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d0youc0py · 11 months

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A • Apprehensive • How apprehensive are they to get into a relationship?

Extremely. Not because he doesn’t want too but because he is actually very satisfied with the life he has now. He has his great group of friends who he sees often outside of work and he really doesn’t need much more interaction outside of that. He doesn’t want the stress of worrying about you while he’s away.

B • Bad Habit • Bad Habit they have when it comes to relationships

This man will look for any reason- any reason at all to jump ship. Once again it not because he doesn’t want to be in a relationship, of course he wants to love someone and be loved, but he’s so scared of you getting hurt because of him that he will nitpick everything you do in the beginning to find an excuse to distance himself. Yet something about you keeps him coming back……..

C • Cuddling

Touching actually comes very naturally to him. It’s his emotions that are a total roadblock. He thinks it’s the easiest way to get his feelings out without having to find a way to get his brain to connect with his mouth. He’s not a fan of PDA but if you grab his hand in public it will make his legs shake. Loves spooning! He gets to wrap his whole body around yours, breath in your scent, and he has access to kiss your shoulders, neck, head. He wraps his whole arm around your waist while the other is placed under your head like a pillow. Please hold his hand in this position. He also likes casual cuddling. You throwing your feet over his lap while on the couch. He always sits with his arm draped over the back of the couch/any where he can, so take the opportunity to nuzzle on in there.

D • Dates

Dates with him are absolutely wonderful. He does an amazing job focusing all his attention on you, making you feel as if you are the only person he has ever laid eyes on. Dates with him are always pretty simple. Dinner, or maybe a movie, maybe a day trip to a museum or maybe just a walk around a park if the weathers nice.

E • Emotions • How do they handle your emotions?

When you’re happy- he’s happy. When you’re sad he does everything he can to make it stop. He’s extremely fix-it oriented and may not understand that you just want a shoulder to cry on. Anger is a hard one for him because he doesn’t get too angry often. He comes across like he does but it really takes a lot for him to get heated. Anger always makes him uncomfortable too. He’s worried that he’ll somehow become an outlet for you anger. Because of this he tries to dismiss it in hopes you’ll move on but a lot of times this just makes you feel invalidate. Once he realizes that you just want someone to vent to and tell you it’ll all work out he’s there for you 100%.

F • fun level • how fun are they as partners?

This completely depends on your personal idea of fun. If your idea of fun is going out and staying out till two in the morning then he’s not your guy. But if your idea of fun is sitting out on the patio with a drink swapping banter and people watching then he’s your guy. He unknowingly makes typically boring things like cleaning, or waiting in line enjoyable with out of pocket comments. He’s a city boy and has a pretty good idea of all the true gems hidden around.

G • Games • do they play games with your heart?

Absolutely not. He basically got into this relationship unwillingly so if he’s in it- he’s in it. Extremely loyal. He saw what his mom went through and would never ever put someone through that. He’s not the type to flirt with other people just to get you jealous. Trust is a huge thing with him. If he can’t trust you- or if he senses you don’t trust him, it’s not gonna work babe.

H • Hot damn • what are they attracted too physically?

He’s a total sucker for rosy cheeks. He adores a healthy red glow. He’s also incredibly observant. If something about you catches his eye he’s going to just stare at you with no shame to see if he can get an idea of who you are. Edward Cullen vibes. Do you hold your head up high? Do you make eye contact with others? Do you curl in on yourself? He finds loads of people attractive- but he really needs to get to know you before he is attracted to you.

I • indescribable • what do they have the hardest time opening up about?

He opens up about his childhood in a slow- but not excruciating pace. It seems like everyone has some sort of childhood trauma so he doesn’t feel too frowned upon. He will absolutely never open up to you about his work though. You will of course meet the people he works with outside of work, hear a few funny stories, but he will never tell you how good he actually is at his job. He probably won’t even mention Ghost to you unless someone slips up and calls him that. Even then he’s extremely vague. He doesn’t want you associated with that at all. He keeps all of his masks and uniforms locked up in storage unit until he gets deployed.

J • Jealousy

He’s a fairly confident guy, so no he doesn’t get jealous. If you are actively trying to make him jealous to get a rise out of him than that’s a major turn off to him. He thinks it’s childish and honestly downright mean to make your partner feel that way. It’s rare when you feel jealous. He’s a handsome hunk of man so he gets hit on every once in a while. He makes it very obvious he’s in a relationship though. Wether that be flashing his wedding band, gesturing to you, or just downright saying he’s not interested. He hopes that by doing all this it eases your mind while he’s away. He knows it hard not knowing what he’s up to for weeks at a time and it would be easy to let your mind wander, especially when his so flippant and vague about his time away from you. Like stated above he is very big on trust and he really never gives you a reason to not trust him.

K • Kids • Do they want kids?

This might be controversial, but no. He’s doesn’t want kids. Kids stress him out and honestly bring up a lot of trauma for him. He has a lot of good qualities for parenthood. He reliable, protective, understanding, but he also has a lot of emotional problems that he will be working through for the rest of his life. He is gone at least 5-6 months out of the year, and he doesn’t think it’s fair to leave the child rearing up to you. Why would he want to bring a life into this world when it’ll be so hard for him to be there for it? Plus when he’s home he wants to relax- he wants to be with you. He’s very open about this at the beginning of your relationship so you aren’t blindsided.

L • Love • How fast do they say ‘I Love You’?

When you are both old and white haired you’ll probably be able to count on one hand the amount of times he has said I Love You. He’s not big on words. Anyone can talk. He likes to show. Also when he does say those words it’s so special because you know that he is literally overflowing with the feeling.

M • Money

He makes great money (as he should) so he isn’t cheap. He’s a practical spender though. He would much rather spend his money on remodeling the kitchen than go on a vacation. He has absolutely no problem paying for your dates, but if you wanted to pay every now and then it wouldn’t hurt his ego. You could absolutely rely on him to help you out financially if you ever needed it. Your car broke down and you can’t afford to fix it? He’s got you. If you hate your job and decide you want to stay at home or switch careers, he’s got you there too. If you make more than him it honestly doesn’t bother him. Surprisingly his guilty pleasure is clothes. The man owns fifty different tops all in black. T shirts, hoodies, sweaters. The only color he has in his closet are his white button ups. He also has a soft spot for jeans. He’s very picky about his jeans but once he finds a pair he likes he gets ten pairs of them.

N • No • Biggest turn offs

He absolutely hates over sharing right off the bat. Like on your first date you tell him every horrible thing that has happened to you- he’s running. If there is something he absolutely needs to know then it’s okay (he thinks?). He also hates people who aren’t self aware. People who will judge others for something they themselves blatantly do.

O • Over and Out• How he’d break up with you

He’d do it right before he got shipped off. If you two had just started going together he probably would just ‘ghost’ you and you’d think he fell off the face of the earth. But if you two had been going for a while it would complicate things for him. He’s torn between leaving you a half assed phone call or breaking up with you to your face. While you’re at work/out of the house he’d pick up the things he had at your place leaving a very cliche ‘not you but me’ not on your kitchen counter. Maybe when he got back he’d answer you phone calls and meet you for coffee- but it’s very unlikely.

P • Protective vs Possessive

He’s a unhealthy mixture of both. Some of his protectiveness is quite sweet. He always makes sure to follow the sidewalk rule and walk a little bit behind you. He gives off scary guard dog energy and he makes sure to put it to good use. Someone’s making you uncomfortable. Glare so strong it’ll make your knees buckle. Other times it’s annoying, and it feels almost like he thinks of you as a child. “Careful around the oven.” Duh Simon. You’ll get random calls from his burner phone with him practically begging you to lock the doors and windows over the phone so he can hear it. He has minor OCD. Teaches you simple- yet uncommon self defense techniques and make sure you feel confident using a knife. His possessiveness comes from from his ego and is deeply intertwined with his protectiveness. He firmly believes that no one else can protect you like he can. Which is kinda true. You are his so it’s his job to protect you. This means he’ll probably put up a fight if you want to go somewhere without him, even if it’s just to go grab the mail. He’s no stranger to how horrible people can be- he’s guilty of it himself.

Q • Quick • How quick do they actually fall in love?

It happens at a normal pace. That doesn’t mean he knows it. It takes like five different people to point it out to him before he starts believing their right. All he knows is that he feels bad when he’s away from you and fucking fantastic when he’s with you. He finds that he works harder so mission goes by quicker. He finds that while he’s driving over to your place his cheeks start to burn, only then does he notice he’s been smiling since he’s started the engine. When he does finally admit it, it doesn’t cause him to rush into anything. The two of you may still be friends for a few months before he acts on it. He genuinely enjoys the foreign feeling of butterflies and warmth in his chest. Just let him soak in it.

R • Relationship history

He’s been in a few relationships, about five. He’s never been in love but he has loved someone. That person was there for him during a tough time in his life (his father leaving and his brother trying to get sober) and he was there for them too during their own rough patch. It lasted a little more than a year and they both mutually decided that they would make better friends. Neither of them ever kept in touch. The other relationships would always last about 3-5 months. Mostly something to take his mind off of work when he was home. He enjoyed being with them but it just never worked out.

