#y’all…if you over 30 go ahead and just put that leg down

[westonsims00]

IT’S MY BIRTHDAY TODAY

🎂

And I had a whole, cute post planned out and everything…

But I threw my back out and will not be updating for a while. 😭😭

Celebrating from my bed as I lather my whole body in Icy Hot and contemplate the whore activity that put me in this position…

[spicerackofblorbos]

-> link to event info and masterlist

Stargazing - The Neighbourhood Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x afab!Reader

Push until it pops, tryna clear my thoughts Better keep the ac on for me, not enough. Windows start to fog, clothin' coming off Making it too hot, you got me thinking Pull it out of park, put it in drive I can feel your heart beatin’ with mine. Underneath the stars, lookin' for a sign Glowin' in the dark til the sun shines.

☾ content/warnings ➼ Death Island Leon, smut (MDNI), car sex, semi-public sex, afab!reader, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bbys), use of baby as pet name, slightly dominant Leon ☾ wc ➼ ~1.9k (it's not favoritism I swear! (lies))

The night had started off as pure as it could be given the circumstances of where y’all were. Leon had swung by around 8PM, picking you up in his old mustang that he put back together over a whole summer last year. For tonight’s date, he was taking you to the drive-in movies where they were showing the newest action movie of the season. He was adorable when he suggested it, how could you say no?

Leon wanted to get a spot in the back. He said it was because the screen was so large that it was better from that distance, and that happens to be a good thing. Because, fifteen minutes into the movie, you feel his large, calloused palm sliding up and down the inner side of your thigh.

“Leon, what are you doing?” You ask, resting your elbow on the open window with your head propped up. Your head turns in his direction to see him feigning focus on the film ahead. The faint sounds of shooting guns and screams weave through the air from the speakers and radios in people’s cars.

“Just making sure you’re still with me.” He leans his head back on the headrest, lolling to the side to face you with a lopsided grin.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re being a little too frisky in a very public place.” You raise an eyebrow at him. Despite your words, you can’t squash the arousal of the idea of being taken right here.

“And if I was?” His hand reaches up to gently grab your chin, forcing you to face him.

“Leon!” You hiss, your eyes searching for any semblance of a joke.

While there are hints of humor in his baby blues, there’s not a single trace of jest.

“You can back out, you know. But something tells me you won’t.” He taunts, leaning forward to slowly capture your lips in his, warm and gentle. His stubble pokes into your face as you can’t help but to melt into his touch. You can feel him smiling against your lips at yet another triumph.

“Shaddup.” You say before placing both hands on Leon’s face, holding him closer. The sounds of shifting can be heard as you and Leon face each other in your respective seats, lip-locked with each other.

After what seems like an hour, you both pull apart, a trail of saliva connecting you both before splitting in the middle.

“Mr. Kennedy, you are trouble.” You whisper.

Leon can’t focus on anything other than the throbbing in his pants and the look of your swollen lips and starry eyes.

“That’s what I’m told.” He smirks before turning on the AC and rolling up his tinted windows. Like a child, he smiles mischievously before locking the doors and turning around to wiggle into the backseat over the center console. It’s not graceful by any means, and you can’t help but laugh at the silly visual of his ass in the air as he tries not to hurt himself.

“Careful, old man.” You say lovingly.

Eventually, he makes it to the backseat, sitting in the middle and facing you. With a smirk, he pats his spread legs, asking an unspoken question.

Are you going to join me?

With a big eye roll and a sigh, you comply. You’re a little more graceful as you make your way back just like he did, giggling as you do. It’s almost as if you were both back in high school, 30’s be damned.

When you make it back there, before you move anywhere else, Leon grabs you by the hips and sits you down on his lap, now you’re facing him with your plush chest straight into his face. From this position, you can feel just how aroused he is for you.

“You didn’t bring me out here just to fuck me, did you?” You tease, pulling back to look down at your boyfriend.

“No, but it’s a bonus. We’ll just rent the movie later.” He smiles up at you before pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your face down to his to capture your lips in his again, this one heated.

While he nips at your bottom lip, he slides his hands under your shirt to feel the curves of your waist and up to your chest. One hand slides to the small of your back, the other tugs down one of your bra cups before enveloping your soft breast in his large hand, his fingers squeezing it as if it were made of memory foam. Slowly, he trails kisses down your jaw and to your neck, licking at your sensitive skin before sucking on it gently. The multiple areas of attack rewards Leon with a few of your soft moans.

Unconsciously, you start rolling your hips, your now soaked heat rubbing against Leon’s very obvious reaction to you. A hiss escapes between his teeth at that. Your hands tug up his shirt, him getting the hint right away. Awkwardly, he grabs the hem of the thin clothing, pulling it over his head before throwing it into the driver’s seat.

“Your turn.” Leon growls, grabbing the hem of your shirt and practically ripping it off you. He doesn’t stop there, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and letting the material slide off your arms and onto the carpeted floor of the car.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He leans forward to capture your hardened nipple in his teeth gently, flicking his tongue out at it before enveloping your breast into his hot mouth. After a few seconds, Leon let’s go with a ‘pop’ before looking up at you. “So fucking perfect, you know that?” He sticks his tongue out and trails it over to your other breast, doing the same as he did with the other one. His hands slide down your sides and hips before resting on your ass, fingers squeezing hard as he leaves gentle bite marks on your soft skin.

“Want you…” You pant out, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Want more of you.” You breathe out. Your hands at this point had slid up into Leon’s brunette hair, tangling your fingers in his soft locks as you lean down, pressing your chest up against his while you meet his lips again, pouring every ounce of love and obsession you have for this man.

While he parts your mouth with his tongue, allowing it to explore, he lifts your ass up until you’re on your knees. Quickly he finds the buttons to your shorts, undoing them as well as the zipper with deft fingers. You break away to help him, awkwardly wiggling out of them and your underwear and discarding them on the floor to keep your bra company.

Leon can’t help it, he cups your heat with his large palm before sliding it up, letting his fingers gather a bit of your arousal that you’ve been leaking this whole time. He brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks on them while staring at you. “And so fucking delicious.” He continues from his previous statements.

While you were on your knees, he took no time to unbuckle and unbutton his jeans, lifting his hips up to tug them down with his boxers until his large cock springs free, his tip angry red and glistening with pre-cum.

“Ride me, baby. Show me how much I mean to you.” Leon demands, his hands sitting on your hips and squeezing.

Gently, he guides you to where you’re hovering over his length, his tip teasing your entrance. With a bite of your bottom lip, you lower down, taking him slowly until you’re at his hilt as you moan softly. You don’t move, taking the time to adjust to his size. Leon leans forward again, giving you a bruising kiss, sliding one of his hands up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts, and up and around your neck as he holds you there.

Together, you both start moving. His hand on your hip helps guide you up and down while you use your knees as leverage, rocking into him. Soon enough, the car is filled with harmonious moans and the quiet slapping of skin. Even with the AC on, the car feels hot. The windows start to fog with every heavy breath from the two of you.

Leon’s lips make their way back to your neck, nipping and sucking, no doubt leaving a mark for you to see in the morning.

Good, he thinks. You’re his, everyone needs to know that.

Both large hands find purchase on your ass again, his fingers squeezing tight as he helps you slam down on him more.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Taking me so well.” Leon groans, his toes curling from the tightness of your heat, so warm and so familiar to him.

“L-Leon..” You whimper, leaning forward as you wrap your arms around Leon’s neck, holding him close and tangling your fingers in his hair again. From this position, his body provides much needed friction against your sensitive clit that you can feel your impending climax coming sooner than later. “I’m gonna-” Your moan cuts off from Leon grabbing your hair and pulling you down into a heated kiss.

“Cum for me.” He demands against your lips, capturing your bottom lip in his and sucking. He reaches down with a hand and uses his thumb to circle your sensitive bud, helping you along.

Leon can tell by the clenching of your walls that you’re just a moment from coming undone, so he presses his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as you convulse on top of him. Your nails dig into Leon’s scalp as you ride your orgasm, the bliss so strong that you can see stars behind your eyelids.

“Fu-uck” Leon groans as he continues to rut into you, chasing his high from the feeling of your clenching walls and the sounds of your moans. With one more thrust up into you, he stills as he shoots thick white ropes into you, his head thrown back on the seat rest as he whines out your name.

There’s a moment of silence between you two, the only noises heard are the heavy pants shared between you both as well as the muffled words and sound effects from the movie still playing on the big screen.

You slump over, resting your head on Leon’s shoulder as you feel his now softening cock twitch inside you. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, placing a soft kiss on your sweaty temple.

“Do you even know what movie we went to go see?” You ask finally, breathing now back to normal, but you still don’t move off him.

“Absolutely not.” Leon chuckles, kissing your forehead this time. “We can just go to my place and watch a movie there.”

You sit up and stare at him incredulously. He only stares back with a raised eyebrow.

“Are we actually watching it or are you going to run your hands up my thighs again?”

“Only one way to find out.” He gives you another lopsided grin. 

[shinycupcakebaker]

Holding me tight

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’Floyd x single mom reader

Summary: Bob surprises you for a late Valentine’s Day celebration. Inspired by the song Bubbly by Colbie Caillat.

Content warnings: fluffiness, surprises, ‘cliff hanger’ ending

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: This is my contribution to @ohtobeleah Galentine’s Day Special. I hope that y’all enjoy it. 😊

You sat in the hospital lab, your leg nervously bouncing as the nurse drew your blood. You glanced at your watch as she withdrew the needle from your arm and placed a cotton ball over the area. You pulled your arm up and held it in place as she placed a piece of tape over the cotton. You stood quickly, “Thank you Chloe. Can you have the results texted or emailed to me? I have to pick up Myka from school.”

She nodded and you quickly headed out to your car. You called the school from the car, letting them know that you were running late but on your way. 20 minutes later, you were pulling up to the school. Parking and hopping out of the car, you headed into the school to sign her out.

“Sorry,” you signed. “An emergency came in and I had some bloodwork drawn.”

“You okay, Dr. L/N?” The secretary, Mrs. Greene signed.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just been a bit tired lately. And I had that stomach bug that was going around.”

Mrs. Greene nodded and sighed. “It’s been going thru school like a wildfire. Here she is.”

You turned and saw Myka walking to the front office with her teacher. You smiled as she ran to you, hugging her tightly.

“Hey Myks, you ready? You do you say about pizza for dinner? And we can watch a movie as we eat.”

Myka nodded excitedly and waved good bye to her teacher and Mrs. Greene. You thanked her teacher and headed out to the car, hand in hand.

Myka excitedly told you about her day at school. That there was a new student in her class that was assigned to the desk next to hers. And that they were starting the times tables in Math class. Before long you were pulling into the driveway of your modest 2 bedroom home.

Entering the house, you had Myka put her lunch bag in the kitchen and change out of her uniform before starting her homework at the kitchen table.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.” You had told Myka before making sure the front door was locked and headed upstairs. Walking into your bedroom, smiling softly at the base of peach colored tulips that sat at your bedside. Bob had them sent to you at the hospital for Valentine’s Day.

You and Bob had been doing the long distance thing since you had met at the Naval Ball in October. You had to figure out a way to thank Rooster for asking you to be his ‘date’.

Whenever you talked to Bob or even thought of him, this feeling came over you. It was like tingles combined with butterflies. It started in your toes and worked its way up your body. Your cheeks would flush pick whenever he looked at you with that shy knowing smile. Everyone seemed to think that he was this shy guy that had no game but oh boy, they all were dead wrong. That man had swept you off your feet. He was always 2 steps ahead, carefully observing everything and taking it all in.

He and Rooster had come out to visit for Christmas and he surprised you by learning ASL for Myka. She was so excited and you were beyond touched. Usually when guys found out that you had a daughter, and that she was hearing impaired, they headed for the door. Not Bob. He wanted to know all about her. What she liked. What her favorite color was. He warmed your heart by wanting to get to know her.

You headed back downstairs, sitting down next to Myka and looked over her homework with her. She was working on her times tables with you placed started to place the order for pizza.

“Myks, plain cheese or pepperoni?”

“Pepperoni please.” She smiled and went back to her homework.

You ordered a small pepperoni and a large veggie, no mushrooms with bacon and extra black olives.

“About 30 minutes. What movie did you want to watch?”

She thought for a minute, smiling. “Can we watch The Marvels?”

You nodded and kissed the top of her head as you stood up. “Of course.”

Standing at the sink, you emptied her lunch bag, washing out the plastic containers and the inside of the bag. You started making up her lunch for the next day when the doorbell rang. It hadn’t yet been 30 minutes. Glancing out the window, seeing it had started to rain and frowned.

“Myks, can you see if it’s the pizza?” You dried off your hands and went to grab your wallet for a tip.

“Momma!!! It’s for you!!” Myka came running back to the kitchen with a huge grin. You looked at her strangely and headed out to the front door. Opening the door, gasping loudly as Bob stood in front of you with a large bouquet of roses and tulips.

“Bob!!” You pulled him inside, out of the rain, and threw your arms around his neck. “What are you doing here?”

He pulled you in close, kissing you. “Well, surprise. You said you work Valentine’s Day but you managed to get the early shift today and you were off tomorrow, so I wanted to come out to see you and Myka.”

You sighed softly , laying your head on his chest. “You are amazing, Bob. You know that, right?”

He smiled, looking down at you, and kissed the top of your head. “You’ve told me once or twice.”

Myka ran over, grabbing Bob hand and pulled him towards the living room. “Come on Bob! We’re gonna have pizza and watch a movie.”

He followed behind Myka as she tugged him. “That sounds like fun. What movie are you ladies watching?”

Myka giggled. “The Marvels.”

“I haven’t seen that one yet.” Bob smiled. “Myka, I have something I wanted to ask you. Would you be my Valentine?

She turned her attention to Bob as he revealed a small bouquet of 2 pink roses and 2 pink tulips held by a stuffed bear. She smiled brightly, nodding as she hugged him and took the bouquet from him.

Your heart melted and that warm and fuzzy tingly feeling came over you again. Seeing the two of them interact was something that you had worried about. You hadn’t really dated since Myka’s father had passed and you weren’t sure how she would react to you ‘dating’. But she warmed to Bob instantly and he made sure that she was involved in everything. Myka ran over to you, beaming. “Bob got me flowers Momma!”

“He did? They are beautiful Myks. Let’s put them in some water and we can put them in your room when you head to bed.” You took her hand and led her to the kitchen, looking for a vase. Cutting off the ends and put the flowers in water, the doorbell rang again. Smiling and booping Myka’s nose, “I bet that’s the pizza now.”

Setting the flowers on the counter, you turn and see Bob with the pizzas in hand. He walks to the kitchen, smiling and set them on the counter. “He said they were already paid for, so I gave him a tip.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You turned, grabbing some paper plates and napkins from the cupboard. “But thank you. Myka, how many slices do you want?”

“Two, please.” She called from the living room. You placed 2 pieces on a plate and opened your pizza box when the smell of bacon and onion combined hit you and you scrambled for the bathroom.

Bob watched as you ran down the hallway, glancing over at Myka. “Momma’s been sick a lot lately.”

He raised his eyebrows, jogging down the hallway as he heard you getting sick. Knocking softly on the door, “Y/N, you okay?”

You quickly rinsed out your mouth and opened the door, nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay Bob.” You placed a hand on his cheek, smiling up at him.

“Myka said you’ve been getting sick a lot.” Bob looked concerned, taking your hand in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

There was the feeling again. You crinkled your nose and nodded. “A couple of weeks ago, a bunch of us from the hospital got food poisoning from the diner across the street from the ER. And last week, the stomach bug was running thru the ER and Myka’s school. I’m really okay.”

“Okay. Myka has the movie ready to go.” Bob nodded and kissed your forehead before leading you out to the living room. You sat down on the couch with him, leaning into his chest as he pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, his fingers trailing gently up and down your arm as the movie started.

Smiling as the warmth enveloped you, your head tucked under Bob’s chin. As your head laid on his chest, his steady breathing and heartbeat relaxed you. You could imagine staying like this forever, wrapped in his arms. You shifted slightly as your phone chimed with an alert. Pulling your phone from your pocket, the alert was from your MyChart app with your test results. Opening the app quickly, seeing the results, mumbling, “Oh shit….”

[cumxxslutt]

Hotel Hallway

Fem/Black Reader

Warnings: swearing, daddy kink (sexual and non sexual),squirting,use of the word “nigga”, public sex,slight jimmy x reader if you squint, Smut, No use of “y/n”, probably some mistakes and yea

(I just want y’all happy, so I decided to post this my loves, also I never got to write a going away fic lol) .

-

“Please” I beg clawing at his shirt, “No, now come on girl” he say dragging me back to the hotel room we were staying in, “please daddy, I want it real bad” I whine sticking my head in his neck, “if I give it to you, will you stop begging” he question me, “Yes daddy, ‘m promise” I quickly shake my head and lifting it up from his neck

-

Waiting for the elevator to come I start to get impatient, my hands trailing from his waist to his dick, I start to palm him, “Stop and wait” He says grabbing onto my wrist

Letting out a grumble I do as I’m told, but that doesn’t make me any less horny

-

Stepping in the elevator, I press the button ‘30’ as we wait, it’s a high as elevator, that shit go all the way up to 36

Feeling frustrated I start to pull his jeans down, “girl what the hell you doing” he mumble looking down at me as I start to get on my knees, “nothing daddy” I mumble with a small smile, pulling his dick I start to kiss up his dick, spitting on his tip, I stick it in my mouth

“Damn girl” he mumble throwing his head back, mumbling out a small “fuck” he grabs me but my hair,

‘Bitch better be lucky I got my real hair out today’ I think before reaching my hand down and playing with his balls, I look up to see this mf stomach caving in like a damn Caprisun, “mhm” I mumble around his dick, making his eyes roll back, soon after feeling his nut down my throat

-

Hearing the elevator ding, I get off my knees and begin to walk out, as soon as I step out the elevator, I get pushed into a wall, looking forward I see Jey, jeans still at his ankles, “what you doing ba-“ before I can finish I feel my shorts being pull down, and my underwear right along with them

-

Licking his fingers and rubbing them over my clit, I moan at the feeling, his hand coming back up and he hold me up with one hand, and uses the other to push his dick in me, feeling him slowly push into me I let out a small whimper

“fuck, go ahead daddy” as soon as I said that I felt him push into me

-

“Oh fuck” I moan out as he fucked in the deserted hallway, “Mhm, fuck daddy, right there” I say as I pull his head up and staring into his eyes and he fucks my brains out, “fuck, you like that don’t you” he says still looking me in the eyes

“Yes daddy, t-that feels so g-good” I say before letting out the most porn-graphic moan ever, “shh mama, you don’t won’t everybody hearing you” he say kissing my neck, “I don’t care daddy, I just want it so bad, please go faster” I say feeling tears swell up in my eyes from how good I feel

Hearing that he started pounding the fuck out of me, “oh fuck” I moan out throwing my head back, sounding like a damn slut, reaching his hand down and using his thumb to rub my nub, “oh yes daddy” I moan out throwing my back, “that feel good mama” he say, I nodded my head

“Yea, it do, don’t it” he questions nodding his head as he do, “feels so fucking good” Feeling this nigga in my fucking stomach,

“Look bae” I mumble with a small giggle, I grab one of his hands that was holding up my left leg leg, I was about to fall but he quickly took arm and put it under me, now holding both of my legs up with his arm

“You feel that papa” I say putting his hand on his dick, that print was at the lower half of my stomach, slowly feeling my orgasm approaching I scream out, “I’m cum-fuck, I’m cumming” I cry out,

Rubbing my clit fast, I feel my toes curl and my eyes roll back, feeling my body tighten and I felt so damn hot, And then I came

But not only that I squirted, “oh fuck!” I scream as he let me ride out my orgasm

-

Dropping my head in his neck, I let out a breath, after a minute of enjoying each other, and enjoying the moment, he slides out of me, as I let out a whimper, pulling my shorts back up and pulling his jeans back up, he goes to set me down but as soon as I reach the ground I quickly fall onto it, he lets out a laugh as my butt hit the carpet floor, “it’s not funny papa, now help me” I say with my hands reaching up at him

-

As he goes to pick me up, we hear the ‘ding’ from the elevator, snapping our heads towards the sound, seeing the boys coming out the elevator loud as hell, as they walking, they stop looking at me and Jey

“What y’all been doing” Jimmy ask with a smirk on his face, “Nothing” I say sticking my head in Jeys neck, since he finally picked me up, “ouu, y’all was fucking” he say pointing fingers at us, “Bro shut up” Jey say mugging him, Laughter following after that

-

We were all chilling in Romans hotel room, My feet on jimmy’s legs and my head on solos shoulder, “so when you finna let me fuck” Jimmy said still massaging my feet, I lifted up one of my legs and kicked him with my foot, he laughed at me as I smushed his head, but we all stopped what we was doing when we heard a knock at the door, I got up Roman following right behind me,

-

A hotel worker was at the door, “Hello, we have received a noise complaint from a few of our guest, and we ran the footage back, so um were going to ask you to leave please”

‘Oh Shit’ .

-

So I told y’all, I won’t finna write no more, but this has been in my drafts for like a couple of hours and I got some ideas from a fic I read, but I forgot the blog name, but it has been extremely dry and I want to please y’all, so y’all can be happy, I don’t think I will officially come back to writing but imma give it some time . 🤍 !!

*NOT MY GIF ABOVE* .

[adelaidedrubman]

John gets his first fishing lesson. read here on ao3.

notes: here we go folks, chapter 2 is here! this originally was going to be a longer chapter, but i decided to leave off at a different scene than originally intended for the sake of getting a faster update with a more reasonable wordcount (y’all know me). chapter wordcount: 4.9k warnings: it wouldn’t be hl&s without ample sexual banter and fishing puns. animal death (perhaps cruel in motivation but not in execution, all fish killed humanely). somewhat graphic description of a fish being gutted. ft. palpable sexual tension. john typical emotional volatility and outbursts. some emotional manipulation, bullying, and general toxicity (jestiny is arguably never not negging him). minimal proofing.

By 8:38 AM John was beginning to doubt she was going to show up at all. 

Perhaps, he was beginning to think, after thirty-eight minutes of waiting (fifty-three if he counted the fifteen minutes he arrived early), coming to the Marina had been a mistake. 

He exhaled as he glanced at his watch, promising himself — just as he had twice before — that at the next quarter past he would leave if she still wasn’t there. 

It would make sense that the mysterious redheaded stranger from the bar wouldn’t show up as promised. 

She’d hardly struck him as reliable , or trustworthy. 

Perhaps it had been foolish of him to ever think she would follow through. 

She had probably realized in the cold, sober light of day just how ridiculous the idea had been, and resolved to bail on him and put the entire embarrassing affair behind her. 

And he should have done the same. 

Yes, he had been stupid for showing up at all. 

And he would correct that, and leave. 

In just another three minutes. 

