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potatomountain · 9 months

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My Filthy Boy- part 3

Witch!bf!Wooyoung x reader x witch!ateez ot8

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Word count: 5.2k

AN: took me absolutely forever but here it is! Part 3! I’d say my biggest challenge for this series is figuring out the different ways m/f/m can screw and which ways fit which boys :’) I will be putting Smut tags below the cut and taglist at the bottom! Ask/comment to be put on the taglist! also no idea who to do next ^^’ so will probs be awhile before i put out part 4. Also i apologize cuz bottom woo just got out of hand for me- haha whoops

reminder i dont edit my works and i dont update frequently.

Smut tags/warnings: switch wooyoung, switch reader, dom ???, cumeating, mxm, mxf, mxfxm, threesome, oral (male receiving) slight degradation, slight food play(?), orgasm denial, squirting, fingering, praise, overstimulation, slight breathplay (if you squint), use of petnames (baby girl, pretty girl, baby boy, princess, kitten, etc), let me know if i missed any :’) “mommy” kink.

You weren't expecting Mingi to still be there when you woke up, but it was Wooyoung not-so-quietly shooing him away that had caused you to stir. You briefly caught his bare back leaving the room. With a sleepy stretch, you reached out for Wooyoung, the soft sound drawing his attention.

He turned with a bright smile, quickly making his way over and sitting on the edge of the bed before covering your upper body with his in a makeshift hug. “Good morning sleepy head.” “Mm… I can’t believe you’re awake before me.” With a sleepy smile you wrapped your arms around him, quickly entangling yourself in his limbs.

“I wanted to shoo Mingi away before he asked for round two.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there. “He wanted to wake you up with a surprise.” You shivered at the idea of just what that surprise could be, and truthfully you wouldn’t have minded at all. But- “Other’s first right?”

“Mhmm, my girl knows what’s up.” Nibbling on your ear the nature of his touches quickly changed tune, his hands gripping your hips while his own grinded into your thigh.

If you didn't know any better, you would think that sex was the only thing on your boyfriend’s mind. Most of the time it probably was, and right now you didn’t mind. Your curiosity was more than peaked on the others, and not just because you had been thinking about them for days now. No, after Mingi, you could say you were eager to try them all on for size.

Your stomach protested your current train of thought, Wooyoung’s lips pausing on your collarbone and you could feel them spread into a smirk. “I think my baby needs to be filled with something else first.” He teased, pulling away reluctantly, letting his hands run over your still naked body and admiring every inch he exposed by pushing the blanket off you. “Then I’ll fill you up just how you like it.”

Rolling your eyes you climbed off the bed and away from him, looking for your discarded clothes. “Shower, then food, and then we can talk about next. Okay?”

Pouting, he followed you around the room as you picked up your clothes and his. “But that’s no fun! Can we have shower sex and then eat?”

“No.”

“But-”

Sighing, you turned to him and placed your hands on your hips. “Wooyo, I’m hungry, pleeeease let me eat before you wear me out again.”

Despite his playful smirk, he nodded and saluted. “Yes Ma’am! What baby wants, baby gets.”

He did behave well enough in the shower, going so far as washing you and showering your body with kisses as he dried you off. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you felt closer to him than before. Safer and more loved. He also seemed a bit happier.

You humored him and wore one of his t-shirts and sweats, leaving your underwear off as they needed washed. With the way things were going between you and the others in this household, modesty wasn’t your biggest concern. Besides, they all had seen you butt ass naked and getting rammed by Wooyoung, there wasn’t much of a point in trying to remain modest.

That didn’t make it any less awkward when the two of you walked into the kitchen, Wooyoung behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, to find Seonghwa cooking.

He turned to see who entered, eyes locking onto you and widening several degrees. “Ah, good morning you two.”

You tried to return his awkward smile but Wooyoung was rushing you over to the breakfast bar to sit you down. “Morning Hyung! Is any of that for us? It smells sooooo good.”

“Mhmm, I figured you both would be hungry.” His eyes lingered on you for a moment before turning back to the stove. “I can call for you when it’s ready.”

“Nah, we’ll just hang out here until then, that’s fine.” Wooyoung helped you up into the stool and then made his way over to the fridge to get you both some juice. “You don’t mind, do you Hyung?”

“Not at all.” And yet his back seemed to be much more tense than when the two of you had entered.

Whether or not Wooyoung picked up on it, he didn’t seem to care. “Perfect!” He poured two glasses of juice and brought them over to you. Setting one down in front of you he climbed into the seat next to yours but moved it closer. “Then I can love on you some more in the meantime.” With a bit of a pout you brought the glass to your lips. “You are really insatiable aren’t you?”

“Only for you, love.”

“Didn’t seem like that last night.” You teased, voice low in an attempt to keep the conversation to yourself.

“Ah that’s right, you’ve never seen me suck a cock before. Though you still do it better.” Wooyoung, however, kept his tone normal, not even caring if Seonghwa overheard.

By his red ears, he definitely heard. Unlike Wooyoung, he had enough decency to keep quiet, but at the same time you wished he wouldn’t. What did Seonghwa have to say on this? He was the one who made sure everyone was fed and kept the place clean, usually by Hongjoong’s side or scolding the others when things went wrong. A true mother figure.

But fuck he was gorgeous, you could only imagine the expressions he would make, or the sounds he’d let out. It was hard to get a clear picture because you weren’t sure what to expect really. You had ever pegged Mingi for the type to eat pussy like his life depended on it. Or to be so desperate for it. Even Wooyoung, you hadn’t expected him to enjoy watching you get railed so much.

So in what way was Seonghwa going to surprise you?

“I’m excited to see what else you can do, baby boy.” Trying to take your mind off the other man in the room, you turned in your seat to face your boyfriend who had quite the smirk on his face. “What?”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one you are curious about, kitten.”

You shrugged, taking another sip of your juice as you mulled over for an answer. You could be honest and shameless, or you could feign ignorance and let Wooyoung play the game of getting it out of you. Both options sounded tempted, but really you wondered which would rile up Seonghwa.

You didn’t have to tell Wooyoung that’s what you wanted, he probably gathered that just from the way your eyes were raking over every inch of the older man’s back in the pastel shirt he wore. “I’ll admit, I’m curious about a lot of things. You opened Pandora's box, how do you plan to take responsibility?”