S • Sentimental

He is sentimental. He still has a soft spot for the outfit you wore on their first date and no matter how old it is he insists that you keep it. He will frequently drive past important places to the two of you. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are always so soft as he remembers whatever it was that happened there. He’ll never admit it but if you ever decided to make him a scrapbook/photo album he’d probably cry.

T • Tidy • What’s it like living with him?

He’s honestly a pretty wonderful roommate. It’s been drilled into his head order and routine. He cleans for about 10 minutes every morning, simple things like wipe down the kitchen, dust the living room, throw a load of laundry in. He finds great calmness in repetitive tasks. Clutter makes it hard for him to focus and it seriously makes his skin itch. He does hate vacuuming though so hopefully you’ll take that over for him. He’s also a decent cook, nothing fancy, but they are very much comfort meals. Steak with potatoes, stews, spaghetti, things like that. It’ll take him a while to get use to living with you, but it makes him feel safe. His favorite time of day is when both of you are settling into bed, mumbling things you just remembered about your day, his chin resting on top of your head, just being completely absorbed in you. Moments like these are things he never thought he could- or really deserved to have.

U • Ultimate • the ultimate way to weasel your way into his heart

The quickest way to Simon’s heart is honestly just paying attention to him. You notice when he’s feeling upset and instead of brushing him off as grumpy you take time out of your day to make him feel better. You had a rough day and say the only way it could be better is by him making you a cup of his famous tea- he’s melted. He shows up to a gathering and you show genuine excitement about his presence- might marry you right there. You were out shopping and bought a little something for him because it reminded you of him- someone sedate him. He knows he’s a tough nut to crack so when someone actually puts in the effort to get to know him it always shakes him to his core. You- someone who could have almost anyone- want him?

V • Vacation

His favorite vacations are small two-three day ones. Maybe both of you book a hotel a few towns over and spend the weekend exploring the quaint little town? Traveling takes a lot out of him. It sounds a bit silly given his profession but he isn’t the biggest fan of planes. In his defense he’s know some pilots who should definitely have their license revoked. Since he’s legally dead there are a few hoops to jump through when flying international. (Thankfully Price is the paperwork master) He also isn’t a fan of all the plannnning. Ugh. If you wanted to get him on a real week long vacation the whole thing will have to be a guided tour and he wants to have a buzz for most of it.

W • Wait • how long will they wait to marry you?

About three- four years. Small wedding. He refuses to say vows out loud but will absolutely write some and let you read them after the ceremony. Fighting back tears. He is actually invested in the planning portion of it- especially the cake. Price officiates the wedding and would absolutely walk you down the aisle if you requested. Johnny is best man. Gaz is the flower girl and the DJ. Your reception is fucking amazing (thanks Johnny) and you have the best wedding album ever.

X • eXtra

If you want this man in a pile of mush please for the love of god skim your fingers over his jaw and chin. It’s a sensitive area for him because it’s covered half the time and it’s also a way he self soothes. When he’s stressed or nervous he’ll rub at it and it really does physically calm him. It’s also a great way to get him to sleep or back to sleep on nights he’s struggling.

Y • You • How often does he think about you while he’s away?

With his job he is easily distracted. Nights away from you are hell though. He literally sleeps with one of your shirts. He has it balled up and tucked under his chin and tries his best to imagine it’s your head.

Z • Zzzzz

He likes to go to bed early and wake up early. He naturally runs cold- despite his size- and he needs the room like a meat locker to sleep. Big fluffy comforters are something that he absolutely indulges in. The two do you are pressed together all night to keep warm. He wears socks to sleep- fight him. He also wears a pair of tight boxers (he likes to be compressed) and a loose t shirt. He loves skin to skin contact, if he has a chance of being pressed against you naked you could probably get him to turn the thermostat up to a normal temperature. He doesn’t snore often but when he does it’s growly like a grizzly bear. He is a light sleeper so anytime you move or a loud car goes by he will wake up. It’s never too difficult to fall back asleep though. He does suffer from night terrors. You can tell when his having one because his body heat will rise and he’ll start to twitch in his sleep. At first he was very snippy when you tried to soothe him but that’s just because he was embarrassed. Eventually he comes to crave some of your touches to bring him back down to earth.

Hope you all liked this. If you don’t agree with anything you see here that’s fine too! This took me a ridiculously long time but I throughly enjoyed it. I’m debating on whether I should do Soap or Price next.

#d0youc0py #doyoucopy #cod #cod men #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwf2 #fluff #sfw #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #sfw headcons #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #sfw alphabet

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no-droids · 4 years

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Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

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

***

This.

This shit, right here.

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

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

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

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

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

But this?

This shit? Right here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You… aren’t expecting that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A false sense of…

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

… What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

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

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simpforgojosatoru · 3 years

Text

ALL-NIGHTER (One-Shot) - Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you are a successful, hot-shot lawyer, both of you are incredibly good at what you do in your respective jobs, that you often have to pull some overtime. Tonight however, it happens to be your boyfriend who’s free, so he pays you a visit to your office.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! Reader/Reader-insert

Rating: NSFW

Waking up, you turn and smile as soon as you saw the sleeping face of your dear Satoru. You ran a hand softly through his hair, you lean in to give him a soft peak, and then back away, only to have him chase after you with lips pouting and eyes still shut, whining like a puppy, asking for more kisses. You laugh, and lean back in, and continue kissing him, as he encloses you into a tight embrace.

“Good morning, baby,” you greet with a smile.

Now under him, Satoru smiled down at you, and kissed you lovingly. “Good morning, baby girl.”

You hold his face as you look up at him lovingly, “We both have to get up for work soon.”

Satoru whined, “I don’t wanna gooooo…”

You chuckled, “I know, but you do have students to teach, Teach.”

Satoru rolled his eyes, and groaned, “Yes, yes, fine, I’m getting up…”

You laughed, “Come on, lazy boy.”

“Do you think you will be over-timing today?” Satoru asked.

“I can ask you the same question,” you replied with a wry smile.

Satoru turned on his innocent look with a pout, “Can you blame me, baby? I’m, after all, the strongest; I am always expected to be on-call.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sato,” you laugh, as you get dressed for work.

“But I really do hope I won’t have to pull overtime,” you say. “I hate overtime.”

He came up behind you and wrapped you in a reverse hug, and his lips dove down to your neck, fluttering you with melting kisses, while your head roll back, back arched, enjoying his lovemaking to your neck.

Satoru hummed, “How about we text each other…? I will update you if I will be home late.”

You smile, “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work at the law firm today turned out to be very hectic; phone calls, meetings, and urgent cases popping up for some of the highest-paying clients, you and your colleagues didn’t get to get out for lunch hour, and you eventually had to order takeaways. Of course, you also kept in contact with your boyfriend, texting back and forth, during which you gave him prior warning that, you may indeed have to stay overtime tonight.

“Aw…that sucks! ”Satoru had texted back.

“How about you? What’s your likelihood of overtime for tonight?”you text back.

“Still possible… We can’t see each other tonight…really, really sucks!”

Both yours and Satoru’s hearts sank, even though you both understand each other’s work, you hate being away from each other. Though, right now, there’s nothing else you can do, but focus on work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Time skip*

It’s the evening now, you are still at the law firm, sitting in your own office along with your close friend and colleague-Mayumi, going through the piles and piles of legal documents, both sighing now and then, having a last-minute case which popped up involving one of the more important clients for the law firm.

“I know there is somewhere else you’d rather be,” Mayumi stated sympathetically. “I’m sorry you are stuck here instead.”

You sigh dejectedly and roll your eyes, “Won’t make much of a difference, looks like Satoru is pulling overtime too.”

“He’s pulling overtime too?” Mayumi queried.

You sigh, “Well, he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer; he’s needed pretty much almost always.”

Mayumi smiled in awe, “Though I must say, I’m really impressed; you are both extremely busy people, yet you are still working very hard with your relationship and still going strong as ever.”

You smile casually, “It’s all about mutual understanding and compromise.”

You look at her seriously, “But I believe you also have a thing for a certain jujutsu sorcerer, my boyfriend’s colleague, don’t you?”

“Whatever do you mean by that?” Mayumi asked.

“Cut the crap, Mayumi, I know you like Nanami,” you reply.

She swallowed; she was not going to argue, considering you know her so well. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, it is to me, but I don’t know about the others.”

“Listen, I won’t do anything, it’s clearly unrequited, I know that, but I am still in the process of getting over him.”

You smile sadly at her, “How long do you think it’s going to take you?”

Just as Mayumi was about to answer, someone rang the office bell, you look to each other in puzzlement and confusion.

“We are the only ones in the office right now, right?” you ask.

Mayumi nodded, “Yeah, who else would be here at this hour?”

You both get up and go out to the main front doors of the law firm, to find the one and only Gojo Satoru standing right there, holding a couple of paper bags, grinning and waving at you two. Both gobsmacked, you quickly open the door for him, and he walk in briskly with a kind-of apologetic smile.

“Baby, what are you doing here? I thought you have to pull overtime?” you ask, shocked.

Satoru handed one paper bag out to Mayumi, and handed the other one to you, “Didn’t have to last minute.”

Your eyebrows rose at his words, and you look at him quizzically, “Or…does that translate to you tossing your mission to your students?”