He tapped his watch, stomach dropping as the second dial began to near another full rotation around its face. 

“If you’ve been just waiting around here for the past hour because you’re trying to work up the courage to ask me to join you, you can go on ahead and stop worryin’ your pretty little head.” 

John rounded his current lap of pacing up and down the length of the dock to find the owner of the Marina perched on the side of his boat, legs crossed and coral painted lips curved into a smile. 

“If you’re willing to wait the teensy-weensiest bit longer, I can be in a bikini, lathered up in tanning oil, and ready to hop aboard by around 9:30 — that’s the time Xander usually rolls outta bed, and I need to leave the shop in something at least resembling capable hands before I can set sail.” 

John cleared his throat. “Mrs. Drubman,” he greeted, matching her smile as he sauntered to her side. “As flattered as I am by the offer, I’m afraid the position of first mate is already taken, for today. I have a date. I’m just waiting for her to arrive.” 

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaimed, hopping down from atop the boat to study him closer. “You got a girlfriend coming over?” she asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “Who is it?” she questioned, pouting her bottom lip. “C’mon, at least give your ol’ girl Addie a name.” 

Ah, well. 

He wished that he could, but that had been another oversight of the prior evening. He’d failed to even ask the redhead’s name before agreeing to her plan. 

Which under normal circumstances wouldn’t have been much of an issue, but the quick turnaround from last night to their early morning (or at least it was supposed to be early morning) date left him with little time to pry around about her. 

“Oh, come now, Addie.” He gave a charming laugh as he tilted his head to look up at her with soft, friendly eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Don’t worry,” she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can be very discreet.” 

Perhaps if he believed that, he would have abandoned any hopes of his co-conspirator showing and taken the blonde up on her offer. 

Still, it occurred to him she could be of use to him in another way.  

“My lips are sealed,” he teased, bringing an index to rest against them in a ‘shh’ gesture. “But…” He curled the index downward to pinch against his thumb. “I suppose a tiny hint wouldn’t hurt,” he hummed. “It’s someone I believe you’re quite familiar with.” 

She should be, shouldn’t she? After all, beyond the fact the woman from last night had suggested meeting here in the first place, the one thing he knew about her was that she liked fishing. Surely she and the Marina owner were well acquainted. 

“Honey, I’m familiar with a lot of folks, if you catch my drift,” she replied with a wink. “Gimme another hint.” 

“Perhaps more than just familiar,” he offered. If he could just get a name. “Someone who is also a very loyal customer.”

“Again, honey.” She smacked her lips, unimpressed. “I do very good business.”

He made a mental note of Greed, competing valiantly with Lust. 

But for the present moment he merely gasped, bringing a hand to his chest as if wounded. “I’ve showed you two of mine now,” he whined playfully. “Can’t I get just one guess of yours?”

“Hmmmm,” she tapped a finger just beneath her bottom lip. “If you’re meeting her here and not during Sunday Service, I’m guessing that means she isn’t a member of your little…” She flourished her hand, flicking her wrist forward to trail fingers down the V of his shirt. “‘Alternative religious movement,’ is what Xander says I should call it…”

“I do fear for her soul. But I’m certain that can be rectified.” He was not so certain. He found it very likely that the stubborn, wrathful little redhead would burn with the rest of the sinful world. But if she could help him convert a pair of far more worthy souls, she will have at least served some purpose before dying a slow, painful death in the Collapse. 

“I’ll ask more about your rectals later,” she said with a wriggle of her brows. “For now, another hint?” 

How long could he keep this up? 

“About yea high,” he said simply, bringing straightened fingers to rest just beneath the bridge of his nose. “ With her —” hideous, bulky, tacky, “— favorite combat boots on.” 

Adelaide rolled her shoulders back, pushing out her chest and towering over him by the several inches she had been graciously evening them out by bending down as they spoke. “So, short?” 

John hummed, straightening his spine and raising his chin. “I’d say average.” 

“You’d say,” she mused. “What’s she do for work?” 

Fuck if he knew. “Nothing she finds as meaningful a calling as she does fishing.” 

“Age?” 

Older than she acts, he would assume. “I would never reveal that information about a lady.” 

“Bra size?” 

Something in the range of substantial, but not massive. More perky. Something like a 36C — No, closer to a 34D. “Questions befitting a gentleman, please.”

“Alright, how ’bout —”

“And I believe we’re on your guess, at the moment.”

“Fine, fine.” She held her chin in her hand, studying him. “Is it that blonde spitfire that works the deli at Lorna’s?” she asked, leaning forward with hands on hips. “The chatty one who always wears the low-cut tops? Cute little thing. Reminds me of a younger me, with a less impressive caboose.”

“You think I’ve been picking up women at truck stops?” he teased. “No, not her. And not a blonde, as lovely as I may find them.”

“Brunette?” she pressed. “Lighter or darker than what you’re rocking?”

He shook his head with a coy smile that concealed the worry fluttering in his chest. Was he really going to be cornered into playing the one card he really had? 

“You’ve worn me down,” he sighed. Really, it was a shame she wasn’t a believer. She had gifts to contribute. “She has the most gorgeous, breathtaking, luscious —”

“Jessie?”

Jessie? Could that be it?

But when he flicked his gaze up to gauge the blonde’s reaction he saw she looked past him, rather than at him. 

He swung his head around to see the woman from the night before leisurely strolling down the docks with on hand in the pocket of her cutoff denim shorts, the other carrying a tacklebox and a set of fishing poles. 

She paused as she reached his slip, stopping in her tracks and looking over her shoulder in a way that suggested she might be considering turning back. 

No such luck, Jessie. A deal is a deal. 

“Jessie!” John called in greeting, jogging down the length of the dock towards her. “My, is it a delight to see you.”

He brought his hands to either side of her face in hopes of covering the look she gave him as if she had no clue what he was on about, pushing her back to dip her into a reunion kiss. 

“The fuck you think you’re —” She dropped the fishing poles and tacklebox to grip the crook of his elbows to shove him back, giving him a brief look of incredulity before seeming to reorient herself and lean into the embrace to dip him back instead, deepening the kiss as she did. 

Such a difficult one, Jessie was. 

Still, it apparently sold well enough — the moment he was let up for air he was greeted by a curious, flushed leer from the Drubman woman. 

“Well, batter and deep-fry my tits and sell ’em at the testy festy, this is your mystery gal?”

“Not such a mystery to you, is she?” John laughed as he laced his fingers in Jessie’s and brought her knuckles to his mouth to kiss, banking on the instant recognition meaning he’d been correct about their familiarity. “Jessie dear mentioned you were close.”

“As two pimples on my ex-husband’s ass cheek,” Adelaide agreed, hooking arms beneath Jessie’s to bring her in for a hug, John’s intertwined hand awkwardly tugged along for the ride as the blonde pulled her further. 

“Speaking of exes, I’m glad to see you moving on so quick,” Adelaide whispered in Jessie’s ear, just barely audible to John. “Was wondering ’bout you, after I heard about the girl band breaking up.”

“You fuckin’ heard about that already?” Jessie hissed in reply, patting the hand not holding John’s against Adelaide’s back and turning so that she was angled away from him. “How?”

“Well, the classic breakup hack job you came in here rocking told me from about a mile away.” John felt a perverse since of satisfaction at seeing an embarrassed pink flush across the redhead’s cheeks at the jab — perhaps she did have some sense of shame, deep down. “But, I’d also heard it before I laid eyes on the tragedy. Skylar and Sherri mentioned it this morning,” Adelaide murmured, pulling John’s arm along for another rotation of the strange waltz he was trapped in. “When they stopped by to enter their names in the Annual Fishing Derby.” 

John thought Jessie might actually crush the bones in his hand, for as tightly as she clenched it. 

He saw something dangerous flare in those big doe eyes of hers, any friendliness in their brown warmth vaporized in the angry inferno smoldering to life in them now.

“They. Did. What?”

John tried, unsuccessfully, to extricate his hand from her grip. 

“Oh, don’t be mad at them for blabbing, sugar,” Adelaide shushed, stroking a hand along the back of Jessie’s head. “They weren’t being catty, they just mentioned they were worried about how ya were taking —”

“They entered the Fishing Derby?” she ground out, pain splintering through John’s hand. “Together? Today? They couldn’t even wait a —”

“Lotta folks have, first day we’ve been live!” Adelaide exclaimed, finally pulling back from their hug to make the announcement to John too. “They’ve been lining up all morning. Everyone goes crazy for The Admiral, and the cash prize is up this year.”

“The Admiral?” John repeated with a curious smile. “Might I ask who that is?” 

Jessie’s eyes grew more dangerously alight yet. “You’re so funny, John!” She forced out laughter, eyes bulging wider than he thought possible with each sharp bark. “See how he managed to charm me so quick? He’s so fuckin’ funny.” She gave him a look that bore no hint of amusement. “Of course he fuckin’ knows who The Admiral is.”

“Of course.” Was he really catching flack from the woman who didn’t even know who the Ryes were — seemingly didn’t even know who his own family was, for that matter — for not being familiar with someone in the County? 

What the hell kind of person could that level of recluse even get offended at him for not —

Oh. 

Of course.

He did know. 

“The Admiral is a fish,” he said, trying not to sound exasperated by the revelation. 

“A fish,” Jessie scoffed, slapping him on the back a little too hard. “I told you, he’s funny.”

“Well, not like anyone’s actually gonna catch him, anyways,” Adelaide sighed with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They never do. But everyone who pays the entry fee gets admission to the big ol’ Fish Fry we do after to cook up whatever they did manage to catch and get blackout drunk on party liquor.”

“I can do that at home without an entry fee,” Jessie scoffed. 

“And this year, we’re co-hosting! Cook out’s gonna be over at the Ryes’ place, since they got everything set up nice from all the barbecues they hold anyways —”

“How much is the entry fee?” John asked. 

Adelaide tilted her head to the side, pausing before she answered. She raked her eyes over him from head to toe and back up again, then allowed them to drift over his shoulder towards the boat parked in the slip behind him. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, raising her chin before rattling off with ease, “Ninety bucks a person, one seventy-five for couples, three-fifty for a group of four.”

Oh, good. He was worried she would attempt to charge him something unreasonable. 

He flashed her a smile, reached into his back pocket to slide two hundred dollar bills out pressed between his fingers. “Keep the change,” he hummed, holding the bills out in offering. “But do enter us as a couple.”

Jessie briefly eyed the exchange of cash, shrugging towards Adelaide with the slightest hint of a smile. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Drubman.” He pressed his right arm flat against his abdomen and bent at the waist in a half-bow that put his head near even with Adelaide’s cleavage, bringing his left hand to rest against the small of Jessie’s back. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’m afraid I won’t have any chance of charming my date myself if I’m competing with you.” 

He pressed his hand against Jessie’s back to guide her the remaining distance towards the boat — only to have the hand elbowed away, as if she’d once again forgotten they were supposed to be acting like a happy couple. 

But before he could shoot her a proper glare in reminder she wrapped her arm around his to tug him along instead, nearly causing him to stumble off the dock from her clumsily effort to cover her slip up. 

“I’ll leave you crazy kids to it, then,” Adelaide chimed with a parting wave. “Happy catchin’!” 

As John climbed into the boat he caught in his periphery a manicured hand reaching out to grab to the grubby, calloused one dropping a tackle box and set of fishing poles over the side. 

“And sugar,” he heard Adelaide whisper to the redhead she held back. “You gotta let me know if it winds up he puts out, alright?” 

He could see Jessie’s look of earnest confusion reflected in the windshield. 

“Uh, I guess,” she rasped in reply, even more conspicuous yet. “I mean, why wouldn’t he?” 

“My dear,” John turned to cut in before the pair could whisper more gossip, holding out the palm of his hand in offering to receive Jessie’s and assist her in climbing into the boat. 

She recoiled, looking at the hand as if it might as well have held a dead rat as she stepped to the side of it and hopped onto the boat. 

Yes, this was certainly a mistake. 

He laughed and threw an arm around her, pulling her to his side. “We’re supposed to be acting like we’re together,” he hissed through teeth exposed in a stiff smile as he waved goodbye to the blonde skipping back towards the shop. “So what was that, exactly?” 

“Was gonna ask you the same fuckin’ thing,” she ground out in reply. “Why the fuck were you pulling all that weird shit?” 

“The physical affection?” he questioned. “Couples tend to do that,” he said, smile souring with sarcasm. “And what took you so long?” he demanded. “I was beginning to think —” 

That she wouldn’t show up. But he was struck anew with how foolish it had been to really expect her to, so he neglected to finish the thought.  

“You were almost an hour late to the time you set,” he complained instead. 

She rolled her eyes, as if he were being unreasonable. “I was pickin’ out my outfit!” she defended, holding her arms out and doing a half-twirl to show off the cut-off overalls with single suspender unbuttoned to reveal sleeveless t-shirt bearing an image of a suggestively placed set of twin boat engines with the phrase ‘I <3 Motor Boating’ plastered across the chest. “You coulda spent a little more fuckin’ time trying to pick out something nice for yourself.” 

He looked down at the freshly ironed salmon shorts cuffed to mid-thigh paired with crisp white V-neck she cast her disdainful look towards. 

“What could possibly be objectionable about my outfit?”

“Nothing, so long as you’re wearing it as like…” she waved a hand in the air in quick, choppy circles as she paused to search for words, dropping down to her knees to throw open the lid of her tackle box in the same swift motion. “A funny joke or something.” She grinned up at him. “Y’know. Irony.”

“The only irony I’m finding is in you insulting someone’s outfit while wearing that.”

“This is what people wear to go fishing,” she said, pulling at the suspenders of her overalls. 

“This isn’t?”

“Wrong kinda salmon, John,” she said with a point towards his shorts, sitting back to begin threading a line through a hook. “But it’s fine, we can sell it like you are funny,” she sighed, breaking off the line between her teeth. “And at least your legs look nice in shown off in ’em,” she tacked on, glancing back at him. “You actually have really nice thighs. Go fucking figure.”

He felt a strange heat crawl up the back of his neck, bloom across his chest. 

He thought it was the first nice thing she’d said about him. 

Something about receiving a compliment from someone so very unpleasant was, well… 

“Shame about the stern, though,” she said with a click of her tongue against her teeth, glancing behind him. 

Never mind. 

“I’ll spare you the view,” he replied, stepping over the woman to seat himself at the helm. He tugged the legs of the shorts up slightly as he sat. 

“Can’t do anything about what god gave you, but we can work on getting you to pass as a real angler, even with the shorts.” She came up behind him to pat his shoulder as he cranked the motor to life. “Head out West, ’bout midway to the little fucking islet out there.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“And don’t even worry about the learning curve — ’cause with me teaching you, you’ll be fishing like a pro before sunset.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, this is pathetic!” The overbearing heat of the sun seemed to beat down on John a degree hotter for every damnable word Jessie spoke to him. “Your fucking bobber is practically twenty-thousand leagues under at this point! That means start reeling that shit in!” 

“Well, it’s difficult to focus when my fishing partner is screaming at me!” he snapped back, doing his best to crank the handle of the reel, only for it to jam. 

“Other way!” she ordered. “And lean back! Keep the end of your rod up! You’re supposed to fight the fish while you reel!” 

“Then perhaps you should worry about fighting your own catch, instead of me!” he huffed, tensing his arms and jerking the rod back. 

“I got the expert form to multitask,” she said smugly, doing a swift turn of her reel as the fish on the end of her line leapt through the air. “You haven’t caught anything all day.” 

“Brag while you can,” he scoffed, giving another harsh tug to his rod — the line pulled taut, refusing to budge no matter how much of his strength he exerted, muscles of his arms aching in complaint from the effort. This was it. Finally. “It feels like I’ve got a big one on the line.” 

“You haven’t had shit on the line for a good fuckin’ minute, John,” she said flatly. “You fucking snagged the bottom,” she explained with an irritated grunt. She held her rod propped against her thigh with one hand, while the other reached into her back pocket to pull out a skinny, curved knife. “Cut the line and try again.” 

His nostril flared with the sharp, heavy exhale he pushed out as he snatched the knife from her, sliding its plastic safety sheath off and tossing it aside to press the blade to the fishing line. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ fish me outta hook and home at this fucking rate,” she grumbled, quickly undercut by a laugh as she lifted her own line out of the water with ease to hoist a speckled and pink-lined fish well over a foot long over the side of his boat, propping it to rest wriggling atop the gunwale. 

John grimaced at the mess of slime and lake water it smeared there, dribbling down to leak between the cracks of his natural teak flooring. His scowl deepened as the fish’s tail flailed upward to sling filthy water onto the clean white fabric of his shirt. 

“Hm, I think that puts me at about nine full-sized catches now to your whopping zero,” she bragged in teasing sing-song with a sharp golden flash of sunset warm eyes. “I reckon some of us are just better with our rod than others, huh?”

Whatever fishing line thin thread of patience he had left finally snapped. 

His grip was white knuckle tight around the handle of the knife as he suddenly swung it through the air to impale through the brain of the accursed creature, impact of the blade stabbing straight through and into the hard plastic shell of the gunwale ratcheting itself up the length of his arm. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, contained rage swiftly bubbling up to rush through the length of his arm and settle for good in that tight clenched fist, driving it to twist the knife and send it tearing down the length of the fish’s belly with a squelch of innards spilling. 

He gasped out, looking around with wide, searching eyes, suddenly as furiously hungry for air as if he’d been held underwater. 

“Huh,” Jessie barked out, high but gruff. “Well.” He couldn’t quite say if it was with relief or irritation he noted that the press of her palm against the fish’s back fin hadn’t moved an inch — she hadn’t so much as flinched as he swung the knife. “Guess you know how to gut ’em, at least,” she shrugged. His chest continued to heave as he tried to even his breaths, regain some composure. “Maybe you are good for something.” 

John let out a long exhale, wiping the sweat from his brow and willing himself to keep his current level of calm, trying as it was. 

And oh, it was trying.

Because Jessie wasn’t wrong. 

They had been at this for hours, his cheeks pinkened from the long stretch of baking beneath the sun. And the only thing he’d caught was criticism from the woman who was supposed to be teaching him. 

“You know what,” she hummed, pointing towards the fish guts dribbling down into the water. “That could work, actually. You can finish the job here? You can gut the fucker?” 

He pinched his brow, looking down at the fish. 

“I imagine,” he answered, using the handle of the knife jammed inside the fish to turn it, study the long incision running along its underside. 

He slid his index and middle along the length of the incision, pausing at the fins just beneath the head and using the fingers to pry open the flaps of its sides and study the mess of organs. 

“It doesn’t seem so difficult.” He held his fingers in place as he brought a thumb to rest at the root of the bright red cord running down the length of the fish’s insides. He flexed his knuckles to firmly wedge the knife beneath it, pushing the blade up towards his thumb and pressing down tight until the mess of gristle severed with a short, wet snap. 

He heard a sharp hitch in Jessie’s breath in matching staccato, realizing as he pulled the mess of innards tied up neatly by the red ribbon he gripped that she’d been watching intently, her gaze as pervasive and oppressive as a heavy amber tinted smog settling over his world as he slung the entrails into the river with a sigh and a meaty plop that announced their landing. 

Jessie inhaled slowly this time as she stepped towards him, looking him up and down. 

“That’ll do, John.” She reached fingertips towards his middle, trailing them along the splatter of blood and pink flecks of tissue he hadn’t noticing slinging across the bright white of his shirt, and the ghosting sensation sent zaps of quick firing nerves through him as effectively as if someone pressed a blade against his spinal cord. “That’ll do.” 

She smiled down at the stain, before wiping her hand along his chest to further dirty the shirt with slime and stray scales. “You at least look a little bit more like a real fisherman now.”

“I apologize for not having the foresight to show up pre-covered in viscera.”

“No use crying over unspilled blood now.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Or uncaught fish. Because I got a plan I think is gonna work.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the sun. “It’s gonna have to. We’ve run outta time.” 

“A plan to do what, exactly? And what makes it so time sensitive as to require immediate execution?” 

“We’re going to see Sherri and Skylar,” she answered, plopping herself down into the driver’s seat. “They always fish over across from Can of Worms ’round this time. And we’re gonna zip up there join them.”

John raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry. You’re not gonna actually gonna be fishing, obviously.” She waved a hand, propping an arm on the side of the boat as she turned towards him. “We’re gonna pretend we caught all them fuckers in the cooler together. Lucky for you, I can reel in enough for the both of us. And I’ll keep catching, while you’re busy gutting them.” Her knuckles grew stark white as she gripped the steering wheel. “I was always fuckin’ nice and gutted those bitches’ fish for them.” Her nostrils flared as she let out a sharp exhale — then her scowl abruptly broke into a grin. “But now I have someone to gut ’em for me.” 

“I’m sure in your world, that’s a very important victory. But couldn’t we take a bit more time to practice? Why must the victory march take place today?” 

“Because they had to fuckin’ rush to sign up for the Fishing Derby today!” she screech, her cheeks growing bright red yet again. “They couldn’t wait one goddamn day! So time to show them I can move on just as fucking fast!” Her shoulders tensed, rising and falling as she flexed her wrists to turn her clenched fists around the steering wheel. “We’re going to Can of Worms!” 

He gave an exasperated sigh. Really, some people were so sensitive and dramatic about a little break up. 

But best not to harp too much on just how childish her antics were, while he still needed her for his own designs. 

So, he gave her an appeasing smile. “Very well.” He lifted the key to the boat from its place around his neck, quickly jerking it out of the redhead’s reach as she tried to grab for it. “You’re not driving my boat, though. I drive.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” 

She made no effort to rise from his seat, instead leaning back and patting her thighs. “Hop on, then.” 

“You want me to drive the boat sitting in your lap?”

“You’re the one who said we needed to be more touchy-feely and shit to look like a couple,” she barked, pointing a finger at him. “And c’mon, don’t forget this is a quid pro fuckin’ quo arrangement. You help me keep up appearances by riding up drivin’ —” 

“You’re not driving —” 

“— lookin’ like I’m driving a fancy boat with my new pretty young thing in my lap, more likely I am to do whatever dumb bullshit it is you end up wanting me to do to impress your exes.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, considering. 

“Pretty young thing,” he scoffed, lowering himself to take a seat in her lap. “You think I’ll fall so easily for insincere flattery from a woman who’s been relentlessly insulting me all morning?”

“Forgot we fuckin’ prized honesty in this fake relationship,” she snorted. “Pretty quickly-creeping-towards-middle-age thing, then.” 

She still said pretty, he resisted pettily pointing out. “You’re a charmer.” 

“Charm the scales off a fish,” she replied with a click of her tongue against teeth. “But enough talk,” she said gruffly, guiding his hand to shove the key into the ignition with no amount of gentleness. “Take us to Can of Worms!” 