Wooyoung pulled himself closer and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a kiss to your shoulder before resting his chin there. “By making sure the love of my life is always satisfied.”

Your heart swelled at his comment, resting your head against his. “I would constantly need an appetite to keep up with you though.”

“Don’t you already?” He placed kisses to your cheek, his hand rubbing your stomach gently before slipping up your shirt to continue his soft circles.

Before all this, you would deny that, but now you weren’t so certain. Wooyoung was being sweet and loving, and yet your gaze kept moving to the silent figure in the room. Yes, it seemed you had a much larger appetite than you had thought; not that you were about to admit that. “Your appetite seems to be much bigger than I thought, so I’m not so sure about that.”

“What makes you say that?” There was a cocky smirk in his tone and you could feel it as his lips moved to your neck with small open mouthed kisses. His hand moved lower over your stomach but instead of stopping him, you just gripped your glass a bit tighter.

“For one, you haven’t been able to stop touching me since we woke up.” You pointed out, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes.

He chuckled, not at all threatened by your tone. “You aren’t stopping me though.” He leaned in closer, nibbling on your earlobe and glancing out of the corner of his eye towards Seonghwa. “How long do you think I can finger fuck you before Seonghwa notices?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer, his hand cupping your mound and running a finger over your lips, finding irrefutable proof that you were enjoying this. On the other side of the island, Seonghwa dropped whatever utensil he was using to cook on the floor, a loud bang ringing out followed by a curse under his breath as he bent down to get it. Only because you were watching him did your eyes meet when he glanced up; and it was that moment Wooyoung chose to push not one but two fingers into your cunt and stretch you out.

You weren’t very subtle in hiding your reaction, eyes widening a little and your lips parting with the softest gasp. You swore you saw Seonghwa’s gaze darken, the way he licked his lips hitting your core just like Wooyoung’s fingers were.

There was no way to deny that Seonghwa knew just what Wooyoung was doing to you, but by the clench of his jaw he had no intention of saying anything at this point. Which, just disappointed you… you wanted him to say something. No- you wanted Seonghwa to beg.

Mingi had been so eager that you had actually enjoyed it, to be wanted so desperately by someone other than Wooyoung- in particular one of his dear friends that would be considered off limits. The immorality of it that most people might frown on was really quite exhilarating, and part of you wanted to see that same reaction, that same eagerness, in the others. Of course it might be quite the ego boost to have them fawning over you.

Yet Seonghwa wasn’t the type to fawn, that you knew of at least, over someone else’s girl. Even if this whole situation allowed it- Seonghwa was just too respectful of a person. He proved it by tearing his gaze from yours and turning his back.

For a short moment disappointment and even shame filled you, but your boyfriend made quick work of pushing those emotions to the back burner. Wooyoung curled his fingers and rubbed just where he knew would drive you crazy, teeth scraping against the shell of your ear with a teasing chuckle.

"Wooyo-" Gently you warned even if it lacked any conviction, your hips moving in tune with the rhythm he was setting for himself.

"Hyung won't care, make some noise baby."

You felt differently, setting the glass on the counter and pushing it a bit out of the way, you gripped his arm with the intention of stopping him. "I think he will." Again the protest came out weak, breathless as you bit down on your lip to hide a moan.

Despite your words, Wooyoung was wooyoung and went the little shit route: he called out to Seonghwa. "Hyung! Want to hear the pretty sounds she makes?"

"Woo-ah!" Your protest immediately died as he pushed in a third, pumping them in at a pace that was making it difficult to think.

"Or do you want to make her cum?" There was a challenge in his tone, and you weren't sure if it was that or his words that had Seonghwa stiffening. He didn't turn…. But he didn't deny any of it either.

It was enough.

You were close to coming, breathing heavily as you stared at the back of the man across from the counter. Shame filled you for just a moment at the realization you were going to come on your boyfriend's fingers in the middle of the kitchen while desiring the other man in the room. The shame only doubled when you moaned out his name.

Wooyoung chuckled in your ear, leaving a love bite just under the lobe. "Even my little baby wants you to Hyung, are you going to disappoint her?"

The stove was off in the next second, Seonghwa busying himself with plating three plates. "Disappoint her? Anything you do to her will be a disappointment if I make her cum, do you really want to risk that?"

Wooyoung pulled his fingers out of you as he stepped aside, bringing them up to his lips. "Is that a challenge?"

"Not much of a challenge against you, brat. Especially if she can suck dick better than you." He quipped back, finally turning to you both, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Didn't even let you come, did he, pretty girl?"

You whined out, shaking your head and clenching your thighs together.

"And he was promising to always keep you satisfied? Tsk tsk." The glare he sent Wooyoung's way had you clenching around nothing and your boyfriend shivering. Everything that had been said he had heard, using it against Wooyoung in a degrading way.

And you knew he was enjoying it, the way he bit down on his lip just gave it away.

Seonghwa set one of the plates down on the island and then patted the spot next to it. "Come here Princess, I'll take care of you properly."

Perhaps you were far too eager with the way you jumped off the stool and rounded the corner. Seonghwa didn't seem to mind, turning to you when you stopped just before him and where he had patted. Before you could scramble up, his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you with ease. It caught you by surprise, staring down at him with wide eyes. The pretty man in pastels, the figurative mother of the coven, and he was staring you down with such intense desire he didn't seem so sweet now.

It just made you even more excited; the way his eyes ran over your body and fixated on first your chest, then your core, saying nothing as he licked his lips. Rubbing your thighs together you cleared your throat to garner his attention. "Seonghwa?"

"Yes pretty?"

His hands were still on your hips but he was making no other move, leaving you unsure of where this was really going. You glanced back at Wooyoung, only for your chin to be grabbed and you were forced to look back at Seonghwa. "Don't look at him, I'm in charge now."

The tension in the room shifted as his voice lowered, a dominating edge that had both you and Wooyoung straightening your posture. "You gunna take care of me then?" You whined out, fluttering your lashes and even pouting out your lips. Wooyoung had worked you up only to deny your orgasm, and you were far too curious about this new side of Seonghwa to give a damn about anything else.

He smirked, a devilish grin that hit you right in the core. "Mmm yes, but you have to eat first."