Satoru whined and pouted, “I’m not that bad…anyway I’m giving them the opportunity to train and become stronger; it’s tough love, babe.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

“I will leave you two alone. Thank you very much for the food and cake,” Mayumi stated with a cheeky grin, and holding up the paper bag containing a piece of dessert, a slice of delicious Belgian chocolate fudge cake, and a main course dish.

Satoru nodded with a smile, “You’re welcome.”

You then take hold of his hand, and lead him to your office. “Come on, baby.”

Setting aside the paperwork and documents on your desk, and placing the paper bag, you take the food and cake out, as Satoru sat down in a chair by your desk. Then you place your hands on his shoulders, giving him a massage, you lean your head low, and you both engage in a kissing session.

“Thank you very much for coming up to my office,” you say with a grin.

“You are welcome, baby,” Satoru said back with a smile.

Satoru just sat watching and staring at his beloved girlfriend, as you eat the food and cake, and he giggled.

“What?” you ask. “I have something on my face?”

Satoru giggled, “You have cream on your lips.”

You blush, embarrassed, looking away, he grinned at you adoringly. You pick up a tissue, and are about to wipe your lips discreetly, when Satoru just took hold of your chin, and leaned in to kiss you deeply and passionately. You gasp, taken aback by his unexpected action, but you soon sink right into it as he wrapped his arms tight around you, and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Engaged in a heated making-out session, Satoru got you out of your chair, and have you set your butt on the edge of your desk. Both on fire, even if you break off the kissing now and then to take a breather, there is still fire, deep lust, love and passion burning in you both, and you are both aching for each other.

“This is my office, we can’t really…” you start breathily.

“But we’ve never done it in your office,” Satoru stated huskily.

“Ugh…” you groan.

Satoru tugged your hips closer, and he grinded against you, making you feel his hardening member, he buried his head into the crook of your neck and grinned, “Come on, baby, let’s christen it.”

“Ugh…I’m not sure that’s a good idea…,” you moan as he continued kissing and sucking your neck.

“Come on, baby, there’s nobody here but us,” Satoru begged.

“Mayumi is in the other office!” you hiss.

“But isn’t she a few doors away? And she won’t bother us now that I’m here,” Satoru stated with a grin.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, you cannot believe he would be so daring, your office is not exactly opaque, people can see through your office unless you use the blinds.

Satoru stared back innocently with a pout, “You can use the blinds, can’t you?”

Your mouth twitch, but you easily gave in, you sighed with a reluctant smile, “Fine…”

“Thank you very much, baby,” Satoru grinned.

He tugged you over to the leather couch, after he quickly shut and locked your office door, and pulled the blinds, giving yourselves privacy. He kneeled on the carpeted floor as he pried your thighs apart to settle between them, and he tugged you in for a deep, passionate kiss. He engaged you in a making-out session again, but his hands were now very busily undoing your work jacket and shirt. He threw away your jacket and shirt as soon as the buttons were undone, leaving your upper body in nothing but a black lace bra, and you stop kissing for a while, as he stared at your heaving breasts encased in a lacy prison, without another word, he quickly and roughly pulled the bra cups down and ripped the bra away from your body, exposing your voluptuous breasts to his naked eyes, he quickly latched his lips on to your creamy, smooth but firm mounds.

You throw your head back and moan, Satoru paid his full and complete attention to your breasts, sucking and nipping, while his hands busied themselves with taking off your skirt, tights and underwear, and your hands busy themselves with taking off his shirt, and undoing his belt. You cooperate with one another by moving now and then to allow the other to remove pieces of clothing much easier, and soon you both are completely naked. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and swapped positions, so that he is now the one sitting in the couch, with you sitting in his lap.

“Ride me,” Satoru whispered huskily.

You did not need to be told a second time, you position yourself over his rock hard member, and you slide down ever so slowly and smoothly, and he groaned into your neck as you consume him inch by inch. He held tight to you, his face nuzzled you neck, groans slipping from his mouth uncontrollably, as you wrap so deliciously tight around him.

“Fuck! You are so tight! Baby, ride me,” Satoru stated huskily.

You grin teasingly, “Beg.”

Satoru growled.

You laugh, “Hey, you are the one asking for it, not to mention, this is my office.”

He growled, frustrated, then he sighed. “Fine, I give up, I beg of you, baby. Please ride me.”

You laugh a tinkling laugh. “There you go, baby.”

You start to move your hips; his hands slid down to grip them, he moaned as you move and gyrate your hips.

“Baby, you are so perfect,” Satoru moaned.

He started to thrust his hips, thrusting up his hips to give you some support and leverage, and you continue to move up and down his cock, giving him his own private little show of your breasts bouncing up and down, he groaned at the purely erotic show, but then he cradled your face in his hands, looking at you seriously.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Satoru asked.

“I thought it was just the sex,” you respond jokingly.

Satoru rolled his eyes, then turned serious, “Y/N, I really do love you, so goddamn much. It’s not just the sex, the sex is only part of what we have, and I love you, all of you.”

You smile lovingly at him, “I know, silly. I love you too, all of you.”

He grinned, and kissed you deep, and you both continued making love into the night, and ended up falling asleep with you on top of him and him still inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock on your office door woke you up; you panic and frantically got up from the couch, while pulling away from Satoru gently, careful not to hurt him. You start picking up your clothes from the floor, cleaning up the mess frantically, while throwing on clothes at the same time.

“Y/N, you in there…? It’s Mayumi,” Mayumi announced.

“Yeah, I am, I will be right there,” you state hurriedly.

Just then, Satoru stirred awake, sleep still clear on his face, he groaned and stretched. “What’s going on, baby?”

“A new day, a new day is what going on,” you reply frantically.

Satoru grinned lazily as he stares at you throwing on clothes in a hurry, and he just sat back against the couch casually. “Last night was absolutely amazing.”

“Yes, it was, really good,” you say awkwardly.

You then stop, stalk still, you are staring at your ripped bra, courtesy of your boyfriend.

“Damn it, I have no bra to wear today,” you complain, annoyed.

“Sorry, baby, I was just way too excitedly last night,” Satoru stated.

However, when you turn to see Satoru grinning goofily at you, it is clear that he did not feel apologetic at all, and you roll your eyes. “I have work today, babe. How on earth am I going to work with no bra?”

More knocking came on the door.

“Y/N, are you okay in there?” Mayumi asked worriedly.

You wrap yourself, and opened the door to see a stunned Mayumi, and you smile awkwardly. “I’m fine.”

“Satoru stayed the night?” Mayumi stated teasingly. “I figured.”

“Well…” you start to respond.

“Morning, Mayumi-chan,” Satoru greeted with a bright grin.

Mayumi grinned teasingly, “And…ah ha, you did more than sleeping…”

You roll your eyes and admit, “Yes, we did, and it will never happen here again.”

“Don’t bet on it, sugar,” Satoru called.

You then turn to him, and hiss, “Throw some clothes on, will you?”

Mayumi laughed. “Don’t worry, I am just here to inform you that it’s still early, and you still have time to get washed and dressed. Just make sure you both look presentable before all our colleagues arrive.”

Mayumi walked away chuckling and you shut your office door; you turn back to Satoru, who has begun to put on his clothes, and you walk up to him, wrapping your arms around him, and kiss him lovingly. He grinned in response, and wrapped his arms around you, and started kissing back.

“I will see you later today?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I will pick you up for lunch,” Satoru replied with a grin.

He ran his hands up to cup your breasts, and gave them a squeeze. “You need me to bring you back a bra?”

Seeing the cheeky glint in his eyes, you roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

Satoru laughed.

“But seriously, do you? Your shirt is too flimsy, and I don’t want other people to be able to see what’s mine,” Satoru stated seriously.

You shrug casually, “I should have a sports bra here somewhere, and it should suffice.”

“Good,” Satoru grinned, satisfied. “I will see you at lunch, baby.”

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines

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needsastoryarchive · 3 years

Text

New tricks (Son)

Ben´s POV

''Oh yeah, I can't wait to cum!" Ben said, smiling in the mirror.

I looked at my newly acquired beefy hairy body. "Oh man! This feels so good! I ran a hand through my now very hairy, muscular chest. Short curls of fur stood all over my muscles. My armpits had big tufts of hair bursting out of them and they reeked now.

Oh yeah, I even smell like a real man now! Awesome!

I've had always a thing for big hairy muscular men like my dad, not in a sexual matter I'm 100% straight but more like an admiration to become one of those hairy alpha men, the respect they naturally get from other people. But nature fucked me up, instead of getting the good genes from my dad I got my looks from my mother's side of the family. I was lean with some muscle, got a handsome face but I was totally smooth, I couldn't even grow stubble.

Girls and guys even fought that I was gay because of how my body looked. Ironically my manly dad was the gay one in the family no one saw that one lol especially my mom.

It's was just unfair that he had that great body and was gay, while I looked like a shrimp and had to convince every girl I was interested in that I was really straight! I was done with it!

So I bought this body-swap-spell and last night I used it on my dad. This morning I woke up in my dad's room looking down at the hairy flesh that I now occupied. While my dad was in my body probably still asleep. With my new meaty hand, I felt the carpet of fur covering the mountains of muscle the sensation of it made ''my'' dick getting hard, oh God! "Wow! Dad sure has a big dick, well I have now this is great"!. I lay in bed stroking my new cock. Dad always told me that he had sensitive nipples, but know that I have them I know he wasn't wrong I continue stroking and started playing with my nipples made it even feel better! Ben seemed to have remained his teenage horniness but with the body of a man with far more experience.

