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gggoldfinch · 11 months

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Hatchetknife

Richard B. Riddick x OFC (or reader)

(disclaimer: photo found on pinterest ^ )

A/N: I’ve been gripped by the most manic and inexplicable riddick brainrot ever and needed to get this out of my system or I’d deadass explode ‼️I usually don't write oneshots like this so it was a nice breath of fresh air actually. Hopefully now this sexy bald bitch will leave my poor brain alone so I can do something else other than binge watching vin diesel movies

warnings: original female character (descriptions vague enough to be reader insert), possibly a little ooc, very brief discussion of SA (in a non-threatening manner), minor violence & injury, explicit language, forced proximity, only one bed, explicit sexual content, smut, oral sex, praise kink, scent kink, size kink, light choking, biting, pet names. MINORS DNI

word count: 12,114

{AO3 Link}

summary: A low-profile merc masquerading as a man has her ship (and life) invaded by an unlikely guest. She gets found out, and things progress interestingly.

***

There's a ship that's been sitting idle in the upper-east Storage B-Port for weeks now; Riddick knows this. He also knows he hasn't been this incapacitated in a while. It's a hard thing to admit to himself, but he can feel the exhaustion creeping in. He hasn't slept in over 72 hours, and has been fighting and running for most of that time. He's out of his element— stuck in the heart of a congested city-planet rather than out in the wilderness of some uninhabited backwater planet. He's bleeding from somewhere— his side, maybe. His nose is broken, too, and there must be some sort of nerve damage too, because he can't scent who's coming after him anymore. He lost his goggles somewhere during this most recent scuffle, too, so all the neon signs are like miniature suns searing his retinas.

There's an idle ship gathering dust in Storage B-Port. He recalls it looking like a good model, some custom parts. It'll be easy to hijack. It'll be easy to leave this planet and his merc pursuers in the dust.

———————————————————————

Everyone has their own way of surviving in this nightmare of a universe. Some kill, some are killed. That's just something each and every person has to come to terms with while they draw breath. While not exactly thriving, this one particular individual has found their own way to survive. Some may call her a mercenary, and they wouldn't necessarily be wrong— but she prefers to call herself a mere gun for hire. It's easy to make a living when you have a thick head and nothing to lose, going from one job to another with little in the way of possessions and even less in the way of social relationships. She goes where the proverbial wind takes her, planet-hopping and working odd jobs. Sometimes the jobs entail hunting dangerous quarry, but more often than not she's hired for non-violent jobs running security for personnel protection or transport. Honestly, the only jobs she turns down outright are those having anything remotely to do with the Necromongers. Sure it isn't ideal, but it's better than living in the slums of the over-crowded metroplanet where she'd grown up.

It's a risky job, no doubt, made no less difficult by her deliberate choice to fly solo. Solo is safe. Solo, she don't have to worry about crewmates stealing or betraying her, or worse, taking advantage of her. Barely an adult when she'd begun her life hopping between merc crews, she'd learned early that being on her own is better, safer. No— she keeps to herself with nothing but the ship's computer system for company. And, when the occasion rises where she does have to venture out into civilization again—to find a job or stock up on supplies—she takes heavy precautions.

Strong from years of fighting and labor, her body can shoulder the burdensome weight of armor; broad shoulders and sturdy bones make her intimidating and capable. Years worth of mismatched armor plates make up her regular uniform, both metal alloys and plastic prints. Some pieces were taken off fallen quarry—or former crewmates—some purchased responsibly. Each plate has a little story she can recall, fondly or not. When worn all together, her form is virtually unrecognizable, and more importantly, masculine. The crown mantle is her helmet: sturdy, sleek, black, with a visor capable of internal screen display. The vocal distorter programmed into it deepens her voice to a disguised pitch. The suit of armor isn't entirely comfortable, but it's a requirement for her safety.

"Hatchet!"

She swivels her helmeted head, looking in the direction from which she hears her codename. She hadn't been calling herself anything when she'd assumed this masculine persona. Her various employers just began calling her a shortened version of her ship's name—the Hatchetknife—and it just ended up sticking within the merc circle she floats in. No one knows her true identity, as far as she's aware. If they do, no problems have arisen from it yet.

A man approaches her, stocky and shorter than her. He's been her employer for the past several weeks, paying her to be a glorified bodyguard for his uppity son, on probation for yatta yatta yatta. She'd tuned out the rest once she'd heard the price of the paycheck. 350 thousand units just to babysit an alcoholic man-child for a month while he's on probation. She couldn't pass it up.

Her employer holds out a datapad, the blue screen alight with money transfer information. She's about to receive her payment and get the fuck off this stuffed metroplanet. Maybe she can finally replace some of the older parts on the Hatchetknife with this payment.

"Don't be a stranger, now," the man says amicably once the digital paperwork has been filled. She receives a notification ping on the screen of her visor, indicating the payment has gone through successfully.

She inclines her concealed head, thanks him for the business, and turns tail to leg it back to the ship. The thing has been docked in storage for nearly a full month cycle now— long enough for the ticket expense to be a bit of a blow to her newly acquired units. It doesn't matter; this planet will be long behind her in only a matter of a few short hours. She's been idle, been on this polluted and overpopulated planet for too long.

And she'll be damned if a little blood on the exterior hatchpad of her ship is going to deter her from getting out of dodge in a timely manner. It's a handprint, maybe a couple, smeared all along the white panelling of the cargo bay door's control console. The cargo bay door is locked up tight though, so she's not particularly worried that any ne'er-do-wells have tried breaking into her sturdy old ship. It's a good model, she tells herself. It has a security system that would alert her of suspicious activity through the link between her helmet and the ship's mainframe. Sure, someone clearly tried to get in, but there's no sign the bay door had been opened recently.

She pays her exorbitantly priced docking ticket and opens the bay door herself. She remains completely oblivious to the other trail of blood, smeared up the side of the ship and leading to the secondary hatch. She doesn't notice the cut wires either, spraying pathetic little sparks instead of warning signals to her security system. To be fair, she doesn't notice much of anything—doesn't even remove her armor or helmet—in her haste to take off. She just charges through the cargo bay, vaults the ladder to the upper deck, and wedges herself behind the control console.

It feels like home, being behind the console. More of a home than she's ever really had, at least. She exhales against the interior of her helmet. Her reflection gleams in the bare windshield, the sleek black glass and metal of her high-tech helmet staring back. Gloved fingers press buttons and flip switches, igniting holoscreens and a rainbow of lights. Meters and regulators all seem to be in check despite the ship's extended idleness, and the hyperdrive kickstarts with a comforting purr. She has to take the ship up and out of the atmosphere before kicking it into warp speed, lest the planet's nasty police force pick a fight with her. Fog and flames lick the nose of the Hatchetknife as it accelerates upward, breaking through the upper atmosphere at a smooth 15 kilometers per second, and an even 75 degree angle. Only then does she crank the hyperdrive and watch as the countless stars warp around the nose of the ship.

She plots an aimless course, avoiding setting a firm destination until she can get her hands on another potential job lead. Upon throwing it into autopilot, the ship's automated computer system welcomes her back on board. Hatchet, it calls her. Not even her own ship uses her true name anymore.

Her boots are heavy as they tramp out of the cockpit. Reinforced steel and acid-resistant soles, these boots are. They're her favorites. They make a robust thump thump as she walks into the narrow hallway of the Hatchetknife. Here resides her bunk, and across from that is the kitchenette and table where she eats and works and sometimes sleeps. It's barely wide enough to fit two people standing shoulder-to-shoulder. She's used to close-quarters; it's almost comforting, like a womb. The hatch and ladder down to the cargo bay gapes at the end of the hall, and this is what she beelines for once acclimating herself with the interior of her ship again. Her bunk looks awfully inviting, but first on the agenda is to shuck off all the armor.

Boots bracketed on either side of the ladder and gloved hands holding tight to the side-rails, she slides down until landing on the grate panels of the cargo bay floor. This area is vastly larger than her living quarters— it has to be, in the event she has to transport sizable goods or heavy machinery. A armory case for her weapons and uniform sits bolted against the side wall, its grate doors barely revealing the contents. She opens the thing up, removing the machine gun strapped to her back to place it on its rightful hooks.

She hooks her thumbs under the seal of her helmet and disables the suctioned airlock. Just as she's preparing to lift the burdensome thing from her head, something collides with her right side, knocking her clean off her feet. It takes only a few frantic moments to realize it's a human being— a male attacker. Her deactivated helmet collides with the metal flooring at an odd angle, instantly disabling the visor's screen as a result of some internal damage. The force of the tackle and impact against the floor has the breath drawn from her lungs in a violent, rattling wheeze. The muscles over her ribs convulse and tighten, sending a shock of panic and pain and adrenaline through her system. With little time to think, no weapon handy, and no opportunity to scan the stranger, she starts thrashing. Amidst the scuffle and blow to her head, she can't quite see clearly, only able to make out a blur of squirting blood. The blood isn't her own— she's sure she would feel it if she'd been shanked in any of her armor's vulnerable spots.

She thrusts a gauntleted arm upwards in the direction she thinks the intruder's head is. Her metal-sheathed wrist collides with something and the oppressive weight above her slumps over to the side.

Hatchet scrambles up to her knees and tears the nearest gun from off the rack. She spins, points the weapon at the stranger's head, and... doesn't shoot.

Sprawled on the cold metal floor is a man. A large man. Bald-headed and covered in blood she knows she hadn't drawn from him herself. It's old blood, old wounds— maybe hours, maybe days. Despite the vaguely stunned look about him from being hit in the head, he wears a wry little smile upon his full mouth, lips and nose bloody from what looks like a previous beating. His eyes glint in a peculiar fashion, almost like feline eyeshine, silvery and shifting.

He holds his hands out by his head placatingly, palms facing upward. Then, he grins. "Okay, okay. You got me." His voice is deep and smooth like rolling thunder. It's almost startlingly in its intensity.

"Who the fuck are you? What are you doing on my ship!? What do you want?" she barks into the voice modulator, keeping the hardy submachine gun trained on him.

"Got a pretty nice ship here, don't you think?" he rumbles out.

"Fuck you!"

He chuckles at that, although the action looks like it pains him. The blood, she realizes, is oozing from a substantial stab wound on his left flank, just below the contour of his shapely pectoral muscle. She swallows thickly, choking down the apprehensive lump in her throat. Still a little off-kilter from the blow to her helmet, she shakily rises to her feet, steady finger not leaving the trigger once. The man clenches his silvery eyes shut, sucking in a substantial breath only to groan it all out again. One broad, tan hand shifts to press against the wound on his side, the other remaining innocently idle.

Without prompting, Hatchet's line of sight raises to the secondary hatch within the cargo hold. There it is: a smear of blood and sparking wires. That's where he'd gotten in. Must be a determined fella—let alone smart—to have hacked the ship's security system to override the locking mechanism and find which wires would send out a warning signal before they even had the chance to. She looks back to him, curiously tilting her head to the side in observation of him.

"What the fuck do you think is supposed to happen now?" she grits out. The voice modulator gives it an extra bit of bite.

The man laughs, blood staining his straight teeth. "I dunno. Thought you might hand over your ship."

"Hand over my— Do you have a fucking head injury?"

He laughs again and she kicks his calf roughly.

"What about this is funny? Please, illuminate it for me. Because all I see some fucking stowaway who has a gun to his head and a nasty stab in his side. You're not getting my ship, pal. You'll be lucky if I let you see tomorrow."

"Bad timing," he murmurs, voice thick with strain and sardonic amusement. His expression slackens, the crease between his thin brows flattening out gradually.

"What?"

She kicks his leg again; he's unresponsive. Unconscious, actually, judging by the sudden lack of tension in his face and limbs. She drops the gun-wielding hand to her side and lets out a high-pitched wail of frustration.

She's not a cold blooded murderer. Sure, she's had to take a life or two throughout her days, but then again, who hasn't in this line of work. Those times were different— kill or be killed. This is... this is an injured, apparently unarmed guy on her cargo bay floor. Yes, he'd broken in, but maybe he has a valid excuse. She's had to break into places to survive before, it's really not that unusual. And despite all the shit she's been through, deep down Hatchet has a bleeding heart. She'd be pressed to admit it, of course. The sight of the stranger, wounded and unconscious, male as he may be, pulls at her tender and guarded heartstrings.

Fucking hell. She can only hope that someday in the future, if she's ever in time of need, that some stranger will treat her with kindness.