“Eat?” Perplexed, you glanced down at the food next to you. “Do you have a food kink or something?”

Behind you, Wooyoung was fighting off laughter, no longer sitting at the counter but making no move to join the two of you just yet. “Or something… better listen baby.” “Or what? I can handle you just fine.” You spat back, not at all intimidated by Wooyoung’s smirk. Perhaps you should be a bit worried, a sudden grip on your jaw forcing you to face who should intimidate you. Something about the way he held your chin so firmly with the way he gaze down at you in an almost condescending manner left you breathless. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the realization that sweet caretaker Seonghwa… was a brat tamer. And one thing you and Wooyoung had in common was your brattiness in the bedroom.

The idea of him taming you, playing with you, had arousal swimming in your core. The smirk Seonghwa wore showed he knew just what effect he did have on you. "Start eating, pretty girl, and I'll take even better care of you."

The demand was easy enough, and curiosity fed your appetite that you picked up the first bite without hesitation. Seonghwa looked pleased, wiggling two fingers in Wooyoung's direction in a come here motion. You watched, taking another bite as your boyfriend obeyed so easily. You could learn a thing or two from him, you decided, as getting Wooyoung to obey was never so easy for you.

"And you, apparently you need a lesson on how to suck a cock. Been so out of practice she can do it better huh? That's no good Wooyo, on your knees." Seonghwa's tone was different from what you were used to, a bit huskier and deeper, dripping with command that made you want to obey.

Wooyoung was a bigger brat than you were though, crossing his arms over his chest. "What? I don't get any warm up kisses or anything? At least she gets food."

"She's going to be a good girl for me, isn't she?" At Seonghwa's question he turned to look at you, mouth full of food as you had eagerly been stuffing the very delicious dish down. His lips pulled up into an amused smirk, a chuckle leaving him. "Already such a good girl."

The praise had your knees weak and thighs pressing together, a small noise of approval escaping your lips before swallowing.

Wooyoung huffed. "Why should I then? I can fuck her better than you can."

He shrugged, stepping closer to you and pushing your knees apart. "Sure you can-"

"Hyung-"

"I'm going to test that theory." Seonghwa cut his protests off as he pressed himself closer to you, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "How do you like the food?"

His breath on your ear had your own hitching, staring over his shoulder at your pouty boyfriend. "It's good."

Despite the nature of the conversation, his hands were running over the sweats and over your hips, dipping his thumbs under the hem and tugging them down. "Keep eating, I want that plate empty." He placed a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before he was lifting you up enough to pull your sweats down. Eager, you helped kick them off onto the floor beneath him, still obeying and taking another bite of food.

You had no idea what was going through Seonghwa's head, already thrown off by his behavior as you really hadn't expected your pants to be gone so fast. With a tap to your inner knees he asked you to spread, so you did, bringing your ass to the edge of the counter and legs spread as wide as they could comfortably.

He admired how slick your pussy was on display, running his thumb unashamedly over your folds and biting down on his lip with his brows pulled together. "Fuck it's so pretty-"

In your anticipation you stopped chewing, watching his finger run gingerly up and down and coat itself in your slick. Wooyoung stood right next to Seonghwa, eyes fixated on his hand as well, his own gripping the bulge in his pants eagerly. The action wasn't lost to Seonghwa who reached over and slapped his hand away.

"Good boys get rewards; and what do you need to do to be a good boy?"

"Get on my knees." The whimper that left his mouth affected you just as much as Seonghwa's slender finger pushing into your hole. As he climbed down to his knees you couldn’t decide if you wanted to watch him or the way Seonghwa was exploring your cunt, not even paying attention to Wooyoung on his knees now.

Instead, he lifted one hand up to cup your jaw, finger and thumb pressing your stuffed cheeks. “Keep chewing pretty girl. I told you I want that plate clean.” He apparently left out the part that he wasn’t going to make it easy for you, the twist of his finger inside your walls making it difficult to focus on the food in your mouth let alone the taste.

But you were going to try; just as Wooyoung was tugging Seonghwa’s slacks open and bringing his mouth to the obvious bulge straining against the fabric of his underwear. He seemed to know just what to do, reminding you that he’s done things like this with his coven before. It just excited you even more to think of Seonghwa railing your boyfriend, making him a drooling mess too fucked out to be a brat. The way he listened to Seonghwa without much fuss, so eager to be good for him, just added the image.

Swallowing, you took another large bite, eyes fixated on Wooyoung exposing Seonghwa more, the weight of his cock now resting along his cheek and over his eye. You nearly choked on your food at the size of him, a bit bigger than you were expecting as well. Were all of Wooyoung’s coven hung?

The thought was banished from your mind as another finger was pushed inside, stretching you out before curling and once more exploring your inner walls. He had dropped his hand from your chin to reach down and thread his fingers through Wooyuong’s hair and force his head back, his gaze following suit. He had both you and Wooyoung wrapped around his finger so easily it was a bit shocking.

With obvious fascination you watched Seonghwa’s cock disappear into your boyfriend’s mouth inch by inch, drool spilling out around his girth until his balls were sitting on his chin and Wooyoung was gagging with how deep he was.

You couldn’t remember a hotter sight, nor think of one.

Seonghwa’s fingers rubbing right against your sweet spot had you moaning around your mouthful, reminding you that you had a task to do. Swallowing the bite, a moan escaping you as he brought his thumb up to rub your clit.

“Seonghwa-” You whined out, food forgotten as you glanced down, gasping at the scene before you.

“Hm?” He didn’t look up, his focus on Wooyoung as he guided him along his length as if actually teaching him how to properly suck a cock. His thumb and fingers moved at the same slow agonizing pace he moved Woo.

It wasn’t enough for you. “I- please-”

“Please what? Use your words pretty girl.”

The pet name had your head a little fuzzy to reply right away, trying to find the right words increasingly difficult as his ministrations continued. “I wanna- no more teasing, I wanna cum.” You blissfully whined out, hands gripping the edge of the marble beneath you, legs spreading wider hoping that would push him deeper.

Instead his fingers halted, a curious tilt to his head as he looked you over before zoning in on your half eaten plate. “When your food is gone, that was the deal wasn’t it?”