I heard some noise, footsteps coming to my room. ''Shit!'' Fastly I put blankets to cover my cock in its full glory. Then the door opened standing there was my dad well with my old body in shock.

-Ben what happened to us I'm you and you're me!

- ''Uhm I don't know dad I just woke up like this I don't know how this happened, Jesus, I'm old and hairy don't know anything about manscaping dad?!'' I had to play the part I wasn't ready to give up this body yet.

- ''I don't do manscaping boy unlike you I see, I haven't been this smooth since sophomore year. ''

It was kinda weird seeing my body feeling itself knowing that my dad's inside. Tom shamelessly took a look inside his shorts and admired his son's cock. It was smaller than his but the fact that it belonged to Ben made it completely erotic and his new 3 inches got rock hard.

-"Hey, what are you looking at?!" Shouted Ben from his father's beefy middle-aged body.

-"It's mine for the moment so I'm taking a good hard look, no pun intended haha" responded Tom casually.

- ''Dad, I'm still tired so why don't you go back to bed so I can rest. And we later can find out how to reverse this okay?''

- ''Yeah, that's a good plan Ben''. Dad walked to the bed grabbing the blankets of the bed.

-'' Dad what are you doing!''I couldn't let him find out that I already almost cummed in his body.

- ''You said you wanted me to go to bed''. My dad said with confusion.

- ''Yeah, I meant you have to go to my old room and sleep in my old bed. Because of my body... I mean your old body is too large for my own bed so that's the reason I have to stay here okay.

"I mean I'm WAY bigger! Hey, how much do I weigh now? I must be like 200 pounds now!"

-''You're actually...215 pounds. It's mostly muscle.". Alright, son, I will sleep in your bed hopefully we can fix this soon so I can sleep in my own bed again''. Dad said while walking off.

You can forget about that dad; I deserve it more than you.

Throwing the blankets I make my way over to the full-length mirror. in the reflection, I see a black-haired, fully bearded man in his 40s'. his now new body is quite muscular but it also got a lot of body hair on the chest, back, legs, ass, and crotch. I flex my bicep pop, ''oh yeah that´s more like it!''

''I bet I have to shave now, huh!" Ben had a huge smile plastered across his face as he felt his stubble with both hands, wondrously running his hands over a week's worth of facial hair growth.

''Oh yeah, I can´t wait to fuck every guy in town! Wait... a guy?! Looks like it that since I'm in my dad's body which is gay I'm now gay too at the moment, oh this is not good!'' "How should I do this? I've never done it with another man before and I'm not gay!" Although my cock thought otherwise. I need to fix this I know the spell gets permanent when one of use has sex!

Then I saw my dad dressed in my clothes running downstairs.

-’’Hey, where are you going ?!’’

-‘’I’m going to fuck that girl of your’s boy, Kim was her name I think. You don’t have to stay awake for me boy I’m staying there.’’

-’’Wait there is something you need to hear…’’

-’’You can tell me that later kiddo, your old man has some new tricks to explore.’’

- ''No, wait!''

I was already too late dad had slammed the door in my face and was going to fuck Kim and we were going to stay like this forever! I´m stuck in this 45-year-old hairy gay body forever!

I took one last look in the mirror seeing the hairy alpha man I always wanted to be... and realized it might not be that bad after all. Sure, I might have lost decades of my life with this body swap, but from a gay man's perspective, I had a body to die for! Literally, as I would probably have to live the rest of my life as my own hairy beefy dad. Hard as a rock now, I grabbed hold of my 9-inches and began jacking it furiously. It was so weird and hot at the same time to be seeing my own dad jacking his dick in front of the mirror, but I guess I would have to get used to it now as it was now my MY body in the reflection. I caught sight of a picture of my dad on the wall, looking super hot and shirtless, and as soon as I realized that that was me now, I came buckets of my dad's milk all over the mirror and my hairy chest. "Yeah, I can definitely get used to this..."

#male body swap #male body switch #young to old #daddy and son #needsastory

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

The Great Academia Road Trip, Part 1 (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: Class 1-A (plus Shinsou) is going on a road trip! In this first installment, Bakugou contemplates how he's going to get Deku back for cornering him before, having a little fun with the nerd along the way.

A/N: Welcome to the first official mini-series within the Primary Universe! I was hoping to do this more in the middle of summer than towards the end, but better late than never! I hope you enjoy taking a road trip with the students of Class 1-A - with plenty of tickling included! ^^

Shoutout to @ticklishscumbag for the "Bakugou loves strawberry milk" headcanon that is briefly referenced here.