The man is heavy. Not deceptively so, as his height and build imply a great amount of mass, but hell if she's not winded by the time she drags him over to the cargo lift. The small elevator is usually for objects and not people, but it's the only way she can get his dead-weight ass to the upper level where the only cot and good light source are. She hasn't taken her armor off, and at this point she doesn't think she's going to. Certainly not with a strange man aboard, unconscious or not.

Upon both arriving at the upper level, it takes a great amount of effort to haul the man over to the bunk. The space is barely big enough to comfortably hold Hatchet, and she's nowhere near the size of this beast of a man. The cot creaks as she lowers him onto it, his boots scraping the wall as she crams him into the broom closet sized space. Flicking on the overhead light, it illuminates him with white fluorescence. It's only then does she realize he's not entirely unconscious; somewhere in there, he's aware enough to wince at the light coming on. She squints at him for a long moment, scrutinizing the situation. He doesn't show any other sign of cognizance besides for that averse reaction to the bright light beating down on his eyelids. When she decides it had only been some sort of odd reflex, she goes to retrieve the medical supplies from an aptly labeled storage cabinet.

Modesty be damned, she has to remove his shirt. It's barely holding itself together, anyway, and she has replacements to dress him in after she's patched him up. She feels hot under all her armor and layers, nervous as she stares down at the stranger's bare chest. Christ, he's build like a tank. It's intimidating, actually, once she chokes down the insidious feeling of attraction that prickles her skin and bubbles in her abdomen. Anyway— upon closer inspection, the wound on his side is largely superficial. The extensive bruising along his ribs, however, indicates some unknown level of internal damage. It may only be deep-tissue bruising, or his ribs could be broken. She can't be too sure either way, and makes sure to properly bandage up his torso regardless, though only after disinfecting and stitching up the gash.

His nose is broken, that much is obvious. However, it looks as though it's already been set, so all she has to do is clean the blood, disinfect the small cut on the bridge, and properly bandage it. He has a nice face, apart from the bandaged nose. She can't really describe his features. Harsh, but soft at the same time. She huffs against the interior of the helmet at the thought, crossing her arms and leaning back.

She has stationed herself at the table across from the bunk, cautiously watching over the stranger through the deactivated visor of her mask. Hot and stuffy and heavy as the armor may be, she won't risk taking it off just yet. She doesn't quite have a plan yet as to how this is going to unfold. She'd chosen to spare his life, yes, but that isn't to say she won't protect herself to the nth degree if the need arises going forward. She doesn't want him out of her sight—especially considering her unprofessional lack of manacles—which means she can't program a route into the ship right now. The task would've been made simple if he hadn't gone and broken the screen display mechanism in her helmet. She can't even scan him in this state, to gather his identity or vitals status. She hadn't realized how dependent she'd grown on the visor display until now, having worn the damn thing for weeks straight at this point.

It takes a couple of hours by her count for the stranger to rouse again. He's disoriented at first, but soon grows aware of her shielded gaze burning into him from the other side of the narrow living area. He shifts in the cot, turning onto his wounded side to better assess the situation. He doesn't seem threatened—or particularly threatening—at the moment.

"Rise and shine," Hatchet speaks into the voice modulator.

She kicks a boot up onto the edge of the cot from where she sits barely three feet away. She tells herself it's a show of dominance, to plant her boot right beside the stranger's head, but in reality she probably just looks stupid. The man just looks at her with those silvery eyes, squinting under the bright overhead light. She doesn't shut it off.

"Now here's the deal—"

"How many people you got on this ship?" He cuts her off, tone both aloof and detached despite the situation. He breaks into an odd little grin, then twists his head to scent the pillow. "You hiding a lady somewhere? Fella like you sure wouldn't smell this sweet."

Hatchet's face crumples under the cover of secrecy. She has to school her perturbed reaction for the sake of her anonymity. What the hell kind of guy is she dealing with here, exactly? Not only must she refrain from showing any physical reaction, she shouldn't verbally address it, either.

"Now here's the deal," she repeats. "I spared you once— even did you the favor of patching you up. But, it's not gonna happen again if you try something funny."

The man tucks his chin to his chest to look down at the bandaged wounds, holding a curious hand to his side. She can't quite interpret his expression perfectly, but she thinks he seems vaguely impressed by her medical treatment of him.

"I'm going to take you to the nearest inhabited planet and dump your freeloading ass off at the first dock I come across. You aren't going to resist or complain. I'm doing you this favor— clearly you were on the run from someone dangerous, and I got you out of dodge. I don't expect payment, but I'd be mighty grateful if you didn't do anything violent or stupid." Hatchet kicks the bunk when his eyes slip shut again. "Hey! Are you listening to me?"

He does appear to fall unconscious again, but she can't be totally sure he isn't just fucking with her. Irritated, she sucks her teeth and curses him out, kicking off the bunk to stomp off into the cockpit. Forget keeping him in sight, he can suffocate for all she cares. There's a shotgun under the control console, anyway.

She seals the cockpit door shut behind her. Only then does she feel safe to remove her helmet. Once again she's greeted by her reflection in the windshield, though this time it's her own face that stares back. It's a tired and sweaty face, with hair matted flat to the scalp from the tight interior of the helmet. She needs a nice long shower—that much is obvious—but now isn't the time. Finally breathing fresh, unfiltered air again, she gulps it down greedily and deposits herself in the pilot's seat. The autopilot had taken itself out of hyperdrive some time ago, and now the Hatchetknife careens at a steady pace through open space. The stars are magnificent, as always. The endless, unfathomable sight almost makes her forget her burdensome stowaway.

Hatchet pulls coordinates for the nearest inhabited planet. She expands the view on the holoscreen projected across the console. The information, illuminated in a fluorescent blue, scrawls across the screen just fast enough for her to barely be able to read it in time. Her eagerness to be rid of the stowaway slowly melts into a nauseating apprehension. Apparently, according to the data, the nearest planet for several lightyears just happens to be crawling with Necromongers. Fucking Necromongers. If there's anything Hatchet hates, it's violent religious cults that double as armies. She avoids well-paying jobs on the off-chance that those psychos might catch a whiff of her— she's sure as hell not landing her ship in a hive of those wasps.

"Fucking shit!" She kicks the console.

There goes the plan to drop this motherfucker off. It'll take days at the very least to make it to the next viable planet. She tosses her head back and groans loud, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes until they come away leaving splotches in her vision. Venting her frustration, she kicks her heel against the console twice more.

———————————————————————

If Hatchet learns anything during her time in close proximity with the man, it's that, 1. he's a shockingly fast healer; 2. he doesn't like bright lights; and 3. he's quite sharp-witted despite the meathead look about him. In the few days that follow the unexpected detour, she avoids him as best she can in such cramped quarters. They only interact on the occasions when she checks up on his wounds or gives him MRE meals throughout the day— always outfitted in her armor, of course. He only takes power-naps, never a full sleep, and reacts tensely to loud and sudden noises. He's smug and facetious when he speaks, and brooding when he doesn't. He's like a storm in every aspect of the description: thunderous voice, eyes like lightning, and a stormy personality to match. Despite Hatchet's aloofness, the man has found a way to wheedle himself under her skin. Once he was stable enough to stand on his own, nothing could stop him from getting up and wandering around the ship, hiding in the shadowed areas like a predator stalking its prey, much to Hatchet's chagrin. He makes little quips and witty comments in that deep voice when she's least prepared for them, and he stares at her with those glimmering eyes like he can see right through her disguise. Sometimes, she worries he does. He's like a fucking ghost the way he soundlessly moves around the small ship. That's more unnerving than his appearance, she thinks.

It's all getting rather frustrating. At first she'd been pissed that a man had the audacity to impose himself upon her time, energy, and ship. Now, she can't help but feel a strange tug of loneliness when they aren't in the same room. It's upsetting how the mind perceives human connection. She doesn't even know his name, yet the thought of being on her own again seems... well, lonely.

It does help that he's easy on the eyes, too. She finds herself locked away in the cockpit more and more frequently, brooding long and hard over the increasingly frequent thoughts of how fucking fine the man is. That soft yet masculine face, those thick arms and sturdy torso. The deep, intense tenor of his voice alone is enough to make her weak in the knees. And those eerie, glowing eyes, which watch her every movement like a hawk. Oh, for fucksake...

Hell, in all honesty she might as well be swimming in her armor with the way she sweats when he stands close and talks real smooth. She's afraid she's making it a little too obvious, actually. That carefully crafted persona is slipping through her fingers and all because she's a little hot under the collar about this stowaway she'd sworn to dump like a box of rocks come first chance. It came to a point approximately three simulated days into their time together when she couldn't stand the sight of him shirtless anymore; she ended up handing over one of her spare XL tanks, which still managed to look small on his burly frame. There's a sort of undeniable animal magnetism about him which is almost a little distressing in its intensity. What a fickle thing her trust in others is— and how tragically simple it was for her to get comfortable with the situation.

She doesn't insist on taking her bunk back from the healing man. While he rests his battered body on the cot, she kicks back at the well-worn table every night cycle, sprawled across the bench seat with a flimsy pillow beneath her helmeted head. This way she can keep the stowaway within her line of sight. Once his intimidating nature is overlooked, he is surprisingly amicable and seems rather appreciative of all her efforts. He hasn't tried to attack her, or otherwise threaten her person, which she takes as a sign he'd heard and accepted her deal before passing out on that very first day. In fact, he only ever deliberately menaces her when standing over her shoulder, or appearing out of nowhere. Or when he belligerently thumps his fist over wall panels to deactivate overhead lights he finds irksome.

Hatchet, though she herself is nameless to an extent, finds his lack of proffered identity a little frazzling. Though she's come to accept his presence as a whole, it would make her a lot more comfortable if she had a name and background to put to the face. Which brings her to the locked cockpit, wherein she works tediously to repair the screen and scanning mechanism in her helmet. With her tongue poked out from between her lips and one boot up on the console, she takes the helm apart and repairs it with a notable proficiency, then puts it all back together again. The screen automatically powers on when she activates the airlock seal, illuminating her field of view with digital notifications and vital statuses.

She catches him unaware, aiming her visor at him for long enough to scan his facial features and biometrics. Identification data scrawls across the screen before her eyes, her blood pressure spikes. Under the guise of piloting the ship, she locks herself in the cockpit again and feverishly scrolls through mugshots and bounty reward data.

Holy shit. She's been harboring the infamous convict Richard B. Riddick.

Her jaw clenches, muscle twitching against the interior padding of the helmet as she absorbs the newfound information. She should've known. She should have known. Those eyes— she'd heard the merc legends about those eyes.

But fuck... for a guy who'd spent half his life in the slam, he's certainly been affable within these restrictive quarters, mingling with a complete stranger, no less. It's hard to reconcile what she reads on the screen with the man she's been interacting with for the past few artificial cycles. She yanks the helmet from over her head, roughly scrubbing her palms over her face.

When she returns from the cockpit, nerves gathered to the extent they can be, she finds the man halfway through shaving his tan scalp. She stands at the mouth of the living area, the girth of her armor nearly taking up the entire doorframe. Richard B. Riddick, her reserved and shockingly mannered stowaway, sits at the metal table with a compact mirror and razor— a feeble weapon which she now knows could be used against her in all sorts of ways if she were to get on his bad side. Does he even have a good side to be on? She hopes he does, and hopes she's on it. Largely without thinking, one of her hands flutters up to her touch throat as images of it being brutally slit flicker through her mind.

She sits down across from him, folding her hands on the tabletop. He doesn't pause his grooming, doesn't even glance up. His eyeshine remains trained on the little mirror as he meticulously scrapes the stubble from his head with help from what looks like motor gel, no doubt nicked from the cargo bay below. Hatchet purses her mouth into a nervous line beneath the safety of her helm. She can't help but silently observe the flex of his muscles as he moves, every innocuous gesture striking a flustered chord within her. She swallows against the tightness constricting her throat.

"How are you feeling?" She hopes the modulator eliminates the shakiness she feels in her voice.

Logically, she has nothing to be afraid of. Unless this guy is prone to switching demeanor on a dime—which she has no reason to believe he does, based on what she's seen so far—why wouldn't this passive companionship continue? If anything, Hatchet is more afraid of how he will react to knowing she knows his identity now. Either he's been assuming she has known this entire time and just doesn't care, or knows she's been blissfully ignorant and has taken advantage of the anonymity.

He finally spares a glance at her across the table. His jaw visibly twitches, then one corner of his mouth quirks upward. He returns to shaving his head.

"Better. Thanks." He sniffs, sounding indifferent.

"You... uh. Want anything to eat?"

"Naw."

Hatchet exhales, both relieved and oddly disappointed. The storage compartment for the MREs is right beside him, meaning she would've had to stand right over him to retrieve anything.