You whined out, reaching for his wrist to try and force more friction, even if it was you doing all the work fucking yourself on his palm. He flicked your clit with his thumb in response, shaking his head and letting go of Wooyoung to grab your hand off his. He muttered your name in a warning tone, excitement running down your spine like a shiver at the promised punishment lying under his tone.

But you really did want to come, Wooyoung’s teasing from before and now the beautiful image of him choking himself on Seonghwa left you needy and greedy for sweet release. So you obliged.

Seonghwa waited until you had taken two full bites before his fingers started to pump into you again, his thumb rubbing soft tantalizing circles around your nub, stopping every time you stopped chewing or your hips grew desperate. His other hand had gone back to Wooyoung, keeping him in line and controlling the pace.

You did your best to eat bite after bite, soft moans leaving you every time you got close but Seonghwa could tell, already attuned to your body, and he would stop. He had no intention of letting you come until your plate was clean but that just excited you even more. He wasn’t unaffected by Wooyoung either, the soft gagging sounds of the man on his knees and the drool dripping out of his mouth seemed to urge Seonghwa on further.

Wooyoung already looked so fucked out, tears brimming his eyes and drool running down his chin with his hair a mess from Seonghwa’s grip. He had brought one of his hands up to stroke the base of his Hyung’s swollen member, matching his pace. It was difficult to focus on the food with such a sight before you paired with Seonghwa’s fingers making a mess out of your cunt. He was well aware of the dwindling food on your plate, and just when you had a bite left his pace quickened, particularly his hips thrusting to face fuck Woo who took it so diligently. “That’s it, you know what I want don’t you?” His tongue was hanging out, longer than you thought it would be, panting. “Come on, I wanna come with our pretty girl.”

No sooner had you swallowed your last bite did his fingers begin to work furiously, pumping up into you and rubbing against your gummy walls just right while rubbing your clit as well. Quickly grabbing the edge of the counter you found yourself lifting your hips to meet his thrusts, whining and breathlessly begging to come this time.

Your own sounds were echoed by muffled versions from Wooyoung, your eyes locking as the pace kept building, that familiar twist in your stomach getting tighter and tighter by the second. It was when Seonghwa let out the sweetest, deep guttural groan of praise that the coil snapped. You came hard, your essence squirting out of you and coating both Seonghwa’s forearm and even hitting your boyfriend’s cheeks just as Seonghwa’s hips stuttered to a halt.

Wooyoung gagged, gripping Seonghwa’s pants as tears ran down his cheeks, choking on Seonghwa’s cum just as your own coated his features.

Your own head was spinning, aftershocks twitching through your body as you rode out your high on Seonghwa’s fingers. Seonghwa stepped away a moment later, leaving Wooyoung gasping for air and you whining at the sudden absence of his appendages. “Good little pets, the both of you.” He started out, locking eyes with you as he sucked your slick off his hand. “Listened so well.”

“I want more.” Despite how hard your climax had been, it wasn’t enough.

Seonghwa lifted a brow, gaze moving from you down to Wooyoung who was rubbing his raw throat, a mess of drool and tears. “She really is perfect for such a whore like you Wooyoung, I think you should show me how you take care of her.”

At his words, you shared a look with Wooyoung, watching his swollen lips turn up into a smirk. “Gladly. Come here kitten, I’ll fill you up just how you like it.” He patted his lap and you happily slid off the counter to straddle his legs, crashing your lips to his. You could taste Seonghwa’s cum on his lips, especially when he pushed his tongue between your lips to mingle with yours. His hands pushed your shirt up and gripped your hips, grinding you against the bulge in his pants and making a bigger wet spot than there already was. Seonghwa wasn’t going to be forgotten, his hands gripping your waist above Wooyuong’s hands as he brought his lips to your neck. Your own hands were working Wooyoung’s pants off him, wanting him free and inside you. “You looked so good taking his cock baby.” You muttered against his lips, lifting your hips with their help and adjusting so the next second his entire length was pushed into your cunt. “S-so fucking good.”

Wooyoung whimpered, eyes glazed over with pure bliss as he bucked his hips up. “You were so fucking hot kitten, coming all over my face like that. I wanted to come on the spot.” His hips slamming up into you erratically enough that you could tell he was moments away from coming. Getting face fucked really must have turned him on, and the idea drove you wild.

Seonghwa tutted in your ear, his hands moving up your shirt to cup your chest, pinching the peaks between his thumb and forefingers. “Are you going to fill her up now? Doesn’t our pretty girl deserve it?” Wooyoung nodded, breathing heavily as he twisted his hips to angle himself deeper. Your head fell back, moans pouring from your lips at the sensations. “N-not going to stop until it’s spilling out of that pretty cunt of hers.” “That’s right.” The man behind you practically purred out, hand slithering down and working at your still sensitive clit. “And what do you say when you come?” He tilted your body back with his other arm, breathing on the back of your neck as he kept kneading your breast and rubbing furiously at your clit. Still sensitive from earlier, you were a moaning mess in his hands, trying to follow their conversation. “I- ngh- I thank her. F-fuck gunna come. Gunna fill you up until you’re leaking my cum for days Mommy.”

Caught off guard by the name spilling from Wooyoung in such a blissful moan had your walls clenching around him and once more coming and crying out. Like with Mingi, there was something else mixed into this moment, something that made his cum spilling into you and the breath on your neck feel so much more.

Wooyoung was coating your womb with his seed, too fucked out to even breath or do more than whimper out as his body shook beneath you. Seonghwa held you still, continuing to rub your clit until it was painful and you found yourself coming again from overstimulation. “Wooyoung-” He warned when the man beneath you finally opened his eyes, too dazed to really focus on Seonghwa but smiling up at you in pure bliss.

“Thank you Mommy. Felt so good.” His breathless words were like a punch to the gut in the right ways. In love with him all over again you leaned down for a messy kiss, this time the slight glow of his eyes was unmistakable.

You felt like you could devour your sweet boy whole right there, but Seonghwa pulled you back and up, turning your head to steal a quick breathless kiss himself. “You did so good for me, pretty girl, I’ll clean you both up.” When he stood up and fixed his clothes it was like a switch was flipped and he was back to sweet Seonghwa ready to take care of everyone. You didn’t question it, feeling full and worn out and totally spent; you just collapsed next to Wooyoung and rested your head on his shoulders, your hand finding his naturally to intertwine your fingers.