Word Count: 1,796

**SPOILER ALERT:** This fic contains spoilers from Season 5 of the anime. (Below the cut.)

~~~

The door to Bakugou’s dorm room slammed open.

“Road trip!”

“What the—?!” Bakugou yelled, instinctively shoving his covers off and scrambling to his feet, heart racing from the anticipation of an oncoming battle. When he saw it was just Kirishima, he clutched his chest and yelled, “Kiri, you idiot! You gave me a heart attack!”

“Forget that,” Kiri replied easily, bounding inside with a huge grin on his face. “It’s road trip time! Where’s your bag? You packed it already, right?”

“Freakin’ – yeah, it’s over there.” The blonde gestured to his closet. “God dang, Kirishima.”

Kiri laughed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Sorry, dude. I’m just so excited, and we’re leaving in less than an hour! How could you still be asleep? Get dressed! Eat some breakfast! We’re gonna hit the rooooad!”

Bakugou grumbled as he shoved Kirishima back out his door, barely registering that his friend had grabbed his bag on his way out. Still, he couldn’t help but smile once he was alone. Today was the day. Their entire class – along with Shinsou, who would be entering the hero course next year – were taking a month-long trip around the country as both part of their training and as a vacation. Officially, they were touring the different prefectures and meeting the top heroes across the nation, learning how things worked in different places and sometimes even helping out if needed. Unofficially, they were getting away from the stress of school and the League of Villains for a while, making stops at popular tourist locations and having some down time to balance out the work they’d still be doing.

No rest for the weary, but honestly, Bakugou was looking forward to this trip just as much as Kirishima and the rest of the class were. He couldn’t wait to meet pro heroes in other prefectures, beat up some bad guys, and take a dip in the pool at the end of their long days. It was going to be great.

But first, he had to get dressed.

Downstairs, the entire dorm was alive with activity. It seemed everyone was either finishing up breakfast or hauling their gear out to the bus that was already waiting outside. Bakugou made a mental note to ask Kiri if he’d actually gotten his luggage all the way out there before they left. In the meantime, he headed to the fridge, hoping Sato hadn’t taken the last strawberry milk.

It was still there. He grinned, grabbed it, and twisted open the cap.

Just beyond his hearing range in the living room stood Iida, Kaminari, Ojiro, Shinsou, and stupid Deku. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t gotten the nerd back for tickling him to death while he was trapped under his bed last week. He was rather looking forward to finding ways to mess with him on this trip in retaliation.

“Baku-bro!” Sero said by way of greeting, slapping him on the back. “Good morning! Ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bakugou took a swig of strawberry milk, savoring the flavor, trying not to let it show how much he loved it. “Where’s Kiri?”

“Probably taking Mina’s bag out to the bus. He already grabbed mine and his own.”

“Mine, too.”

Sero laughed. “He’s pretty excited.”

“Yeah, well…” Bakugou shrugged. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“I take it that means you’re excited, too? Good! It wouldn’t be any fun if you were a grump the whole time. Though we have ways of making you cheer up nowadays, don’t we?” Sero winked, nudged him, and moved on to the next person, greeting them enthusiastically as he made his way to the front door.

Bakugou scowled. He supposed he would have been stupid to think he’d get a break from his own torture just because they were on a tour of the country. Oh, well. As long as no one else found out, he’d survive.

He took another drink just as Deku suddenly broke away from his group and hurried past him toward his own dorm room.

Must have left some All Might backpack or something, he thought, grunting. Stupid nerd.

Somehow, despite the fact that it was obvious the two of them didn’t get along, Bakugou wound up seated next to Shinsou right in the middle of the bus. Kaminari had practically shoved him into the taller boy’s lap, much to both of their annoyance.

“Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted coolly, polite but not much more than that.

The blonde bit his tongue to resist calling him a mind-reader again. “Shinsou.”

After that, the two lapsed into silence as the bus finished loading, pulled out of the school grounds, and made its way onto the highway.

It was a long, grueling twenty minutes before Bakugou finally sighed angrily and got up, turning on his heel to stride toward the back of the bus to where Kiri and Deku were sharing a seat.

He interrupted their conversation without an apology. “Deku, switch with me.”

Deku blinked. “What?”

“Swap seats with me. You’re friends with that freak from 1-C, right?”

“He’s not a freak. And yes, we’re friends.”

“Then swap with me. I don’t want to be near him.”

Kirishima gave him a withering look. “You’ll have to get used to having him around sooner or later. When he joins the hero course, there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll be in our class.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

Deku poked his head up over the seat in front of him, glancing to where Shinsou now sat alone. He stood to do as Bakugou asked, but before he could even get a step down the aisle, Kirishima shot out in front of him, declaring, “I’ll sit with him! I never get to talk to the guy.”

“Wait – I don’t want to sit with stupid Deku, either!” Bakugou yelled. “What are you doing?”

Kiri turned back to him. “It’s Shinsou or Midoriya. Take your pick.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth, growled, and shoved Deku down into the seat he’d just vacated. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Deku smiled, scooting over to the window seat to allow the blonde to sit with him while Kiri moved up to join Shinsou.

More silence.

“You’re not going to make it, you know,” Bakugou said at last, crossing his arms.

Deku startled. “What?”

“To the end of the trip. You won’t make it back.”

“Why?”

“Because you declared war, idiot. And I’m not going to lose to you.”

The greenette was silent for a long moment, seeming lost. Then it clicked, and his face brightened. “Yeah? Well, I’m not losing to you, either. So where does that leave us?”

“With you begging me for mercy.”

“Or you begging me.”

“Never.”

Deku smirked, then glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Bakugou smirked, too. This was going to be an interesting road trip for the both of them.

Several hours later – after they’d arrived at their first destination, unloaded, trained, had dinner, and were wrapping up for the day – Bakugou stood just inside the door of the four-person room he was sharing with Kirishima, Tokoyami, and Shoji, waiting patiently. Any minute now, Deku would pop into the hall on his way to the shared bathroom to clean up before bed, and he’d pass Bakugou’s room on his way to do so. It was just a matter of time now.

There he was.

Bakugou reached into the hall, grabbing Deku by the back of his shirt and pulling him into the currently empty room, throwing him onto a bedroll. Then he pounced, climbing on top of him and digging his fingers into his sides, ribs, and underarms in rapid succession.

Deku burst into hysterical giggles, shocked and confused for just a moment before his brain caught up to what his body was feeling. “Ahahahahahahaha Kacchan! Nahahahahahahaha!”

“So about this tickle war you’ve so stupidly decided to start with me, nerd.” Bakugou spoke casually, though he smirked at his friend’s useless attempts to get away. “How do we know who’s won? Begging for mercy doesn’t seem like enough, since I get you to do that anyway during our normal tickle fights.”

“I-I mahahahahahake you beheheheheg, too!” Deku protested, earning a sharp jab into his hip bone for his trouble. He squealed and laughed. “NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Like I was saying, I don’t think it’s enough to end a tickle war. What exactly was your plan going into this?”

“I dohohohohohohon’t knohohohohohow!” Deku writhed on the ground, smiling wide and pushing at Bakugou’s hands weakly. “I dihihihihidn’t thihihihihihihink about it!”

“Well, think now.”

“I cahahahahahahahan’t! Y-You’re distrahahahahacting me!”

Bakugou hummed, swinging a leg over to straddle Deku and reach up into his underarms, drawing out a fresh burst of laughter and kicking. “Better come up with some excuse.”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA KACCHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“Is it because you can never beat me on your own? You’ve got to use furniture to help you come out on top?” Bakugou half-mocked, half-teased. “Is that why you decided it was smart to challenge me like that?”

“IT WAS JUHUHUHUHUHUST – JUST AN OPP-P-PFFAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku tossed his head back and laughed freely, still trying to push Bakugou away with whatever strength he had left after the long day and the surprise tickle attack. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Opportunity? Is that what you were trying to say?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“Interesting. An opportunity to come after me while I was completely helpless, right?” Bakugou left his underarms at last, trailing back down to his sides and belly. “Because that’s the only way you can really win against me.”

“P-Plehehehehehease,” Deku whined, looking up at him with mirthful but tired eyes. “Lehehehet me gohohohoho, Kacchan…”

Bakugou thought a moment, then relented entirely, grabbing Deku’s wrists and pinning them down by his head, looming over him. “I’ll let you go for now, nerd, since the others will be back soon. But you’d better start watching your back extra closely from now on, because when I catch you, I will not show mercy until you’re pleading for it.”

Deku’s eyes widened, but he nodded, and Bakugou released him and stood up just as Tokoyami returned from the bathroom.

“Midoriya,” he said, “I’m fairly certain sleepovers are not allowed.”

“Oh, n-no, I was just…” Deku trailed off, then laughed and got to his feet. “Ah, never mind. I’ve still got to get ready for bed. Night, guys!” And he hurried out of the room, waving as he went.

Tokoyami turned to Bakugou. “Why was Midoriya here?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Stupid nerd wanted to get his butt handed to him, that’s what.” The blonde flopped onto his own bedroll and turned toward the wall, facing away from Tokoyami and the door.

“All right, then…” Tokoyami muttered, then went blissfully silent.

Bakugou grinned at the wall.

This was going to be the best road trip ever.

~~~

Part 2

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #road trip #katsuki #bakugou #izuku #midoriya #deku #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something.

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer.

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about.

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?”

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard.

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts.

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face.

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat.

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement.

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock.

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour.

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too.

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face.

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.”

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side.

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other.

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?”

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set.

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding.

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because.

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick. Naturally too, you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything.

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot, after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep.

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked.

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that.

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth?

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares?

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam?

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Tom Holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x you #sam holland

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lea-andres · 3 years

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So, I love changing brains plots, they fascinate me. Especially when two (or more!) Established and beloved characters are doing the swapping, because then it becomes a study into what makes those characters those characters.

In an ideal world, I'd love to swap Sonic and Knuckles. Force Sonic into a situation where he has roots and a responsibility that requires him to stay in one spot (guarding the Master Emerald), and snip away Knuckles's roots, giving him the freedom to do whatever he wanted, and the power to actually go do it (Sonic's superspeed). I think those two could learn a lot of lessons from the experience, and ultimately their friendship would be strengthened by the ordeal. Walk a mile in each other's shoes, so to speak.

If I couldn't do them, know what my second choice would be?

Team Chaotix swaps bodies with each other.

(TW for some body dysphoric/dysmorphic language moving forward, I feel like Vector and Espio in particular would suffer from a bit of that over the course of this plot.)

I don't totally care how they got into this scenario, to be honest. Latest case has them going up against some Not-Eggman mad scientist who build a brain swapping machine, and they successfully trap the detectives in the thing and turn it on, or something. I don't care how they got there, the fun is them being IN that situation. And I think I've figured out the worst (for them) case scenario of who ends up where.

Vector needs to end up in Charmy's body. He's the leader, the muscle, and (to someone unfamiliar with the trio) the most intimidating looking one of the lot. He loses all of that if we stick him in the little kid, bottom of the totem pole (in terms of Team Chaotix's power structure) honey bee. No one's gonna take a 6 year old bug talking mad shit seriously, he no longer has the raw strength he originally had to wreck stuff, and if the Chaotix try to hide that this happened (and they would, because Vector and Espio are both way too arrogant to be okay with anyone finding out about this.), He would have to completely let go of the leadership position. If he were in Espio's body, he'd at least be able to point out flaws in a plan or offer up suggestions without anyone batting an eye. But Charmy rarely, if ever, does that, so to keep up appearances, Vector would have to totally stay out of it.

And personally, I don't think he'd be able to do the stuff Charmy can do, like fly. I think the idea of him being able to fly would just be way too foreign to him, and he wouldn't be able to do it. (I know that sounds a little silly, considering we've seen Charmy lift and fly around with Vector AND Espio in Heroes, but in Vector's eyes, that's something *Charmy* can do. Not something *Vector* can do.)

Espio needs to go into Vector's body, which is probably the worst (for them) match up of the three. Espio's a ninja spy detective. He's used to being stealthy, quiet, acrobatic. He's small (in comparison to Vector), slim, and fast. He can turn invisible, and climb up walls and ceilings. And remember, Espio can be an arrogant little shit, he takes great pride in almost all of that.

Vector's body can do absolutely none of this. That crocodile is built like a tank, and probably absolute garbage at stealth. And suddenly being at least twice his normal size (if not bigger, it's been a while since I've looked at the canon heights and weights of everyone), way stronger, and infinitely louder is going to completely throw Espio off his game. And it's going to be extremely embarrassing and confidence shattering for the poor guy. He tries to do ANYTHING that came so naturally to him before, and it ends in noisy, destructive failure. And Espio would take it SO HARD everytime.

And remember what I was saying about keeping up appearances and the power structure of Team Chaotix? If Espio's in Vector's body, that means he's not only in charge whenever they're in public, but he's going to have to be in charge the way Vector is in charge to keep from arousing suspicion. And that's going to stress him the fuck out. Espio isn't afraid to question Vector, or call him out on his nonsense, but at the end of the day Vector's his superior, and he gives him the proper respect. Espio gives EVERYONE the respect they deserve, that's kind of a big deal with him. I'm not saying Vector *doesn't* do this, but he's definitely a lot more casual and laid-back with that sort of stuff than Espio is. So Espio's not only going to have to talk to Vector in a manner he feels is inappropriate, he's going to have to talk to everyone like that, and it's gonna really stress him out.