"You got any goggles laying around?" His deep voice brings her out of her mind. "Been looking but..." he sucks his teeth.

Her brows raise confoundedly. "Goggles?"

"Yeah, you know. Goggles."

Fuck, he must think she's an idiot. She fumbles for words. "Uh. I'm not sure, probably not. I usually just wear the helmet when I need to shield my eyes. Why do you need them?"

He snaps the compact mirror shut and sets down the razor, using the bloody tank he's arrived in to wipe the remaining gel from his scalp. It looks like he'd shaved his beard recently, too, if the dark shadow on his jaw has anything to say about it. Setting the tank down, no more than a scrap rag at this point, he inhales deeply and briefly sinks his teeth into his plump lower lip. Hatchet bites her cheek hard enough for it to hurt, deliberately keeping her gaze from his mouth.

"I wouldn't need them if you didn't keep turning on all the lights," he replies. A hint of dry amusement hides within his flat tone.

"I wouldn't have to turn on the lights if you didn't hide in the shadows all the time," she retaliates. Riddick chuckles like deep, rolling thunder. Hatchet's pulse jumps; fear, arousal. "I'll keep it in mind not to turn them all on. I know your eyes are sensitive to light," she continues.

He suddenly pins her with a suspicious, scrupulous glare. She realizes her mistake and backtracks, sweating bullets beneath her armor.

"I mean, you squint a lot. And you make your way around in the dark better than in the light. I shouldn't have assumed." She's babbling. She can't keep a lid on it.

If he suspects what she knows, he doesn't let on. He cocks his head to the side, eyes glimmering as they trace the contours of her hefty armor. His gaze stops on her visor, right where her eyes should be. Somehow, she feels like they're making direct eye contact.

A questioning smile graces his handsome face. "Do you ever take that damn helmet off? Or do you live in the thing."

Hatchet's face falls beneath the shield of the visor. Her pulse thumps in her throat; a part of her thinks he can sense it. Her demeanor becomes prickly, unchecked. "Why do you care? You're a stowaway on my ship— what is it your business how I eat, sleep, shit—"

"Fuck?" He raises a thin brow, tickled by his own addendum. Meanwhile, Hatchet flushes a fiery shade of red beneath the helm in question. Then, he huffs a short little laugh— more a harsh exhale than anything. "I have to say, your little getup had me convinced at first. But, I know you ain't a man."

Hatchet's heart skips a beat. She disguises her anxiety with derision. "Disappointed?"

"Not in the slightest, sweetheart." A white canine glints when he flashes that oddly charming smile.

That combination—a quaint pet name and that devastating smile—has her feeling lightheaded and confined within her suit. Her hands slip from the tabletop to clench into fists in her lap. He appears upsettingly smug about his little revelation.

"How'd you figure it out?"

His nostrils flare; he takes a deep breath. "Thought I smelled a woman my first night in the bunk. My nose was all fucked up, but... eventually I figured out that sweet smell was coming from you and not some phantom scent hanging around. I give you credit, you had me going for a little while."

Her brow twinges. What a strange man.

She's faced with an internal conflict. She could deny the accusation, but something tells her that won't work in the slightest. She could keep the helmet and armor on until they part ways, but really what's the point, seeing as he already knows she's a woman; he looks strong enough to pry the armor right off her body anyway. The most logical choice she can make is to take the discovery in stride and go back to living comfortably, with the addition of a slightly threatening guest who does one-armed push-ups in the hallway and lurks around dark corners. The jig is up. He's just that good. Her choice is practically made up for her.

Hatchet's hands raise, slow and tentative, and she maintains what feels a lot like eye contact with Riddick. Her gloved thumbs hook up under the seal, disabling the airlock and visor screen. Air hisses out from the seam at her throat, loosening the helmet's grip on her head. Somewhat dubiously, she lifts the burdensome metal and glass dome from over her head. It comes to rest in her lap as she shakes out her sweat-dampened hair and takes a deep breath of fresh air.

They look at each other's faces for the first time, unencumbered. The visor distorts perception a tiny bit, so it's almost like seeing him for the first time. A permeable scent of sweat and metal lingers between the both of them, despite both having showered recently in the ship's minuscule wash room. She can also smell the motor gel he'd used to shave his head (so strange— must be a leftover trick from the slam, she thinks). The woman is overcome with a bout of anxiety and shyness upon revealing her true face, and flushes under his heavy gaze. She resists the submissive urge to tuck her chin to her chest and avert real eye contact.

"Well... I guess you know who I am, now." She clears her throat; she hasn't heard her unfiltered voice in ages. Her jig may be up— but she still has something of a trump card on him, too. Sure, he might kill her for it, but this entire conversation is toeing the line of life-threatening risk to begin with. She musters courage to utter her next words; "Just like... how I know who you are now, Richard B. Riddick. Thought I wouldn't do a facial recognition scan?"

Hatchet squares her shoulders and raises her chin by a fraction, feigning confidence. He can probably smell her fear. The man inclines his head, brows raised as a chuckle rolls in like a storm. He almost looks impressed with her mediocre detective work.

He smiles that wolfish smile, showing teeth and smile lines. "So, you think you know who I am now, huh? You afraid of the big bad monster now?"

One corner of Hatchet's mouth quirks downward. "Should I be?"

"If you're smart you would be." He levels her stare with that inhuman eyeshine.

"I only fear true monsters. Men who kill for pleasure and nothing more. I read the files on you. You don't kill unarmed women— children. You don't rape them."

It isn't phrased as a question, but he replies regardless; "Naw."

It's actually kind of relieving that he looks a bit offended by the idea. "Then you aren't a true monster. You do what you have to to survive. We all do out here. I can't fault you for killing people trying to kill you. I won't fault you for anything you had to do in the slam."

There's more she would like to say—to tell him he'd been dealt a really shitty hand—but that feels too intrusive for the context of their relationship. She doesn't want to risk angering him by coming off as pitying.

Riddick narrows his naturally suspicious gaze at the woman. He doesn't touch her previous soapbox comment. "So... that mean you're gonna try to turn me in for a payday?"

"Fucking— Jesus, dude," she guffaws incredulously. "Why the fuck would I turn you in after I did so much to save your ass? You're worth more dead than alive, you know. If I wanted to, I could've."

The big man shrugs. "Who knows. Every other merc would."

"Well I'm not every other merc, am I?" She leans back, crossing her arms over her chestplate.

"Naw, definitely not."

If she'd been any less observant, she may have missed the glimmer of flirtation in his tone and demeanor— in his eyeshine. Stifling heat rises like a kettle boiling, tinting her face a noticeable hue. She can only hope she looks disheveled and sweaty enough for it to pass as an exacerbated flush. Abruptly, she stands from the table, wringing her hands in an uncontrollable combination of nerves and bashfulness. The helmet is dumped onto the tabletop, rolling towards the seated man.

"I'll uh—" Her voice cracks; she clears her throat. "I'll look for those goggles for you."

"Good talk," he calls after her as she hastily turns on her heel.

She pauses her stride, mind running a mile a minute to find a way to gain some sort of traction and authority amidst this interaction. She shifts halfway to turn back and face him.

"Hm. Yes, good talk... Richard."

His uproarious laughter follows her down into the cargo bay where she quickly disappears.

———————————————————————

Riddick is both a complicated human and a very simple man. On one hand, a selfish part of him wants nothing more than to take control of this cramped little vessel and fly it fuck-knows where. It's clear to him that this ship and its pilot are a package deal, which brings him to a sort of moral crossroads. On the other hand, this woman—this merc—has been undeservingly kind to him, more so than anyone he can remember. She has a point, too. He'd been dangerously incapacitated for a short while, in which time she could have easily gone and ghosted him or handed him over to some other scummy mercs. But she hadn't. This lone woman, mistrustful enough of others to go so far as to masquerade as a man, had saved his hide and given him shelter and transport, all out of the kindness of her heart. She isn't threatening or outwardly malicious; he doesn't know how the hell she's survived this long out here. Perhaps her assumed persona has gotten her this far after all, amongst the masses less perceptive than himself.

Fuck. Merc or not, he can't just ghost her now.

And besides— he's a man, and she's a woman. Simple as that.

Even suited up to the jaw in armor and reeking of sweat, her newly revealed face stirs something all-too familiar within him. Hell, her scent alone is enough to get him off. Riddick doesn't even have to know what the rest of her looks like to know he wants to fuck her. And she doesn't seem all too averse to the idea of him, either, based on the subtle changes observable in her posture and scent. His senses are too keen to miss the physical and vocal cues she tries so hard to hide with that modulator and beneath the suit of armor. He knows hot and bothered when he sees it; and it's a fucking ego-boost.

After their little conversation, she'd grown more comfortable— if that's the appropriate word for the scenario. He'd revealed her identity and she responded by completely forgoing the suit of armor. Not that he's curious or anything, but he finds himself asking more about her. She shares that she is called "Hatchet," which he thinks is a little entertaining given her rather docile nature. He also learns that she's been in the mercenary business since her early teenage years, which almost always spells trouble for young women— hence why she'd taken up the persona of a more masculine, faceless merc, rather than be perceived as lesser-than by her professional peers. She's funny too, he pleasantly discovers, when not restrained by that helmet.

He's surprised when she comes up to him a few cycles following their conversation. She's dressed in a tank like his (which he realizes is hers) and a mechanic's jumpsuit, the top of which rests tied around her supple hips. He eyes up her body with a brashness that usually intimidates even the most battle hardened of men. She doesn't even flinch— she grows shy, instead. He stands by his previous statement in which he'd wanted to fuck her without knowing what her body looked like, but he's certainly not complaining now in getting to see her without the bully armor to conceal her curves and soft shape. Even the light musculature of her arms and width of her shoulders is hot.

She holds something as she approaches from the cargo bay ladder, and he quickly deduces it is non-threatening. She sidles up to the table where he has been parking himself at more frequently lately. She wears a sweet expression halfway between anticipatory and nervous— not much different than usual.

"Hey, dollface," Riddick greets.

He cocks his head to the side as he looks up at her, observing her through the purplish hue of his shine-job eyes. He quickly discovered that playfully teasing the young woman almost always earns a flurry of entertaining responses; namely flustered yammering and a red flush which trails all the way down to her full breasts. The pet names come easily, oddly enough. She blushes as expected and leans a hip against the table edge. While toying with the object in her hands, she glances between it and him.

"I uh. I found a pair of goggles, since you'd been asking."

She holds her flat palm out towards him, displaying a set of simple black welding goggles. They're essentially like the pairs he usually sports: midsized circular lenses, held in place by a thick plastic compound. Riddick takes the proffered eyewear and tests the weight in his own palm. The strap is a fabric material rather than a continuation of the flexible plastic, but still appears sturdy. He pulls them over his head, lowering the lenses over his eyes. They block out the Iight sufficiently, subduing the vibrant hue of his altered vision.

He scans the woman through the shades, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks, sweetheart. You're a real peach."

Hatchet releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, sure. No problem... Richard."

She doesn't use fluffy little names on him like he's begun doing for her. When she does refer to him, she only calls him by his first name. Which, given the fact virtually no one else does, feels like a more powerful naming. It's humanization in its rawest form. She shifts to sit down across from him. Neither of them can ignore the way their ankles tangle together beneath the table, hefty boots knocking into one another. Riddick watches her throat bob as she swallows. He raises the goggles and leaves them perched on his knit brow.

"Okay, so, I've been thinking," she begins, somewhat hesitantly. "Here's the deal— I'll take you wherever you want to go, so long as you don't, you know, kill me in my sleep and steal my ride or something. I think that's only fair since I didn't do the same to you when you were incapacitated. Also, I guess it goes without saying that I'm not gonna tell anyone about this encounter or your whereabouts. If you don't trust my good will, just think how negatively it would affect my life if it got out among the wrong crowd that I've been in cahoots with an escaped convict."

Riddick barks out an abrupt laugh. "In cahoots, huh?"

Hatchet blanches, her jaw opening and shutting several times before she gathers her words. "W-Well, I'm willingly harboring a fugitive, aren't I? I haven't booted you out the airlock yet— so yes, we're in cahoots."

The man's laughter tapers into a light chuckle. He perches his chin on his fist in a way that makes Hatchet tense with bashfulness. A muscle in his thick forearm flexes, drawing her curious eye. Lately, she's been daydreaming about those strapping arms. She's been catching herself daydreaming about the rest of him, as well.

Her eyes dart back to his silvery ones, clearing her throat. "Well, what do you think of my deal?"

Riddick tilts his head, unable to resist smiling. "Sounds good."