She squeezed his bare thigh in punctuation of the order. He cleared his throat and gave her an expectant look in reply, a quickly cooling breeze sweeping over him to cause skin to prickle along the leg her hand rested atop as he raised his brows to signal he was waiting. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you don’t even know where —” she groaned, removing her hand to point a finger over the windshield. “Head southwest!” 

He turned the key and turned the wheel in obedience of the order as she rested her chin atop his shoulder to look over it. 

She was much better at physical affection when she was taunting him, it seemed. 

He cranked the gas. 

Quid pro fuckin’ quo, he reminded himself.

[nightowlfandom]

Levi Ackerman- Smile For The Camera (Part 2)

Hey besties, Night Owl here...So part one got a lot of love...and who am I to deny you horny fucks that you want! SO here’s part two.

Those of you with degradation, orgasm denial, and overstimulation kinks are gonna looooovvvee this one...we also got a creampie for those of you who are into breeding...brief daddy mention...if you don’t...this account aint the place for you

Any other anime dudes you thirsty hoes have in mind, lemme know.

READ PART 1 HERE!

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE

LEGGO!

....

“Are we live?” you mumbled to yourself. “Yes!” you smiled at your victory. “Yes yes hello everyone!” you waved to the camera.

Another killer outfit Y/N!

Y’all I got my popcorn I’m ready

“Yes yes yes we’re gonna get started soon you guys.” you sat up. 

Will this be another charity stream? [Donated 5 dollars]

“Yes!” you nodded. “Me and some others decided it was gonna be charity week, so we are all streaming everyday this week! Yeah last time did so well!” you thanked your fans. 

Is Levi gonna be joining this one?

“Umm...” you shifted in your seat. “We’ll see. You guys really...seem to like Levi.” you recalled last time, you raised so much money you wound up donating 75% instead of 50%.

“Well of course they like me.”

You looked up at the door to find Levi unbuttoning his the first few buttons of his shirt. Like magic, and endless amount of pings and donations came flooding in. 

“Your fans love us, don’t they.” he bit his lip was he sauntered over. Levi took a seat next to you, still unbuttoning his shirt until it was completely open. “Kiss me.”

Obediently, you turned your head and leaned forward, allowing his to press a ginger kiss on your lips. Levi must have either forgotten, or not cared that the camera was there because he gently wrapped a hand around your neck. He moaned thoughtfully as you parted your lips slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It was sweet, yet short lived as he broke away. Levi took this time to kiss down your neck. It was almost like you both didn’t care about the camera being there. “You smell so good.”

You craned your head to look at the screen, staring at all the kind comments, blocking the assholes. Levi rested his forehead on your shoulder, humming lowly. “Fuck I missed you today.”

“I missed you too.” you kissed the side of his head. He sat up straight, looking you in the eye. “I’ll give you a back massage after this.”

“Shit, throw in a foot massage and I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

“Deal.”

I never expected to see something so wholesome on this website 

WE STAN A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP [Donated 20 dollars]

Levi lazily slug an arm around your waist, placing kisses along your shoulder while you turned back to the camera. 

“Yeah, so we’re gonna go ahead and get started!” you clapped. “Umm..” you read a question on the screen. “We’ve been together for four years...yes.

Levi’s little pecks turned into open mouth kisses where he ran his tongue along the crook of your neck. You noticed he was getting handsy too.

“Alright! So what do you guys want me to do first?” 

Just as you said those words, you could feel Levi shift around and sit up. He wrapped his arms around you. He ran his hands down your stomach, over your legs and practically pried your legs open. 

Oop there it is! [Donated 180 dollars]

Just a little more, don’t be shy! Put some more! [30 dollars]

“Did you guys know that Y/N likes being called a little slut by me?” Levi started talking, laughing darkly as he read the comments with you. “She likes it when I call her a dirty little cadet...a dirty needy little slutty cadet.” his fingers ghosted over your clothed slit.

Oop #exposed! [Donated 5 dollars]

I’m tryna see that tho [Donated 50 dollars]

“As some of you know...I’m a captain...I give orders...and Y/N here is one of my cadets.” he began reminiscing. “She was a shy, timid little girl...I didn’t know she was so dirty in her free time.”

“That was your mistake.” You giggled. “I never said I was innocent.”

“Hm...I suppose not...but you’re my innocent little slut aren’t you. Hm?” he bit his lip. “How would the older soldiers react if they knew my pretty little slut was doing this to herself on camera, huh?”

...

You weren’t allowed to touch him. You couldn’t guide his hand, grab his shirt, or anything of the sort. Levi would use his middle and ring fingers to slowly finger you, pumping his fingers in and out...in and out. You grabbed the sheets, the nearest pillow, anything you could get your hands on...except him.

Lol Y/N looks like she’s dying [donated 10 dollars]

5 more minutes babe! you can do it

“I really c-can’t.” you whined. “You’re doing this on purpose.” you glared up at Levi. 

“Oh I absolutely am.” he laughed. “Is baby mad that she can’t cum yet?”

“Fuming!” you tried to sound mad, only to sound like you were whining. “I’m so mad at you right now.”

“Just like you were mad at me last time” he rolled his eyes playfully. “See where being cocky gets you?” he watched your water pool in the palm of his hand. “Fuck you’re so slutty for me. I wonder what would happen if-” he yanked his fingers from your hole, causing you to lurch forward. When you fell back, you leaned up on your elbows.

Now from the top, Make it drop, that’s a WAP [Donated 5 dollars]

“You guys are crazy.” you managed to laugh through your teeth. “You know, I was just thinking and I’m starting to think me being tortured is a kink of some of you guys because you guys just seem to enjoy seeing this man- FUCK!”

Right in the midst of you talking, you felt Levi drive his tongue into your slit. You instantly forgot what you were talking about as tongue and fingers interacted with your body. You clenched the bedsheets, feeling your knuckled ache.

“Does it feel good? Huh?” he asked through lashes. “Does my little slut like it when captain thrusts into you like that? Do you wanna cum? Hm? Do you wanna cum for me you little-”

He ain’t talking to me but I’m (Water drop emoji) [donated 20 dollars]

“Fuck, I...I...Please let me-” you practically sobbed. 

“Let you what?...Touch me, get your revenge, cum all over my face like a little whore in front of all your fans?” he sucked harshly at your clit. “Pick one!”

“Um...y-yes?” your brain was practically upside down.

“Hm, wrong answer.” he laughed. “Your pussy is so swollen, baby. Do you wanna cum that bad?” 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK!” you cried. “So mean...so so mean.”

“Aw baby...I’m your captain...it’s my job to be.” Without another word, Levi attached his lips to your slit and sped up his fingers. You weren’t sure if you were still allowed to touch him, but you weren’t about to risk it either. 

...

“Come on princess...I gave you permission.” Levi hid a sadistic smile from you. You straddled Levi shyly, his length ghosting over your aching, dripping pussy.

“Yeah and I don’t trust it.” your voice shook. “You’re planning something.” you accused. Your voice was practically gone, so you had to settle for talking in low whimpers to stop from sounding like an old man when you talked. 

“I come...or cum-” he paused to bite his lip. “In peace.”

Y/N if you don’t hop on that- [donated 40 dollars]

You felt him brush against your wetness, slowly rocking your hips. That familiar feeling slowly building inside. Levi rested his hands on your sides guiding you onto him.

He slid himself inside, moving his hips with yours. You whined with need. 

“Look at that.” he commented. “My dick stretches you out baby...” he looked up at you. “You so hot when you ride me. Come on...give yourself what you want.” He began thrusted his hips upwards. The sound of flesh hitting flesh sounded so wrong and so lewd to the point where you were almost certain the neighbors knew what you were up to.

“L-levi!” 

“That’s captain to you, you disrespectful little girl!” he slapped your thigh, digging his fingers into your skin. “Respect your superior.” he grabbed your hips and bought you to him, taking control all over again.

“I’m gonna-...FUCK!” 

It came washing down like a ton of bricks, only it never stops. Levi grabbed your hips and kept thrusting upwards, quite obviously not done with you. 

“You like this cock? Huh? You like being rammed by me?” you could feel him spill into you as he thrusted. “Do you feel my cum you little slut, huh? Oh fuck! That’s right, you like it when daddy cums in there because you’re my little slut.”

You could barely form the words to reply, but you loved it regardless.

Through your screams and cries, the alerts and pings of donations flooded through. 

Y’all ever had some dick so good you cried...damn [donated 200 dollars]

You practically fell forward, landing on his chest. Levi held you in his arms, shushing you. “You did so good.” he whispered to you. Only you. “I love you so much.” he kissed your head. You laid your head over his heart, listening to his heartbeat slow down. 

(And there’s part two...)

[xmint-conditionx]

art on exhibit | myg + jhs feat. knj

pairing: sugardaddy!hoseok x fem!reader, ceo!yoongi x fem!reader, brat!reader, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!yoongi w/c: 5k but i feel like it should be so much longer for some reason smh summary: you and your sugar daddy, hoseok, are big fans of exhibitionism, but this is the craziest you’ve ever taken it. most of his prestigious party guests are jumping to get to get their hands on you. will you be able to handle it? tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, remote controlled vibrator, almost reaching limits, spanking, marking, biting, ball gag, degradation (slut), praise, punishment, crying, light oral (f recieving), public humiliation, rope play, shibari, suspension, almost like being pimped out but u like it?, open relationship, hoseok is sort of protective tho, overstimulation, subspace, the orgasm nearly kills you, this one is real nasty, namjoon is just a guest appearance tbh but maybe later he doesn't have to be???

a/n: this thing has given me so much trouble by not appearing in tags. it didn't the first time i posted it on the old blog, and it hasn't been showing up this time either, so please feel free to give this one some extra love. also, honestly, i was sitting on this idea for a long! time! before i actually wrote it out. if i was spaced out in my last class of the day, i was probably thinking about this. i am almost proud and almost ashamed to share this with you all, lmao cause it's honestly a huge fantasy of mine. i’ve been really wanting to do a sugardaddy!hoseok thing for a while, and if you guys like this, then i think i can add more to the story. alright, y’all stay nasty. enjoy!

The ropes dig into the skin of your thighs ever so gently, and you close your eyes to listen to the din of the party that surrounds you. Guests only arrived 30 minutes ago, and you’re already dripping wet. This isn’t the first time you and Hoseok have done exhibitionism, but this is the farthest it’s ever been taken. Men and women in their best black tie attire surround you, glasses of his most expensive champagne in their hands. Not all of them are looking at you; some are too bashful to acknowledge your existence. Some only sneak glances when they think nobody else is looking. Few have come up and examined your entire naked frame, suspended from Hoseok’s ceiling in the middle of his entertainment space.

They’re examining you as if you were a piece of fine art; just another pretty and peculiar object that Hoseok has collected. You’re placed among some of his other art pieces - some Pollocks, some Dalis, some Picassos, and one O’Keefe - and somehow, you feel like you fit. That’s what Hoseok had said anyway. That since you were one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life, he wanted to feature you as the work of art you are. He chose to display you in his favorite way.

Red shibari rope surrounds each of your legs like a cage before confining your hands behind your back. The rope trails over your torso and is twisted and knotted around your exposed breasts, but not tightly. Just enough to accentuate your natural shape. Your legs are tied so that they remain apart, one held higher than the other to leave you fully exposed. Your stomach is facing the floor, but not entirely; Hoseok has tied you so that you’re almost lounging comfortably there, suspended in midair. The lines of rope flow with the form of your body, and even though all of your weight is pressed down onto them, the ropes are the soft and luxurious kind - no doubt expensive - that make you feel as though you could be floating instead.

Just then, your attention is jolted to your cunt, where his favorite black remote control vibrator has just been triggered. You clench around it, and your moan is muffled by the ball gag that is secured over your lips. When you open your eyes, he is standing solidly in front of you.

His black button up shirt and jacket combination is draped over his shoulders beautifully, and his shiny brown hair is parted in the middle. He looks incredible. Radiant. Sinful.

“You looked bored,” he says with a little smirk as he continues to let the vibrator run inside of you, “and we can’t have that… Perhaps I should turn it up.”

He twists a small knob on the remote and the vibrations steadily rise in frequency until they’re as high as they can go. A semblance of a scream escapes your lips behind the gag. You begin rocketing toward climax, but Hoseok knows you and your body too well. Just as you begin to feel the tingles spread over your body, he shuts it off, and your muscles immediately go lax from being tensed up and ready to come.

He laughs softly as you pant, and then takes a quick look around the room.

“You seem to have gathered some attention. That’s my good girl.”

Without another word, he pockets the remote, and you watch how his ringed fingers delicately pick up a flute of champagne from one of the server’s tray tables. Then he simply walks away. His immaculately shiny black shoes gently thud on the marble floor as he makes his way through the crowd, to presumably some other obscenely rich friend of his.

You feel a small amount of saliva about to peak over your bottom lip. You’ve been good about swallowing everything but it seems your denied orgasm has made you forgetful. Moments later, a small thread of your own spit runs out of your mouth and onto the floor. You know that you have been dripping from the other end too, and you wonder if any of the guests have just seen you drool on yourself.

As if to answer, Hoseok comes back from behind you and grabs you by the jaw. His face lights up when he confirms that you have made a mess of yourself. He turns to one of his guests and speaks.

“See, Namjoon?” he says, tilting your head up toward his guest so that he can see, “She’s incredible.”

You meet eyes with the guest, and put on your best innocent look. You love how a blush starts to creep up into his cheeks, and how his pillowy lips part slightly. Even though you’re bound from head to toe and easily the poorest person here, you feel like you’re the most powerful person in the room. The guest clears his throat and turns his attention back to Hoseok.

“How much was your price?” he asks.

Hoseok looks down at you, and a smirk begins to form on his plush lips.

“1,000 US Dollars. Per second,” he says, “Which charity will it be, then?”

You’d been the one to come up with the idea for the proceeds from the charity fundraiser to be benefitted by getting to control the vibrator. Hoseok loved it.

“Your education charity,” he says, “and I’ll take 30 seconds.”

Hoseok nods, “Do you want to go ahead and write the check now or do you want me to keep a tab running and let you know at the end of the evening?”

The tall man considers this, and looks back at you for a moment before answering, “keep it open, will you?”

“Alright, Mr. Kim. All yours,” Hoseok says as he fishes out the device from his suit pocket before turning to you, “Be good, you hear me? Don’t come until you have been given permission by either Mr. Kim or myself. Understood?”

You nod frantically as you watch the remote being transferred from Hoseok’s hands to Namjoon’s. The earlier flustered man turned more confident once he held the little black fob in his palm - quite a large palm now that you look at it closely. It would look so nice trailing up your thigh, you think. You look up at Namjoon and convey a pleading look, one that silently asks for mercy.

He does not give it.

With a small grin, he turns on the vibrator, and you scream (or try to) at the suddenness of the sensation. He spends his entire 30 seconds with the device in your pussy at full speed, and you can’t hold back your groaning. You clench around the bullet, and when his time is up, you feel beads of sweat starting to form on your brow from the exertion. You’re left a panting mess in front of him, Hoseok, and every other guest that has turned to watch you squirm.

Namjoon’s satisfied smile and nod encourages others in the room to have a turn. Before long, you see a few more guests make their way over to where you are hanging. This time it is a group of women.

“Hye-jin!” Namjoon exclaims, before he hugs the woman and offers a short to the three others that come over with her. She’s dressed in the most beautiful black form fitting dress you’ve ever seen. Her hourglass figure sways captivatingly in the gown, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by her figure. You look up at her and she’s smirking down at you; you were too distracted at the way the large jewels on her necklace fell over her collarbones to realize that they were already discussing you.

“I should have known it would be you to break the ice,” she says playfully to Namjoon, who just presses his lips together in resignation as he puts his hand to the back of his neck.

“How’s the comeback?” he asks casually, as if there isn’t a fully naked and exposed woman suspended in front of him. His ability to be so casual while you’re at the edge of your sanity shoots a ping of arousal through your body. You shiver slightly, and you catch Hoseok looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. He’d never admit it, but he cares about you a lot. You can tell he’s checking to make sure you aren’t getting ready to start snapping your fingers- the safe action you’d both agreed on to release you from the ropes and send you into his master suite. Even when he had walked over to find Namjoon, you know even then he wasn’t out of sight or earshot from you.

He had a clean and plush robe stowed away in the closet nearby, and was always ready to release you should you want to be. You’d worked together before the event to set up a space in his suite to go should you need to retire for the evening, and you caught him setting a hoodie of his on the side of the bed where you typically sleep. You’d always playfully taken them, either to flirt or to wear it (and only it) to encourage a round two. But he had never deliberately set one of them aside for your use. He knows you won’t be using it to flirt or to rouse him into more sex, so his little efforts to bring you as much comfort as possible had set alight something in your heart.

He really did take pride in taking good care of you. As a good sugar daddy should.

You’re yanked back to reality when the vibrator starts up again. You clench around it and feel a gush of wetness surge out at the sensation of it going at full blast. Just when you become used to the speed and lower your whining, you open your eyes to see the woman holding the remote this time, grinning down at you with full lips. She meets your gaze and turns it up all the way, which makes you tense up every last one of your muscles. The woman next to her with long, light hair and a wicked gaze, whispers something to her while eyeing you up and down. It then occurs to you that you weren’t paying attention and don’t know how much time she purchased.

As the seconds tick by, they feel like hours. With the device at full speed, you feel yourself closing in on a climax, and so you squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the orgasm that is about to rip through your body…

She turns it down to the lowest setting and watches as you groan at the second denial crushes you. More saliva drips down your chin as she switches it off, leaving you with only the beads of sweat that cling to your skin.

“Thank you, Hoseok. Worth every penny,” Hye-jin says, handing the remote back to him.

Hoseok beams his thousand-watt smile at her, and congratulates her on both the success of Maria, her solo album, and then thanks her for her donation.

She thanks him in return, and both women walk back into the crowd. Namjoon has also gone, which just leaves you with Hoseok again. His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you see a fire in them that you’ve never seen before. You’re dangling about waist height, and you can’t help but to look down from his face to try to see if you can make out a bulge. You don’t get time to really look, because as soon as you break eye contact, he moves to your back and smacks your ass cheek hard. A loud thwack echoes throughout the large space, over the din of the partygoers. You inhale sharply at the sting, and let your breath back out in a long groan, drawing the attention of more guests. You knew that the champagne would loosen inhibitions eventually.

You hear the footsteps of a couple other guests walking toward you from behind where Hoseok stands. You crane your head to try to see over your shoulder, but they stand just out of your peripheral vision. They’re talking in low voices, and you can’t make out what they’re saying. You wish you could swing yourself around and look at them, but knowing that the only thing they can see of you is your dripping cunt, you’re not so mad.

You feel a hand on your thigh, a touch you’re familiar with. You know it’s Hoseok’s hand, as he gently trails up your inner thigh, purposefully teasing you. An involuntary shiver runs through your body and you can’t help but to whimper slightly. You hear a man’s chuckle, and then he’s speaking, again too low for you to hear.

Hoseok uses his grip on your inner thigh to spin you around so that you’re facing the group of men. Namjoon has come back, this time with what appears to be a friend in tow.

“Baby girl,” Hoseok’s voice says gently, and you look up to meet his gaze, “Yoongi here has just asked if he may touch you.” Your eyes widen at the thought, remembering how just Hoseok’s hand trailing up your thigh had your toes curling. You look up at the new guest, and see only a cold and stone-like expression. His eyes seem to bore right through you, and directly into your cunt. You’re momentarily mesmerized under his heavy stare, before you slowly nod your head.

“Yoongi here has just generously donated one million dollars to one of my charities, so do you know what that means?” he asks you, not expecting an answer, “How long is one thousand seconds?”

“Sixteen minutes and 40 seconds,” Yoongi says, not breaking eye contact from you, “If I’m correct.”

If your mouth could drop, it would. Namjoon, looking up from his phone, just nods nonchalantly.

Hoseok asks the man what he has asked everyone else: if they would like to keep a running tab or if they would like to write a check now. Yoongi reaches into his back pocket and pulls out what you assume to be his checkbook. With rings glittering in the lighting of the room, his hand swiftly fills it out. He rips it out and extends it to Hoseok.

“I won’t be needing more time.”

His cool confidence in saying this small phrase makes your stomach drop.

Hoseok grips your chin and tilts your head up. “Remember, baby girl, don’t come until you’re told to. You want to be on your best behavior for Mr. Min. Trust me.”

He speaks sternly and then releases your jaw, trailing his hand back to stroke your messy hair, before settling on your two hands secured behind your back and giving them a light squeeze. A silent reminder of your out, should you need it.

This Yoongi must be… a force to be reckoned with.

“Your time starts now,” Hoseok says, tapping his phone screen. You squeeze shut your eyes and brace yourself for the abrupt shock of the vibrations, but seconds pass, and they don’t come. You gingerly open your eyes and look up at the man standing above you, toying with the remote. He regards it with vague interest, and then he flicks up his eyes to look at you. Your heart stops for a moment, as he begins to rake his onyx eyes over your body. He purses his lips slightly and begins walking around you, all too slowly.

Even though he has disappeared from your view, you can feel his eyes on you. Your anxiousness grows as he remains out of your sight longer, and this is no doubt intentional. It seems as if he picked up your unease earlier when he first approached.

This guy is good.

You’re so on edge, that the light vibrations that begin in your cunt still surprise you. He turned the vibrator on to its lowest setting, but these low and slow vibrations still make you have a sharp intake of breath. He finally arrives back to your front and seems pleased at your reaction. He squats down so that his face is level with yours.

“What a good girl you are,” he muses, lips parted, tongue playing with the inside of his cheek, “I hope Hoseok here treats you well. You seem… pent up.”

At those last two words, he revs up the vibrations slightly, causing you to let out a small moan. He stands and puts the remote in his pocket. You watch as he gently rolls up his sleeves to the elbow, his forearm flexing as he fixes them. Your hungry stare betrays you.

“Is she always like this?” he asks Hoseok, almost laughing at you. “God, she’s desperate.” He looks at you. “Does Hobi not fuck you enough, little girl?”

Your eyes widen at the implications, and you furiously shake your head no, trying to convey as much as you can with your eyes alone. He just chuckles.

“Loyal,” he says, “I like that.” He looks back up at Hoseok. “Is your agreement exclusive, or is there room in her life for a second... benefactor?” You look up at your sugar daddy, eyes wide with what he might say. He’s just standing there, arms folded over his chest, as if he were discussing the weather or the stock market.

“I’m afraid she’s all booked up for the foreseeable future, unfortunately,” he says cooly but firmly, a little bit of edge to his voice.

“Pity,” Yoongi says, taking a step toward you, “I could think of a million good ways to take up her time.”

“You’ve got 14 minutes left,” is all Hoseok says in response, a definite sharpness to his tone. You’ve only heard this type of voice from him when you’re being particularly bratty. You rarely hear him this stern.

The vibrations quicken slightly, and you can tell from your frequent use that the device is at about its medium speed.