And finally, Charmy needs to go into Espio's body. Because Charmy is Charmy (and we need some comic relief somewhere in this emotionally traumatizing ordeal), he'd be pretty unfazed by the situation. Sure, he might be a little bummed he can't fly anymore, but I think Charmy would be way too distracted by the fun of being in Espio's body, and all the perks that come with it.

Just imagine him striking ridiculous ninja poses, climbing all around on the walls and ceilings, and turning invisible and terrorizing people, all while attempting to impersonate Espio's voice as he says all the over the top stuff he says.

(Charmy: *in deepest voice he can manage* Ninja power! Spirits Unite! Blah blah, ninja blah!

Espio: I do not sound like that. 😠

Vector and Charmy: You do too!)

Bonus points: I personally headcanon that Espio's ninja weapons work the same way Amy's hammer does. He doesn't carry them on him, he just summons them out of the void as needed. For plot convenience, let's say that ability stayed with his body, and didn't go with him into Vector's body. Vector and Espio have no way to disarm Charmy, and because Charmy's a little kid and they always get into the stuff you don't want them in, Charmy figures out how to call forth the weapons almost immediately. There's no way he'd be careful or responsible with that stuff, he's 6! So he'd chuck them around willy nilly for fun, almost killing himself, his teammates, and anyone else within a five mile radius of them everytime.

And Charmy wouldn't care at all about acting like Espio publicly to keep anyone from finding out this happened. So everyone would be so confused (and a little uncomfortable) as to why Espio's so goofy and... Happy... (Not to mention being extremely reckless, because someone said something he thought was cool, so 'Espio' went "KA-BLAM!" and tossed like 8 throwing stars, almost killing everyone in the process)

That's all I've got for now. Not sure how this would begin or end, but I know what the middle would look like! I'm very tired, I'll revisit this in the morning if I think of more.

#team chaotix #espio the chameleon #vector the crocodile #charmy bee #tw: body dysmorphia #tw: body dysphoria #tagging just in case

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whump-town · 4 years

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(I have been very fortunate in the men that I have befriended in my life. It’s sad that isn’t the case for everyone)

The first time it occurs to Jennifer Jareau that she shouldn’t be safe where she is, it’s midnight. Her eyes snap open and a panicked exhale leaves her lips. She sits up, pulling the thin, chilled sheets of the hotel comforter around her. For a moment all she can do is glare at her roommate. All she can do is think about how stupid she’s just been.

The first rule in the sisterhood is to never trust a man too much.

Especially one like Aaron Hotchner.

He’s half a foot taller than her and probably about a hundred pounds heavier. He could pin her down, hurt her with no problem at all. Yet, she’d fallen asleep with no less than six feet separating them. She’s seen him mad, he could easily hurt her if he wanted. The ring on his left-hand means nothing… not really. Not to the wrong men but…

Guilt floods her chest.

He’d apologized three times coming up here. Telling her that he understood she’d be much more comfortable having a room to herself, as she typically does, and he was so sorry he couldn’t make that happen tonight. That she’d have to share a room with him, acknowledging how scary it might be for her, as a woman, to sleep beside a male co-worker.

The man in question shifts in his sleep, drawing his long legs closer to his body and pulling the blanket tighter over his shoulders.

But he’s not just some male-coworker. He’s the man she trusts to watch her drink at bars and the man who brings her coffee when he gets his own each morning.

Hotch.

She settles back down in the bed, rolled to face him. His back is facing her, completely oblivious to her racing thoughts. With a sigh, she pulls the blanket back up over her own shoulders. It’s kind of… strange to be able to trust in a man. But she does and that’s strangely nice.

The next time it happens he’s awake. It’s nearly two in the morning and he’s still sitting on his bed, eyebrows crooked and frowning into the paperwork in his lap. The case is solved. They’re going home. To his right, Emily is laying in bed. He can feel her gaze on him.

He doesn’t say anything though and she’s found that to be just another example of the strangeness of this team. There’s no pressure to talk. No pressure to always say what’s on your mind.

Working with Interpol, she’d had more than her fair share of sexual harassment seminars. The men always act like they have no idea why they would be here while their female colleges are forced to lower their gazes. Not here, though. Not with this team.

She’d swapped rooms with Reid this afternoon. Morgan had convinced him to go to a bar and Reid had been kind enough to realize that she might not appreciate him coming back in the middle of the night. And… she’d realized how frequently she and JJ roomed with the boys and not one another. Technically, it should be safer and more comforting but…

Last night she’d come out of the shower without a bra and in shorts that were very revealing. Leaving little to the imagination. Yet, Morgan had looked up from whatever crappy program the hotel’s tv picked up and he hadn’t said a word. He didn’t look her up and down like meat at the deli or make a passing comment about her ass or boobs. He’d just yawned into his fist and asked if she was done with the bathroom because he felt nasty and needed a shower.

This afternoon when Reid had told her his plan-- that he should take her bed with Morgan and she could have his with Hotch-- she didn’t think it would be weird. And it isn’t now. A few years ago, though, on a different team, she would have freaked out a little. Thought of all the things that could wrong. Today, she’d just shrugged and took the deal.

Hotch doesn’t snore, Morgan does. Switching rooms sounds like heaven.

And now she’s falling asleep and he’s still awake. Technically, she’s leaving herself vulnerable to him but Hotch, like Morgan, is harmless. They’re both mushy bastards. He’s not going to bother her other than to, maybe, add a blanket to the one she’s already got wrapped around her shoulders.

She wears clothes that are comfortable, not worried about how much skin she’s showing because they’re not going to treat her differently because of that. For the first time in her life, her male friends aren’t perverts. She’s they’re equal. They’re friends and nothing more. There is no abuse of power or size. Just respect and that’s so strange.

At first, David Rossi throws them all a little off.

He’s a very flirt first and make friends second kind of guy.

When he joins the team, the three of them hoard up in Garcia’s office and discuss their opinions on him. One thing is very, very clear-- none of them want to ever room with him.

How very quickly that changes…

“Rossi?” Garcia’s standing outside his door, her blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

He comes to the door in his pajamas. A whole set. Bottoms and a white t-shirt. In the settling this afternoon, he’d ended up alone in his room. She’d called Morgan while Emily vehemently stated she would not be rooming with Reid. Hotch had been in the middle of rolling his eyes at the comment when JJ had taken some pity on the genius and told Hotch she didn’t mind rooming with him.

Which left two rooms for Hotch, Rossi, and Emily.

It was a lucky guess that Hotch and Emily would let Rossi have his own room.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

He was very obviously sleeping before she’d come knocking. She feels a little bad about that. “Morgan’s snoring up a storm,” she explains. “Do you mind if I crash in the other bed in your room?”

Rossi shakes his head and steps to the side, letting her in. “Course not,” he mumbles, shutting the door behind them. “Go for it,” he motions to the bed and rubs at his eyes. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, yawning. He waits a moment for her to settle down. “Goodnight,” he mumbles, the sound of his sheets moving as he settles down sounding through the dark as he cuts the light off.

It doesn’t occur to her the way that it occurs to JJ or Emily.

One moment she’s drifting to sleep and the next she’s smiling at where she knows Rossi is in the dark. Her little team can be badasses, they really can, but they’re just a bunch of sweethearts.

They never find the words to say exactly what that means to them.

How comforting it actually is to have them close instead of awkward.

That Emily knows Hotch isn’t looking down her blouse when he silently walks up behind her and reads from the file in her hand. She just shifts it in her grasp so that he can see it easier.

Or that JJ isn’t creeped out when Morgan drinks from her mug or offers her his. In fact, she does drink after him. It’s just Morgan. He’s like her brother and, frankly, sometimes drinking/eating after one another is the only way to get things done.

They take it for granted a lot of the time.

That hugging their friends isn’t ever going to result in a slap on the ass or a casual glance at their breasts.

(although, other men have done it and earned prompt glares)

Not even Reid and his strange ability to place himself under-foot. Right next to whoever he’s standing beside.

It feels weird to want to thank them for something so simple. Hell, for something no one should have to feel but…

So they find other ways.

JJ kisses Hotch’s cheek and takes Morgan dancing. Even that doesn’t feel wrong because she knows neither will take it anyway but the way she means it to be taken. Morgan places his hands on her hips and it doesn’t feel dirty. It feels like friends having fun. Dave slow dances with them, and kisses their cheeks. Garcia manages to pull Hotch for a dance.

They have fun and never for a moment to feel anything but perfectly safe with their male friends. And what a unique experience that really is.

#criminal minds #jennifer jareua #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan

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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 3 years

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Recently saw a tiktok that was like "if you ship [toph and zuko] than you have issues or you see something galaxy brained that i havent" and stumbled upon the concept of aroace Zuko and i concocted this idea ages ago so im posting it now: the epic Toph x Zuko Marriage of Convenience

Okay what you are all thinking of is book 3 Toph and Zuko, which totally dont have romantic chemistry and with the added age difference is prob why no one ever considers this ship. Four years when you're a teenager is a big difference. Four years when you're in your twenties and beyond isnt that big a deal. So they're adults and they've been friends for years at this point.