The woman blinks at him, big doe eyes wide as she picks apart his reaction. "Ah... uh. Okay, cool." She drums the tabletop with both hands, fidgeting under his heavy stare.

She pushes to her feet suddenly, and Riddick launches up after her. Instantly he crowds her in the tight space, his large frame taking up a majority of her vision. She startles, automatically pressing her hands flat to his built chest. This draws a rumbling chuckle from him as he gazes down at the flustered woman.

Hatchet's heart rate quickens, the muscle thumping wildly in her chest. That pulse begins its mortifying throb between her thighs, too— a desperate, hot desire which boils up without her expressed permission. It's not an entirely unwelcome feeling, but it's certainly indicative of her poor self-control given the situation. She has no clue if this dangerous convict is about to crush her head like a clump of dirt, or if he's going to make a move on her. Those are the only two explanations for his startling proximity to her.

Nervously, her eyes raise to meet his. She finds his head bowed towards her.

"Uh."

"Why don't you ever sleep in your bunk?" he asks, derailing her frazzled train of thought. "Don't you need your beauty rest, sweetheart?"

"O-Oh? Where are you supposed to go if I take back my bunk?"

He hums and sways his shaven head. "We can share."

Brain unable to catch up with what he's offering, she defaults to thinking in a blunt, literal sense. "W-We can't both fit. It's too narrow."

He steps forward and she steps back, only to realize he's effectively backed her against a wall. One of his beefy arms rises, forearm and fist resting on the wall beside her head. He leans further into her space, smiling as he takes a deep breath of her scent. Fuzzy butterflies explode in her abdomen; she goes weak in the knees.

"Oh really? 'Cuz I got a few positions in mind that we can fit into," he purrs. Hatchet lets out a surprised little noise and he ducks closer. "Aw, don't get all shy on me now, babygirl."

"I'm— I—" she stammers.

Her eyes flick between his own and his lips. That now-familiar eyeshine glimmers with heated desire as he carefully observes her. He leans in real slow— torturously slow. The tip of his nose brushes against hers and she shudders. Riddick's breath is hot as is fans across her face. She finds herself panting heavy through parted lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his steady one. Her chin ducks low, shyly averting his advance to where he has to chase her lips.

His full lips are shockingly soft when they do finally graze hers— his mouth gentle and curious at first while he tentatively pecks her. The few kisses he lavishes upon her lips are short and teasing, serving only to rile her up further. The heartbeat at her core prompts her thighs to clench; the action doesn't go unnoticed. One of his broad hands clamps over her upper arm, effectively pinning her in place against the wall. The shared kiss grows more frenetic with each passing second. His other hand slides rather possessively up the length of her back, coming to tangle in the hair at the base of her skull. He uses it as leverage to tilt her head back— a move which earns a quiet gasp and unintentional whimper through her parted lips. With a small self-satisfied grin, Riddick takes the invitation to claim her open mouth, exploring teeth and tongue with his own.

Hatchet can barely catch her breath— especially not when Riddick slips his tongue past her lips. The pulse between her thighs grows increasingly unbearable and she squirms desperately in his tight hold. That hand holding her arm in a vise grip shifts instead to press against her shoulder blade, pinning her to his broad chest. Her own hands find the courage to come up, fingers taking liberty to slip beneath the hem of his borrowed shirt. His tanned skin is warm and pulled taut over an ample amount of muscle. Her hands are cold—they always are while in space—which results in a string of tangible shivers as she drags her fingers up his sides. The thin fabric of the grey tank bunches up around her wrists as her hands continue their exploration upward. Her right hand is careful to avoid irritating the stitched wound over his left-side ribs. Instead it glides to his smooth chest, squeezing a generous handful of his pec.

He chuckles into her mouth and she swallows the deep noise with fervor. Without warning, he crouches and drops his large hands to her ass, hoisting her up with ease. Her legs clamp around his waist on instinct, canting her hips to shamelessly grind her throbbing core against his hard stomach. Her hands continue to grope his muscled chest and arms, appreciative of his powerful physique. All the while, mouths slot together in feverish kisses.

Riddick pivots on his heel and effortlessly pitches forward at the waist, dropping the woman clinging to him down onto the cot. There's little give to the canvas fabric bunk, but it's certainly more comfortable than a metal tabletop. Not that Riddick particularly cares; he's already swimming in visions of bending her over the table, anyway. Only when he deposits her on the bunk and crouches over her does Hatchet release him from her clinging grasp. Her hands barely leave his chest long enough to yank the tank up over his head, relying on his aptitude to fully rid himself of the thing while she continues her impromptu anatomy lesson. While she latches her mouth onto the pulse point of his throat, he plucks the goggles from his brow and flings them aside. They clatter down somewhere unimportant.

Wordlessly, there lingers between them a mutual agreement that this is consensual. This is needed. This has been building up for a while now.

Riddick's broad hands engulf Hatchet's soft waist, squeezing her affectionately. His fingers push upward, skirting along the hem of her own shirt. She parts her mouth from his neck only long enough to allow him to tug the garment up over her head, hastily followed by the discarding of her sports bra, too. His palms are rough with calluses against her sensitive flesh, and unrelenting when they come up to squeeze her bared breasts. The topless woman licks up the column of his throat to just below his right ear, tasting sweat and skin as she suckles the sweet spot. Her fingers dig into his biceps, keeping him in place as she straddles him. She smiles against his hot skin when he groans. His weathered hands explore her torso, sliding from her chest to her back, then down to grasp her waist tightly.

"Fuck, come on," Riddick grunts into her hair. His hands slip lower to her ass, yanking impatiently at the fabric of her jumpsuit bottoms. "Pants."

It takes no effort for him to lift and flip her onto her back again, taking pride in the surprised expression she wears. Her limbs and eyelids feel heavy as she undoes the tied sleeves around her hips, helping him shuffle off her slate grey jumpsuit. She doesn't even realize he's also slipped off her underwear until she feels the cool air of the ship against her bare core. Fuck, all her constant worrying over her appearance, and in the moment she isn't even concerned. She just needs to feel good with him.

Despite this minor revelation, Hatchet briefly feels a tad in over her head as the burly man holds her down by the hips and leans over her. He eclipses the dim overhead light, his eyes shining magnificently. Those nocturnal eyes are growing on her at a frightening rate.

"Richard," she whispers. One hand reaches up to touch his face, petting his cheek before skating over the stubbly crown of his head. "Fuck, Rich."

He drops his head and growls against her hot, bare skin. The sound rumbles beneath her palm where it presses over his heart. That's a new one— Rich. He's never been called that before. He doesn’t dislike it, mainly because it comes from her.

Riddick leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck and across her chest. His fingers press into her supple flesh of her hips hard enough for it to dimple under the force. He continues downward, laving his hot tongue over her pebbled nipples, teasing his teeth against her delicate skin. With her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, she remains ignorant to the garland of lovebites he leaves across her skin, decorating her chest with the constellations of the open universe. His lips follow the line of fine hair down the middle of her stomach, until finally stopping just above the curly thatch at her mons. He shifts his attention, choosing to nip at the skin of her inner thighs. He kneels on the floor and roughly yanks her to the end of the cot for better leverage, earning a surprised yelp from the woman. In the same moment, he tucks his thumbs around the underside of her knees and hoists her legs over his broad shoulders. Her ankles automatically lock overtop his shoulder blades.

Hatchet shudders with delicious anticipation. Her big eyes shoot open and head cranes, meeting his silver gaze from where he has positioned himself between her thick thighs. Without much civility or warning, the man stuffs his shaven head into the tight crevice of her thighs. She is suddenly relieved that he'd taken the bandage off his nose almost immediately after gathering his bearings all those days ago, because now he puts the prominent feature to good use against her swollen clit.

A wanton moan claws out from Hatchet's throat as she throws her head back against the rigid cot. Riddick's breath is hot against her cunt, tongue skilled as he works it into her most sensitive area. Two fingers pry her labia apart to get at a more effective angle. Her hands dart to clamp down on either side of his head, her nails digging crescents into his nude scalp. Panting and squirming, she uses her iron grip on his head to grind up against his big nose. He groans low against her core, the vibrations on his tongue adding to her pleasure. Her thighs squeeze against his flushed ears, and for a moment the thought she may suffocate him flashes through her mind. That worry is ejected out into space when his tanned hands come around to grip her where her thighs meet her hips, dragging her even more securely against him.

Her eyes roll back, body wracked with uncontrollable spasms as Riddick brings her increasingly closer to her peak. His nose is replaced by a skillful thumb, rubbing firm circles around her clit. He continues lapping at her cunt, groaning and taking intermittent gasps for air. Just as she feels that hot coil tightening in her lower abdomen, sees white light flickering beneath her lids, he does the unthinkable. He pulls away. Hatchet whines at the sudden neglect and desperately claws at his head in an attempt for him to continue, leaving red stripes on his stubbly scalp.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asks lowly, smugness dripping from his tongue. That isn't the only thing dripping from his tongue; his nose, mouth, and chin are coated in her arousal.

Hatchet laughs breathlessly. "Fuck off."

She welcomes him with open arms when he crawls up over her again, accepting his lips as he presses down to kiss her. She can taste her own wetness on his mouth, but is largely distracted by his hips slotting between hers and grinding down.

He pulls back for a moment, leveling her with an entertained but mildly miffed eyebrow raise. "You got protection?"

Hatchet has to take a moment to catch her breath in order to answer. "Don't worry, I got that fancy implant. Unless you're riddled with some horrible penitentiary disease?" She smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with playfulness.

Her hands cup his face when he returns a dazzling smile. "Me? Who do you take me for? A convict?"

She curls against him when he ducks his face to the crook of her neck, warm and blushing as they both laugh. Unabashed, laughing together. It feels bizarrely intimate, and so completely foreign to the both of them. When the brief chuckles taper off and the weight of the scenario sinks back in, Hatchet wriggles her hips against his, attempting to stimulate some friction. The rough fabric of his cargo pants sparks a little something, but nothing spectacular. Catching on to her renewed desperation, Riddick presses weight against her hips, teasing her with his clothed erection. She mewls softly, grinding up against him.

A calloused hand slides up the length of her body to her neck, first two fingers and thumb pressing lightly against either pulse-point. He squeezes just hard enough for her to squirm with an intoxicating faintness, but light enough for it not to harm her. She swallows hard, feeling the pressure of his palm against her larynx. It would be child's play for him to fully wrap his hand around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. This flirtation with death is not only exhilarating, but it's something she'd never considered as enjoyable before now.

She's too busy with panting against the hand around her throat to realize he'd slipped his other one down towards the apex of her thighs. That is, not until there comes a delicious and unexpected pressure against her swollen clit. She jolts from the sudden stimulation. The moan that slips unbidden from her lips is loud and breathy, and she arches up into his devilish touch. His thumb rubs concentrated circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, the middle finger sliding lower to tease her slit. Meanwhile, he drops his head to press against her temple, lips leaving sloppy kisses on her cheek.

Riddick groans, rutting against her soft thigh. He drags his lips against her cheek, bottom teeth scraping her skin. A tingly shudder ripples through her body.

"You want it, babygirl?" he growls in her ear. "Tell me you want it."

Hatchet whines when his thick finger breaches her entrance, sliding in easily with the wetness of her arousal. Her toes curl and back arches when that searching finger strokes that hidden sweet spot, her entire body overcome with a delicious shudder.

"Fuck," she pants, "Please. I want it."

The hand at her throat inches upward to clasp her jaw, angling her head for him to effectively whisper in her ear. "Want what, sweetheart? Use your words."

Another finger is stuffed into her pussy; she pants and squeezes around them. An embarrassed flush heats her chest and face at being made to speak her desire aloud. In some little act of defiance, she merely continues huffing and rutting against his hand. Punishment for her disobedience comes swift however, arriving in the form of the ceased stimulation. Riddick sucks his teeth and shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"So stubborn," he tsks.

Fuck— that rich, buttery voice sends a desperate throb straight to her neglected clit. She sobs out a pathetic whine, making a futile attempt to force his hand to continue its work.

"Please. Okay, okay. Please, please. I want you, I need you. Fuck me, please, Richard," she begs, voice coming out ragged.

He brings his lips to the corner of her mouth and smiles into the kiss he places there. "Good girl," he purrs.

Hatchet squirms under him, clit pulsing with an immediate flush of blood at the praise. "Say that again," she pants, sliding her hand over the back of his thick neck. "Please, please, Rich. Say that again. I'm— Hah."

She can feel the fond chuckle under her palm as it rumbles in his chest. He wrestles with the button and zipper of his cargo pants while keeping himself aloft with one arm. "My girl. Good girl."