Yoongi takes his hand and reaches out to your back, and with a featherlight touch, begins to trace next to where the ropes lie. He keeps working down your back, and gently trails down your bare ass cheek and ghosts against your pussy. You can feel the heat from his hand, impossibly close to touching you. You hold your head back and try to look at him as you whine out a plea.

“Eyes straight ahead, little girl,” he says, and you comply reluctantly, flopping your head forward dramatically as you sigh. His hand grabs hold of your thigh, and squeezes it so hard you’re sure you’ll find a bruise there in the morning. “And lose the attitude.”

You whimper as he releases your thigh, and goes back to delicately running his fingertips up to your core. He stops just short of your cunt, and you desperately want him to just touch you. You flex your back and buck your hips in order to push yourself onto where you know his hand is. Your clit makes contact with his hand, and as soon as you feel it connect, you feel it missing. Not even a moment later, a sharp sting spreads across your ass, and you clench around the vibe.

“What a greedy little slut you are. Do you always misbehave this much?”

You turn your head back to look at him, and as you meet his eyes, you can see he begins to fume.

“Namjoon, keep her head straight. Someone's not listening.”

You turn your head back around and Namjoon is quickly grabbing your jaw firmly in his hand. Your eyes meet his, and his earlier show of no mercy seems to still be intact. You feel Yoongi’s hand soothe the soreness he just created, only to once again reel back and give the same spot another firm smack, just as hard as the first one.

You cry into the ball gag and the shockwave from his hit sends you slightly swinging forward into Namjoon’s belt. Even though the vibrator is only at medium speed, you feel yourself beginning to get close to a climax. Your moans get longer and higher, and your body tenses to prepare for it. You hear Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t.”

You know exactly what he means. You focus on your breathing and furrow your brow in an attempt to stave off your orgasm. It’s working, but barely. He turns up the vibrations and you cry out again, your head shaking as much as Namjoon’s firm grip will allow.

“Don’t.”

You distance yourself from the situation, distracting yourself with thinking about schoolwork. The essay you’re currently writing. How the rough draft needs to be done by tomorrow night. You need three more in-text citations to make --

His hand is against your clit, and he’s rubbing at an agonizingly slow pace, with just enough pressure for you to want more. You inhale sharply and work harder to distract yourself.

You have two of the quotes picked out, but you need to finalize the third one to really hammer in your point. Maybe you can spend tomorrow morning reading --

His lips graze over the ass cheek he tortured earlier, your smarting skin responding sharply to the gentle contact. He gives you a soft kiss, and then you feel a sharp pain as he sinks his teeth into your already ruined ass.

Your eyes fly open and you make desperate eye contact with Namjoon, trying to show him that you can’t last much longer. Thankfully, this Namjoon is a perceptive man, and he looks from you to Yoongi.

“She can’t take much more, Yoongi.”

“Good,” he says, breath grazing over where he just bit as he speaks. “Come, slut.”

For the first time tonight, your orgasm peaks and rips out of you. Your whole body trembles with the sensation, and you feel his pressure on your clit increase to see you through. The orgasm is hard, and long, and it leaves you with tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running wildly. You’re coming down slowly, and you feel his hand pull away. Before you realize it, he is standing in front of you again. Namjoon releases you, and your head hangs lifelessly as you pant.

Yoongi stands directly in front of you again, and you find yourself staring at his expensive shoes. You’re completely spent. Post orgasm bliss spreads throughout your muscles, and then, a slight discomfort. You realize what it is: the vibrator is still going.

You squirm lazily and whine at the sensation, it being too much. Yoongi squats down and gently lifts up your head by the chin. Your exhausted eyes meet his, and he clicks his tongue.

“Aw, are you all sensitive now?” he asks gently, in an almost patronizing tone. You don’t care. You nod sleepily.

“Is the vibrator too much, little girl?” You nod once more, eyes fluttering shut.

“Then use your safeword gesture,” he says, almost as if it’s a dare. "Go on. Snap."

If he’s not done with you, then you’re not done. You open your eyes and look directly at him as if to say “challenged accepted.”

Without moving his eyes from yours, he cranks up the vibrations until you’re whimpering again.

“Six more minutes,” you hear Hoseok say from beside you.

“Plenty of time,” Yoongi replies without skipping a beat. “I think we can get three more in. One every two minutes? Surely a slut like you will have no problem with that, since you wanted to come so badly earlier.”

You groan at the ache in your cunt, and at the slight displeasure the vibrator is causing. Yoongi stands again and walks back behind you, and this time you know better than to move your head to look.

Soon the vibrations begin to feel pleasurable again, and you’re having a hard time keeping your moans quiet.

“Atta girl,” you hear Yoongi say from behind you, “Your next one’s already coming isn’t it? You greedy little thing. You’re going to ruin Hoseok’s nice floors with your slick. And in front of all these people?”

Just like that, you’re reminded that you have an audience. Quite a large one. You open your eyes to see just about every guest’s gaze glued to your straining form. The heat bubbles in your abdomen as your next climax rushes toward you.

“You may come again,” is all Yoongi says as you’re thrown off the edge again. As soon as you begin to recover from this one, he ups the vibrator to full speed. You scream into the ball gag at the overstimulation, and cry out as tears spill out of your eyes. It’s entirely too much, but you love it. Before you realize it, another orgasm rips through your body, almost as if it were a continuation of the last one.

He doesn’t miss this though, and spreads your ass cheeks apart so he can get a better view. At this point, you’re not sure if you can do another one. You feel as though you might pass out if you come again. But the overstimulation is so overwhelming that you can only think of reaching one more high. You tense your entire body and try to get another one, but your muscles are so spent that you can’t stay tense for long. After a few more tries, you just sigh and hang limply, your limbs heavy and tired. You hang on the edge of climax, being able to see the other side, but not being able to go there.

Mascara tears stain your cheeks from exertion, and you are well and truly spent. You give up.

But you don’t snap your fingers.

Yoongi fastens his lips over your aching clit, and sucks. Just like that, you feel your orgasm building again so you clench, desperately trying to claim it; this time, you reach it.

It tears through you like a slow strike of lightning. You feel yourself shaking as it takes its time fracturing within you. It grows white hot in your belly, and it’s as if every cell in your body has been burned alive. All of the energy you have left is spent thrashing in the ecstasy of your orgasm, and for a few seconds, you know nothing else but the pleasure.

You find yourself deep in subspace, practically dead to the world. You don’t even have the energy to open your eyes. You barely register Hoseok as he begins untying the ropes around your hands, getting assistance from both Namjoon and Yoongi. You feel his hands as he releases your ball gag and caresses your face as he asks if you’re okay. You give the tiniest nod, and he wraps your limp form tightly in his arms as the two men finish unwrapping your legs. He swoops down and sweeps your legs up to carry you bridal style away from the party.

The next thing you know is the soft and cool silk of his sheets enveloping you as he lays you down. You exist there for a time, every nerve ending in your body tingling as you drift off.

You wake some time later to hear quiet chatting. You inhale and breathe in the musky scent of Hoseok’s favorite cologne. You find yourself curled around the hoodie he left for you. As you slowly open your eyes, you can just make out the time on the nightstand clock. It’s almost 3 AM; the fundraiser had to have ended over four hours ago. You breathe slowly and close your eyes again so you can focus on the voices in the room.

You hear Hoseok straight away; his tone is forever instantly familiar to you. The way his normal speaking rhythm is a little sloppy with alcohol. In reply is a voice you more recently became acquainted with. The voice who you last heard giving you permission to come. It’s a little bit more rough now, a Daegu accent slipping out in his intoxication. The third one takes you by surprise. A low and calm voice. Lower than you’d ever suspected possible, from hearing him speak this evening. Even still, Namjoon’s even tone is a rumble you can make out.

You sit up slowly, not wanting the blood to rush to your head. You were sleeping hard. Your dry mouth guarantees that. At your movement, the three men stop their talking and look over at you. Hoseok is the first to set down his glass and walk over to you. His black tie is gone and so is his jacket. His collar is wide open, showing off his tanned chest behind the many unfastened buttons. He gets on his knees next to the bed and reaches for your hands. Once he finds them, his brow is creased with worry, as he brings your hands up to his lips.

“Are you alright, baby girl?” he asks into your hands. You still have the weight of sleep over you, so you don’t respond right away.

“She had her gesture, Hoseok. She could have used it,” you hear Yoongi say, and you look in his direction. He sits with his legs spread, glass of whiskey hanging off of his fingers. Your eyes meet, and even though he’s trying to seem impertinent and uncaring, there’s a tinge of worry and guilt in his eyes. You glance to Namjoon and see that his worry is more plainly stated.

Hoseok caresses your cheek and turns you back to facing him. His eyes plead for an answer. So you give it.

“Yes,” you say, voice raspy, “I’m alright. I feel great, actually.” Hoseok visibly relaxes and you hear Yoongi across the room mutter an “I told you so” to Namjoon.

“He didn’t push you too hard?” Hoseok asks.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you reply smugly, meeting Yoongi’s eyes, “But he did well and truly wear me out... Clearly."

You chuckle as Hoseok covers your hands in a million tiny kisses.

“Perhaps I do need to step my game up,” he teases, “I’ve never seen you so fucked out.”

“Nothing a good nap can’t fix,” you tease back. He smiles up at you, and you once again get lost in his brightness and warmth. “Mind if I join you all for a drink?”

“Of course not, baby girl,” Hoseok says, “I’ll go get your robe--”

“Don’t bother,” you say, wiggling into his hoodie and pulling the hood up and over your hair, “but you can go get me a glass.”

[awesomerextyphoon]

Madripoor Musings

Summary: You’re undercover as Zemo’s Sugar Baby while you’re with the team in Madripoor. You seem to like the position a little too much and Sam gets jealous.

Parings: Sam Wilson x Black Female Reader, slight Zemo x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Warnings: FATWS Spoilers, Smut, Oral (f receiving), Light Choking, Angst, Semi-Public Smut,  Daddy Kink, and Slight Emotional Manipulation

A/N: Ran into another writer’s block so I’m using prompts from this list to get myself out of it. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

“So, are we good to go, everyone?”

The four of you were jet-setting in Zemo’s private plane to Madripoor to get info on this new version of super solider serums. Zemo came up with the idea of having Sam go undercover as the West African weapons dealer/smuggler, Smiling Tiger. Bucky returned to his ‘Winter Soldier’ mode and you were to become ‘Miss Erina’, Zemo’s new arm candy/Sugar Baby.

Your backstory was simple: you’ve been with Zemo since before he went to prison living in his many estates and luxurious apartments.

It took some time for everyone to get into character. Sam tried and failed to pull off a Nigerian accent while Bucky kept up his hard glare and glower routine. You and Zemo put on the perfect couple facade with the both of you placing semi-sensual touches on each other’s bodies and showering each other with (sometimes lewd) compliments.

“Oh, thank you for the necklace, Daddy!” you gushed loving the way Sam was fuming. Bucky almost broke his character trying not to snicker.

“Nothing’s too much for you, котёнок/kotyonok (kitten).” Zemo mused as he offered you a coy smirk and leaned in for a kiss.

You giggled as he placed kisses along your jawline, neck, and collarbone.

“We’ll continue this later, киса,” Zemo whispered while winking at Sam.

 ––––

 Madripoor was amazing, to say the least. It was a cyberpunk wet dream with bright lights at various angles and two distinct levels giving off a Black Lagoon/Blade Runner/Ghost in Shell vibe.

It felt like your kind of town.

It’s been like this since the Snap. Your older sister died in a car crash right after Thanos’ victory. Your father and uncle were blipped into the ocean dying instantly. Nowadays, your mother could barely talk to you without crying.

Natasha was dead and Steve fucked off to the 1940s to crush English pussy. Sharon got branded an enemy of the US Government and was forced to run. Some dumbass cracker (you will NEVER acknowledge his name) was given Sam’s rightful shield and mantle of Captain America by the craven, racist US government and had the NERVE to tell you to stay out of his way.

To top it all off, you found out that the US military tortured a man for 30 YEARS in order to ‘make the perfect soldier’.

You were finally in a place that matched how you felt.

“We’re heading into Low Town. Be on your guard, everyone.” Zemo warned as he lifted your chin and kissed you again. He insisted on walking towards your escort.

“Why do I have to wear this again? I look like a pimp!” Sam whined while looking sexy AF in his Ankara (I’m saying it’s Ankara) suit.

“Don’t mind him, Daddy. Sam has no sense of style.” You joked snuggling closer to Zemo.

“We’re not at the club yet.” Sam pointed out, vexed at the way you were clinging onto Zemo.

“We cannot let our guard down, Wilson. Selby has eyes everywhere.”

Sam relented and tried not to look your way. It was tempting due to you wearing an amazing Burgundy Fashion Nova Sugar Free Mini Dress with Black Bow Whoa Pumps. Your curves were out, but not in a shameless manner.

You had class, yet you were a tease.

 ––––

 The ride to Selby’s was nothing short of thrilling.

You were right about the overall aesthetic. Madripoor definitely has the ‘dystopian punk’ feel on lock.

“You look radiant, котёнок.” Zemo cooed as you kissed his neck liking how smiled at Sam and inwardly cackled at Sam’s glower.

 –––––

 Several men and some women moved to make a pass at you on the way to the club. A few audacious men learned that you were Zemo’s the hard way, Bucky made sure of it.

You had to mask your displeasure at how many people were shooting appreciative glances at Sam.

You just hoped this escapade would end soon.

 ––––––

 Zemo advised everyone to aim straight for the bar wrapping his arm around your waist as he strode into the club. Sam and Bucky followed suit slipping into their Apex and Winter modes respectively.

The bartender licked his lips as he looked you over, “Thought Selby told ya you ain’t welcomed here, Zemo.”

Zemo raised an eyebrow, “I know, but this is important,” he eyed several bouncers making their way towards your group. Their moves did not faze the baron. He simply turned to Bucky and whispered in his ear.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to let loose. You could’ve sworn a couple of people were ready to shit themselves.

 –––––

 Selby was...interesting. She/They gave off a pretentious ‘I’m always ten steps ahead’ aura with a bit of fake whimsy. She/They wanted to give you to one of her best clients and keep Bucky for herself/themselves (probably for sexual reasons, didn’t want to pry).

The conversation was going well...until Sam’s phone went off.

Insert facepalm.

You’ve told him time and time again to put his phone on silent and get rid of vibrate. Now he was gonna get y’all killed, but you said,” Fuck it!” and shot her/them and the #2.

The group had to book it and you cursed yourself for wearing non-running heels.

 _____

 Your asses were saved by a guardian sniper, Sharon. You were glad to see her again missing your bi-weekly movie nights and sporadic weekend brunches.

“It’s good to see you, Sharon.” You greeted as you hugged Sharon at the entrance of her High Town pad.

“It’s great to see you, too, even after you’ve destroyed my work.” Sharon lowered her voice while pressing her lips together in frustration and then lust at the sight of Sam’s deliciously thicc upper body.

You couldn’t blame her as you wanted to run your hands and tongue along his planes of muscle.

You listened in on the group’s conversation as you changed clothes seeing Sam’s distress at Sharon and Zemo’s words. They did have a point about how being a hero does ring hollow, but it still hurt to see Sam’s sadness and hurt.

 ––––––

 You found Zemo, bless his heart, dancing like a lost dad on the dance floor and started grinding against him while shooting Sam a sexy pout accentuating your sensually full lips.

Sam, for his part, was trying to look interested talking to a waitress with killer legs. He almost lost it when he put his arms around your waist.

“Let’s see if we can get a reaction out of him,” you whispered wrapping your arms around his neck. He knew that Sam hasn’t been giving it lately.

 ––––––

 Your little stunt lasted for about ten minutes before Sam stomped over grabbing your arm and dragging you into one of Sharon’s ‘private rooms’ after another man got too close to what was his.

“Why did you drag me away like that?!” you shouted secretly turned on by the raging fire in his eyes.

“So you like calling your men ‘Daddy’?” Sam demanded as he backed you into the wall.

“I’m your ‘daddy’ now, vixen.” Sam breathed while lightly dragging his finger up your thighs only to find no panties.

“No panties, huh?” he smirked as he twirled his forefinger around your clit causing you to moan.

“Fuck, I love hearing you moan. Say my name, vixen. Don’t care if Sharon finds out.” Sam murmured against your lips. He effortlessly lifted you in such a way to make you wonder if he got some SS serum. It didn’t hurt that you got to see his muscles bulge underneath his turtleneck as he landed your blessed backside onto one of the tables.

“Eyes on me, kitten,” Sam ordered as he forced open your legs and made his way your slit leaving open-mouthed kisses and love bites in his wake. “You're already soaking for me, baby.” he mused as he gave your slit a long lick.

You could barely keep yourself from moaning.

“Who's your daddy, baby?”

“You are!”

“I’m your ONLY daddy!” Sam shouted and dove in.

You were drowning in ecstasy.

Sam was hitting all the right notes with your pussy. He was always a G at eating you out. Sam swatted your hand away from your mouth, “I want everyone to know who your real daddy is,!”

He kept you on edge for nine excruciating minutes before he finally let you orgasm.

“No time for rest, vixen.” Sam chided as he flipped you on the table ass up with your dress bunched up around your chest,” Are you a good little vixen?” Sam breathed in your ear as he placed kisses along your ear, neck, and collarbone.

“Yes, daddy.”

“You’re damn right I am!” He sheaved himself into you in one swift motion. You moaned in delight at the sensation. He didn’t move no matter how much you begged him, “Tell the world who your daddy is,” he instructed as he slapped your plump ass.

You screamed out his name and Sam started thrusting. He gently wrapped his hand around your neck while demanding you to shout his name. Sam pounded into you at a relentless pace constantly hitting your ‘Cum Dizzy Sector’ turning you into a delightfully orgasmic mess.

Sam was reaching his limit so he played with your clit to make you finish first. You came with what felt like an earth-shattering orgasm with Sam coming with a primal roar not too long afterward.

Both of you were so wrapped up in orgasmic bliss that you didn’t notice Sharon, Zemo, Bucky, and a few other partygoers at the door.

“So, how did go?” Sharon teased as you tried to cover yourself up.

“How much did you see?”

“Hmm,” Sharon hummed while tapping her chin, “Enough for me to close a $19.8M art deal.”

“We’re getting a 10% cut.” Sam barked annoyed with the rest of the group reigning in on his smash time.

“Fine. Get dressed, I got a lead.” Sharon announced while smirking all the way to her quarters.

You smirked at Zemo as you made your way to the exit.

Worth it.

[lemonmeringuecry]

The Cubs at Disneyland

Hi, so I've been trying to do this for awhile (ever since I drew Lo in a Mickey Mouse hoodie) but when the queen herself, miss Hazel, said she needs them to go to Disney... well I wrote this. And drew it. Because I'm me.

So anyway, here's the drawing and below is the fic

Tw for a couple mentions of food but I think that's it

Credit for everything @lumosinlove

Leo bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, goofy smile at full force while he waited to board the plane. He had grown up going to Disney World with his family. Living in Louisiana, Florida wasn’t too far away, and Eloise and Wyatt Knut didn’t let being adults stop them from enjoying the magic of Disney. When Leo was born, his parents were beyond excited about the prospect of going as a family, getting mickey ears, collecting pins, and making memories.

The first time he went, Leo was five, his favorite Disney movie was the lion king, and an expression of pure joy was permanent in his pale, blue eyes. Over the four days they were in the parks he got to go on rides, eat themed sweets, and meet his favorite characters.

After that first trip, Eloise started a scrap book. The book, titled ‘Disney World 2006’, was soon filled with pictures of Leo at the entrance gate, Leo with pineapple dole whip halfway to his mouth, and countless of all three of them taken by the photographers.

A favorite picture of Eloise’s was near the back, this one of her son with Simba. When Leo had spotted the cast member dressed as his favorite character, he all but threw himself at the lion costume clad employee. Leo’s mama had taken many pictures of the two lion cubs together and they were beyond adorable.

There are more scrap books from 2008, 2011, 2014, and 2017. Throughout the years of pictures Leo never looks less than ecstatic. Even though New Orleans will forever remain his favorite place in the world, Disney is a close second to home, which is why this trip with his boys is such a big deal for him.

The Lions are currently on a short break in the season after their game against the Coyotes and the cubs are going to spend a few days at Disneyland in Anaheim.

Finn reaches forward to grab Leo’s hand who is standing in line in front of him.

“Sunshine, are you excited?” He asks. Leo tilts his head around to look at his boyfriend and nods eagerly.

“We’ll take that as a yes,” logan chuckles sleepily from behind Finn where he is standing with his head resting on the red head’s back. Evidently waking up at 6:00 in the morning to drive to the airport wasn’t ideal for him.

Leo lets out a low, impatient groan, still bouncing, “I need to be there like right now. Can’t we get on the plane already?”.

“We haven’t even been waiting that long. I think they’re about to call our section though, Peanut,” Finn answers him, trying not to let his amusement show too much.

A crinkly noise cuts off Leo’s response, “Now boarding rows 1-10,” a voice says from over the loudspeaker. Leo stands up straighter and turns to his boyfriends, “that’s us!”

“I know Nutter-Butter, go on, let’s get you to Disney!” Finn says as he pats Leo’s butt lightly, moving him forward, onto the jet bridge.

The boys get settled into their seats, Finn by the window, Logan in the middle for maximum cuddles, and Leo on the aisle for the leg room. For the first half of the flight Logan sleeps while Finn and Leo share a movie, but all three boys are wide awake by the time the flight attendants come around with drinks for the second time. The rest of the flight is spent chatting about practices coming up after the break, things they need for the apartment, and what they are going to do first upon arriving.

Once getting off the plane in California, they take the shuttle from John Wayne Airport to the Disneyland hotels. They are staying in the Adventure Land tower, closest to the park. By this point all three boys are buzzing with the infectious happiness of Disney. After unpacking and getting settled into their hotel room, the cubs proceed with their plans of shopping and getting dinner in Downtown Disney. First thing on the agenda is to procure mouse ears. Logan, Finn, and Leo make their way to World of Disney in order to find the widest selection of ears. Leo has a collection of his own ears at home, including his favorite pride Minnie ears, but for this trip he wants to get new ones along with Logan and Finn. Leo and Finn decide on classic Mickey ear hats, while Logan picks out Minnie ears with a lavender bow. They all get sweatshirts too, as is custom.

After a pleasant evening of enjoying the atmosphere and getting dinner at Ralph Brennan’s Jazz Kitchen (Leo’s offense towards their attempt at Cajun cuisine is only partially a joke), they call it night. They head back to the hotel, brush their teeth, put on pajamas, and cuddle up in bed. After a busy day the three boys quickly fall asleep, full of anticipation for the day ahead.

Something you should know about Leo is that when it comes to Disney, he is hard core. Their first morning there is an early entry in Disneyland park.