You also gotta sit back and look at what they are. Toph is the only child to a very rich and very well known Earth Kingdom family. Her family name in general is huge and carries a lot of weight but you also got her own accomplishments: Master Earthbender, the Creator of Metalbending, the Avatar's Earthbending teacher, and shes a war hero. Thats big. And then you got Zuko, who at this point is the Fire Lord. Zuko himself comes from a prominent Fire Nation family, seeing as he's royalty. He's also descended from a Avatar, but i dont think thats all that well known. Zuko is a Master Firebender, the Avatar's Firebending Teacher, and a war hero. On top of being famous both these people have credibility to fall back on.

So what im leaning into here is not exactly a marriage alliance seeing as the Earth Kingdom has its own royalty but its definitely a political move

Anyways Zuko has a lot on his plate, dismantling his dad's empire and all that. When he's nearing 30 the council is all like "you need to find a bride". Zuko writes up his ex-girlfriends and finds out they're either married or he just cant bring himself to trap someone into a marriage with him after knowing how it destroyed his mom. So he's stuck with no one of his own choosing so the council and high up nobles are trying to fix him up and not-so-subtly set him up with their daughters. Half of Team Avatar comes and visits (lets say Toph, Aang, and Sokka) and witness the behind the scenes of all this. They're having tea with Zuko and two people come in at different times and try to casually talk about the marriage thing. Toph can hear things that happen in the hallways too. Zuko is all "noooooooo guys why is this happening to me" and Sokka probably finds it funny but also a little sucky, and Aang probably hates it because "Zuko should marry for love!". And Toph is all "I know right" because she can totally relate. Her parents were looking for matches for her since she was born, and now that shes visiting again they've started back up again. Her and Zuko start swapping match-making stories ("so i come home and this boy and his father are there and my mom is all like 'Toph have you met __'" "I'm in the throne room for a meeting on road construction and this guy derails the whole thing so he can introduce his niece to me"). Later on after Toph has been listening in on the palace for a few days now and shes starting to really feel sorry for Zuko. Sokka just keeps making jokes until Toph snaps at him. Aang is pretty oblivious and probably spends all day at the market looking for souvenirs to bring home for Katara. And one night while Zuko is up late doing paperwork by candle light Toph stops by because her body cant sleep at night sometimes and they get to talking and Toph jokingly throws out "what if we just married each other? Then everyone will get off both our backs!" and they're laughing and after they've calmed down Zuko has a light bulb moment and he's like "wait, that might not be a bad idea". They spend all night working out the details to their hypothetical wedding and a day later decide to actually go through with it. Theres uproar from the council of course because Zuko didnt choose their pick Toph isnt Fire Nation nobility. And then Zuko starts listing all her family's importance and stuff and the council is forced to admit to themselves its not actually a bad idea. Plus marrying Earth Kingdom would make the Fire Lord more relatable to the colonies where theyre having a lot of problems with people of mixed heritage right now. Sokka and Aang hear rumblings of this because palace servants gossip and they're debating wether or not to believe these rumors when they run into Toph and just ask her and shes all like "yeah we're talking about it" and they boys flip out. Aang still maintains that everyone should marry for love but Toph and Zuko won't budge.

Over in the Earth Kingdom Toph's parents are ecstatic because the only better option Toph could marry was Earth Kingdom royalty. They completely endorse it and only argue to not seem like pushovers and when topics revolving money come up (ex. dowery). The Earth King gets in on this because its too good a opportunity to not capitalize on it. The Earth Kingdom is abuzz because a foreign King is marrying one of their own. Everyone is hyped and Team Avatar are the only ones who find the whole situation weird because to them its not a fairytale its their actual friends.

All-in-all they get married in the Fire Nation and the guest list was awful to make but people from all over the world are there. Toph's mother freaks out the whole time because "what if Toph falls down all those steps!" The wedding is mostly all Fire Nation tradition but Toph wears a Earth Kingdom wedding dress because everything is political now. Toph and Zuko have a relatively fun night and Sokka has the time of his life. And their marriage actually really works out for them because they're friends. They make fun of fancy people and rant to each other in the evenings. Toph is still running metal bending schools but either now they have to come to her or she gets stuck with a Fire Nation security team for like 3 months of the year she spends in the Earth Kingdom and she gets flashbacks to her childhood. And Zuko is sometimes all "i miss my wife" and the servants are all "awwww they're so in love" but the truth is he wants to talk sh*t with her and because shes blind he always has to write letters with the interpreter's opinion/gossip in mind. Toph still sneaks out all the time because shes not giving up her independence willy-nilly and is not above pulling the blind card to get out of things, which irritates Zuko sometimes because that means he has to deal with boring meetings by himself. They gaang visits all the time and by the time Republic City rolls around Toph manages to get herself sent as a "ambassador" (her and Sokka have some fun their shared meetings) and then to stay on to help set up the police force, which is a little dicy since shes representing the Fire Nation but also shes teaching only metalbending so its a controversial thing. This also gives Zuko a excuse to visit Republic City more often so he can see everyone since they settled down there.

#hinacu atla #atla #avatar #toph beifong #zuko #zuko x toph #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #avatar the last airbender

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Watching

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/OC Derek Morgan/Penelope Garcia Word Count: 2,917 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Voyeurism, Daddy kink, Dom/sub, Tie as restraint, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Hand jobs, Unprotected sex, Married sex, Biting, Multiple orgasms, You will need Jesus after reading! Summary: Aaron and OC are out to dinner with Derek and Penelope, and OC makes an offhand joke about letting them... watch. Smut ensues. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. Link to A03 or read below! They are out to dinner one night, on a double date with Morgan and Garcia—which Aaron thought might be awkward at first but is now one of his favorite casual activities—when Morgan makes an offhand comment about how different they are, as couples.

“We all know you two are in love, but your thing is still so intense. Penelope and I are all sappy and soft 100% of the time, aren’t we, baby girl?” he asks Garcia, and she smiles, something sweet and shy, looks over at him with adoration in her eyes.

“Yep, very sappy and soft. We’d make for a very interesting episode of Wife Swap,” she jokes, and Sophie, only about halfway into her first glass of wine, laughs softly.

“Well, I won’t swap, but you could watch,” she says, completely teasingly, but the atmosphere among the four of them changes abruptly—not with awkwardness, but interest. She looks to Aaron for guidance, and he puts a hard hand on her thigh, takes a sip of his own wine.

“You could. Watch. If you wanted,” he says, not exactly making eye contact, because he doesn’t know where the rush of boldness comes from, but Garcia looks at Morgan with an unreadable expression, and then they both nod.

“Yeah. I think we would like that.” Sophie’s hand covers his on her lap and she squeezes, pushing it higher up her thigh, a great sign of things to come. Morgan looks like he wants to speak again, but the waiter arrives with their food, and the spell is kind of broken.

They eat, talk, laugh, nothing unusual about the night compared to the many other times they’ve all gone to dinner, but when Morgan signs the check, he looks over at them cautiously.

“Got any plans for the rest of the evening?” The question itself is so casual, but his tone betrays him, and Aaron knows exactly what he’s asking. He looks to Sophie, who presses her lips together in thought.

“We have a bottle of that Merlot you like, if you guys want to come over for a bit,” she says to Garcia, who rambles a little about how good it is, and the first time she tried it, before Morgan brushes her cheek and accepts the offer for them.

When they meet up at Sophie and Aaron’s apartment after dinner, there is a bit of tension; Sophie tries her best to make small talk with Garcia about the building as they head upstairs, Morgan and Aaron don’t look at or speak to each other at all, and it makes him wonder if maybe he misread the situation.

Still, everyone takes off their coats, their shoes if they want to, and Sophie plays hostess, brings out the wine, pours a glass for each of them.

The conversation comes more easily, then—not because they’re drunk, because between the food and the time spent at the restaurant, no one is even tipsy—but maybe because they are curled up as couples on opposite couches, something easy, normal, somewhere they’ve been before.

Aaron says something offhand that Sophie finds sweet, and she kisses him, just a peck at first, but it becomes something more, deeper, wetter, without either of them really trying. He moves the hand around her waist, uses it to push up her dress a bit, sliding over her bare thigh, and she hums at his touch.

He risks a glance at Morgan and Garcia, and they are watching carefully, Morgan’s hands running smoothly up and down her arms. They look comfortable, intrigued, aroused, and Aaron can find no reason to stop, in them or Sophie, so he doesn’t.

He puts his other hand on her waist as well, guides her into his lap, so she’s straddling his thighs, and he takes her face in his hands, kisses her hard, earning a slow roll of her hips. It’s exactly what he’s looking for, and he pushes her skirt up over her ass, showcasing little lacy panties.

If they’re interested in how intense their sex life can be, he knows exactly where to begin.

“Sweet girl,” he says, a little bit louder than he might normally, but they do have an audience tonight, “there’s something I’ve been thinking about all evening.” She licks her lips, wraps her hands around his biceps, looking so beautiful it hurts, and he feels himself getting a little emotional when he thinks of how much trust she is showing tonight.

He will be sure to reward her for that when they’re alone.

“What is it, daddy?” He wants to flick his eyes over Morgan and Garcia, see how they react to hearing how easily that falls from her lips, but he remains focused on her.

Without words, he reaches up to loosen his gray silk tie, pull it off, and he brings her wrists together behind her back, wraps it around them, knotting it tightly, twice. He hears a soft gasp that must belong to Garcia, but his eyes don’t leave Sophie’s.

