before turning on your stereo and putting on a slow song. 

-Taking his hand you started dancing in the middle of your living room, Natsuos’ arm wrapped around your waist bringing you flush to his chest as his head stayed buried in your hair. 

-You would hum the tune as you moved around. 

-This became somewhat of a ritual whenever things got bad inside his head. 

-You would just put on that song and calm him down. 

-And that was the best thing someone has ever done for him. 

Shouto Todoroki 

-Ah poor baby.

-He is touch starved like very touch starved. 

-My mans is out there longing for someone to tell him it's okay since the age of five. 

-Anyways. 

-He really doesn’t know how to communicate his needs though so you’ll have to figure out on your own what he wants. 

-He might recoil at first but don’t be disheartened. 

-Baby has been abused ever since he was born so of course he will be reluctant to let anyone touch him. 

-Subtle things are the go to at first. 

-Linking your pinkies under the table or maybe sitting closer to  each other.

-Kisses are rare and far apart but they exist. 

-Now things change after some time. 

-Depending on his relationship with his parents that is. 

-When his dad starts to try and redeem himself and he wants to be an active part of his sons’ life *GET THE FUCK AWAY BITCH*, Shouto is really conflicted. 

-Especially when he doesn’t get his hero license on the first try. 

-So that’s when his touch starved side comes into the light. 

-He’s stressed out of his mind and he needs comfort but of course he doesn’t know how to convey that to others. 

-You pick up on it and start giving subtle reassuring touches. 

-Squeezing his hand when you notice him spacing out. 

-Giving him a quick hug before he enters class in the mornings. 

-And as time goes by you peck him on the cheek before he leaves. 

-He becomes addicted and soon enough he’s initiating things on his own, giving YOU kisses each morning and coming to your dorm for “study” dates turned to cuddle sessions. 

-You guys have a ritual for whenever things get extremely bad; when he can’t seem to stop flinching away from sudden movement, when he can’t recall anything about his older brother or when Endeavor says something again about his friends/you. 

-He will come to your room with a pillow and some snacks if he remembers them. 

-You’ll put on a movie and he’ll just sit in between your legs, his head tucked under your chin as you run your fingers through the soft strands. 

-He might break down, he might not, it depends each time. 

-But he knows that this time he doesn’t have to face anything alone, that he is loved and cherished and that you’ll be there to pick him up when everything seems meaningless. 

TAG TEAM AY:

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