The pleased hum Wooyoung let out as he nuzzled closer had a smile spreading across your face. “I love you, baby boy. But I think you’ll need to give me a bit more details about what I’m getting myself into. Mommy?”

“I’ll tell you later- love you kitten.”

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Taglist, and those i think would appreciate it ^^': @candypop1611 @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @sookacc @sanniessnails @simplyalfie @spooo00oky @diamondjen03 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @hyucka02 @sweetmoonlight9 @gugggu6gvai / @starillusion13 / <3

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piningprecussionist · 5 months

Note

Howdy, Pine! Can we get three headcanons for all your favorite Scott Pilgrim characters? :-)

Oh absolutely!!!! Lemme think for a minute...

((FUTURE FUTURE ME: I LITERALLY JUST PROCESSED YOU SAID THREE HEADCANONS IM SO SORRY--- YOU WILL UNDERSTAND 😭))

Okay I had a whole thing here, but we're gonna try this again but slightly more Hinged-- forcing myself to format so things don't get out of hand again. I will HAPPILY elaborate, though!!

((Whoop this is future me. This post is going to be so long if I dont do this, so I'm going to put this all under the cut! I'll try to remember to come back up here with the characters I talk about- alternative, should I not do that, maybe check the tags! I'll try to only tag the people I'm directly talking about))

KIM PINE

sexuality: very likely canonically Bi, I am a very big fan of her being a comp. het. lesbian, though (I get this both from my read of the comics/her character and just me Injecting myself into my favorite characters ✌️)

pronouns: she/her usually, but I think she'd be very open and vibe with they/them (me injecting myself again, but also she's just chill like that. I think she prefers if strangers use they/them for her, and her friends or partners use she/her. I'm undecided if she prefers her partners call her their girlfriend or their partner, though.)

Characters I think she has feelings for: RAMONA FLOWERS, Lisa Miller, (MAYBE Scott Pilgrim, still)

Elaboration on that:

I honestly think I can just. Point at some comic panels for Ramona. And the goat thing again. They make me Unhinged that's how canon that is.

Lisa!!! My beloved!!! I think she had a tiny crush on her in high school and had no idea that it was a crush until way later in life- maybe shortly after seeing her again, actually. But like. She's so obviously smiley and happy when she's around, I really can't help but read it that way! She, at the very least, gets an extreme mood boost in her presence, so she really likes having her around.

Scott Pilgrim.... *scrubbing at my face* okay. Okay. So, I have a couple different reads on her feelings for Scott, they're kind of complicated for me to dismantle. Especially since I haven't started my reread of book 6 (I've been giving my thumbs a break, which I am currently prolonging but I have been DYING for someone to ask me to talk about this series.) I'm going to go with my more canon read and leave it at that I think, because it's already becoming this text wall.

Scott was really important to her, I think. She's this aloof, sullen, bitchy girl and she knows it- and then this dorky idiot walks into her life and they really hit it off! They date, they have really sweet, private moments together- it's everything to her. It's someone loving her in spite of the hard shell she initially puts out, and managing to reach her soft, easily bruised heart in ways no one had before. But then he left so abruptly, and that heart was crushed under the weight of her own ribcage. I think she carried that hurt with her every day from that point- I don't imagine her having a particularly roaring love life after that. I think she kept that hurt bottled, and it made any relationships she DID attempt fall apart. It's a wound she's been nursing for way, way too long, and I think she knows that- that's why she wants so badly to forget about it. But then she goes to Toronto and runs into Scott again at the lowest point in his life, and she can't get herself to step away, because this is the only person who ever claimed to love her in a way she felt. I think her decision to stay was sort of... detrimental to her moving on. If she'd detatched herself and stepped back, maybe she could have moved on eventually- she could have worked on herself, or maybe lucked out and found someone who could get through those walls without a sledgehammer, and she would have been better for it. But that's not what happens. She stayed, and I think the longer she stayed the harder it became to keep herself completely shielding from him, because he's still that same goofy guy at his core- he's just a bit worse than she remembered him being. But damn near everything he does throughout the comics just continues to crush her until she HAS to leave- he can apologize, and she can accept it for the version of him she loved, but he's not enough to convince her to stay anymore. I'm going to cut my canon analysis there until I reread their next scene, rather than just continuing incase my thoughts have slightly changed, but like... man... they hurt me in a very unique way. If it was anyone other than Scott, it'd be tragic. (Maybe it still is, maybe that's the Kim Bitterness talking)

For a brief touch on my less canon take, with Kim being a lesbian: I think Scott would have been better placed in her life as a best friend than a partner, but when you're young, and honestly even when you're not all that young, emotional distinction like that can be so, so confusing. So all of the hurt remains very genuine, because she does love him, just not the way she thought she did.

((Because I do love the trans!fem Scott HC as well, I will say. I feel like it would be really, really funny for Kim to realize she's into women and be like "wow sure dodged round two of the Scott Pilgrim bullet" and then one day Scott shows up having started her transition and is like "Oh hey Kimmy!! I'm a lesbian AND a girl, like you now!!!" And Kim just. Crushes her drink or something in her hand like "oh no... oh no she's attractive again... FUCK FUCK FUCK." Obviously a lot more nuanced than that, though. I should probably clarify that I started answering this ask almost IMMEDIATELY after waking up and also BEFORE I've taken more pain meds. If this post has been or starts to become very scattered again, that's why lol.))

Bonus consideration: Hollie. I can dig her having a crush on Hollie, but I feel like it faded a little living with her, and then shattered entirely after the Jason Kim situation. Even an overwhelming attraction to women ain't savin that one, chief. That's just too severe a betrayal.

The Knives Situation: Oh Boy. So in the original answer for this I had a whole thing done up, lemme try to condense it. Basically, I think Kim woke up the next morning HORRIFIED by what she'd done. Like, dry heaving in the bathroom horrified. And this likely really hurt Knives's feelings, should she see! Which Kim would feel horrible about. I'm undecided on if she just runs from the situation before Knives can wake up, or if they have a sort of agrument/one-sided rant on Kim's part afterward where she just really tries to hammer home for Knives how not okay it was for them to do that- for HER to do that, given their ages and inherent power imbalance. In the event that this discussion happens, Knives absorbed none of it, and probably leaves that conversation a little wounded. I think it would proceed to play back in her mind when she and Stephen are talking at one of Julie's parties later on, though, and she'd probably approach Kim after that to thank her for being a reasonable adult about that, unlike how some of her friends had been. Once that understanding is reached, I think they could be good friends, although Kim probably teases her for how she started to dress like her after they first met.