“You know I love to tie you up, feel how tense your body gets beneath my hands.” He slides those hands over her hips, her waist, her back, slowly, making her moan and rub against him. He lifts her skirt up again, so they can see her perfect little ass, but not enough to cover her bound wrists, and he encourages her to grind in his lap. “If I want to turn up your level of desperation, I know all I have to do is take away your ability to touch me; you become a slutty, writhing, moaning mess, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” she agrees, letting her head fall back as her thighs work around him. He pulls her closer by the throat, presses his lips there, and she groans. “Do you want me to come like this?” He pretends to contemplate that for a moment despite having his next move already planned out, puts his hands on her hips to still them.

“No, baby. Another thing I’ve been thinking about all evening is eating your pussy. Craving it. That’s how I want you to come.” She nods eagerly and he lays her back along the couch carefully, resting on her wrists. He folds her skirt up over her chest, presses his lips to her taut stomach, and slides off her panties, makes a show of placing them on the coffee table.

He leans up to peer into her eyes, because this is a whole new ball game, now, and she looks at him with the hazy expression that means she’s right where he wants her; he smiles, kisses her mouth, and then slides down, holds open her right thigh so it’s easier for Morgan and Garcia to see what he’s doing.

He kisses her pussy a few times at first, with lots of tongue, and she pants, stretching out her neck and sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. He knows how sexy that is, can hear rough breath coming from across the room, but he doesn’t look, doesn’t take his eyes or his mind off of Sophie.

His left hand, the hand holding her thigh down, snakes around so he can rub at her clit with his index finger; she lifts her hips involuntarily when he does it, and he slides his tongue between her lips, earning a strangled groan.

“Mmm, ah,” she pants, arching her back a little to relieve pressure on her wrists, and he doubles down, stimulating her with his lips and tongue, even his nose, making her shudder and rub her cheek against the throw pillow behind her. Still pressing gently against her swollen, throbbing bud, he slides one finger inside her pussy, flicks his tongue a couple times, and she comes loudly, squeezing around his finger, pressing up against his face.

He continues to softly lick at her once she’s spent, until she moans in a way that means she’s had enough, and he pulls back, removes his finger, presses it to her lips and then inside her open mouth. He wipes his face on the inside collar of his shirt and she sucks and licks his finger clean, sighing when he pulls it out.

“Did that feel good, baby?” he murmurs, leaning in to capture her lips, and she nods, smiles when they break apart.

“Always good.” He pulls her up to a seat, facing away from him, and runs his hands over her shoulders, her arms, unties the knots at her wrists, dropping his tie on the table next to her panties. She sighs, and he pushes her hair away from her neck, kisses her there, and slowly slides down the zipper of her dress.

He takes a moment to look over at Morgan and Garcia, who are fully turned on by the looks of things; her hand moves slowly in his lap, his hand between her legs, and she is flushed where he looks serious, restrained.

He helps Sophie out of her dress, kisses her deeply, full of love and hunger, and then unhooks her bra so she is bare before them all. She trembles a little in his hands, but he knows she knows the words to say if she wants to stop, and every minute she doesn’t say them, doesn’t want to stop, is like a gift.

He sits up in the middle of the sofa, legs spread, and she kneels down to work at his belt, his fly, looking up into his eyes when he pushes his pants and underwear down, but not off. He says nothing, does nothing, for a moment, and she sits there, patient, quiet, waits for instruction. When he gives none, she squirms a little, puts her hands on his knees.

“Do you want me to suck, daddy?” He cups her throat with his palm, slides it up to her face, brushes his thumb over her lips and shakes his head.

“No, baby. Climb up, away from me.” She does as asked, settles into his lap facing Morgan and Garcia, her thighs spread wide, his hard cock nestled against her ass. The view this time is more explicit, especially as they all face each other, and his dick leaks at the thought of taking her in front of them, of them seeing how completely she belongs to him. “Good girl. Daddy’s going to fuck you, now. Come when you want to.” He squeezes one of her breasts in his hand and she braces herself against him, sighs as he pushes in.

He won’t last long, he knows that from the start as he pounds up inside her, as she moans long and decadent, full to the hilt. He puts his hands on her hips and slams her down as he thrusts up, lets her just focus on holding herself up and being fucked so hard their bodies slap together loudly.

“God, baby. So tight for me, so fucking wet,” he all but growls against her throat, and she arches against him, pushing out her chest and breathing rough and ragged. “You have the sweetest, most beautiful pussy, and it belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm, yes daddy,” she pants, reaching back to curl a hand in his hair, and he groans, thrusting into her with reckless abandon.

“Yeah, even before I married you, you were all mine, but now you like to be the perfect wife, sucking my cock before work, riding it afterward. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yes,” she whines, puts her hand on his, wedding rings catching as their bodies move roughly; it turns him on the same way seeing her in one of his shirts does, because it means mine, and he mutters the word in her ear, earning a sigh.

It’s impossible not to look at Morgan and Garcia while he fucks her, and they are staring, rapt, at where his body connects with Sophie’s; she has his cock out of his pants, stroking softly, and her panties are pushed aside, two fingers pumping inside her while the other hand rubs at her clit. He’s a little pleased they’re putting on that good of a show, kisses Sophie’s neck in a reward she may not quite understand.

He bites down, soft in comparison to the way his cock is so deep it feels like he’s in her stomach, and she comes, moans, yanks on his hair. Immediately after, she wants to sag against him, but he snaps his hips hard against hers, whispers soothing words against her bitten skin.

“No baby, not yet. Keep coming on my cock. I’m not done with you yet.” He fucks her faster, harder, if that’s possible, moves his hands to her breasts and squeezes them tight as he pummels her soft, spent body. “Keep coming on it, sweet girl, for daddy. Don’t stop.”

She is really moaning now, wanton, filthy, basically putty in his hands, and their friends are gasping softly against each other’s mouths when she comes a third time, clamping down so tightly that he loses it too, groaning her name and pumping come inside her tight channel. She practically collapses back against him, and he murmurs sweet words like perfect and gorgeous and love you into her ear, rubbing her body until she all but flinches away from overstimulation.

They lay there for a moment, thoroughly satisfied and boneless, just breathing together, and then she lifts off of him; he can feel all that come gush out when it’s no longer got his cock holding it in, and Morgan must see it too, because his breath hitches and he spills over Garcia’s hand with a grunt. She whispers in his ear, and Sophie stands, pulls Aaron to the bathroom so they can clean up and grab some things for the other couple to use as well.

“That was…” she says as she washes her hands after she pees, and he comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her, kisses her cheek. “Hmm. Something else. You were in rare form,” she teases, and he turns her head so they can kiss properly.

“It’s easy, with you. Especially when I want to show someone that you’re mine.” She laughs softly against his lips.

“Everyone knows, Aaron. As if the ring wasn’t enough, the vibes coming off of you are so strong, I don’t get hit on even when you’re across the room anymore. People just know.” He wipes at her pussy with a warm, wet cloth, and she sighs happily. “Maybe it’s pheromones or something. I’ve probably swallowed and absorbed so much of your come that I smell like you, now.” He makes a pleased noise at that, meets her eyes in the mirror.

“Now that’s an idea: fill you up with my come before we go anywhere so everyone backs the fuck off of what’s mine.” He knows his tone is possessive, but she just sighs indulgently, turns to help clean him off as well.

“You know I won’t complain,” she murmurs, looks up at him through soft lashes. “Just write ‘specimen container’ on my forehead and call it a day.”

He laughs at that, probably exactly as intended, and his streak of jealousy is diffused just like that. They leave the bathroom, and she slips on her robe while he opts for a t-shirt and boxers. When they make their way out to the living room, Morgan and Garcia are finished, looking at them with a tentative gaze, and Sophie smiles softly, hands them the small stack of towels.

“You remember where the bathroom is, right? I can get us some more wine while you two get freshened up,” she says kindly, as if she wasn't just fucked within an inch of her life in front of them, and his come-dumb brain can only focus on how pretty she is, and how lucky he is to have her as his wife. How lucky he is that she puts up with his bullshit.

The other couple heads to the bathroom, holding hands, looking very sweet and sappy, and Sophie makes for the kitchen for more wine, as promised. She pours them each a glass, and Aaron rifles through the snack cupboard until he finds the crunchy little cookies she likes, puts a few on a plate for her. When she sees what he’s doing, she smiles, runs her hand across his back.

“Three orgasms, snacks… what more could a woman ask of her handsome husband?” she murmurs, popping a cookie into her mouth, and he bends to kiss her, sweet, slow.

“If you think of something, let me know. I'd do anything to keep you happy.”

"Oh, you do," she says, brushing his cheek. He picks up a cookie off the plate and puts it in her mouth, earning another smile.

Morgan and Garcia linger for about an hour after emerging from the bathroom, and they make easy conversation; he's glad it's not awkward or stilted, that he didn't make a mistake when he offered this. When they put on their shoes, their coats to leave, Garcia thanks them for the wine, pulls Sophie into the usual hug. Morgan stands just outside the door, and Aaron nods in his direction.

"Thanks again for dinner," he says, makes a mental note that next time is their turn to pay. Morgan smirks a bit.

"Thank you, for the tie thing." He gestures to his throat where a tie would hang. "Might have to give that one a try."

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