Each kiss steals her breath away, dizzying her with butterflies and anticipation. It takes a hurried moment of effort, but Riddick manages to shuck his trousers and boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. Perched on his knees between the woman's spread thighs, he greedily admires the sight of her laid out before him. There's something particularly special about this woman. She's managed to weasel her way into his frigid heart, and he can't find it in himself to complain. She's sweet, and kind, and sure fucking hot. She too watches him greedily as muscles flex in his arms. He plants his hands on her bent knees, dragging them down the length of her soft thighs. Fingers sink into the fat of her hips, dragging her closer.

One glance at his proud erection is enough to draw a flustered whimper from Hatchet's lips; his dick is thick, befitting of the rest of him. She thrusts an arm up over her face, if only to hide the embarrassed blush which splotches her skin. The big man lowers himself over her once more and gently pushes her arm away, murmuring about her shyness. The weight of his cock resting on her belly makes her squirm, which he seems to enjoy greatly, much to her impatient desperation. He slots his plush lips with hers while his left hand slips around her right thigh, encouraging it up. Her knee brushes the bruised wound over his ribs, but he doesn't seem to care all that much as he pins the long limb tightly against him.

In the space between them, he fists his dick and pumps once, twice. He holds Hatchet's lidded gaze with those intense eyes of his, drinking in the dazed sight of her. He drags the cockhead through the wetness of her arousal, teasing her swollen clit before aligning himself properly. His throaty groan mingles with her gasped noises as he slowly presses into her, sheathing himself within her hot cunt. It's a snug fit, lax as she may be. He bottoms out painfully slow, taking his sweet time in stuffing her full of himself. That hand returns to her throat and gently squeezes while he holds himself aloft with the other arm.

Hatchet sucks her teeth against the slight sting of his size. The discomfort quickly fades into a satisfyingly tense pressure once Riddick gets a steady rhythm going. With her leg hiked up over his side, he continually pulls out almost all the way before plunging back into her, driving her down into the stiff cot with each powerful thrust. She shudders with each drag of his thick cock against her inner walls— with every gentle squeeze of his broad hand around her throat.

"Fuck, babygirl. You feel good," he grunts out. "Such a good girl for me. Real pretty." Riddick groans through clenched teeth when her cunt spasms particularly hard around him. His words are like a match to her gasoline.

The hand at her throat shifts away in an attempt to touch as much of her skin as possible— caressing her breast, tangling in her hair, touching her lips, squeezing her waist and hip. It's almost like a compulsion to feel every part of her warm body, to get lost in her skin and pretty noises. Hatchet's hands perform their own exploration; she can't get enough of wrapping her fingers around his biceps and broad shoulders, her breath panting hard against his collarbones as she clings to him. The middle two fingers of his wandering hand come down on her clit again, sparking electric spasms throughout her writhing body. Those fingers rub circles against her sensitive bud, and every so often slip lower to stroke around the spot where they join together.

An especially rough drag and thrust has the tip of cock kissing that sweet spot within her. She cries out and he repeats the motion with an exact precision. He continues hammering into her at that perfect angle, grunting and shuddering with each of her clenches and moans. Light blooms beneath Hatchet's eyelids, that hot pressure coiling up in her belly once more. The combination of internal and external stimulation is enough for her to see stars and arch into the man like her life depends on it.

Nearly animalistic in his frenzy, Riddick can't control himself when his teeth sink into the woman's shoulder. It feels right.

Hatchet cries out at the sharp feeling of his bite, shock mixing with odd delight. He doesn't use enough force to break the skin, but his teeth leave a sting nonetheless. In retaliation, her nails sink into his muscular back and drag downward to his sides, leaving crisscrossing stripes across his tan skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes that she may have torn one of his stitches, but he doesn't make any indication of it bothering him. That delicious tension deep in her belly increases almost unbearably; she bucks up into his fingers on her clit, grinding against the hilt of his cock stuffed in her. His mouth latches onto the slope of her neck and bites again, licking the minimal damage each time he retracts his pearly teeth.

Her orgasm comes suddenly, like fireworks. She spasms around him as she comes, back arching up against his hard front as she cries out. Riddick continues pounding into her— continues rubbing her clit through her shuddering orgasm. The sounds of their sex seem awfully loud in the quiet confines of her small ship.

"There we go. Good girl," he murmurs into her throat.

He pushes up on his supporting arm, putting a bit of space between himself and the spent woman. She twitches and pants beneath him, cunt contracting around his continued thrusts. Her nails haven't yet retracted from his sides, clinging as though grasping for purchase. Riddick sits upright with her legs slung around his hips. One hand wipes over his head to clear away beads of sweat, before both come down to clutch her hips.

"Fuck... Where do you want it, sweetheart?" He punctuates with a harsh snap of his hips, plunging deep into her.

Hatchet's wrists demurely cross above her head. Her breaths come in short, exhausted puffs as she wriggles against him. Overstimulation is beginning to fray at her edges, but the feeling of being so full of him overrides the discomfort. She can barely think straight enough to give him a proper response— fucked thoroughly out of her mind.

"Richard—" She groans low in her throat. He's practically rearranging her guts. Tears prick at her eyes. "Fuck. Inside. Please, just— ugh, inside."

He makes a noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle. "Sounds good to me, baby." She doesn't have to open her eyes to know the smug, cocky, sexy bastard is grinning. "Nngh, fuck."

Riddick's head tilts back, shuddering violently. He groans loud and holds her steady with his fingers dug into her hips. She feels his hot release spill into her, coating her insides as he ceases his relentless pounding. She's overly sensitive from the intensity of her own orgasm, so his sudden stillness comes as a relief for her tender parts. His chest heaves, fingers twitching.

After an extended moment of basking in the bliss of his finish, Riddick slumps forward. While he's careful not to crush the woman, he does rest a bit of his weight atop her. Sweat-slicked skin meets sweat-slicked skin as they recover together, lounging in the afterglow. He remains partially sheathed within her, allowing a minimal amount of his seed to trickle out around his length.

Amidst tenderly petting Riddick's back, Hatchet nearly gets lost to the grips of sleep. That is, at least until his rumbling voice stirs her again.

"I think you needed that." He noses her throat, inhaling deeply. She cants her hips without thinking, then grunts softly at the feeling of him still buried within her.

"Oh?" she chuckles quietly, "Is that right?"

She smoothes her palm over the back of his head, then traces her fingertips up and down his neck and shoulders. He hums against her clammy, flushed skin. Sentimentally isn't even remotely his forte, but this intimacy feels surprisingly good. Odd and unfamiliar, but pleasant. He feels safe to relax in her hold, resting a little bit more of his weight against her capable form.

"Yep. You're a little uptight."

Briefly pressing his lips to the bite-shaped bruises on her shoulder, he lifts his head. She cracks an eye open to peer at him, then sighs wistfully. He really does have a beautiful face. She caresses his cheek.

"And hey, would you look at that. We fit." He grins wide and smug and raises a brow, referring back to the conversation which started this whole affair.

Hatchet drops her head to the cot and closes her eyes again, laughing heartily. "Fuck you, Richard."

#second time ever writing smut and I think it melted my brain #this is way too long to read on tumblr just go to ao3 lmao #pitch black 2000 #chronicles of riddick #richard b riddick #richard b riddick x oc #richard b riddick x reader #goldfinch writes