Silly little things: If anyone's familiar with Night in the Woods, do you know the part where Mae's like "that's not drums... that's a computer..."? I feel like that has Kim energy. To me.

Also I think Kim sucks at Rockband- I know that releases like, way afterward or something so far as comic timeline goes, but bare with me, okay? It's my silly little headcanons! Anyway, she'd suck really, really bad on the drums, since so far as I can recall, they don't REALLY correspond with the music. If her friends force her to play, she demands either the mic or the bass, because "fuck you Scott, you try playing their stupid fucking drums." He proceeds to play flawlessly, much to her chagrin. She fairs better on the bass, but only a bit better than the drums, since her fingers aren't quite used to the movements.

Kim didn't think she liked cats for a while, mostly because she was only ever around them fleetingly, and generally in the homes of people who should have been cleaning their litter boxes more regularly. After hanging around Ramona's house more, though, she discovers she really love them! She feels a sort of kinship watching how they actually behave, and I think Gideon ends up warming to Kim very quickly, which probably helps with the very quick turnaround on her opinion. I think it'd be funny if sometimes, when Kim's over, Scott will try to beckon Gideon over to him for cuddles or affection, and the cat will just. Stare at him entirely unimpressed before jumping up into Kim's lap with exaggerated purring and chin rubbing before curling up for a "nap." Kim was in awe the first time this happened, and Ramona finds it ceaselessly amusing every time it happens. ((Funny additonal scenario: once after this happened Scott was whining to Ramona, who was coming to join them on the couch, looking generally very sad/cute/pathetic, and overcome with a sort of playful evil, Ramona proceeded to sit by and cuddle up to Kim as well. Kim immediately froze up and went bright red and wide eyed, Scott's jaw probably dropped before he dove into a theatrical, exaggerated spewl about the betrayal of it all, and Ramona just got to blissfully enjoy Kim cuddles while giggling at both of their reactions and petting Gideon.))

Conversely, I don't know how Kim feels about dogs. Like, I don't think she hates them or anything like that, but maybe they fill her with a sense of pity, for their associations with unwavering loyalty. Something about that specifically runs too close to things she considers about herself, at times, maybe. Idk, just kinda spit ballin here.

I think she does like rats! And mice. Idk. They're cute little guys and I like them, let me have this--

Oh man... just Kim's section is so long. And I have other characters to get to,,, buckle up I guess--- I mean, I did start with My Girl, so maybe the others will be shorter?

((This is future future me again... this is where I actually went back and processed the ask properly :') I have no words to describe my current emotional state beyond that I am trying really hard not to burst into a little fit of laughter at myself and wake my roommate--))

Three! Three headcanons!! I can do this (restraintrestraintrestraint)

Okay! Let's try being Normal About Media- and just as a note, they aren't really in any particular order, beyond Kim being the first because she IS legitimately my favorite, I think. Idk she's very Me.

Ramona Flowers

1. She doesn't really do labels, for things like her idenity; she does think pride flags are pretty, though. Scott got her a bi flag once and she decided to keep it and hang it in her room for this exact reason, though she did explain to him that she doesn't really consider herself anything but herself- Ramona Flowers. He's very understanding about that, although a little confused in the typical Scott manner! They eventually come around to just considering it being his flag, when he comes to terms with himself (yeah, spoilers, I HC him as bi)

2. Her hair actually does have magic properties to it that prevent it from getting absolutely butchered by all the bleaching she does- she doesn't know how or why, though. Maybe it's less magic and more to do with the supplies themselves? Unlike Scott, she's not as meticulous when it comes to reading the status effect labels on things she uses or consumes.

3. Of her former partners, I think she does have genuine lingering feelings for Roxie. So far as the comics/movie go, she simply repressed the hell out of them and plays the Deny Deny Deny! game, but so far as the show goes, I think she's come to terms with the fact that she still loves her, but horrifically fumbled her- she doesn't want to hurt Roxie like that again, so she's unlikely to ever try things again between them, I think. Not unless Roxie was the initiator, and even then, it'd take some coaxing.

Bonus 4. She absolutely has feelings for Kim. I feel like maybe further into their relationship she'd 100% ask Scott like "hey... you know your really hot friend Kim?" and proceed to discuss with him if being in a polyamorous relationship is something he could get behind. Maybe it'd happen after a period of time with Kim living with them too, or something.

Roxie Richter

1. She gets ALL the girls- all of them. She's an unholy TERROR for men where she lives, because she is notorious for giving women the night of their lives and making them never look back so far as dating men goes. Now, I don't think she deliberately breaks up people or goes after "straight" girls or anything, but it's probably something that's happened on accident before, so she's A Menace. I will say that she might deliberately swoop in and woo a girl she knows is taken if it's extremely clear that their relationship is just Not Right- like if she's seeing clear signs of abuse, or something. She isn't intending to get with these girls when she does this, but she is fully intending to get them out of shitty situations. She's even turned girls down after their (ex) boyfriends have stormed off in a huff, simply out of respect for them- she'll try to give them advice, and if they're adamant in trying New Venues, she might play matchmaker where she can, but she isn't really comfortable sleeping with them after doing stuff like that- to her, it feels gross, maybe even exploitative.

2. I actually don't know if this is meant to be canon or not, because it's noted alongside some of her sketches, but she's german/japanese in my eyes- but raised in the states. She knows English the best, and some German, but she doesn't really know much Japanese, much to her own agitation- she just struggles with it a lot, for whatever reason. She can kind of read some things, but if she tries to speak it she runs the risk of butchering the words. I personally further HC her dad as German and her mom as Japanese- dad by process of elimination, mom based loosely on how I read some of her and Ramona's conversations in the comics.

3. She is in fact whistling the tune in the show intending it to be from the Robin Hood movie- in fact, I think I'm going to HC it as one of her favorite animated films from childhood. (... do I HC her as a furry now?)