“Rise and shine, party people!” Leo calls as he entera the main part of the hotel room from the bathroom. Logan and Finn are just now waking up, but they aren’t remotely tired. The pure excitement radiating off their boyfriend is contagious as well as the promise of a day of fun.

“Butter baby, how long have you been up?” Finn’s question is alarmed yet distinctly amused.

“Since 5:30,” Leo responds off-handedly. Logan and Finn share a look, then turn it on Leo. Undeterred, Leo spins slowly in a circle in order to show off his carefully constructed outfit. He is wearing his favorite light wash Levi’s, paired with the crewneck he bought yesterday (light gray with vintage looking Mickey & friends). Underneath his sweatshirt he is wearing his Pizza Planet t-shirt, ready for when it gets hot later. Leo’s outfit is accessorized with his new Mickey ear hat, white air Jordan 1’s, and his Tinker Bell lanyard filled with pins from over the years.

“These things take time! Now y’all go get dressed, we have to be in line by 6:45,” Leo says. With that both Finn and Logan get out of bed and into their clothes in record time. On their way out of the room, they pick up their ears and backpacks from the desk by the TV.

After a brief stop at the Starbucks in Downtown Disney, the boys make it into the que of people lining up at the entrance gate. Once 7:00 hits, the lines start to move into the park. As Logan, Finn, and Leo enter, they gaze around in awe. At the end of Mainstreet sits Sleeping Beauty’s castle, tall and glorious. They walk hand in hand down the lane of colorful, old fashioned buildings, chatting excitedly about what to do first.

“Alright babes, what’s up on the agenda?” Finn asks.

“I don’t even know the options, what do you say Le?” Logan continues.

They end up heading over to Tomorrow Land first. They go on Star Tours and Space Mountain while the lines are short, then bounce around Fantasy land as they make their way across the park. Around 8:30 all three boys start to get hungry so they grab a bag or two of beignets from New Orleans Square. After breakfast, they hit their favorites in Adventure land (Finn fucking loves Indiana Jones), Frontier Land (Big Thunder Mountain Railroad is a fan favorite), and New Orleans Square (Logan might not stop singing ‘Yo Ho a Pirate’s Life for Me’ for weeks).

Around noon the cubs exit Disneyland Park and walk across to California Adventure. After lunch at Wine Country Trattoria the boys bop around Cars Land, Hollywood Land, Pacific Warf and Grizzly Peak. The lines are a lot longer now that it’s afternoon, so they take it in stride and spend their waiting time talking, cuddling, and playing games. They end up going on almost every ride as well as hitting the extra good ones twice like Incredicoaster and Guardians of the Galaxy (still a fan-fucking-tastic ride but Leo misses the Twilight Zone theme).

By the time they finish up in California Adventure for the day, it’s almost time for Fantasmic, and Leo has yet to tell his boys that he got them reserved seats. The cubs meander back to Disneyland but when they start to near Frontier Land Finn picks up the pace.

“Sweetheart, what’s the hurry?” Leo asks with a knowing smile.

“I wanna get good seats for Fantasmic, I haven’t seen it since I was little!” Finn replies.

“Orgasmic? I like the sound of that,” Logan slides in with a smirk.

“Baby, no!” His boyfriends exclaim at the same time. Logan giggles which gets Leo and Finn laughing as well.

“And Finn, I got us seat reservations for the show so no need to rush,” Leo tells him. Finn’s response is to jump on Leo with a fierce hug and a drawn out “Yay,”.

The cubs enjoy the water show immensely, all snuggled up and bundled in sweatshirts once again to fend off the cool evening air. They point out little details to each other with intertwined hands and gasp aloud at the pretty fireworks. Once Fantasmic is over they do a few more rides, then head back to the hotel, sleepy after a full day. The boys fall asleep quickly again, ready to do it all again the next day.

[kingofkingdom-archive]

1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30. 

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

-

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat. 

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face. 

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago. 

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums. 

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh." 

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer. 

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

-

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee. 

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers. 

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat. 

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now." 

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill... 

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering. 

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here. 

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

-

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more. 

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you. 

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again. 

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.

[batsandbugs]

Daminette December

A/N: Okay so this one spiraled out of control a little bit, but I’m so happy with how it turned out! Marinette and Damian back to being chaotic little shits, Marinette being understanding, and Damian going a little too far but finding the one person who doesn’t mind. Let me know what y’all think. Thanks @daminette-december2019-2020​

Daminette December Day 15 – Cats

If you had told Marinette back in May that by Christmas she would be living in the most crime-infested city in America going to college, working at a pet store that was most likely a front for the Russian mob, and trying to unravel a 300-year-old curse on said crime-infested-city…

… she would have believed you.

After all, it wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her.

But back to the pet store.

There she was a week before Christmas living in a shoebox apartment, drowning in fabric and notions, with a magical box filled with tiny gods who loved to squabble and give conflicting vague advice. They were supposed to work on how to break the giant magical curse laid out across the city, but Marinette had gotten hired at the local pet store down the street because if she spent one more minute sequestered inside trying to decipher the handwriting of centuries-old monks, without a break, she would scream.

Plus, the animals were ridiculously cute and the current owner obviously had no clue how to take care of them – which is how she concluded the store was a money-laundering front. The owner, a Mr. Petriov, had known her for all of three days before leaving her to manage the shop by herself. That hadn’t changed much in the month she had worked here, but at least the animals were in better shape now and she had a slightly larger budget for the endless amount of coffee she drank.

Marinette swept the back of the room, trying to make sure it was as clean as she could get it. Despite her best efforts at trying to cheer the place up, the plastic Christmas decorations and lively music did little to distract from the poor living conditions of the animals. Marinette wished there was some way to help, but she was rather limited in her options in a foreign city and Plagg’s suggestions of stealing all the animals and burning the place down was not a viable one.

No matter how much Marinette wanted to sometimes.

The store bell rang.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she called. She finished sweeping the last of the room, before putting the broom away, and coming out to the main part of the store. “Hi there, I’m Marinette, how can I-”

“Did you know that Gotham Department of Health and Safety Regulations, Section 45: Animals and Livestock, subsection C.1: Living conditions, states that cages for cats must be 30 inches in width, 28 inches in length, 30 inches in height, and 30 inches on the diagonal? And that yours do not match those specifications?” There in the center of the store stood a man about her age. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a long, expensive, looking coat billowed out behind him. His voice was posh and smooth, and his tone could cut glass. He looked around the store in thinly veiled disgust.

Marinette vaguely recognized him. He’d been in the store about two weeks ago. He hadn’t said anything when she asked if he needed help. He just went around to all the cages watching the animals through the bars. She had gone about her normal routine, and then he left a little while later. The only reason she remembered him at all was he was wearing the same designer coat with wool Marinette’s hands itched to get a hold of.  

“I- I did not. Although, this is not my store.” The man glared at her, and had Marinette not been used to a lifetime of truly piercing glares from Chloe, she might have crumbled underneath it. “I’ve only been working here for a month and let me tell you it’s better than it was before.”

“These conditions are intolerable.”

Marinette usually kept a cool façade with the few customers who came in here, but this man was obviously looking for a fight; not that she didn’t completely agree with him.

“I’m well aware, but I’m doing the best with what I have here, especially since my boss doesn’t care.” One of the cats mewled loudly, and Marinette sighed. She knew exactly who that was. Walking over to one of the cages she opened it up. A tiny grey cat with tipped black ears and paws jumped into her arms. Marinette had named him Macaroon since Mr. Petriov hadn’t bothered to give any of them names.

“Sorry,” she said. “Macaroon likes attention, and he’s good with people so I bring him out when others come in to pet them.” The man came over and let the cat sniff his hand before scratching under the his chin.

“He looks well taken care of,” he complimented, although he still scowled. Marinette couldn’t help but think he would be much more handsome if he smiled.  

“As I said, I try my best. I take them all out of their cages so they can stretch their legs, and not just the dogs either. But that’s whenever I’m not cleaning, or prepping food, or taking care of the paperwork.” Or at home trying to figure out how to banish a city-wide curse, Marinette thought to herself.

The man hummed. “Look, you seem… nice.” He said the word in such a way that implied he didn’t believe the concept existed. “So, I’ll let you know ahead of time, but this store is going to get raided tomorrow. It’s a-”

“Front for the Russian Mob?” Marinette finished. The man seemed taken aback and immediately glared at her again. “Yeah, I figured that out within a few days of working here. I just had no clue as to who to go to about it. Who’s going to help a tiny French girl about a corrupt business in a city known for corruption?” She raised an eyebrow at the man who seemed taken aback by her abruptness.

“Fair point. So why are you working here then? If you know it’s corrupt.”

Marinette sighed; it was true she had plenty else to be doing, school was over for the semester sure, but there was always magic to learn, or sites to go check out to see if they were connected to the curse, or she could have gone home for the break and visited her parents, but…

If she did any of that, no one would be here to look out for the animals. And just because she couldn’t actively be a hero, didn’t mean she was going to turn up her back on those who needed her, even if they were of the four-legged variety.

She looked back at the handsome man; how could she explain any of that to him.

… not that she should.

Because that would be bad.

She didn’t know him at all.

Even if he was ridiculously good looking.

Fuck. 

She did not have the time to get caught up in anything else, especially not a crush.

So instead, she went with a mostly true answer. “Just because the people running the store are bad, doesn’t mean the animals are. I would come by here on my way from school and would want to let the poor things out of their cages. So, when I finally had enough time, I applied for a job.” The look on the man’s face was a cross between surprise and understanding. “And you’d want to do something else too if the last three months all you did was stare at miles of hand-sewn hems and contemplate if death would be kinder.”

Marinette bet the man would deny it if pointed out, but the side of his mouth turned up at her comment.

“Understandable.”

“My question is,” she asked, stroking Macaroon who was happily purring away in her arms. “Why would you tell the person working at the Russian mob front that you’re going to have the store raided the next day? Doesn’t that seem a little counter-productive?” Not that Marinette was in any way complaining, she had been waiting for an opportunity like this for weeks.

“It depends on whether you tell your boss or not.”

“Hell no.”

Finally, the man’s face morphed from a resting scowl into a self-satisfied smirk.

Oh no, he’s even hotter like that, Marinette thought.  

“Then I think telling was exactly the right idea. You’ll need to give a statement to the department doing the raid, but you won’t be in trouble for anything that went down here.”

Marinette nodded, and then remembered something. “Would pictures help?”

“Pictures?”

“I’ve been taking pictures of all the documents that come through the front desk. The legitimate ones and the less legitimate ones. It’s only about a month’s worth of stuff, but I have it on a flash drive.”

The man’s smirk grew a bit more. “Yes, I do believe that would be useful.”

Marinette smiled, finally glad this place would get shut down, but then she looked at Macaroon so snuggly in her arms, and all the other lovely creatures throughout the store came to mind. “And the animals, will they be okay?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to them. They’ll all be going to reputable shelters or good homes through the Wayne Foundation.”

Marinette readjusted Macaroon in her arms. “That’s good. So, should I bring the flash drive when I give my statement or-”

“I can take it,” he said quickly. “I mean,” he cleared his throat. “You can give it to me, and I can hand it off to the… proper authorities.” The glint in his eye spelled trouble. Marinette thought it was completely unfair how attractive she found it.  

“It’s in my apartment. My shift is only another hour, but….” She thought about her mess of an apartment covered in yards of fabric, questionable ancient artifacts, and the tiny floating talking gods. “It’s a bit of a mess, how about we meet elsewhere?”

“Yes,” the man responded quickly. He looked down at Macaroon and stroked the cat’s back, a light blush playing out over his cheeks. “Of course, that would be acceptable.”

“Coffee then?” asked Marinette, glad to have a little longer to chat with him.

“Sounds good. Inman Perk at 7th and Forge Street?”

“I love that place. I’m Marinette by the way, I think I said that.”

The man smirked again, “You did, but it’s nice to hear it. I’m Damian, Damian Wayne.”

“I’d shake your hand Damian, but my arms are a little full.” She readjusted Macaroon, moving over to his cage placing the content cat back inside. Marinette smiled, happy to know this would be the last night the animals would have to sleep in these too-small cages. She turned back to Damian and offered her hand.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Mr. Wayne,” she said with a grin.

He clasped his hand with hers, and she delighted at the chill it sent up her spine. “Not nearly as much as I am with you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette paused for a moment, “I don’t think I ever gave you my last name?”

Damian paused, his face of a person caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “I may, perhaps, have done a slight background check on you before I decided to confront you today.” He retreated his hands and clasped them behind his back. “Uh, I- I apologize if that comes off a little…” he trailed off.

“Invasive, creepy, overbearing?”

Damian’s face fell. “Yes.”

Marinette tried hard to hold in her smirk. “Or protective, concerned, over-invested? I’ve had friends like that before.” Thinking particularly of Kagami, or her own actions towards Adrian during those early years. “It’s a little much, but not so bad especially when confronting someone who may be part of the Russian mob.”

Damian’s face went from contrite to an all-out grinning smirk. “You? Part of the mob? A little hard to believe.”

“Oh, you never know”’ she teased back. “I think I could pull it off, no one ever expects the tiny French girl.”

A bark from the back of the store interrupted their flirting, soon all of the dogs were barking, and Marinette realized the time.

“I’ve got to get them all taken out and fed. I’ll be finished in about an hour, I’ll grab the stuff from my apartment and meet you at… 8:30?”

Damian nodded. “Of course, see you there.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked out of the store, his long coat billowing like a cape behind him. Marinette watched him disappear from view and waited a second before she punched the air. She couldn’t wait. She kneeled back down at the cage and scratched Macaroon’s chin.

“Thanks for being such a good luck charm.” The cat purred back happily. Marinette headed off to finish what she needed to get done, wondering what the heck she was going to wear.

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[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze Ch. 8

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, AAANGST yet SMUT. Mention of Death, Anthony Ramos, Coached masturbation, heavy petting, sunscreen. Fluff. Plot. Mature themes and situations.18+.

Word Count: 4.6 K

Plot: Linden is trying to run from her feelings for Daveed after a lot of trauma and a shitty ex. Daveed assumes and hits a nerve and Linden just wants to hit that. It’s her birthday weekend y’all!

Read the Previous Chapter

-----

“Let this be a thing…”

You smiled at the possibilities of the situation.

“Let’s let this flow.  It’s my birthday weekend.  I want to have fun.”  You turned around and faced Daveed. “With you.” 

You reached up and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. They were so succulent, but you didn’t allow yourself to get sucked in, literally or figuratively.  You had to get some control back.

You looked up at him and he was hopeless. He struggled to continue to hold himself back. 

Daveed thought about how tight you were around his fingers. He would have you screaming in this fitting room again, this time with you impaled on his dick.

“That’s all that matters right now. I like this vibe.”

D nodded at you.  “You’re right.”  Daveed cleared his throat as you two gazed at each other.  “I guess we gotta find a way to get out of here.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.  The walk of shame.”  

You straightened your clothes and gathered the garments you were going to try on escaping the fitting room with only a passing smirk from the attendant. 

You giggled at his lowkey “Get it,” and Daveed rolled his eyes as you passed by.

You decided to get all of the clothes you’d wanted to try on, but got distracted from trying on because of your shenanigans.  You piled everything on the register.

Daveed was so unsure. About what just happened; about what could happen. He didn’t want to fumble this beautiful bag. 

Before you could speak, he stepped up to the register. 

“We’ll take them all.”

You gave Daveed a side eye. You smiled at the woman at the counter.

“Yes, I will.”  

You opened your purse to get your credit card out, trying to remain calm and collected. 

“Linden, let me.”  

Daveed really thought he was about to pay for all of your clothes up in here. This was not it. He was assuming too much.

“No, Daveed. I got it.  Thank you though.” 

There was no mistaking the acidity under your sweet tone. You didn’t know what Daveed thought this was….

“But, this is a lot. And it’s your birthday.”

Your smile widened even though your rage grew, “All the more reason it should be my prerogative.”

“Lindy…”

“Daveed.”

You stared at each other down for a hot minute and then finally Daveed just closed his mouth and watched as you pulled a black amex card out of your wallet and signed for the total, which was over $2200. 

You didn’t blink an eye.

The fun you shared in the fitting room was long gone.  Things had gotten real tense real fast.

“Can I at least help you carry them?”

You ignored Daveed as you struggled with the bags, then put them down on the corner of the street outside the store.

You got your phone out to order a ride.

“What the fuck was that Daveed?”

He took you in, your little angry body turning him on.

“I was trying to be nice.”  Daveed couldn’t hide his irritation with you.  Was this even worth it?

“Why do you think that paying for my stuff would be ‘nice?’”  

Daveed was confused. 

“Well, I know you’re not with Mark anymore and you were in school and everything and Columbia is expensive. I just didn’t want you to have to go into more debt on your birthday weekend.” 

“Why would I be going into debt?”  Your eyes were full of murder.  “Shit Daveed, you just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

You looked up at him as if you were going to fight him. Daveed wondered how many times he needed to make you cum before you would calm down. He was going to find out.

“Obviously I don’t, because I don’t know why the fuck you’re mad at me because I wanted to do something nice...I-”

A car pulled up beside you.

“That’s just the fuck WHY Daveed.  You don’t know anything about me.”

And then you grabbed your bags, flung them in the back of the car and got in, leaving Daveed on the corner of a street in Isabella, Puerto Rico, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

------

You were actually vibrating with rage all the way back to the beach house. You texted Jas for the combination to the front door and let her know where you were.  

She made a remark about giving you and Daveed time alone and you didn’t correct her, you just  needed some space.

You got your bags into your room and then went back out to the kitchen for a bottle of water.  

Daveed came in as you sat and drank, looking out of the great room windows.

You sat up straight on the stool and tried to ignore him.

Daveed had ordered a car as soon as yours drove away, vowing to find out what that scene was all about.  

He had not had to chase anyone in a long time and he felt like he was way too old for it.  But he couldn’t help himself.

Now, he was standing here approaching you like a wild animal.

“Do you want to tell me what just happened?”

You just tried to will this intrusion into your life and your emotions away.  Maybe if you ignored him he would disappear. 

You just could not take anymore pain and Daveed was dangerous. 

He could hurt you. Bad.

“Linden.” 

Daveed came around beside you and watched your profile as you closed your eyes and tried to shut him out.

“Please.”

Damn.  You swallowed and opened your mouth to speak.  You almost couldn’t say the words. You continued to look at the ocean.

“Dell takes care of me.” 

Daveed looked at you carefully. You continued to stare straight ahead. 

“The accident. The driver of the truck that hit us was drunk AND high. The company knew of his history and didn’t take him from behind the wheel.”

You took a deep breath and continued.

“We had good lawyers. I not only list my twin, but my left ovary and the ability to have children without a very involved medical procedure.”

Daveed really didn’t want to hear anymore. He felt terrible.

“There was a 30 million dollar settlement, 5 million to my mom with 25 million in trust until I turned 25 years old.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this.

“So when I say I got it, Daveed. I got it.” 

You looked at him, something in your eyes that spoke of strength and brokenness.

Daveed wanted to throw himself off a cliff as he watched the tears roll down your cheek. Got damnit he was such an idiot.

“I’m sorry, Linden….”

“Don't be sorry Daveed. I just can’t do this. I can’t let you hurt me like Mark, like every other person who thinks they know me.  I can not…..”  

You just shook your head and walked toward your room.  Daveed’s long legs got ahead of you and he just stood in your way as you walked.

“Linden. I’m not going to let you run away.” 

You two played a slow game of human foosball.  After a minute, you just stopped.

“Move Daveed.  Let me go.”

He put his arms up, but he didn’t move.  

“I’m not holding you.  But I’m here Lindy, and I’m not going to leave you alone.  I’m sorry that I made such a boneheaded assumption, and I’m sorry I made you bring up something so painful.  But I’m not like everyone else.  I think I…”

All of a sudden, you wanted him to stop talking. You grabbed him around his waist and gave him a hug, sobbing into his chest.  

Daveed brought his arms down around you and held you while you cried, just as he did that first night. He still felt good.

This time, however, was different. Daveed bent down and picked you up, taking you into your bedroom bridal style.

He kicked the bags out of the way and lay down with you on the bed.

“Daveed, I…”

“I just want to hold you Lindy.  Relax.”

You stopped protesting and went with the flow. You let him hold you and did as he instructed, you relaxed, your head on his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart under one ear and the ocean out of your other. 

You felt the soothing thrill of him playing on your scalp and with your curls with his left hand as his right caressed your left leg, which was thrown across his thighs.

Before he knew it, you were softly snoring in his arms, and Daveed knew that his fate was sealed. The road to your heart was full of landmines, but he had to try to get there.  

------

You woke up to the sounds of giggling.  

Jasmine and Craig were standing over you and Daveed on the bed.  You were a little confused, but you and D woke up to an audience.

“Whyyyyy are you still fully clothed?” 

You grimaced at Craig and threw a pillow at them as Daveed sat up and grinned.

“Get the fuck outta my room Craig.” He dodged it successfully.

“We ain’t got time for you to waste all weekend NOT fucking around.  Chop chop.” Craig walked out of your room as you stuck your tongue out as his back. 

Jasmine laughed at you and followed him. 

“We’re going to have dinner out by the pool if you wanna join. Swimsuits required. The chef will be here in a few and Craig and I want to get some sun before the show tonight.” She looked at you over your shoulder as she left. 

“Or if you two want to stay in, that would probably be dope too…”

You shook your head at her back as she closed the door.

------

You sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling a bit awkward.  You put your head in your hands and let your curls hide your face. What the fuck were you on? It was like you had experienced the rollercoaster of a relationship, all in 18 hours.

Daveed sat up against the headboard, eyeing you warily.

“I want you Linden. I’m sorry for assuming earlier, but you gotta let me in so I know how not to.  I need you to be absolutely clear about what you want.”  

“I… I want you too, Daveed. I’m just really scared about being hurt again.”  

He closed his eyes when he heard your admission. Slowly but surely.

You raised your head and looked over at him.  You’d exhausted him already.

“I don’t want to hurt you Lindy.  But we’re both human. And too grown for the games.”

“I don’t want to play any games with you Daveed.  I mean… well….”

He opened his eyes and stared at you. He heard the invitation in your tone. This was a dangerous situation. He looked at his watch.  It was about 4 pm.  

The show started at 10 and although he wanted to start something and finish with you all afternoon and night… it might have to wait.  He leaned his head back and fantasized.

“What are you thinking about?”

Daveed opened one eye. He was attractive as fuck. He opened the other one and then closed them again.

“You don’t wanna know.”

You were intrigued.  You turned toward him and put your leg up on the bed, half indian style.

“Yes I do!  I must know all the things.” Your voice raised at the end of the sentence, making D smile.

Daveed wished he had the time to tame your control freak ways.

“You really don’t.”

“YES I DO.”

Daveed opened his eyes at your tone and you immediately calmed it down a bit, while your heart beat faster.

“You tryna stay in this room or you want to go out on the deck with everyone else?”