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Jimmy & Janis

Jimmy: alright? Janis: grand Janis: and you, mate? Jimmy: you know me Jimmy: 👍 Janis: but actually Janis: told you he weren't too bad Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: expected worse Janis: Only acceptable if you basing that off Gracie Janis: if not, piss off 😂 Jimmy: she's the only other one I've met Jimmy: know they can't compare to you, Joanne, don't worry Janis: 💕 Janis: #peakromance Janis: not gonna force you to meet them Janis: I'd have to be there too and fuck that, like Jimmy: don't reckon that gets you out of family dinner with mine though Jimmy: challenge already been accepted ages ago Janis: try to be on time when it happens, like Janis: also not drag you off to you room 'forehand, like Janis: 😇 me Jimmy: good job you're a decent actress then 'cause I need you to do the opposite of everything you just said Janis: and multitasker 💪🥇 Jimmy: kids, dog, hippie bro & dickhead boyfriend being juggle like a pro Jimmy: yeah alright Janis: you know it, babe Janis: get everyone 😍 by the end like the people pleaser I am 😏 Jimmy: I know you're good with your hands Jimmy: so makes sense Jimmy: & you're one down on the 😍 Janis: 😳 boy Jimmy: I said I'm already 😍 stop looking so Janis: That's your fault Janis: trying to give me those shag flashbacks right now Janis: you know what you did Jimmy: If I have to have 'em every time I look at you, take your share, girl Jimmy: that's your fault Jimmy: you did what you did Janis: I know what I did Janis: and I regret nothing Janis: 😈 Jimmy: I regret needing sleep & having to stop Janis: I'm glad I could help you get a good night's though Janis: still got a 2 weeks of holiday, plenty of time Jimmy: still alive Jimmy: was touch & go for a bit though Jimmy: like you said, you know what you're doing Janis: Don't die Janis: be proper 💔 if you leave me with these cunts Janis: by which I mean the town, not current company aka your sibs, not that rude Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: take ghosting you to a new level Janis: honestly Janis: do not need to go that hard Janis: not gonna hunt you down and go all Mia on yo ass Jimmy: & I do need to touch you Jimmy: can't if I'm a ghost, can I? Janis: pretty sure patrick swayze fucked that girl as a ghost in that one film, no Janis: very least was jacking her off Jimmy: bollocks Jimmy: movie magic don't count Jimmy: ain't never seen a sex scene worthy with two living characters Jimmy: not on our level Janis: so true Janis: but you're killing me here Jimmy: nowt like the payback you should get Jimmy: but a start Janis: can't do that yet Janis: gotta have a wholesome day out first Janis: 😏 aren't you thrilled Jimmy: can't fit a whole orchestra in this van Jimmy: I'll have to be Janis: Me too Janis: be a laugh Janis: or I ain't getting my callback, I remember Jimmy: if it was just us it'd be something Jimmy: but can't chuck the kids or dog out Jimmy: my dad's pissed off enough at me Janis: You don't know your way 'round yet so bit of a cheek tippin' 'em roadside like make your own way back, lads Janis: did he have a 'chat' with you this morning? Janis: didn't hear I was way out, like Jimmy: yeah 🙄🙄 Jimmy: he's a fan of the low tones anyway, reckons its more intimidating Janis: hmm 👌 Janis: you could already best him and do in everything else too so bit tragic Jimmy: 🎭 weren't passed down from him Jimmy: can't hide that he's basically given up Jimmy: or pretend that we ain't 🥊 before Janis: Wanker Janis: bet he didn't even check if the kids were up and listening or nah Janis: 👍 A+ Jimmy: nowt they ain't heard or seen before Jimmy: Cass has smacked me 'cause she's seen him do it Jimmy: & cause she knows I can't give her one back 🙄 bit rude Janis: That's shit Janis: 'cos how are you stopping that now Jimmy: rather it's me than some dickhead at school or wherever who could smack her back Jimmy: she don't know how to stop when she starts Janis: Yeah, I get that Janis: my Uncle works down community centre and I know they do martial arts shit that doesn't cost a bomb to do Janis: Might help, she'd rate that regardless, yeah? Jimmy: proper anger management's off the table & she'd be more about signing up to that kind of shit anyway Jimmy: tah 👍 Jimmy: could even make some mates maybe Janis: Yeah they'd be on her level like Janis: I'll bring it up if I get the chance, won't seem like your idea then 'cos gotta be anti anything you suggest, obvs Jimmy: You're so Jimmy: I really fucking like you Jimmy: I'd kiss you but I don't know how to stop when I start either Janis: Not gonna enroll you in any classes though Janis: I like losing control with you Jimmy: I've noticed Janis: Should hope so 😏 Jimmy: looking at me like that's a decent reminder too Jimmy: if I did need Janis: I like looking at you too Janis: is this how it is, yeah? Janis: went nearly 16 whole years without and now I can't go a minute without thinking 'bout it Jimmy: it's how it is, me & you Jimmy: throwing my ex under the wheels of this van with how that sounds Jimmy: but she'd agree Janis: #special Jimmy: yeah Janis: I'd believe it Jimmy: you should Jimmy: you are Jimmy: not only 'cause you're weird Janis: you still gonna call me weird when you've met Iggy Janis: Really Jimmy: #only got eyes for you Janis: 😂 nice save Jimmy: he's alright Jimmy: rather serve him than your sister Janis: Agreed, though might ask for some weird ass tea and have you and Pete scratching your heads like Jimmy: gotta support my fellow starving artists Jimmy: even if it pisses me off that he is one for real Jimmy: better than me Janis: Shut up Janis: completely different styles, they ain't comparable Jimmy: you can't make me right now, darling Janis: 😒 don't try me, darling Jimmy: if you gotta try you've already lost, Julie Janis: well guess who's not getting an ice cream now Janis: clue, it ain't Twix Jimmy: 💔 Jimmy: I get it, you couldn't handle having to see me eat it Jimmy: I'm hot & know what I'm doing, deal with it, girl Janis: Deal with me Jimmy: put the dog down first Jimmy: didn't sign up to deal with her too Janis: soz babe, I asked him but it's a no go Janis: 🤷 Janis: 🐶💔 Jimmy: seriously come here though Janis: sure? Jimmy: go on Janis: [Sits on the floor between his legs so her head in his knee] Janis: hey Jimmy: [plays with her hair for a bit 'cause safe touching please lads there are children present] Janis: Jim why does that feel so nice what the fuck Jimmy: If I was a dickhead I'd say I'm just that good Janis: Go on then Janis: Just don't stop okay Jimmy: I told you, not good at stopping once I've started Janis: Almost a shame we've not got the long train journey now I could stay like this the whole time Jimmy: we've still got the journey back Janis: True Jimmy: can I take it down or would you be 💔? Jimmy: I'll put every hair back how I found it, not an animal Janis: You like it down, don't you Janis: it'll be a mess but 'course who am I to deny Jimmy: I just like it Jimmy: whatever it's doing Janis: You're cute Janis: Good thing I didn't let Gracie convince me to get it straightened then Jimmy: as long as you didn't throw a strop anytime I came near if you had Jimmy: loads of girls get real mardy about it Janis: White girls acting like that is mad Janis: least she's just tryna stop you leaving with a hank of hers, like, shit's no joke Jimmy: I was trying to get with this girl at a party once, white 'cause yeah it's the north she'd barely let me touch her 'cause she'd spent so long getting dolled up to drink in someone's garden Janis: Surely that's the entire point of parties or have I got that wrong suddenly like what Janis: look but don't touch, babe Jimmy: this is why you're weird & I like you Jimmy: not to become a # of not like other girls or whatever Janis: it's alright the sisterhood of #girlbossessupportinggirlbosses and #queensfixeachotherscrowns have no time or respect for me anyway so may as well go there, fuck you bitches Janis: I'm great you ain't Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: you'll be happy to hear the look but don't touch girl got her heels stuck in the grass Jimmy: turned her ankle right over Janis: 😂 Janis: That genuinely does please me Janis: what a judgmental bitch am I right Jimmy: made me laugh when I found out Jimmy: already left the party by then Janis: 😍 PLEASE Janis: don't be so hot, family present 😏 Jimmy: [kisses her anyway which Cass would be OTT grossed out about just to be a dick lol] Janis: excuse you Janis: here to make friends not enemies rn Jimmy: 'scuse you Jimmy: you know how I feel about that word Janis: okay but you started it Jimmy: where & when? Janis: by being all antisocial and #relatable before I even knew you so there and then, boy Jimmy: I reckon you started it Jimmy: Looking so Jimmy: & tasting so fucking Janis: Baby Janis: You're making this so hard, Jesus Jimmy: You Jimmy: You're making it hard Janis: [Sneaky moving her head into his lap back 'cos well] Jimmy: I told you we should have just stayed in bed Janis: Mmm, well when we're back in there you can remind me why we stay extra hard Jimmy: You know I'm too northern to have that much patience Jimmy: can't your brother make a stop? be oscar worthy & act like the dog needs a piss Janis: You're just gonna tease me and make concentrating even harder, aren't you? Jimmy: as much as I can tease you without saying fuck it & Janis: 😖 Janis: and fuck it Janis: hold on then Jimmy: doing my best Janis: This is entirely your fault Jimmy: alright Jimmy: it can be my fault Janis: I mean Janis: Still blame Twix, you don't need me to come hold your hand if you need a piss, like Jimmy: 💔 for her Janis: Really feel it 😏 Jimmy: sometimes but not right now Jimmy: Just gimme even a few minutes Jimmy: I'll say the word if it makes your mind up Janis: Go on then Jimmy: please just Jimmy: get us out of here for a sec Janis: [Be more obvious lads] Jimmy: I'm not gonna say tah & make it weird Janis: Face 😳 enough as is, babe Jimmy: yeah Janis: 🥇 Jimmy: are you coming back to sit with me or you got what you wanted now & it's a nah? Janis: Charming finding out what you think of me, boy 👌 Jimmy: not an answer is it, though Janis: [Sits with him but brings Twix 'cos she fussy] Jimmy: ['fixes' her hair but like actually 'cause he probably did mess it up soz babe] Janis: Gonna have people thinking exactly what we've been doing Jimmy: don't matter, does it? Janis: Nah Janis: no one knows me here Jimmy: [begrudgingly also strokes twix's head too 'cause squad] Jimmy: how long 'til we get there? Janis: [Smug face] Janis: not long at all but shh Twix couldn't hold it Jimmy: if you saw our kitchen floor of a morning you'd believe it Janis: sexy Janis: weren't even arsed 'bout me like just being a dutiful dog owner okay Jimmy: come on, anyone who knows me would believe THAT Janis: good thing no one 'round here does so we continue to be #goals Jimmy: bit rude Jimmy: I am #goals Janis: I know, it's me that ain't Janis: dragging you down 'fore you had a chance, 'tis rude Jimmy: Piss off Janis: 🤷 not jumping out a moving vehicle, soz Jimmy: [pulls her closer instead 'cause that's what he actually wants] Jimmy: stop Janis: Just saying, like Jimmy: keep saying and I will shut you up, whatever Cass wants to reckon 'bout it Janis: 🤐 Janis: for her sake only Jimmy: 👍 Janis: 🖕 Jimmy: lovely you Jimmy: just 'cause I'm not part of the making mates mission Jimmy: that'd probably win Cass over though actually so carry on Janis: Always thinking, mate 😏 Jimmy: hang on I'm friendzoned again 👌 Janis: you were clearly feeling left-out Jimmy: & no room for an orchestra Jimmy: gotta do what you gotta do Janis: Exactly Janis: Knew you'd understand Jimmy: very understanding me Janis: gotta be to put up with me init Jimmy: 🙄 Jimmy: what's the trouble, Jenna? Janis: What? Jimmy: you're clearly feeling less than 🥇 Jimmy: so go on Jimmy: what Janis: It's nothing Janis: I'm just Janis: trying to get your siblings to not hate me and it's a bit stressful, idk how to do that, I don't do that usually Jimmy: thank fuck for that Jimmy: not that's its stressful Jimmy: but I thought I did something wrong Janis: 'course not, you've been your usual dickhead self, you know I like that Jimmy: don't worry 'bout 'em Jimmy: there's nowt more you can do Jimmy: they were well excited to come today Jimmy: still gotta be Janis: they ain't gotta be my besties I ain't that tryhard bitch but I'm not tryna fuck shit up either like, that's all I want 'em to know Jimmy: Cass' only got a cob on 'cause she reckons now we're going out I'm gonna fuck off Jimmy: like I'll just move myself into your country mansion, rich girl Jimmy: it already pisses her off that I gotta work all the hols & leave her looking after Bobbo Janis: it's fine, they've not done anything to me, not saying that either just you know, again, not something I usually do Janis: makes sense Janis: a lot on you all howeever you work it Janis: welcome to, my Ma'd love it, new kiddos, I'll move in with and awkwardly avoid your Da, it's cool Jimmy: band-aid babies don't fix shit there's a # to get trending Jimmy: if my dad's gonna have twitter might as well make use Jimmy: least he did get the snip after tah for doing that much dad Janis: yikes, and I thought I should feel unloved being the bonus ball Janis: fucking parents, full of great ideas, in theory Jimmy: is gracie older than you? Janis: 🙄 I know, when she's such a #beta bitch in every way Jimmy: I'm so embarrassed for her Jimmy: I thought she was the bonus ball & that was her issue Jimmy: oh girl Janis: She fronts like she was so left out so unsurprising Jimmy: least she ain't first & worst 🏆 for me that Janis: Thank God for all our sakes Janis: easily rival you in dickheadness, would not survive Jimmy: piss off could she Jimmy: I'm #1 Janis: #1 in my heart, babe 😍😂 Jimmy: alright, calm down, Juliet Jimmy: I ain't gonna throw myself in the sea Janis: gutted Janis: no Mr Darcy moment Jimmy: unless Mia shows up with her iced frappe Janis: we're putting nothing past her Janis: knows my location at all times, obvs Jimmy: reckon she's implanted a tracker on you Jimmy: gonna