Lisa Miller

1. Disaster Bi! She's a bit of a Menace and she knows it; she likes to rile people up, but she can't really take what she dishes out. Like, if she'd done the kind of seductive teasing she does to Scott to Kim and received any sort of flirting back, her brain would shut down and she'd need to reboot. She doesn't know how to handle when someone else takes the reigns, which is why it was so easy and fun to play with Scott- he was too stunned/shy to play back, which she enjoys. Not to imply she doesn't enjoy having her brain melted a little, of course.

2. I think she makes it big after she heads to America! Or at least, bigger than she was. She sends her friends back in Toronto signed copies of movie posters and CDs and things when she can- she doesn't expect them to keep them, although she loves it when they do, but at least in Scott's case it's sort of a "incase of emergency, please sell" sort of situation. He does not, obviously. (Ramona probably does, though, both from admittedly petty lingering jealousy and because they just don't have room for all of it; Scott rarely seems to notice anyhow, and the money usually goes towards rent or random gifts for him anyhow)

3. I forget if everyone's sudden absence is noticed when they Poof briefly during the finalt episode of the show, but if it is I feel like Lisa starts to talk to Kyle, since he's in front of her, like "hey, what exactly happened there-" before looking out over everyone else who reappeared in their seats and noticing Scott is actually up there with them. She spends the rest of that night chatting up him and the league, and maybe even scores an in with Matthew for getting a foothold in her acting career!

Matthew Patel

1 . He absolutely has a dedicated cult following for his theatrical works, and it's warranted! He's genuinely good at what he does, and his passion is clear as day; any production is lucky to have him, and he knows it, which can kind of lead to butting heads behind the scenes. I feel like he might come across to his fellow performers as full of himself, especially given his proficiency with one man performances, but he truly is just deeply, deeply passionate about his work, and he wants to feel that passion with anyone he works with, too. He NEEDS his energy matched to feel like it's going to be a grand performance, and he simply doesn't notice how off-putting this can be for his coworkers as a result.

2. The demon hipster chicks have always been the visual age they are now, even when Matthew was a kid; he viewed them as older sisters growing up, and they're very protective of him perhaps as a result. At his current age, they're his best friends and personal body guards- they'll descend like rabid dogs on anyone that steps out of line around him, if he doesn't call them off. Sometimes it's a bit much for him, but they're usually pretty good about understanding when they do and don't need to interfere on his behalf.

3. Ya know I'm not sure if it's a HC I've seen at all but I could really vibe with trans!masc Matthew. I would love that for him, truly.

Scott Pilgrim

1. Look... I really love any trans!Scott headcanons. Like, any direction, I've said before; I genuinely have such a problem figuring out which version I enjoy best: he's trans!masc and has been all along, or trans!fem and Ramona eventually helps to crack that egg. But also, while I'm saying this, he is. So stupid. Not like maliciously stupid in this sense, absolutely not, but I feel like he's the kind of person to like. Run into someone from his past post their transition, with THEM coming up to HIM to be like "oh long time no see, Pilgrim," and then he would say something to the affect of "oh, you have the same last name as (DN)!!! Are you related? Kim, Kim!! Do you know if (DN) had any siblings?" while Kim and the other person just stare at him deadpan for a bit before bursting into laughter at his expense. He would then proceed to be really confused and just not get it, either until they explain it to him or like, he'd just suddenly sit up in a cold sweat later that night realizing what he did like "oh my GOD that WAS them, I said their dead name at them like seven times!! I am Going To Hell!!!" (And Ramona would just kind of blindly, lightly slap around in his general direction, like "honey you're not going to hell for basically affirming the effectiveness of their transition, go the fuck to sleep. They would've said something if it was a problem." Idk, that's just how he feels to me.)

2. When he has his own money for things, and space living with Ramona, he spends it on video games or video game related merch- it's probably a lot of patches and t-shirts, but I can see him starting to collect plushies, too! Like some of the really old kinda silly looking Sonic plushies, for example? If I had my Knuckles one on hand I'd use him as an example, but I think he's in storage somewhere :(

3. Gets into really heated arguments about video game mechanics and stat stuff where applicable; like, Ramona has to drag him away or else he will actively start fighting people kind of heated. He can hold chill conversations, but if he feels like he's being talked down to about a game that he's REALLY into, like Sonic Adventure (he has the director's cut!)

Wallace Wells

1. MENACE TO SOCIETY. He's comparable to Roxie in this way except he is so much worse (I say this affectionately <3) because he does just straight up, in canon, do things like steal Stacey's boyfriends! And that's his friend that he's doing that to! So I cannot IMAGINE what mischief he gets up to when he goes out drinking. He's probably ruined so many lives, naybe even marriages. What am I saying, maybe? Definitely. And he feels no remorse about this! In his eyes either your man was already gay or you needed to treat him better, sweetie; he HAS been rejected before, so clearly his charms can't ruin what ain't already broken.

2. While he does have feeling for Scott, which is basically canon I don't even want to hear it, he KNOWS better. Like, he'd been living with Scott for a while, so he knows if they were legitimately dating he probably would be even more sick of him than he already is. When they were still living together, though, there were times where he couldn't help but wonder if it would really be all that bad... right before Scott comes in and does or says something that just highlights for Wallace that he's making the Sane choice. Besides, Wallace is (and i hate using these terms but I straight up don't know what other words I could possibly use) a sugar baby; he can't keep up being both a sugar baby and Scott's effective sugar daddy (HATEHATEHATE THAT WORD) while ALSO paying rent. It doesn't really work out that well, especially with him having, at the time, such a shitty apartment to begin with.

3. I feel like Wallace really enjoys his nightlife and getting to sleep around, so I'm unsure if this is something still in play while he's with Mobile, or if he respects Mobile enough to do away with that entirely. Like, different situations work for different relationships, so if Mobile is fine with it then maybe it's something that continues! But taking into account the sparks from the show, maybe he'd actually be really fine being exclusive with Mobile. Especially given how well their future selves seem to be doing. Idk! Basically the sum of this one is just that, if Wallace is exclusive with Mobile, he misses be a bit of a whore, but he's very happy where, and with who he is, now.