You looked down at the bed and bit your lip. You saw his huge hand on the bed, the veins prominent and the fingers impossibly long.  You looked back up at him and swallowed.

“W-we should probably join Craig an ‘nem….”

That stutter.  Oh, the control Daveed was utilizing at the moment.

“Then you definitely don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

Fuck. Now you definitely did want to know.

You pulled your other leg on the bed and then sat on your knees.  

“Pleeaseeee Daveeed.”

You. Begging.  This was heaven or hell, Daveed couldn’t figure out which. But he didn’t move from his position, just clasped his hands in his lap.  Because reasons.

“Actually, you on your knees made up a lot of my thoughts.”

You smiled a little.”So, you want me to suck your dick?”  You’d decided to try it.  

Daveed grunted and then looked to your face.

“That sounds nice.  Those pretty lips wrapped around my dick.  I wonder if you could take it all? Gag reflex?”

Instant waterfall. You moaned a little, and were so mesmerized you couldn't answer. Daveed sped on.

“But don’t be so unimaginative.  You on your knees can involve lots of things.”

Daveed moved, not too fast, and came around the bed behind you.  You shivered as he put his hand on your neck and then trailed it down your spine.

“Up. Let me see that arch.”

You obeyed of course, on your hands and knees on the bed, the arch in your back perfect for fucking. Daveed was looking at your ass and you hoped he couldn’t see your wetness beginning to trickle down your thigh.

“You could be on your knees with me behind you, eating you out from behind.” 

Daveed kneeled behind you, face to face with your barely cloth covered crotch. You moaned as you felt him get nearer to your core. Daveed stopped.

“You good?”  You nodded frantically, and Daveed continued closer.

“We’re gonna need a safeword.”

“Holy fuck!”

“Nah, that wouldn’t be a good one, because I have a feeling you might be saying that a lot.”

Daveed placed three kisses at your core, one on either inner thigh, and one on the strip of his jeans covering your clit. You started clenching as he pulled himself away, licking his lips. He’d captured some of your moisture on his mouth. You tasted better than he imagined.

“Or you could be on your knees riding my face, letting me drink from your pretty little fountain.”

Daveed sat on the floor and placed his head between your legs on the bed, looking up at your pussy in his jeans.  He just looked, not daring to touch you or himself. You reached down and caressed his curls.

“Daveed, please..”  

“No, no. You wanted to know what I was thinking.”  He slid out from under you like a mechanic.

He stood up behind you, put his hand on your ass and smoothed all the way down to the back of your neck, pushing your head down to the bed.

“How about me behind you on your knees, face in the bed with you keeping that ass up, while I pound that shit from behind? I wanna see that ass shake as I give you these back shots.”

And Daveed started the motion, pushing his hard, jeans covered dick into your ass, rubbing at first and giving you some friction, but driving you insane. 

You turned your head to the side to moan as Daveed pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, then sped up and gave you a pounding through your clothes.

Daveed hooked his fingers into your shorts, about to pull them down, when he stopped. He shook his head, trying to clear the sex high from his brain.  He stepped back.

You lay panting on the bed, lost in the moment.  You took a deep ragged breath to calm down and then turned over on your back.  You watched him watching you, knowing that he was holding back from fucking the shit out of you.

“What are you thinking Daveed?”

His voice was so damn deep. “That I want you to be ensconced around my dick. That I want all kinds of orgasms to happen, that you need to be cumming right now, Linden.”

He then cleared his throat.  “But that we probably have an audience right outside that door right now.”

“Hmmmm. I agree that I need to be cumming right now.”  You smiled at him and stretched.  ”But what about you Daveed?”

“Not quite yet. That HDD will be on point for the show tonight.”

You  got up on your knees, facing away from him and moved your hand to the waistband of your shorts. He watched in fascination as you touched yourself, your slick more than lubricating your fingers.

“What about me riding you on my knees. I LOVE Reverse Cowgirl.”

Daveed’s eyes began to water as he saw the vision. He saw your arm moving and your hips undulating. He moved behind you and pulled you to lean back onto him, your shoulders against his chest as he looked down to watch you finger yourself under the shorts.

So fucking sexy.

“What are you doing?” His velvet voice in your ear was everything.

As if he didn’t know. As if he couldn’t see. As if he wasn’t just doing the same thing less than two hours ago.  The view from over your shoulder was the shit.  Damn shame there were clothes involved, but the fact that they were his clothes made it pretty hot.

“MM.mmm...mmm…” You were gasping, his voice and proximity getting you there quickly.

“No, that won’t do.  If you wanna be a Good Girl for me, you gotta use those words.”

“Fuck.. I mean… Yes. Sir…” 

You heard his chest vibrate with a whimper when you said that.

“What Are you doing Linden?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and it lolled against Daveed’s chest as he brought his hands up to your hips to help keep you steady.

“I- I’m trying to cum, Sir…”

“Where is your hand?” Daveed was intently using his imagination to visualize.

“Nnnnh nnh, circling my c-c-clit…”

Daveed huffed.  “Good Girl.”  He gripped your hips harder as they shook.

“Are you wet like you were earlier?  That shit feels like, like, liquid satin.  Man, I can’t wait to be deep in that…”  

He dipped his lips to your neck, eyes glued to your arm emerging from your pants.  He bit at your pulse point.

“Ah!”  You were sooo close.

“I just hope you can take it all. S’pretty big.”

You whimpered at the thought of the pleasure, and at the yearning to be filled up right now.

“Ohhhhhh.” So very close.

“Need time to prepare you. It might hurt a bit at first.”

You bit your lip at the spring was about to snap.

“But I think I know that you like it to hurt a lil bit... I don’t give a fuck if you get mad, I might have to buy you some nipple clamps…”

His hands moved smoothly up your sides under the t-shirt and cupped your breasts, ghosting over your rock hard nipples.  Suddenly, he took each between his thumb and forefingers and twisted roughly.

“FUCKKKKKKK!!”

Your body rocked at your orgasm and you took your hand away from your core, too sensitive to continue. Daveed grabbed it and took it to his mouth, sucking your juices off, causing aftershocks to jerk your hips.

He moaned with your fingers in his mouth and then released them, kissing your neck again.  He chuckled.

“You wouldn't get off that easy if I had the time.  I’d make you take all of everything.  Including your orgasms. Better be ready.”

You turned around and stepped off the bed into his arms. Daveed held you, not daring to go down to the bed again.

Your head was on his chest.  Even after all that, you were too shy to look up in his eyes.

“How do you make me cum doing the bare minimum? You hardly touched me.”

Daveed smiled.  He felt the same way.  He was about to nut in his pants like a teenage boy a few minutes ago.

“You sure you want this?”

You finally looked at him.  Those eyes.  

“Yeah.’

“You sure you want all this crazy?”

“Mos def.” Daveed kissed your forehead and smiled down at you, eyes crinkling adorably.

It was time for your hands to roam.  You palmed him through his jeans.

“Let me take care of you D….”  You moved to unbutton him and he pulled out of your reach as you pouted.

Daveed smoothed his thumb over your lips.

“Like I said, I’d like nothing more.”  Then he cocked his head and looked up.  “Well, I’d like few things more… but If my dick comes out in this room right now, we would not leave for the rest of the weekend.”

He leaned down to kiss you with a sweet and filthy promise.

“Patience, Lindy.” He took a deep breath and backed toward the door.

“See you at dinner.”

You just stared at him, daring him to stay.

“Ok. Leave then. But Daveed. If I hear you turn my doorknob, I’ll be faceup on the bed butt-ass naked, waiting for you if you come back in.”  You started unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts.

Daveed stopped with his eyes wide, the angel and devil in his head wrestling with each other. He finally cleared his throat as he turned around and left.

“See you at dinner Lindy.”

The vision of you bending over toward him taking down your shorts with an evil smile was burned into his brain as he closed your door.  He stood there looking at the floor and contemplating going back in.  When he looked up, there were four pairs of eyes looking at him.

He straightened up and went to his room as his friends watched him like a hawk, then rolled with laughter.

-----

Daveed hopped in the shower, and quickly got himself off to calm down.  He slipped on some blue swim trunks and his white sunglasses, ran out and cannon balled into the pool, causing Jasmine to cuss him out as he splashed her hair.

He’d been chilling on a pool float a good twenty minutes when he saw his favorite animal out of the corner of his eye. Damn. 

“Look at that genius ass.”

Rafa commented and looked over from the float beside him and laughed at Daveed who was crossing himself.

“Dude! You’re jewish.”

Daveed cocked his eyebrow at his best friend. 

“I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

You’d spent 30 minutes picking out your most modest swimsuit, then grabbed a quick shower. You were shy by the time you walked out onto the pool deck, but no one was paying that much attention to you.  No one, except for Daveed.

His chill disappeared as he climbed out of the pool, over to your lounge chair.  Your sunglasses only partially hid you clocking him as he emerged, dripping wet.  Damn, that body you thought. 

He walked over to the chair next to yours and picked up a towel and started to dry off.

“Hey. You good?”

You smiled at him. 

“Hey. I’m great.” You smiled wider. 

You appraised him, as the delicious smell of something cooking wafted from the house. The sun was still bright, even though it was afternoon.

“You need a hand with some sunscreen? You’ll want to make sure that it is on evenly.”  

You stood up and bent at the waist to get the sunscreen out of the bag you’d brought out. Daveed licked his lips and you were all too ready to get your hands on Daveed again.

He looked at you and bit his lip.  “Sure, why not?”  

He cocked his head and eyebrow at you.  Then, he raised his hands to the side of his body..

Your mouth started watering.  You went around to his back and resisted the urge to put your arms around him and rest your head on him. 

Instead, you evenly distributed some cream on his well-sculpted shoulders and back.  You let your fingers dip a little bit into his swim trunks, feeling the top of the muscles contained within.

“Turn around.”  Your voice was everything at that moment to Daveed.  He did as you commanded.

“You don’t think I can take it from here?”  He questioned you as you squeezed some more cream into your hand.

“I have a technique. I can make sure it’s on evenly.  Its already out of the tube.”  You looked him dead in the eye as you rubbed your hands together, listing the reasons why you should keep your hands on him.

Diggs chuckled, then let you have your way.  

“I’m all yours."

His eyes held a look like he meant it when he said that. Your heart did a funny dance.

You held his gaze as you spread the cream on his shoulders and out to his arms.  Then, you got some more cream and started on his pecs.  You spread it on, rubbing your palms against his nipples.  

Daveed’s eyes closed in ecstacy.  Then, your hands went down.  You traced his eight pack as you continued to stare him in his eyes which opened as you started going south.

You licked your lips as your hands went where his happy trail would have been if he hadn’t shaved.  At that moment, his cock jumped and you were so close you could feel it. 

Your eyes widened when you remembered that you were not alone….

Shit!  

You and Daveed both turned your heads and saw your friends watching the show as you were about to go for the gold in Daveed’s swim trunks.

The deck erupted into screams, whistles and applause as everyone laughed at your lust.

You both blushed and moved apart. 

“Okay pervs, the show is over.”  Daveed said as you moved to sit on the beach chairs.

D returned the favor for you;  his hands on your body having the same effect on you as earlier, but the difference was you were self conscious now.

-----

Dinner was chill, and you two enjoyed your surroundings and your friends, both of you sitting as far apart as possible.  

The dance you did was delicate, but everyone noticed the new intimacy despite the high sexual tension. You drank some wine, but not too much, and Daveed had about two Johnny Walker Blacks. 

Rafa led the discussion of music, politics and culture and the weekend was vibing.  You were very content in the moment. By 7:30, Daveed, Rafa, and Ant had to start to get ready to leave for the show.  

You walked him inside and you shared a few kisses.  You felt like a kid as he held you.

“Daveed.”

“Yes?”

“Daveed, tonight I want….” you looked into his eyes, which were meeting yours boldly.

“What do you want Lindy?”

“I want you to be with me tonight, Daveed. Spend the night in my room.” Daveed was on top of the world.

“Done.  But I want you to decide after the show what we're going to do in your room tonight Lindy.  We can just go to sleep.” His smile was mischievous.

You didn’t understand. “You playing hard to get?” 

That heat, that anger in you. That was that shit he liked.

“Oh. I’m not hard to get. Get me hard Lindy.” Knowing full well he was a second away form just that.  

“Meet me backstage after the show.”

He pulled away and went into his room, leaving Linden hot, bothered, and soaking wet.

----

Next Chapter

Ahhhhh! I feel so rusty! Let me know if it’s any good. I missed this!

Taglist. (Let me know if you want on. Or off, lol)

@theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @curtainremote @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @peaches-and-mangoes​​

[littlemisslipbalm]

“I am not going to join your band” Part 3

AKA “I’ll only join your band if you promise not to kick me out if things don’t work out”

Me trying to make this have a happy ending: *jumping through hoops of my own design*

I wrote this ^^ before I wrote part 3 and boy was I right, it was complicated and I hope I did it justice, LMK what y’all think, I love you all asking for part 3 and giving me feedback. All the support means to much

Also peep the gif WITH Mitch I’m crying, they’re both smiling at y/n in the soundboard room

Word Count: 5.0k? | Warnings: angsty ASF, some crying, some yelling, more making out, even some mentions of smut (oh yeah we’re getting there - no actual sex though), swearing

I tried to make it FLUFF but there had to be drama :/ (I don’t like conflict but that’s like lowkey how stories work sadly)

Part 1 | Part 2

-

When Mitch pulled away from the hug, you felt yourself at a crossroads. You knew Mitch was right. While kissing Harry had been nice, you needed to think about why you were doing it and what it would mean for you and Harry.

You knew you were always going to love Mitch and you were working on separating the romantic feelings you had for him and the best friend feelings you had for him. But you weren’t sure if getting involved with Harry would help that process or just confuse it. That’s why you had to talk with Harry about this, where he stood exactly, and there wasn’t time, lunch was over.

Mitch stalked off ahead of you with a final: “Just...be careful.”

Moments after he disappeared through the recording door, Harry walked up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You were still standing in the middle of the hallway, your brain racing at everything Mitch had said and every moment you had spent with Harry in the past couple of weeks. You hadn’t really thought of Harry as being anything more than a friend. But there you two were, kissing in a storage closet five minutes ago.  

“We need to talk,” you both said simultaneously. But, just as you were about to speak again, a technician rushed up beside you two and started to talk rapidly to Harry, needing assistance on something that sounded important. You raised your brows when he looked at you, his silent question of whether he could leave, “Go, it can wait.”

In that moment, you felt your unimportance in that studio - no Harry or Mitch to turn to.

This had started as a tag along to spend time with your best friend, in hopes to not get left behind, then it had turned to a light torture of watching said best friend falling for a girl who wasn’t yourself, but somewhere amidst all of that was Harry, always giving you a reason to come back. If not for him, you probably would have stopped tagging along after the first day.

He was the one to tell you to come back a second day. He was the one retuning the piano so you had something to do. He was the one liking your tune and turning into a song for his album. He was the one asking you to join the band. But was he the one for you? And if he wasn’t, and you told him that, was that the end of your time at the studio?

God, you just wished you were able to know what he was thinking. What was the reason behind his kiss? Was it something meaningless or meaningful to him. Because you had realized you had wanted to join the band, not for Mitch, not for Harry, but for yourself and you didn’t want whatever had just happened between you and Harry to come between your chance.

You sat in one of the lounge rooms for the rest of the day, you didn’t feel like watching the band record or having Mitch next to you whispering side comments while you sat in boring technical meetings. You wanted to be alone. And alone you were, no one came to look for you until the end of the day. You sat on the floor of the room, legs crossed, your body still, but your mind alive with all of your thoughts.  

At around 8:30, it was Mitch who walked through the door and sighed at the sight of you. You had texted him where you were when he had asked a couple minutes ago. “Ready to go? Sarah’s coming with us, if you don’t mind,” he gruffly said, obviously not past your earlier conversation. It had left a bad taste in your mouth, the whole situation, not being in a comfortable place with your best friend wasn’t ideal.

“I didn’t like how you spoke to me earlier.” you started and then sighed, “And I didn’t like how we left things..” You stayed in your spot, sat in the middle of the room, face turned to stare at Mitch in the doorway.

“I admit, my tone wasn’t my favorite. I was flustered,” Mitch said finally, walking into the room, door swinging shut behind him.

“You could apologize,” you simply stated, not satisfied. You loved Mitch, but you weren’t a push over. “You basically said I was a prostitute, Mitch, with that harem remark.”

“I truly, didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed and ran a hand through his shoulder length hair. He decided to take a seat, mirroring your position. He moved like a cat, long limbs slowly folding in on themselves, making him appear much smaller than he was. “I’m sorry that’s what you thought, it just,” he paused, “was weird seeing you like that. You’re like my little sister -,” he stopped talking at the look on your face.

You blinked and looked away. Do not cry right now, c’mon. You knew that’s how he felt about you, it just always hurt to hear him say it. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I get it, you’re forgiven, anyway.” You regretted even asking for an apology now.

Mitch wouldn’t let it go, he knew that the two of you had to have this conversation for once, rather than sidestepping it every time.

“I know you’re in love with me, Y/N, and I’m sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you. I know we never talk about it, but we’re both possibly at the beginning of new serious relationships right now and I think we need to talk about this.”

It’s happening. He was right, you never talked about it, and you knew he was right about needing to talk about it, too. He was always the mature one.

“And what if I’m not?” you replied stubbornly, as much as you knew he was right, you couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth.

“What?” Mitch was clearly confused.

“What if I’m not on the verge of a new relationship and that kiss was just a one time thing with Harry. Then I’m left here alone and embarrassed while you ride off into the sunset with Sarah and your new life. Have you ever thought about how this all might be affecting me, put my romantic love for you aside, have you ever thought about how leaving your best friend behind might affect her, Mitch! I’ve thought about it and it sucks! It sucks because you’re the only person I’ve got, the only person who’s ever given a damn about me and always been there. Soon you won’t be. My tombstone won’t even read “Happy” just “Uneventful” and “Boring.”

You practically were screaming and you had no idea when all these feelings had bubbled you the surface, but tears were running down your face now. You had never been good with confrontation.  

“And I’ve been working on it.”

Mitch still sat in a stunned silence. Not used to you losing your cool with him.

“I’ve been working on getting over being in love with you, but a lifetime of being in love with you doesn’t just go away, not because you find a girl, not because I kiss a boy, but because I work on separating feelings and ideas in my mind. I had let the line be blurred between best friend and boyfriend, when you weren’t actually my boyfriend.” You paused, “I thought you were my soulmate since I was fourteen and you never even noticed how I looked at you.” You had started fierce, but you ended softly, almost whimpering out the last words.

“I knew,” he sighed, “I knew when you made sure to come to all my shows in high school. You never missed a single one.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me to stop? Why didn’t you set up boundaries?” You pleaded with Mitch, searching for an answer from him to make sense of everything.

“Because I was young and no one had ever done that for me, no one cared about me like you did before and it felt so good to not be ignored or overlooked. To be someone’s whole world, it felt nice.”

“But...look what happened.”

“It got out of hand, but I thought you’d find a guy when you went off to college and forget about loving me like that.”

“But that’s not what happened,” you both sat silent for a few moments, “I can’t lose you, Mitch, and I’m okay just being the best friend.”

“I can’t lose you either, Y/N. I’m so sorry I never addressed it sooner, it wasn’t fair of me to keep you on the line all these years. And I’m not going to leave you behind, I’m sorry if I have been neglecting our friendship with the album and Sarah.”

Mitch reached out and took your hand, rubbing it softly with his thumb. You noticed no butterflies when he did this and you squeezed his hand gently back.

“So, best friend, as much as I would love to ride home with you and your girl, I think there’s someone else I really need to talk to.”

You were always quick to move past fights with Mitch, they were never like this, of course, but you had said your piece and so had Mitch, seeing as he reverted back to his natural silent state. This definitely was a big step in the right direction for you to finally move past your romantic feelings for Mitch. Some closure.

Mitch nodded and you both stood up. “We should hang out soon, just the two of us, do something… friendly,” Mitch said softly. You smiled and nodded.

You knew this had been a wake up call for him, too. You hadn’t really hung out outside of the studio since he’d started seeing Sarah more exclusively, meaning weekly movie nights, ‘what’s in the fridge’ dinner nights, and new music mondays had all fallen by the wayside. You knew that he’d start being there for you more after this whole conversation, because that’s who Mitch was, he listened and he followed through.

You gave him a quick hug, happier with the outcome of this conversation than the last, even if this one had involved you shouting a little bit. Then, you split off from him in search of Harry.

He was in the recording area of the studio, sitting, staring off into space with his guitar resting in his lap.

“Hi,” you said carefully. He twitched his head at the sound and looked over to see you. “Have you been crying?” He asked immediately, standing up and setting the guitar on its stand. He crossed to you, quick to your side.

You shook your head, “No, well yes, but they were angry tears, more than sad.”

“Are you alright?” Harry still was concerned, angry wasn’t much better than sad.

“Just had it out with Mitch, it’s better now.”

“About earlier?” Harry led you to sit on the piano bench with him.

“No, about him, and me, it’s been a long time coming, but we’ve got it all out in the open now. He’s going to try to be a better friend, I think. And I’m going to try to be just his best friend.”

“Yeah?” Harry urged you to say more.

“But it did start about earlier, at least,” you ran a hand through your hair, “about what he had said to me earlier, after he had walked in on us.”

“What had he said?” Harry continued to inquire, trying to understand what he had missed.

“He was warning me not to be with you for the wrong reasons and to be wary of your intentions, I guess. He cares about us both, doesn’t want either of us to get hurt and I think it was also weird for him to see us in such a compromising position.”

“Why do you think he wanted you to be wary of my intentions?” Harry tilted his head, this comment not really making sense to him.

“Well, what are your intentions?” You didn’t want to mention the ‘harem’ comment, you knew Mitch had said it in the heat of the moment and it would only upset Harry.

“I like you, isn’t it obvious?” Harry said staring directly into your eyes.

“Um..” His blunt statement caught you off guard.

Harry ducked his head and puffed a laugh out of his mouth, almost in disbelief, “No, I guess it’s not.”

You sat there, silent, still no idea how to respond. Harry scratched his head and smiled at you, “You’re gorgeous and fantastic at everything you do. You’re witty and kind, fiercely loyal and never fail to bring a smile to my face, even when you’re crying or I’m crying. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?”

Still you remained silent. “C’mon, Y/N. Say something, please. I just laid it all out for you.”

You nodded and tried to streamline your thoughts. Today had been a lot, overwhelming to say the least. “I’ve never had someone feel this way about me, it’s a lot to take in. And...I like you too, Harry, but-”

“Don’t say ‘but’” he pleaded.

“But,” you sighed, “I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, being strung along by someone who can’t give you what you need. I don’t know how to love someone who isn’t Mitch, I want to, I really, really do, but it’s going to take time, and I like you enough to not want to hurt you.”