have to thoroughly check later Jimmy: remind me Janis: 🤤 Janis: save me, babe Jimmy: 💪 Janis: how are you so hot when you're such a nerd though 🤔 Jimmy: piss off Jimmy: if you'd known who I am before these hols you'd know that ain't true Jimmy: basically ⬇ all my classes Janis: just in personality, then Janis: nah Janis: you ain't thick Jimmy: again, piss off Jimmy: #notthicknorthern Janis: 😂 Janis: exactly baby, just the accent, everyone like ?? Jimmy: my old school had like one book & a bike shed 👌 Janis: hot Jimmy: you'd have liked it, the boy was called 'how to be fucking cryptic like the paddys' Jimmy: book* Janis: Sounds useful, shoulda read it, mate Jimmy: told you, don't know how Jimmy: just faking it Janis: I'll tutor you Janis: if it gets me out of Physics Jimmy: challenge accepted Jimmy: I'll get you outta physics babe Janis: #hero Jimmy: like I said, not thick, loads of #talents Janis: Like I said, you mean Janis: 'cos I know Jimmy: consult my # Jimmy: it had the words not thick in it Janis: Don't be a smart ass now I wanna talk more about your talents Jimmy: you wanna talk 'cause you ain't seen enough or 'cause I can't give you a demo right now? Janis: 2nd one, obviously Jimmy: [kisses her 'cause obviously one of] Jimmy: that's where you were wrong but it's alright Janis: Jimmy Janis: you're such a good kisser, you know Jimmy: I'd be 💔 if you didn't reckon so 'cause I wanna kiss you again already Janis: [Kisses him back, soz Cass] Jimmy: that don't count 'cause that's you kissing me Jimmy: hang on Jimmy: [really sorry now Cass] Janis: You're pissing her off so much Janis: I'd kill you if you were my Brother Jimmy: don't try & put me off Janis: I've gotta, no more time for a break, like Jimmy: you can't Jimmy: [is just looking at her in the hottest way ever excuse him] Janis: 😳 stop looking at me like that Janis: I can't Jimmy: Cass might wanna kill me but you've got first dibs remember Janis: It's indecent how fucking good you look Janis: like all the things I wanna do to you, just about stopping short of killing, like, fuck me Jimmy: go on then Jimmy: do something Janis: You know I can't stop once I start, you sure? Jimmy: we're almost there Jimmy: it don't matter Janis: You don't wanna be walking around as turned on as I am Janis: [Sits on his lap] See? Jimmy: [has to kiss her to stop whatever sound he was gonna make from coming out 'cause nobody else needs that in their lives] Janis: I'm gonna have to go find a bathroom to touch myself in thinking about you seriously I need to cum before I can function properly you're so Jimmy: but I'm the relatable & antisocial one 👌 Jimmy: fuck Jimmy: if you'd thought about your outfit more I could be touching you right now Jimmy: get it together, girl Jimmy: Jeans Janis: sorry but you did this to me Janis: who knew that's why everyone rates skirts? never mind I was planning for a wholesome day exploring castles and cold beaches excuse you Jimmy: I'm so mad at you Jimmy: goddamn it, Jillian Janis: 😠 Janis: say my actual name dickhead Jimmy: make me, dickhead Janis: fine, Imma go think 'bout someone else, Jimmy who? Jimmy: try it Jimmy: you won't be turned on anymore, problem solved Janis: 😒 Jimmy: [REALLY goes in on kissing her again, sorry everyone] Janis: [Moaning into his mouth with lots of lip biting cos truly Iggy stop the car] Janis: I hate you a bit Jimmy: sounds fake Janis: Maybe but fuck sake why Janis: I ache Jimmy: I can't touch you, it's all I can do Janis: okay but if we get literally five minutes to ourselves you're doing it Janis: I've got blankets for the beach Jimmy: Easy Jimmy: I'll find us loads of time Jimmy: Cass can't wait to get away from me, look Janis: Unsurprised Janis: great first impression I'm making 👌 Jimmy: I'm sorry Jimmy: I'm trying but Jimmy: I want you Janis: not like I've tried that hard myself Janis: I'll do better 😇 actually Jimmy: not yet Janis: I told you I need to cum before I can function so yeah Janis: not yet Jimmy: find a way now you're 🥇 Jimmy: I'll do my bit Jimmy: [moves her 'cause he likes doing that and is so helpful] Janis: Now? When wasn't I? Jimmy: but really commit to it Jimmy: we don't have that many clothes on Janis: Oh, I see Janis: You can be quiet, can't you? Jimmy: 🤞 as quiet as you on the bus Janis: I hope so Janis: 9 brothers and sisters you learn how to be quiet with these things, especially when so many of them aren't Jimmy: just tell me how you did it & I'll do the exact same 👌 Janis: You wanna hear about all the times I fucked myself 'til I came and no one even noticed? Jimmy: well now I fucking do Jimmy: should we go up the front or is your brother gonna be more mardy than my sister? Janis: He won't notice and if he did Janis: he ain't gonna care much or be able to do anything Jimmy: You could've told me that before Jimmy: I could've been fucking you this whole time Janis: Well like I said, I had good intentions, boy Jimmy: 'scuse you my intentions are REALLY good right now Janis: Okay okay let's move Jimmy: lasses first Janis: how un-you Janis: if it weren't for the lingo Jimmy: alright, shut up Jimmy: I can barely string a sentence together Jimmy: your fault Janis: Tell me to shut up again when you're inside me, I'm gonna need reminding Jimmy: I'm gonna need to tell myself to keep it together when I am so it's not over as soon as Jimmy: very ungoals Janis: I'm not gonna last either Janis: so close it's stupid Jimmy: I want you so much Janis: least this road is bumpy as shit Janis: fuck into me without anyone knowing Jimmy: I change my mind again from whatever it is last was, that's the hottest thing you've ever said to me Janis: I'll update my list Jimmy: come here first Janis: [casual van aerobics okay lads] Janis: Fuck Jimmy: I know Janis: I can feel your dick throbbing inside me your heart is racing as fast as mine Jimmy: might actually die this time Janis: How does it feel this good we're barely moving but every slight jolt is Jimmy: I don't know Jimmy: I never done this before but we have to again Janis: Deal Janis: I love fucking you Jimmy: [gotta make him kiss her really hard for a while 'cause he nearly said it & damn] Janis: God Jimmy what have you done to me Jimmy: likewise Janis Janis: Did you feel what happened when you said my name? Janis: that happens every time Jimmy: I'll say it more Janis: I might die then Jimmy: you & me both Janis: You've gotta bite the inside of your lip and cheeks okay Janis: to be really quiet even when you cum Jimmy: it works? Janis: it might bleed Janis: just don't stop, it'll make it better, trust me Jimmy: I do Janis: I trust you too Jimmy: Janis Jimmy: I Janis: It's okay, I'm going to as well Janis: cum for me Jimmy: [kisses her again 'cause how to even do words] Janis: [After] Janis: Should sleep well tonight Jimmy: are you gonna stay? Janis: I don't have to if it's gonna cause hassle Jimmy: do you want to? Janis: 'Course Jimmy: then fuck him Jimmy: we don't even know if he's coming back himself Jimmy: could have a date Janis: Hard life, ain't it? Jimmy: You know Jimmy: back to work tomorrow Janis: You'll love it, Pete can show you how much he's missed you, like Jimmy: no tan lines to show him but plenty of bruises Jimmy: he'll love that Janis: Defs likes his girls pale anyway Jimmy: except you Jimmy: the exception we all make, like Janis: I mean Janis: exactly Jimmy: I care more 'bout how much you're gonna miss me Jimmy: soz pete Janis: 👦💔 Janis: I'll give you the play by play no doubt Janis: always blowing up my phone 😏 Jimmy: 🎻🎻🎻 I'll put classic FM on for him while we sling the lattes Jimmy: I can do radio silence if you want, mate Janis: Would not go dow well with your regulars Janis: though they'd be living for your drama Janis: don't Jimmy: what you on 'bout Mia was born to the funeral march, weren't she? Jimmy: bet she fucks to it too Janis: 😂 Jimmy: is that lad just bones now? Anyone heard from him? Janis: I'll ask around Janis: layabout I am Jimmy: call home if you've still got hands boy Jimmy: what am I on 'bout, the tongue'd be the first thing to go Jimmy: poor bastard Jimmy: 💔💔 Janis: pour one out for him Janis: iced americano to go Jimmy: that's a good shout though, do you wanna get a real drink tonight? Jimmy: even if it's just at mine or whatever Janis: Yeah sounds good Janis: I'll stop you from getting hungover if you don't call me a pisshead Jimmy: I'll cook if you don't tell your dad how shit I am Janis: Secret's safe with me Jimmy: 👍 Janis: Be good Janis: find something not shit to watch Janis: horror, of course Jimmy: I reckoned you were telling me to be good then Jimmy: like I was gonna fuck you on the kitchen table if I weren't told Janis: 😂 Janis: I mean how good have you been thus far, not the best track record but Jimmy: If the table was sturdy enough I would Jimmy: flimsy as shit though Jimmy: not trying to kill you like that Janis: Sounding like you got other plans that ain't the ones I know you mean but I'll go with it Janis: don't be poisoning my food when I trust you Jimmy: it might taste that bad Jimmy: but that's #accidental Janis: that's his story and he's sticking to it guv Jimmy: there's a film I wanna show you Jimmy: which sounds like a porno now but Jimmy: 🤞 you'll like it even though it ain't Janis: I look forward to it Janis: you know I'll let you know Jimmy: #northernclassic Jimmy: which is also what they say about Barry's skin flicks Jimmy: but that's another story Janis: 🤢 mate Janis: I cannot pretend to be into Barry, even in his prime Janis: know he's the love of your life but nah Jimmy: I get it, you're all faked out Jimmy: such a slog with me 🎻🎻 Janis: I'm working 'round the clock here, like Jimmy: god bless Janis: gimme a fucking break Jimmy: feck knows I need one 🚬 Janis: You gonna have to wait or go alone or we're looking dead suspect, boy Jimmy: I'll wait Jimmy: #truelove Jimmy: 💕 Janis: Damn Janis: Actually a bit impressed Jimmy: don't know if I'm meant to laugh or be 💔 Janis: Not being a judgy cunt about it Jimmy: #notmymissus Janis: 😒 don't take the piss Jimmy: very un me that Janis: Hmm Jimmy: You look hot when you're trying to pretend you ain't annoyed at me Janis: Who's pretending? We're brawling 🥊 Jimmy: it wasn't a challenge to make it hotter Jimmy: but alright Janis: Stop it Janis: Rude to stare, you know Jimmy: [starts a play fight 'cause he is that dickhead] Janis: Don't feel too bad you lost 😏 Jimmy: that ain't how I feel Janis: Yeah? Jimmy: can't you tell Janis: Yeah Janis: Damn you Jimmy: what did you say, actually a bit impressed? Jimmy: #same Janis: You best not be joking or I'll fuck you up again like 😉 Jimmy: 😍😍😍😍 Janis: Idk what to say when you're actually cute and Janis: shh Jimmy: I don't know what to say when you keep impressing me, my sister & the dog Jimmy: like its nowt Jimmy: get a smile out of Bobby & I'll really die Janis: 💪 Janis: always aiming for 🥇you know me baby Jimmy: go on then Janis: Um gimme time to prepare, can't rush it he'll be terrified Janis: 'specially as he's about to nod off Jimmy: give him a shoulder to put his head on Jimmy: loves a hug our kid Jimmy: 🐶 gonna beat you to it Janis: That's so fucking cute Jimmy: 📷 Janis: See, she loves yas Jimmy: him maybe, what's not to Janis: She says backatcha bitch what's your problem? Janis: Paraphrasing Jimmy: but I'm a nerd 👌 babe Janis: Bit rude Janis: Ignoring Twix like that Jimmy: stop Jimmy: I'm gonna laugh & wake 'em Janis: Blur your shot too #realpriority #tellmeimwrong #youcant Jimmy: you're such a dickhead Janis: Backatcha Janis: From me this time Jimmy: tah for making sure I knew Jimmy: 💕 Janis: lowkey needs to get her own mans Janis: dead sly coming for mine Jimmy: hang on, ain't I the third wheel? Janis: 😶 Oops Jimmy: sort yourself out, Jasmine Jimmy: bit snide & unholy that Janis: shut up Jimmy: look at Cass Jimmy: trying dead hard not to go too Jimmy: #itscatching Janis: 😎 Janis: success Jimmy: you tired? Janis: Little bit Jimmy: I've got a shoulder you can have Janis: Just the shoulder? Janis: 🤔 Janis: I'll take it Jimmy: & owt else Jimmy: depends how tired you are Jimmy: but whatever you want, you know Janis: 😍🤤😴 Janis: Me dreaming on it Jimmy: come here first Jimmy: I can't stretch that far Janis: Short arse 😋 Jimmy: Piss off Janis: Come on babe, you gotta have some tall girl jokes in ya Jimmy: maybe if I weren't thinking 'bout how long your legs are Jimmy: its distracting Janis: Is it? Janis: [Does the Sharon Stone leg cross 'cos nerd] Jimmy: remember when you said you hated me a bit Jimmy: mutual now Janis: Don't be a hater, babe Jimmy: stop Jimmy: or make use of how asleep everyone but your brother is Janis: [Comes over and puts her head on his shoulder to look up at him] Janis: What did you have in mind? Jimmy: [plays with her hair while he's 'thinking'] Janis: It's been a good day, hasn't it Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: even though that should sound fake Janis: No bullshit right now yeah Jimmy: 'course not Janis: Good Janis: I liked it too Jimmy: I like you too much for that shit Janis: We're on the same page Jimmy: 💕 Jimmy: [kisses her 'cause they cute] Janis: More please Jimmy: [kisses her harder this time 'cause she said the damn word] Janis: Never stop kissing me Jimmy: I had to, to read that, but alright Janis: Shh I just mean Janis: you know Jimmy: I know Jimmy: same page, yeah? Janis: Yeah Jimmy: But it is your turn Jimmy: not to be a dickhead Janis: My turn to what? Jimmy: kiss me Janis: Oh good Janis: Easy Janis: [Does] Jimmy: [again is too highkey about whenever she kisses him like calm down boy don't wake everyone up] Janis: I love how much you want me Jimmy: It's like I forget how good you are Jimmy: & then remember every time Janis: Not even gonna fake mad at you forgetting because that's the best way to describe it Jimmy: You're just Jimmy: how do you fucking do that? Janis: You're Janis: I don't know, I just wanna make you feel better than you ever have Jimmy: Challenge accepted & blown out the water, girl Jimmy: 🥇🥇🥇🥇 Jimmy: giving you a whole row Janis: 💕 Janis: Up for beating my own record though Janis: every time Jimmy: go on then Jimmy: give it a shot Janis: question is do we risk them waking up or my brother up front Janis: probably doesn't want to ignore me getting fucked twice in a day Jimmy: give him a break Jimmy: they sleep like the dead when they finally do Janis: Yeah? Janis: Let's put that theory to the test Jimmy: ready when you are Janis: Well I was gonna see just how ready you were my own way but if you're sure Jimmy: who am I to refuse you when #inspo strikes Jimmy: do it Janis: Been thinking about this ever since ice cream Jimmy: shit Janis: You taste better Jimmy: You're so much better than me at this silence thing Janis: [Comes up to kiss him to shh] Janis: Be good Jimmy: I'm trying Jimmy: but you're just Janis: Better? Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: alright Janis: Glad I got that in writing babe Jimmy: I don't care just don't stop Janis: Won't, this is too much fun Jimmy: It's Janis: I can feel how much you like it, you don't have to tell me Janis: the way you push your hips forward to get deeper, turning me on so much Jimmy: please tell me you've done this before Janis: No Jimmy: fuck Jimmy: I have to leave the country Jimmy: just not now Janis: Don't even think of moving unless it's further into my throat Janis: I told you, I just wanna make you fell good Jimmy: I really wanna hate you at this exact moment Jimmy: but I don't Janis: Why bother Janis: when it feels this good Jimmy: Janis Janis: Oh God Janis: Yes Jimmy? Jimmy: I don't know I just wanted to Janis: Don't worry I am so unbelievably wet for you Jimmy: I wanna taste you too Jimmy: after Janis: After you've cum in my mouth? Jimmy: & when reckon you couldn't be more turned on Janis: Actually going to kill me Janis: Actually don't care Jimmy: me either Jimmy: you can have that first of mine, it's only fair Jimmy: never made a girl cum with just my tongue before Janis: Really? Jimmy: my ex weren't into it Janis: but it feels so Janis: fuck Janis: and if you wanna do it like damn Jimmy: maybe I'm shit at it? feel free to send her your thoughts in a bit Janis: My thoughts will not be cohesive but she's welcome to hear me begging you if she's into that, like Jimmy: mine haven't been all day Jimmy: probably since I met you Janis: What did you think of me when you met me, not personality just looks Jimmy: when I met you or when I first saw you? Janis: You remember when you first saw me Jimmy: #creepyartist Jimmy: sorry Janis: It's nice Janis: I'm just surprised, 'course I remember but there's one of you and however many of us Jimmy: It was a shit lesson & I was doodling Jimmy: which I probably shouldn't tell you turned into you Jimmy: but like Jimmy: weren't gonna draw Mr Lucas was I? Janis: You absolutely should tell me that Jimmy: You wanna see it? Janis: You have it? Jimmy: It's on the page of whatever notes I bothered to do before it Janis: I wanna see it Janis: No wonder everyone fancies you Jimmy: I'll find it when we get back then Jimmy: just don't expect too much Janis: You know I like your doodles Jimmy: but I told you, you're prettier than I can draw you Janis: I don't care, I just like that you did it Jimmy: I'm not gonna date someone who isn't hot even if it's fake Janis: I really didn't think you saw me like that Jimmy: why? Janis: Well you did say you picked me so you wouldn't be tempted Janis: not that I actually expect everyone to fall at my feet but just seemed like an indication, like Jimmy: what was I gonna say? Jimmy: you're really fucking pretty please fake date me Janis: I mean yeah, hindsight Janis: IDK Jimmy: I thought you reckoned I was Jimmy: I don't know Janis: I thought you were like, stupid hot, yeah but then when you didn't take immediate advantage of that, start going out with all the popular girls and hanging with the lads I took more notice Janis: like Janis: I could tell none of that stupid shit mattered to you either but I could hardly come up to you and be like same, like you'd think I was such a dickhead and not in a cute way Jimmy: I get it Jimmy: I'm not approachable Jimmy: outside of the CG where they pay me to be Jimmy: it's deliberate Janis: But exactly, me too, hence I didn't, it's like I could work out how it'd go down 'cos of how I would have been if it was the other way 'round Jimmy: it don't matter now Jimmy: you're here Janis: You can tell me to fuck off at any time Janis: it'll only be a bit shit Jimmy: shut up Janis: Didn't mean to do this, you know Janis: but I'm not mad it happened Jimmy: I know Janis: Sorry Janis: didn't mean to make it weird ignore me Jimmy: It's not weird Jimmy: nowt more than you Janis: 😏 Jimmy: & I wanna know this shit Jimmy: even if it means I have to show you my shit #art Janis: it is not shit Janis: anyway you can always make some more you're proud of 📸 Jimmy: [snaps a pic of her 'cause he's cheeky like that] Janis: A professional would've given me some warning, boy Jimmy: so you can pose? fuck that fake shit, remember Janis: fuck that fake shit Janis: delete it if I look shit though, tah Jimmy: [shows her 'cause he ain't that rude] Jimmy: do you want me to? Janis: You can keep it Janis: just for you Jimmy: alright Jimmy: [snaps a pic of himself too] Jimmy: for you then Janis: Thanks Janis: You're pretty Jimmy: piss off Janis: Take the compliment Jimmy: gimme a better one Janis: I've been LITERALLY sucking your dick and telling you how much I love the taste what's wrong with pretty Jimmy: I don't know Jimmy: just Janis: Okay, it's cool, think of something you do like and I'll call you that instead Jimmy: leave it out Jimmy: You can say what you want Janis: No point if you don't like it Jimmy: don't be in a strop about it Jimmy: that's not Janis: I ain't, seriously Jimmy: just pretend I said nowt Janis: Jimmy, it's fine, I mean it Jimmy: it's not Jimmy: go back Jimmy: like I never said Janis: Okay Jimmy: alright Janis: [Kisses him but gentle] Jimmy: [kisses her back low key too much 'cause he's trying to erase that blip there oh boy] Janis: They really are soundo Jimmy: I told you Janis: Cute when they're sleeping Jimmy: not when you have to sleep with 'em Janis: I shouldn't keep staying over should I Janis: when you think you might get a bed to yourself, like Jimmy: do you wanna stay? Janis: Yeah but Jimmy: but what? Janis: If you need a decent night's kip just say Jimmy: just say if you don't wanna come over Janis: Is that what I said? Nah 'cos that isn't what I want Jimmy: It ain't what I said or want either Janis: Have to check, that's all Jimmy: why? Jimmy: why do you have to? Janis: 'Cos I told you I didn't wanna go Home and I'd hate for you to feel like you gotta have me, I want you to want me Jimmy: don't be a dickhead Jimmy: I want you Janis: Alright Janis: Good Jimmy: [kisses her 'cause gotta prove it now like] Janis: Fuck baby Janis: Are we friends again? 😏 Jimmy: do you kiss your mates like that? Janis: What mates? Jimmy: [starts kissing her neck instead and just moving to where he can 'cause clothes are a thing sadly for them but not sadly for everyone else] Janis: It's like that, huh? Okay Jimmy: I'm just getting out of the friendzone babe Janis: Such a smartarse Janis: Show me what we are I want it Jimmy: where? Janis: [#exposes dem collarbones] Here Jimmy: [don't have to tell him twice okay] Janis: That's going to look so fucking pretty Jimmy: I'll 📷 when it's ready Janis: Why does that get me so Janis: do Jimmy: I'll go all night Jimmy: me and the camera Janis: Jesus Jim Janis: Please fuck me right now I miss having you that close Jimmy: [Can't say no to a please ever so] Janis: How do you know exactly what I like Janis: Seriously Jimmy: how do you know what I like? Janis: Maybe we don't question it Janis: just so glad you do Jimmy: It's just Jimmy: I reckon I know that you'll like it before I even do it Janis: I feel that Janis: like I should be second-guessing everything probably but I'm just Janis: not Jimmy: you shouldn't be second guessing nowt Jimmy: you're Jimmy: you're fucking incredible at all of this Janis: It feels incredible Jimmy: You could probably make me cum without properly touching me Jimmy: 'cause you're just 🥇 you know Janis: Maybe we'll put that to the test later but I like touching you too much right now to stop Jimmy: & I want you to touch me all the time Janis: I just keep thinking how hard it'll be to be in lessons with you now I know all the things we could be doing instead, like Jimmy: we won't go Jimmy: fuck it Janis: Sorry teachers sorry parents 😋 Jimmy: sorry ain't how we'll feel Janis: nope Janis: and we can be as loud as we want because everyone else will have fucked off and it'll just be us all day Jimmy: you can be as loud as you want Jimmy: I always am Janis: It's your house though I can't start screaming casually 😂 Jimmy: like you said, it's my house Jimmy: so yeah you can Janis: 🤤 Janis: okay whatever you say Jimmy: you can show me how loud you wanna be Jimmy: when you don't have to be anything else Janis: that sounds so good Jimmy: 'til I find out you just wanted to be a horny mute this whole time Jimmy: 💔 Janis: shut up Janis: like you don't know all the things I wanna say to you whilst I can still be coherent Jimmy: I like it when you can't Janis: Fuck me harder then, they're not waking and Iggy ain't looking Jimmy: lose control for me Jimmy: really Janis: Don't let me stop okay Jimmy: you won't 'cause I won't Janis: Don'thold bac, I want it so hard Jimmy: Challenge accepted, don't worry Janis: Thank fuck I met you Janis: I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else and I need this Jimmy: I need you Janis: I'm here, I'm all yours Jimmy: [more kissing 'cause boy shut your damn mouth you're testing me] Janis: [is whisper moaning into his ear, holding onto his neck] Jimmy: [doing his best to make her be louder as per] Jimmy: come on Jimmy: I know that isn't how loud you wanna be Janis: What if he hears Jimmy: after everything we did earlier, does that matter? Jimmy: [puts music on from his phone though 'cause considerate] Jimmy: alright? Janis: Not gonna take time to critique your musical tastes 'cos yes, so alright right now Jimmy: piss off it's a tune Janis: 😂 Janis: I'm not really listening, not gonna lie Jimmy: Can't fake 💔 right now Jimmy: you've got my attention Janis: Watch me Janis: Watch me cum all over your cock again and again and listen to every sound that comes with Jimmy was timed out 6 hours ago Jimmy joined the chat 3 hours ago Jimmy: [makes his own fair share of sounds including saying her name 'cause damn] Janis: 💕 Jimmy: 😍 Janis: I have no words left Jimmy: challenge accepted Janis: I can't Jimmy: [just doing what he can to get her to talk 'cause living for it] Janis: Jimmy Jimmy: Janis Janis: Fucking Janis: I Janis: You're gonna make me say some stupid shit Jimmy: I told you, you can say what you want Janis: You make me feel so good Jimmy: You do to me Janis: Good Janis: That's all I wanna do Jimmy: don't stop then Janis: Yeah? Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: [gotta use my kiss escape hatch again 'cause shhh boy] Janis: Baby Janis: [Takes his phone and turns the music up 'cos] Jimmy: I'm never gonna be able to listen to this song again without you, am I? Janis: Not sorry Jimmy: You're Jimmy: you sound better Janis: It's you Janis: I didn't know boys made noise too Jimmy: Just me & Barry, like Janis: Don't 😂 Janis: Appreciate the efforts to turn me off but Jimmy: [redoubles his efforts to keep her turned on instead] Janis: Oh Jimmy: 💕 Janis: I like you Jimmy: I like you too Janis: Same page yeah Jimmy: for real Janis: [Kisses him 'til they finish] Jimmy: [snuggles her after 'cause he's soft] Jimmy: do you wanna sleep too? Janis: [puts her head in his lap and stretches out] Janis: maybe Janis: are you going to too? Jimmy: [plays with her hair again 'cause fave] Jimmy: maybe Janis: This is nice Janis: let's stay like this for a while Jimmy: 👌 Janis: 😊 Jimmy: [is obviously really sleepy pulling them Cass fighting sleep moves] Janis: [Reaches up, is massaging his neck and shoulders] Janis: Sleep time Jimmy: oh Janis: You're tense baby, let me help you Jimmy: when you put it like that Janis: [Goes harder 'cos course she knows how, Cali kid] Janis: Tell me if it's too much Jimmy: Nah it's Jimmy: Good Janis: Good Jimmy: fuck's sake Jimmy: is there anything you can't do? Janis: Why are you mad, you're benefitting, aren't you? Jimmy: 'cause you're like perfect Jimmy: not part of the deal Janis: don't be stupid Janis: I'm a dickhead yeah Jimmy: You ARE a dickhead Jimmy: gonna be more of one when school starts yeah? Jimmy: star of the classroom Janis: for you, yeah Janis: 😍 so blatant Jimmy: it'll gimme summat to draw so tah Janis: long as you show me Jimmy: [traces the 😍 on her with his finger 'cause nerd] Janis: you've given me goosebumps Jimmy: 💕 Jimmy: [snuggles her though 'cause they just cute nerds bye] Janis: Thanks Janis: for today Jimmy: you sorted it Jimmy: it's your shout Janis: Yeah but you lot came Janis: I haven't had a decent day like that in a while, what I'm saying Jimmy: I get it Jimmy: us either Janis: Not to be weird about it Janis: Obvs Jimmy: not you Jimmy: just wouldn't Janis: Cheek 😏 Jimmy: don't sound like me either that Janis: Nah Janis: so normal so #basic Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: [is a yawny boy] Janis: Come on now Janis: Swap places with me Jimmy: alright Janis: [Strokes his hair] Jimmy: that's Janis: Shh Janis: Just enjoy it Jimmy: but we're gonna be back soon, aren't we? Janis: I mean don't think I can carry you, Cass and Bobs in, yeah but Jimmy: just wake me up in time Jimmy: not like when you made us miss our stop Janis: Holding that against me like you didn't love it okay Janis: don't think Igs is gonna drive 'round Dublin all day, it's good Jimmy: shh Jimmy: I'm just enjoying this Janis: [Leans down to kiss him too] Jimmy: I really am Janis: 💕 Janis: Fucking nerd Jimmy: you Jimmy: I'm 😎 Janis: 😏 saw my snap then Jimmy: it was #art babe Jimmy: loved it Janis: Only 'cos I made you look good, bighead Janis: 👀 you Jimmy: keeping up your part of the deal & then some Jimmy: [is clearly falling asleep though] Janis: You know it, babe Jimmy: 👍

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