“Then let me teach you,” Harry said quickly, taking your hands in his, “Let me be the one to teach you to love someone who isn’t Mitch. That someone is me, by the way.”

You laughed at his final remark, still feeling overwhelmed and unsure.

“And I’m okay with going slow,” he shrugged his shoulders, “we don’t even have to label this. But when I’m with you, here, everyday, I feel at home and when you’re gone, I miss you. You’re constantly on my mind and I’m always looking for your approval. What would hurt me the most is if you don’t give us a chance. Give me a chance to prove to you that you can love someone else and they can love you back, properly.”

His eyes were begging you to say ‘yes’. His hands were clasped tightly around yours, tugging you closer to him.

After everything he said, you wanted to say yes. But, you were scared. You were scared because trying something new, taking a step into the unknown, it was scary sometimes.

But then, you thought back to when Harry had sat with you as you cried over Mitch and how he’d helped you through that moment of weakness. How you had known that night that you could trust him to be there for you. With Harry by your side, maybe you wouldn’t have to be so scared of the unknown, because you wouldn’t be alone anymore.

“Only if you promise not to kick me out of the band if things don’t work out.” You smiled at Harry’s slight confusion. Then his confusion turned into a huge grin, almost every one of his teeth on display for you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t promise you that…” he said mischievously, making it your turn for a look of confusion, “But I’ll raise you one. I promise that things will work out and you’ll stay in the band.”

You rescinded a hand from his grasp and swatted his bicep. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re very cheeky?”

“Almost all the time! And look at that, you’re already speakin’ my language,” he smiled sweetly at you and winked.

“Oh, shut up!” You laughed and went to swat him again, but instead he caught your wrist and brought it down to your side.

“Fine,” he said matter of factly and leaned into your lips, kissing you for a second time today.

He was an amazing kisser, better than anyone you’d ever kissed before, at least, which really wasn’t saying a lot, but you could tell he was experienced. You didn’t think you’d ever get over his warmth either. It was all consuming.

This time it was you who’s tongue asked for entrance to the other’s mouth. Harry gladly obliged as he pulled you closer to him on the bench.

You liked how quickly you and Harry could go from a serious topic to having fun, you’d said what needed to be said and now you were enjoying each other.

It was breathless between you and Harry. His hands ghosting over every part of your body and yours glued to his deliciously soft curls. Harry’s lips began to travel away from yours and a whine came from the back of your throat. Harry ‘tsk’ed against your jaw, but continued to leave open mouth kisses down the side of your neck.

“Oh” was all you said as he began to suck persistently at the base of your neck, right on top of your collarbone. It felt nice, really fucking nice and you felt a hand fall down onto the top of your thigh and squeeze it. This shot electricity through your entire body. The jolt didn’t stop Harry from continuing to suck along your neck, you just felt him pause for a moment, a smirk ghosting against your neck, nipping on the spot below his lips.

After what felt like hours, Harry kissed back up to your lips and then pulled away.

You were attempting to catch your breath when you said, “Is that what you call taking it slow?”

“I wasn’t hearing any complaints?” He responded as his smirk responded, shrugging his shoulders once again.

“No, no complaints,” you moved one of your legs so that both were on one side of the piano stool and scooted into Harry’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you as you snuggled your head into his chest. It had been a long day for both of you, as you thought back to lunch with Harry crying in the storage closet. He kissed the top of your hair and rested his chin on top of your head, beginning to stroke your arm lazily with his fingertips.

You sat in silence, breathing in each other’s presence. You also couldn’t believe how nice he smelled, even after a whole day of work. This man was magic, you thought.

Harry began to laugh softly and you shifted your head to look at him. “You know, I was planning on telling you today, before this all happened.” He continued after taking a finger and running it against the slope of your nose and tapping the tip, “It’s why I had been in such a good mood, had finished the lyrics, and was going to play it for you, but then I got all in my head. And then we were in the storage room and you were being so good to me and then we were kissing and then Mitch walked in and then you ran off and-.”

You cut off his ramble, “I think I got the rest, I was there, babe.” Heat quickly ran to your cheeks at your use of a pet name. Harry noticed it too and echoed it, “Babe? You just called me ‘babe’?”

“No, definitely not,” you tried unconvincingly.

“Oh, I like that,” he continued to tease you, echoing ‘babe’ once more, your face growing redder every second.

“Wait, you were going to play me what?” You suddenly circled back to the first part of Harry’s little rant. He took his hand away from your arm and used it to brush back a strand of hair that had gotten out of place on your head, “Sweet Creature, I was planning on serenading you and then telling you how I felt.”

“You’re fucking with me, that song isn’t about me,” you scoffed and turned your head away, feeling shy at Harry’s intense stare. He was so passionate and it came through in his big, bright eyes. They could be intimidating at times.

“Honest,” he said, “It was your tune after all, can’t believe you’d think I’d write about someone else with your own music.”

“I don’t know, I thought I was just helping you with a song,” you said sheepishly.

“I was looking at you the first time I said the words ‘sweet creature’” Harry persisted, still in disbelief that you hadn’t caught on to his crush on you until he had spelled it out, but then it dawned on him, you had never had someone pine after you.

In that moment he knew that he wanted to show you all the wonderful things that came with being liked by someone, and being intimate with someone who wanted you back. He didn’t care if you were getting over someone else, because he was going to be there to show you how you deserved to be treated and in turn he knew you’d eventually see him as more than a cute, nice guy friend who knew how to kiss.

You sat there as if you were seeing Harry with new eyes. His expression was earnest and he looked down at you brightly. You bit your lip to slow down the smile about to erupt on your face. You hadn’t felt this excited in a long time.

It felt good to be in a man’s arms who looked at you with such great care, almost as if you were the reason his world turned and he didn’t want that to stop, even if you knew it wasn’t true, his eyes insisted it was. It felt good to be in the embrace of a man who wrote you a song and made you smile and laugh. It felt good to be with a man who took your breath away and also got his taken away from you.

You reached up to Harry’s prominent cheekbone and danced your fingertips along his face. He had grown silent at your touch. Your fingers moved up to smooth one of his large brows and stopped at his brow bone. Harry closed his eyes when you touched his brow bone, your touch so close to his eyes. You rested there for a moment and then moved back down his face, traveling over his slightly gaunt cheeks again.

His eyes fluttered open and the sounds of your breathing filled the air, his soft panting slightly louder than your controlled quiet breaths. It seemed your soft caress was having an effect on him.

Harry loved intimate touch. It was taking all of his self-control to keep from nuzzling into your delicate hand on his face, wanting you to explore without his interference.

You continued to slide your hand down his face, over some light scruff, to the curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry parted his lips at this touch, unable to keep his lungs from hitching. You bit your lip again, noting your effect on him. You traced your thumb around the outline of Harry’s mouth, from his cupid’s bow, to one side, and then onto his plush lower lip.

You kept your thumb there, but pulled down slightly, Harry’s mouth opening further. He restrained the whimper in the back of his throat. You weren’t trying to get any reaction out of him, you were simply using your hands to look at his face, tracing him into your sensory memory.

When you pushed your thumb back up, putting his lip back into place, you felt his tongue peak out and touch you. You looked into his green eyes and he only looked back at you. You were in control. You pushed your thumb a millimeter further and Harry took it softly into his mouth, his tongue touching it sweetly and then he closed his mouth, creating a kiss on your thumb. You then removed your thumb from against his puckered lips and placed your exploring hand onto his thigh, giving you leverage to put yourself at eye level with Harry.

“You are so beautiful,” you said slowly, breathing out a breath you didn’t think you had been holding. His face lit up at your remark and he leaned forward to give you one more sweet kiss, “And so are you. Let’s get you home.”

-

The next few weeks felt like a whirlwind. You were constantly doing something. When you weren’t busy working on the album at the studio, Harry was sneaking you off to secluded places in the building to pepper you with kisses or whispering sweet nothings in your ear in between takes. He drove you home every night, walking you to your door and kissing you hard before you went inside, sometimes he’d come in with you and stay the night, cuddling and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Harry also took you out when he could, showing you little holes in the wall you’d never heard of and surprising you with presents that you always told him were too nice. Everything was coming so natural between you two and Harry treated you so well, it made being with him extremely fun and easy.

Mitch and you were doing best friend things again, too, movie nights and music recommendations, calling each other about random shit you’d seen on the news and couldn’t believe. You weren’t pining after him anymore. You loved him still, but you now knew what reciprocated romantic feelings looked like with Harry and you didn’t need or want that from Mitch anymore. Mitch had talked to Harry after you had explained what happened that night and he had given the big brother spiel to Harry, but was convinced when he heard the way Harry talked about you. He hadn’t realized how Harry had felt before then either. Harry joked that the two of you clearly had never seen a romcom before, because you were both “thick” when it came to flirting.

Today was no different from the rest, Harry had his arm slung around your shoulder as you were pressed into his side on the soundboard room’s couch, your arm reaching up to play with his fingertips. His mouth was against your ear, whispering, almost inaudibly, about how good you looked today and how he wanted to kiss you so badly and you were giggling at his borderline dirty words.

Nobody took any real notice, especially because this had been happening for weeks now. Whenever Mitch saw you two like this, he smiled with closed lips, but he seemed genuinely happy. He was happy that everything was working out in the best way possible.

Lunchtime was always fun because now it was time for you and Harry to sneak off to the first place you had kissed. Except it wasn’t so sneaky, literally everyone knew where you were going and what you were going to do. The minute you were inside the room, Harry would press you against the door, slamming it shut. His lips were on yours in an instant.

Today, he grabbed behind your knee and hiked it up around his hips, pressing himself closer to you. You both groaned at the way your bodies fit together. “Mmph, Fuck, Babe,” Harry groaned before moving to kiss your neck. You only whined in response, fisting a part of his shirt in one hand and some strands of his hair in the other.

You had worn a tank top today, so Harry was able to kiss all across your collarbone, he pulled down one side of the tank and your bra strap, exposing more naked skin. “Can you feel what you do to me?” Harry asks, lips ghosting over your skin, hands gripping your hips closer to his body. You can feel him pressing into you beneath his trousers.

“Can I?” you ask, he pulls away from his work on your neck and looks into your eyes. “Y/N, you don’t have to…” his tone quickly softened. The two of you had only done heavy makeout sessions and some topless groping, but nothing below the belt, yet. “But, I want to take care of you,” you stated simply, meeting his gaze with lust blown out eyes.

He sighed, “Oh, darling.” He reached up to brush your hair into place, it was always getting so messy when you made out.

“My body wants nothing more than for you to take care of me, but one, if you blow me right now, I don’t know how I will get through the rest of the day without loving up on you every second,” you laughed at his words and rolled your eyes.

“And two, when it’s our first time, I want it to be our first time doing everything together, don’t want me to get a head start.”

You wanted to be serious about him being so sweet about your first time together, but you couldn’t ignore the sexual pun he’d just made. You burst out into unrestrained laughter and Harry looked at you, concerned. His eyebrows were knit together as he watched you laughing your head off.

“What?”

“Oh my god, Harry, did you hear yourself?”

“Thought I was being sweet,” he puffed indignantly.

“Head,” you said in between laughs, “Start.”

It clicked in his mind and he rolled his eyes at your immaturity. “You catch that, it’s not even funny, but you don’t catch my flirting for weeks...makes you wonder...” he trails off.

“You’re so mean to me! Guess you don’t want anymore kisses,” you stick your tongue out at him and he smiles.

The more time you spent together, the more your silly side kept coming out with him. Harry loved it, he loved that you could be intellectual and passionate, but also pick out some unintentional innuendo pun at the end of his heartfelt sentiment about your sex life together.

You readjusted yourselves to leave and as you exited Harry said, “What am I going to do with you?”

You held one of his hands and twirled in the hallway, smiling back at him as he walked behind you. You were like a dream, his dream. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed someone until you’d come into his life, being there for him, being the lovely person he’d come to know. You were wonderful and you were his. And he, in turn, was yours.

-

Hope you enjoyed part 3!

@imagine-that-1975

[makeste]

BnHA 6th Popularity Poll Reaction Post - Risky Spoiler-Dodging Edition

hey guys, so seeing as the results from the 6th popularity poll were leaked today, I figured I would do a separate reaction + analysis post this year, rather than piling it in as an extra on top of the chapter reaction post tomorrow. I figure this makes more sense anyway, since they’re really two completely different things. also this way I can write as much as I want lol.

also, just fyi, I am still completely unspoiled for chapter 293. and probably the smart thing to do to keep it that way would be to log off tumblr and hold off posting this until tomorrow, but I apparently have no impulse control today so oh well. anyway, so I’m hoping you guys will keep this spoiler-free if you don’t mind! as always, I would prefer to just jump right in completely unaware tomorrow like Troy returning to the study room with the pizza boxes lol.

okay so this first part is just going to be my predictions. fyi I am writing this part on Wednesday night, and then I’ll add on the results part on Thursday or Friday (ETA: Thursday, apparently, since I am impatient.)

okay so first of all, just as a refresher, this poll was open to Japanese voters from Aug 3 to Sep 30. meaning chapters 279 through 285. meanwhile last year’s poll took place around the tail end of the MVA arc. so between then and now we had Heroes Rising, the Endeavor Agency arc, and the War arc up to the part where the 1-A kids took on Gigantomachia in Gunga, and started battling Tomura in Jakku. so technically only a couple of arcs, but a LOT of stuff going down in them. oh and season 4 of the anime as well

so! firstly, I predict that my truculent africanized honeybee son will hold on to his crown at #1, coming off a year in which he did some internship-boosted soul searching, borrowed OFA in movie canon, and finished out the voting period as the my-body-moved-on-its-own character development MVP. like CALL ME CRAZY lol, but I’m pretty sure his title is safe. and then after him will be Deku and Shouto as usual

Aizawa should hopefully also have a strong showing because the dude had a banner fucking year. reunited with his old dead friend, took on Tomura with his hopelessly inept hero pals, and then chopped his fucking leg off. he had better be in the top 10. his fucking leg died for this, idk what else he has to do

Endeavor also stands a decent chance of doing well given the internship arc and the final episode of season 4. which I’m sure will go down just swimmingly if that does happen lmao. especially if he somehow manages to rank higher than...

Dabi, which I don’t think he will btw, but you never know. anyways though, but I’m thinking Dabi’s going to have a stronger showing than in past years (in the last poll he only got 367 votes and was ranked 19th). mostly because of his fight in the Gunga mansion, and his cheekily censored name reveal to...

Hawks, who is also going to rank pretty high here, I think. might be he loses some points for killing off Twice, but his back was basically to the wall there. and he has always been very popular, and I think season 4 will also give him a boost, along with his heavy involvement in the first half of the War arc

Tomura was already in 6th place last year and I think he cracks the top 5 this year. he’s gotten exponentially more popular since the MVA arc, and got a boost in the last poll even though his flashback had only just barely happened, and he hadn’t finished Awakening yet and all that stuff. anyway, so he’s only gotten cooler and more tragic since then so I think he makes a big play here

Kirishima, Momo, Tokoyami, and Mina should also hopefully do well, since the poll opened right in the middle of all that Gigantomachia action, and Toko had just got done being an absolute badass and protecting his birb dad. I don’t think he’ll quite make it to the top ten, but he should

and last but not least, I’m hoping that Mirko will come out and take the polls by storm, although I have no clue how popular she is in Japan lol. she’s clearly Horikoshi’s favorite though. she SHOULD be everyone’s favorite, but I mean, we’ll see how it goes

anyway that’s it as far as predictions! and so now, through the magic of writing stuff at different times, we will fast-forward to the part where we actually find out the results!

OH MY GOD YES, STEAMPUNK KHLKSLLKL. HERE FOR IT. JOLLY GOOD SHOW. 5 STARS

Kacchan looks SO COCKY and SO HAPPY and SO ADORABLE, YES I SAID IT. he is adorable as FUCK. I don’t quite know what it is about this particular Kacchan that just screams “LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE MY STUPID, LOUD SON IS WITH HIS BIZARRE WINDOWPANE-LOOKING CONVERTIBLE SUNGLASS GOGGLES and his POORLY TIED CRAVAT”, but I think it’s because he looks like if a Digimon character and a FMA character had a baby

anyway, so it looks like most of the people present here are more or less who we expected to see. except that I can’t tell for sure if that’s Dabi or Shindou, and if it’s Shindou I’m going to punch somebody in the face so you will have to excuse me

Iida wearing a TRENCHCOAT and a TOP HAT with ENGINE EXHAUST GOGGLE ACCENTS is my new favorite Iida of all time. take note how there is no possible way he can wear those goggles with them sitting on top of his hat like that. plus he’s already got glasses on. these are just purely for aesthetic and IF THAT AIN’T JUST THE STEAMPUNK WAY

Deku out here speaking softly and carrying a lead pipe. Kacchan you best look out. seems like he’s done watching you take first place year after year while he languishes in the number two spot. your only hope is that he trips while attacking you because his boots are unbuckled

Shouto’s standing over there with the rest of the non-first-and-second-place characters, but what are the odds his results are actually within spitting distance of Deku’s same as always. anyway he doesn’t mind, though. also his outfit is by far the most sensible one here, but if you look closely he’s got some sort of fire extinguisher/jet pack thing strapped to his back that’s got a control switch on his belt. Shouto are you jetpacking or putting out fires

Kirishima out here all “I’m not sure what steampunk is so I’m just going to take off my shirt and pose”

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH SKLKSDLKFJLSKJLDFKJSLDFFJLDKSJFL:KS. SIR. SIR. also, lowkey furious that Horikoshi refuses to show us the automail leg that he is clearly sporting here but which we just can’t see, SHOUTO MOVE GODDAMMIT

Endeavor has TWO fire extinguisher-slash-jetpacks. THE BETTER TO... WHATEVER. look at you here in the top ten again. you really live for that controversy

HAWKS OUT HERE WITH HIS STEAMPUNK BEATS BY DRE AND HIS WEARING A RING ON EVERY FINGER. nice to see you’ve still got your wings there, kiddo. then again Deku still has both of his arms too so who even knows what is going on

BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IS THIS DABI OR SHINDOU. as if I don’t know the truth deep down in my heart. y’all I am gonna flip lmao. it’s not that I dislike Shindou, strictly speaking. but just... I can’t explain what it is, but if you put him and AFO next to each other and told me “you can only punch one”, I would be having a serious crisis. just, THIS FUCKING GUY, idek. STOP SMILING

Tomura looks like he just wandered onto the set here by mistake and has no idea where he is or what is going on. it’s because you’re wearing a bigass severed hand that’s blocking your entire view, Tomura. just take the hand off your face my sweet murder dumpling

anyway! so I managed to also find a link to the full poll results while somehow managing to avoid spoilers, and then I wanted to compare the results to last year’s poll, and so I made... this

hopefully you can all see this. if you’re on desktop you might be screwed, but on mobile you should be able to click and enlarge it. I mean, assuming you actually give a fuck about boring poll analysis spreadsheets lmao

anyway, so there were actually 13k fewer votes cast this year which is a bit of a surprise. is the series not still growing in popularity? do people apparently have better things to do during their quarantine lol

anyways but despite this, and despite getting 8k fewer votes overall, Kacchan still managed almost twice as many as his closest competitor. well fought, Deku. please put down that pipe

I somehow always underestimate the power of ship popularity to influence these things. but for example, it looks like Present Mic got that Vigilantes Trio bump. ride that wave for all it’s worth my man! hell, you got me on board

Iida fucking Tenya somehow got some sort of POWER BOOST out of NOWHERE which I can’t explain at all lmao, but I’m here for it. NOT BAD FOR AN OLD MAN

Sero managed to get the exact same number of votes in both 2019 and 2020. clearly the most loyal fans in the business

Mirko being all the way down at #20 is, of course, a travesty, and I hereby nominate her to be the one to punch Shindou in the face

ngl though, the lack of a single female character in the top ten hurts just a bit. it’s not overly surprising, but still. the worst part of it is that even if you kicked Shindou to the curb and moved everyone else up one slot, it would still be all dudes since Mic beat out Momo by a margin of a little more than a hundred votes. hard to stay mad at Mic for too long, though. ah well

Tomura actually lost a bunch of votes which is a genuine surprise to me. I know the villain standom isn’t as dominant in Japan as it is in Western fandom, but still. you can go ahead and punch Shindou too I guess

Tokoyami lowkey doubled his vote count over the past year while hiding down there at #18. he is slowly becoming more powerful. biding his time

anyway so I think that’s it! I mean not really, but I’m getting kind of tired lol. so just, you know, insert the usual gripes at Overhaul’s ranking here, although we can be happy about Magne making her way onto the list (r.i.p.), and Mineta and AFO taking a very satisfying slide down (all the way out, in AFO’s case; good riddance you bum). Hadou also got a huge boost which is awesome. Mustard’s persistent ownership of the #36 spot will forever remain a mystery to me, but oh well

anyways, this was fun. and I really do feel like everyone is looking away on purpose so that when Deku brains Kacchan with that pipe in about two seconds from now, there will be no witnesses, oh my fucking god

[missing-marvel]

The Shape of You (Pt. 4)

Pairing: Vision/Reader

Part 3, Part 5

Words: 5698

A/N: *shows up several months late with coffee and a new chapter* What’s up y’all, who’s ready for more metal husband?

-

You awoke feeling sluggish and hazy, practically choking on dust and resisting the need to sneeze. The feeling quickly shifted to panic as you opened your eyes to even more darkness which only worsened when you tried to move, something blocking the space in front of you as well as tangling around your legs. It wasn’t until you rolled to the floor with a loud ‘thud’ that you remembered falling asleep on the sofa. You didn’t remember grabbing a blanket, however, which had gotten wrapped around your legs in your sleep.

You recognized Vision’s silhouette as he appeared hurriedly from the other room. You couldn’t see much in the dim light, but you could recognize him by his eyes alone. They glowed softly in the dark, that electric-blue bringing some familiarity to your surroundings.

The lights came on and you were momentarily blinded, shielding your eyes with your hand as they adjusted. “Sorry,” you said, blinking the last remnants of sleep away. “I just fell off the sofa. I’m okay.” You took a good look around the room for the first time since arriving, still not bothering to get up off the floor. It looked like a fairly basic living space. There was a patterned rug, a coffee table, some shelves with a few random knick-knacks, the usual. You did notice the lack of a TV, however. You supposed it wasn’t worth investing in one if no one would be living here ninety-nine percent of the time.

Still a bit groggy, you almost didn’t see Vision walk over to you and extend a hand to help you up. To be completely honest, you were perfectly comfortable on the floor but you weren’t going to turn him away. You uttered a quick ‘thanks’ as you got to your feet.

You had absolutely no idea what time it was but it was definitely dark out. Not a speck of light filtered in through the drawn curtains. Whether it was evening or early morning, however, you hadn’t a clue. “What time is it?”

Vision pointed to a digital clock sitting on a bookshelf close by. It read 6:30.

“I only slept for a few hours?” Well, more like several hours, by your estimate. It was broad daylight when you’d arrived. Still, that was surprising given that you’d basically passed out as soon as you got indoors and hadn’t slept in like two days.

Vision shook his head, however, cutting off your train of thought. He held up one finger on his right hand and put it down before holding up nine in total. It took you a second to understand what he meant, thinking he was saying ten before realizing.

“Are you saying I slept nineteen hours?” Vision just nodded and you let out a sigh. That explained why you felt so stiff. That much time on a sofa, even a surprisingly comfortable one, would take its toll. One other thing struck you, however. “Wait a minute, so it’s six in the morning, then? It’s awfully dark out.” You chanced a peek out the window to actually confirm that it was, in fact, dark outside.

You turned back when you heard the familiar scratch of pen on paper. It looked like Vision had found a new notepad somewhere. By the time you walked over, he had finished writing. “Clock is an hour ahead. Haven’t fixed it. Only got power back on a couple hours ago.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” This time of year, it was perfectly normal to be dark at 5:30. However, it was also cold outside and you were beginning to notice that in here as well. You picked up the blanket off the floor and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around yourself. “Is there heat at all?”

Vision wrote his response as quick as possible, handwriting still impeccable as always. “It’s on but not very strong. Building isn’t in best condition anymore. There’s fuses missing so I prioritized some things. A few lights aren’t going to work.” He stepped aside and gestured somewhere down the small hallway behind him. On the wall was an open panel.

“Wait this place still has a fuse box? The Avengers couldn’t afford someplace with circuit breakers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your own joke, if you could really call it that. You were just happy your custodial knowledge was relevant for once.

“Old SHIELD building,” Vision quickly noted. If this place had been built by the Avengers, it would be far more modern, probably to an unnecessary extent. Tony Stark would only stand for the best, even if it was a safe house that would almost never get used.

“Shield? Are they still around?” You only sort of understood what SHIELD was. No more than any other member of the general public. They were a kind-of, sort-of government agency or something like that. They always kept their stuff super secret so most people never really knew what they did. Then there was the whole deal with Hydra which nobody understood. You decided a long time ago it wasn’t worth worrying about, much like most of the American populace. Perhaps you should have paid closer attention.

Vision simply tilted his hand side-to-side in a gesture that implied that the answer was complicated and really not worth getting into. He shifted the conversation to you instead. “How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that. You weren’t doing so well yesterday.” You tried not to let the worry in your voice show, though you weren’t sure what good it would do.

You thought you saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he turned back to his paper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

“Vision...” You recalled back to the other night, when you’d told him nearly the same thing after a couple solid days of no sleep. Before you could retort, however, he’d turned and headed toward the other room, gesturing for you to follow.

The small office space was an absolute mess. The only reason you called it an office was the papers and folders scattered around the room as well as the computer tucked away on a desk in the corner. Underneath a blanket of dust, it looked almost exactly like the first computer you’d ever owned. Actually, it might just be the first computer. You were pretty sure it should be in a museum.

Vision navigated the difficult terrain with ease as he made his way to the desk. You, on the other hand, felt like you were doing a balancing act as you tried to limit your steps to the few parts of the floor that were visible. You didn’t know what all these stacks of papers and folders were exactly, but you figured it was best not to mess with them.

“There’s no way that thing works,” you said once you’d cleared a spot to stand by the desk, your own little island of shag carpeting amongst the sea of paper.

Vision pried open a panel on the side of the computer, carefully removing a CPU board with all the expertise of a seasoned technician. The actual monitor was half buried in a pile of miscellaneous cords and plugs next to the desk. After a brief moment of inspection, wherein he must’ve decided all appeared fine, he went ahead and booted the thing up.

It chugged to life like a patient coming out of surgery, slowly and with great difficulty. It made sounds you were pretty sure should only be coming from a lawn mower but all the lights eventually blinked on in time. As it did so, you braved the sneeze-inducing dust pile for the monitor, the air turning cloudy as you shifted all the junk that had been untouched for years. “I’m guessing you’ll need this?” You hoisted the dinosaur of a monitor up onto the desk, Vision taking it gratefully and nodding a thanks your way.

For a minute after he plugged it in, it seemed the screen wasn’t going to work. Only after staring at it did you realize it was working, albeit extremely slowly. A symbol was appearing on the screen, the shape becoming more discernible the longer the machine whirred. As far you could tell, it looked like some kind of government emblem, like an eagle with a crest in the center. It wasn’t until it had spent a solid minute loading that you were able to read the text surrounding it. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement... Logistics Division? What on Earth does— wait, that’s what SHIELD stands for?”

Vision nodded in a way that suggested he wasn’t overly fond of the acronym either. You were beginning to think he wasn’t so difficult to read after all, not like you thought when you’d first met, at least. It just took time, much like reading the decades-old monitor had.

“I think someone just really wanted the initials to spell out shield.” You gave a breathy laugh, more air than sound. “What’re you going to do with this old thing? Can it even get internet?”

Vision shook his head and reached for his paper from the edge of the desk. “Not that kind of computer,” he wrote. You resisted butting in as he tore off a new sheet, still not used to the pauses in conversation that resulted from the rather roundabout method of communication. “It’s wired directly into an old SHIELD system and by extension, hopefully, the Avengers emergency system.”

“Really? I would’ve guessed this place predated the Avengers.” As you spoke, Vision got the keyboard hooked up which had been stuffed into one of the desk drawers. It was missing at least a quarter of its key caps, the really chunky, old kind that made a satisfying click-clack when pressed. Apparently they’d prioritized actual computer hardware over keyboards considering there were offices at your job that still had keyboards just like it. Correction: your old job. You’d almost forgotten.

“SHIELD software was integrated with Stark tech after the Battle of New York. In theory, we should be able to put out an emergency signal on a secure Avengers server from here.” You almost hadn’t noticed Vision writing again as you zoned out a bit.

You would’ve been more excited over good news, but you’d learned over the years what happened when you got your hopes up. “So when you say in theory, I’m guessing the odds aren’t exactly...” You trailed off, unable to continue without sounding horribly pessimistic.

“It will work,” was all he wrote, a noticeable firmness in his grip as he held the pen. You didn’t say anything else but moved closer to the desk, directly by his side now. There was what could only be described as a hint of doubt in his expression before he turned back to the monitor as green text cluttered the screen.

“We can only hope so.” You let your hand brush his shoulder as you navigated back towards the door, no longer particularly caring to avoid crumpling the paper on the floor.

You weren’t sure how long it would take Vision to finish what he was doing, especially with the tech he was stuck with. You found it more than a bit ironic that possibly the most advanced machine on the planet had to use a decades-old computer to call for help. It felt weird to think of him as a machine. After what you’d been through in the past 24 hours alone, you’d begun to think of him as just another person. Well, not just another person, that wasn’t what you meant. How to put it...? You just couldn’t explain it. There was no precedent in your mind for a situation like this. Vision was a living being. As alive as anyone, maybe more so. That much you could say confidently.

Trying not to get too lost in your thoughts, you busied yourself investigating the rest of the apartment, not that there was much to find. Living room, connected kitchen, hallway with the office and stairs that led up to a bedroom and bathroom. All pretty standard. All of it looked fresh out of the 80’s. Well, maybe not fresh.

Just as you completed your lap of the place, you were interrupted by a low grumble from none other than your own stomach. That was a problem. There was definitely not food here. You had no other choice really than to shove the feeling to the back of your mind for now. You got yourself a glass of water to make do. At least the plumbing worked.

By the time Vision came back, it had been less than twenty minutes. “That was quick. Any success?” You sipped your water, ignoring the slight metallic tang it had.

Vision wrote as he crossed the room to stand opposite you from the island counter. “The beacon is active. Now someone just needs to hear it.”

Despite his lack of vocals, you sensed a definite lack of confidence in his words. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You hoped not too long. You were concerned about your food situation.

He didn’t bother writing a response. The expression on his face made it clear; he had no idea. Maybe never, if no one was out there to hear it. You only hummed a response, neither confirming nor retorting. The sound of you sipping your water seemed immensely loud in the heavy silence of the room.

“Well, what do we do now?” You were becoming anxious again. You didn’t like being forced to sit and wait. At any minute, you felt like law enforcement would start breaking the door down.

“We wait. There’s nothing else we can do.” He seemed apologetic. He wished he could give you a more concrete answer, some sort of assurance that this would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not truthfully, anyway.

It looked like you had some time to kill. You weren’t sure what all there really was to do. Still, it wasn’t all bad. At least you had company. “I wonder if there’s a better way we can communicate,” you mused, turning your mind to less dire matters.

Vision seemed to brighten up a bit as he was struck by an idea. “You don’t happen to know any ASL, do you?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. I assume you do?”

He responded by holding up his right hand in a closed fist and sort of nodded it up and down.

“I’m guessing that means... yes?” It wasn’t a far stretch. You’d actually thought about learning ASL before but never gotten around to it. There were more uses for it than people realized. Too bad work left you too busy and tired to make the time for lessons. Well now you had nothing but time.

Vision just nodded his head in the more familiar interpretation of the word. He grabbed the pen and paper again off the counter. “I could teach you some. At least the important parts, if you want.” He hesitated a split second between sentences, just a bit nervous, though the pause was nowhere near long enough for you to notice. It was barely a stutter in his programming, a single digit skipped somewhere in his code. Nothing to be concerned with.

“Yeah,” you said, maybe just slightly too enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’d be great! I— I mean, it would be useful, you know? Way more efficient than pen and paper. Uhm...” You were struggling to ask how he wanted to start when your stomach growled, providing a convenient segue into another topic. “Heh, sorry. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” You tried to pass it off as no big deal, although you really were starving. You hadn’t eaten anything since before setting Vision free. It had been well over a full day since then.

He looked surprised for a moment, which he was, before he began writing. For a genius super-computer, he could sometimes be very forgetful of the needs of his human cohorts. They were very fragile things, humans. The need for sleep and food was something Vision never had to worry about, something he realized he took for granted. Something akin to guilt began to gnaw at him when he too realized how long it had been since the escape. He should’ve brought up the matter earlier. “We need to get you food,” he wrote very matter-of-factly. It wasn’t something up for debate.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of cash on me, Vis.” You flinched at the nickname, quick to move on before he could call you out on it. It had been merely a slip of the tongue, just shortening his name for the sake of convenience. It could have been a gesture of friendship towards the android, though you weren’t sure you’d quite earned the right to call Vision a friend, even if you were fond of him. “I’ve got like 10 bucks, tops.” You pulled a few crumpled bills from your pockets to emphasize your point. You obviously couldn’t use your credit card, either. You’d seen enough movies to know that.

Vision thought a moment before coming up with an idea. “It’s not the most ethical thing to do, but I could get cash out of an ATM. It’s technically a matter of survival, after all.” He demonstrated exactly what he meant by phasing his hand through the paper as you read, something that could just as easily be done to a cash machine.

It wasn’t so much the legality of the idea that bothered you. After all, you’d stolen multiple cars. It was the matter of Vision’s safety. Not that he couldn’t protect himself but he would be spotted quite easily if he went outside. That was just a matter of fact. And if someone called the police on a strange magenta man or anything along the lines of ‘robot,’ you could pretty much guarantee trouble. “I don’t know... What if someone sees you? The last thing we want is to compromise the safe house. I can just wait awhile longer, I’ll be fine.”

Your stomach chose that moment to grumble again, completely undermining your point. Vision shot you a look that more than sufficed to communicate what he was thinking but he wrote it down anyway. “It would seem we don’t have much of a choice.”

You sighed, all but forced to agree. Although, it would be nice to get some actual food before your stomach started eating itself. “Fine,” you relented. “But we wait until it gets dark out. It’s safer that way.”

Vision wasn’t about to argue.

-

Memorization wasn’t really your strong suit, but you seemed to do surprisingly well with the start of your sign language lessons. It helped that your teacher was so patient.

Vision thought it would be best to start with a few simple phrases for the sake of saving paper. Common things such as ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ You had the benefit of only really needing to recognize them as opposed to being able to do the signs yourself, since Vision could obviously hear you, but you took it upon yourself to mimic the gestures anyway.

It had been a few hours and your head was starting to ache but you insisted on continuing. You were certain you were doing well and you wanted Vision to be impressed. Not only could you remember how to spell your own name, you could spell his as well. The rest of the alphabet may not have stuck as much but oh well. For now, words and phrases were more important.

“That’s... someone?” You guessed as Vision held up his index finger and waved it in a sort of circle. He’d been quizzing you for a few minutes now, to which you’d done pretty well. He shook his head this time, however, and tried not to look amused by the almost comically offended look on your face. “What? Yes it is! I’m certain that means ‘someone!’” You were insistent on the fact. Vision hadn’t tried to trip you up yet but he must be this time. You tried to mimic the motion, repeating the word as if that would change anything.

He shook his head again, not bothering to hide his smile this time. He reached for your hand, raising it higher to show you that there was, in fact, a slight difference between what he was signing and what you were. For a moment, you looked almost startled, like a deer in headlights. He didn’t miss the hint of color that tinged your cheeks. His assumption was merely that you were embarrassed by your mistake, though it was an easy one to make. He switched back to paper in order to explain. “This,” he repeated his first gesture. “means ‘always’. What you signed was ‘someone.’ See the difference?”

You nodded in understanding although your attention was beginning to drift. You felt like you were cramming for an exam in a class you hadn’t been attending. You may or may not have actually had to do that before. The point was, you’d learned just about all you were going to for the day. And just in time, it seemed, as you glanced toward the curtains, no longer backlit by the afternoon sun. You’d managed to kill most of the day, between checking that the computer was still working and just generally talking with Vision. There wasn’t much else to do, not that you were complaining. You were quite enjoying the android’s company and not just because you were stuck with him. And to top it off, you’d managed to distract yourself from how hungry you were. Until now, that is.

“How about we call it a day on the lessons, hm? I’d say now’s about the best time to head outside. There’s just one thing we have to do first.” You turned and exited the room without explanation, only saying you’d be right back. You ran upstairs to the bedroom, hoping you could find what you needed. You hadn’t voiced your plan to Vision, although you saw no reason for him not to go along with it. It was a smart idea if you said so yourself. At least that’s what you told yourself as you began rifling through drawers.

Vision wasn’t sure what to think at first when you came bumbling down the stairs again with a messily folded bundle in your hands. But your intention became clear quite quickly once you’d returned, immediately holding out the clothes to him before bothering to explain.

“I hope this isn’t rude but you kind of… stand out. I just thought, maybe it’d be a good idea to disguise yourself. Just for safety. Is that okay?” You hoped there was no offense taken by the gesture. In truth, you were glad Vision was going with you and not just because of the money thing. You didn’t feel particularly safe walking the streets alone at night, especially when you didn’t know the area. But having Vision by your side made you feel nigh invincible. There was just the small issue of technically being wanted criminals.

He smiled, more to himself than anything. It was just strange, he thought, how concerned you were with his opinion. Of course he wasn’t offended. It was a smart idea. He chuckled a bit, although it was a strange action given his physical state. The motion of a laugh was there, his shoulders shuddering as any human’s would despite his lack of need to actually breathe, but there was no sound. It was one of those mannerisms that was ingrained in his programming, though he wasn’t sure quite where it came from. Not from Jarvis, certainly, since the AI had no physical form, and Ultron likely hadn’t been terribly focused on such gestures at the time of his creation. In reality, it was simply something he’d picked up on his own, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

You let out a breathy chuckle of your own as he took the clothes, glad to see he agreed with you wholeheartedly. He got dressed quickly, leaving only his face visible when he was done. Luckily, it was cold enough outside for him to get away with wearing gloves, a scarf and a hat. The clothes were a bit old-fashioned but in a professional way. The long wool coat and slacks in particular gave the impression of a scholarly type, perhaps even a professor. You couldn’t help but think it was a good look for him.

“Well don’t you look just dashing,” you teased. You’d found a coat for yourself as well, deciding your own jacket wasn’t going to be enough. You silently thanked whatever SHIELD employee set this place up for supplying a myriad of spare clothes. “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to the coat rack by the door, grabbing a scarf that had been left hanging there. “Just in case.”

You hesitated at the front door. Despite the fact that you were merely going to look for a convenience store or something similar, your anxiety spiked as though it were a dangerous mission. You could just imagine all the ways you could get caught. It was almost enough to make you stay here, slowly starving to death waiting for something to happen. Vision noticed your apprehension, however, and did the first thing that came to mind to soothe your worries. He gave you a warm smile, holding out a bent arm for you to take. He thought you might find the somewhat old-fashioned gesture funny and he was right. You laughed, taking his arm anyway. It was a nice reminder that the odds of anything bad happening were tremendously low, which you mentally repeated to yourself as you stepped outside.

-

Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was a small grocery store a few blocks down which you’d run into just before closing time so the store was nearly empty. Vision had waited outside near the ATM, which had provided the funds you needed. Other than the bored clerk at the store, you hadn’t seen so much as a single soul this whole trip. By the time you and Vision were walking back, burdened by just a few days worth of groceries (which would ideally be more than enough), your previous worries had all but melted away.

You only wished the weather matched the feeling. Nothing was melting in this cold. In fact, a few snowflakes had begun to fall. They were almost mesmerizing under the blueish haze of the streetlights, whipped into a frenzy by the faintest of gusts. The sight wasn’t enough of a distraction, however. You couldn’t help it when a shiver wracked your body, your coat not doing nearly enough to prevent it. Vision noticed this, however, and stopped you both in your tracks.

He was quick to reach for the paper and pen in his coat pocket, a look on his face of more concern than you thought necessary. It was only a little chill. “Are you cold?” The question wasn’t particularly necessary, the answer being obvious. Still, it was polite to ask.

You tried to shrug it off, noticeably tensing to suppress a second shiver. “I’m fine. Let’s just hurry back.” You turned to keep walking, knowing there was still a decent walk ahead but he stopped you, putting a hand on your arm for the briefest of seconds. He just looked at you a moment, seeming to forget about his paper. You caught the faintest hint of conflict in his expression, though you didn’t know why. “What is it, Vision?”

Realizing he’d made you worry, Vision seemed to snap back to his senses. He gave you a reassuring smile and reached for his scarf, undoing it quickly. You were facing him, standing close enough to see the circuitry in his eyes. He paused again, however, debating his next action. For a being that didn’t have nerves, he sure felt nervous and didn’t fully understand why. He moved at a pace far slower than he was used to, hesitantly wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. His touch was light as a feather as if he were afraid to touch you. You could do nothing but watch him, lost in the details of his eyes and face as your grip on the grocery bags began to loosen involuntarily.  There was a moment where neither of you moved, his hands still lingering on the loose fabric of the scarf.

Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, mind racing to find a logical conclusion that didn’t concern such things as the vague and confusing emotions that spiked in your chest just then. It was cold, so Vision gave you his scarf. Your hands were full, so he put it on for you. But what you couldn’t answer was why he lingered the way that he did and more importantly, why your chest began to feel tight in a way that wasn’t as unpleasant as you’d think. The most sensible reason you could think of was that he was simply a gentleman, and perhaps a little unfamiliar with personal boundaries. That was the only possibility you had the strength to consider. Anything else would open doors you were afraid to even imagine.

Footsteps scraping heavily against the pavement cut the tender, if rather nerve-filled moment short. You turned toward the sound, though Vision remained facing slightly away, bowing his head somewhat in an attempt to conceal himself. You froze when a figure emerged from the alleyway; a heavy-set man whose posture listed to one side, most likely from some kind of injury. His clothes were noticeably old and ragged, most definitely not warm enough for this weather. You would’ve asked him if he needed help were it not for the knife he brandished at you.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice wavering. Funny, you were just about to say the same thing. Clearly, he wouldn’t be doing this unless he was desperate and in a bad situation. Unfortunately, you weren’t much better off. “I saw you, I know you have cash. Just hand it over and no one gets hurts.”

Under normal circumstances you would’ve complied but you’d used up pretty much all the cash you got and you couldn’t risk giving him your wallet. If your ID found its way into police hands there’d be government agents swarming this place before you ever got the chance to bail. “We don’t have any money left, I swear. Please, just walk away.” You moved slowly, setting the grocery bags on the ground and raising your hands in surrender without making any sudden movements that could set him off. You weren’t as afraid as you probably should’ve been, choosing to try and reason with the man rather than flee, which would probably be the smarter option.

The man stepped closer to you, his grip on the knife visibly tightening. He was nearly within arm’s reach now which wasn’t ideal but you held your ground. Vision caught the man’s movement out of the corner of his eye, his hand reflexively grabbing at your arm protectively. The man furrowed his brow, glancing between the two of you in confusion. At this distance, even without Vision facing him, he could almost definitely tell something was strange here. Having given you his scarf, the only things covering Vision’s face were a hat and upturned coat collar. You spoke up again, drawing the man’s attention before he could get too close of a look. “This doesn’t have to get messy. Please… ”

You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stood there, time frozen around you. The only things that moved were the snowflakes that had grown more frequent in the past couple minutes. The man finally shifted, albeit barely, one foot scraping harshly against the concrete as he braced himself. He glanced between you and Vision again, jaw clenched tightly. “I ain’t walking away empty-handed. I can’t. Just gimme your damn wallet.”

Vision tugged gently on your arm. You weren’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, either trying to pull you closer to him or signal that you should run. You didn’t think running was a good idea. You feared Vision’s injuries acting up again and you didn’t want to test your own speed either. You turned back to the man, desperately pleading at this point. “I can’t …”

“Then I’ll just have to take it from you.” He didn’t give you another chance to argue, immediately lunging at you haphazardly. He couldn’t even get close to hitting you, however, as Vision’s reflexes were far superior to the man’s. The android grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully to the side and forcing him to drop the knife. The man yelped and threw a punch at Vision, who dodged it easily. The man didn’t seem to understand just how drastically outmatched he was, not even now that he had a clear view of Vision’s face. Whatever was going through his head, he still seemed to think fighting was his best option. He took another swing at Vision who, up until this point, had no intention of fighting back. But he was left with few other options. He pushed back against his attacker, sending the man sprawling to the ground with a painful ‘smack’ as he hit the pavement. There was genuine fear in his eyes when he looked back up at the two of you.

“Vis, we gotta go.” It was you holding his arm now, pleading with him to leave. He nodded quickly, completely in agreement. The two of you paused only long enough to scoop up the dropped grocery bags before making your escape. The man didn’t dare follow you as you disappeared down a side street, desperate to avoid any more prying eyes. This was the exact sort of thing you’d been afraid of when you’d left the safe house. You could only hope the man kept his mouth shut about what he’d witnessed tonight but it seemed luck may not be on your side.

-

A/N:  I want to mention that I don’t personally know much ASL and had to rely on videos, etc. so if anything at all is wrong, I apologize. Feel free to call me out.

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”