Envy Adams

1. She gives me vibes.. queer vibes... in some sort of direction.... idk if I'm fully behind her also being a comp. het lesbian or just labeling her a disaster bi, but I also get a vague sense of gender fuckery. It's entirely her name thing, probably, but I can see Envy being genderqueer.

2. She probably hunted Lynette down after that show- an arm was likely Not Enough to quite satisfy that rage. Especially since she didn't get the satisfaction of beating Todd more thoroughly herself, since Scott stepped in. Conversely, for the show canon, Wallace has a target on his back for the rest of her life, as far as she's concerned, even in a world where her feelings for Todd were just misunderstood- she considered him her best friend, and you don't get away with hurting her friends like that unless you're her.

3. I think I'd like to HC that some part of her regrets booting Scott from the band the way she did back in college? Maybe not immediately, or even soon, but I feel like sometimes she would think about him and their relationship as a whole and just feel bad, Idk. Like, she doesn't want to get back with him at all, but I could maybe see her offering to promote Shatterband (or Sex Bob-Omb, in the show,) or even play with him as a genuine apology instead of a coy trap somewhere down the line.

Knives Chau

1. Look... look I know I'm about to sound like a broken record... comp. het. lesbian or bi. HEAR ME OUT: her puppy dog love for Scott is really just that- something cute and innocent, but very intense, especially once he cuts her off in that honestly really brutal manner. Teenage heartbreak is messy- even if you feel like it was real, true love you had, you can often realize later in life that what you felt was just admiration, or something else innocuous like that. I think she reaffirms it to herself as a deep and true love because of how intense the pain of that breakup was, paired with everything that comes after, and I think the show really highlights that for me? Because in the show, with Scott out of the picture entirely, she's just a lot less intense about it. I think after playing music and hanging around his friends, she realizes she didn't really love him all that much, just thought he was a cool older guy and liked that he took an interest in her, even if she recognizes how wrong that was now. ((I probably have more articulate thoughts on this but I am really starting to feel the lack of pain meds so I need to get through this--))

2. Knives is really good at rhythm games and things like DDR or, when it's eventually released, Just Dance. Like, freakishly good. She picks them up just as well and just as quickly as she did her instruments.

3. With how quickly she picked up her instruments, she kinda gives me honor student vibes? Idk. I feel like it'd be a little stressful for her later on, because I do think her passionate drive for music makes her grades take a slight spin, but she just gives off that energy for me. Knives is a lot smarter than people give her credit for, I think, Idk.

... yes, I am very normal about media... spending 3 hours on 1 ask that offered me a lot more simplicity than I can apparently manage...

#asks #txt #kim pine #ramona flowers #roxie richter #lisa miller #Matthew Patel #scott pilgrim #wallace wells #envy adams #knives chau #i think i might have said this in the post but maybe i didnt or removed it- they're not necessarily ordered by like. most to least favorite #i just kinda chucked same names on there and went. debated starting some for lucas but i think my hands need a break- and my stomach a Snac #spto #sp comic #spvtw #headcanons #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim comic #scott pilgrim vs the world #potential spoilers for both the comics and the show i think?#if anyone wants this tagged w ship stuff for my little blurb under Kim lemme know #also I didn't include Roxie in the list of characters I think she likes but she should have been an honorable mention. i mostly had comic +#+ brain with that section #long post #woollyworm #demon hipster chicks

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fandxmslxt69 · 6 months

Text

Daisy (modern, small town AU)

mechanic!Frank castle x f!sunshine!reader

Warnings: Frank's an asshole lmao. UM me making up shit as I go about cars (i dont know enough abt them okay). Um, Frank works at an automobile shop/garage (he owns it more like but whatever). WRITTEN IN LIKE 3 HOURS AND AN IDEA THAT WAS BIRTHED THIS MORNING. Some swearing, lazy descriptions, probably HORRIBLE structure but idc idc idc.

Synopsis: You just moved to a small town, and just your luck, your car breaks down after a few errand runs. You have no choice but to go to the town's official Mr. Grumpy (Frank) to ask for help.

Word count: 1.8k (WHOOPS)

A/N: BAHAHAH SO THIS WAS BORN LIKE THIS MORNING/LAST NIGHT and i could NOT get the idea out of my head so I had to do SOMETHING about it. Yeah, there'll probably be more to this but FIRST, i have to go study after putting it off to finish this. SORRY IT MIGHT BE SOOO FUCKING OOC AND CRINGE BUT I WAS TOO LAZY TO WRITE IT PROPERLY! this is kind of just a set up/build up bit it gets BETTER promise promise anyway was this just me reading like 10 small town romances and going "all of them, but with Frank?" yeah basically, you're welcome.

Tags: YEAH um @soft-girl-musings its kinda your fault for encouraging me (im kidding ily) and um @runa-falls cuuuz yknow you <3 and Frank <3

Imagine a modern AU in a small little town where Frank owns the only garage there. It’s just a small happy town with a little community that grew up with each other- everyone knows Frank as Mr Grumpy- he’s always got that frown and those eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

Imagine you’re new in town and you feel just a bit out of place in this tightly knitted community. You try to make some friends, but it’s hard fitting into already tight social circles.

Imagine your car breaking down on your way home from a grocery run. The front of smoking and its making weird jumbling and rumbling noises. You leave the car quickly, not wanting to be inside of it in case something goes wrong. You’re nowhere near your house, and the cute sandals you’re wearing are in no shape to walk the rest of the way. You really don’t want to barge into a random shop and ask for help. But you notice, a little far from the rest of the shops in town, a little store with an ugly neon sign that said GARAGE in big, flickering red letters. You sigh heavily, making sure to grab your keys from the car, along with your purse and phone, lock it, and start walking towards the shop.

Imagine walking into the little automobile shop to find it pretty much deserted. The walls were lined with different tires, tools and various car parts lined the little room with a small area left unlittered for the cash register. And yet, there was no one to man the station. You walk around, feeling hopeless, until you hear voices coming from behind the door at the back of the room.

Imagine walking through the door hesitantly into a big garage, and you’re greeted with the sight of a gorgeous shirtless man in loose jeans stained in grease stains. He’s bent over a car and wiping the windshield while a radio beside him blasts some country tunes. You stood in the doorway, mouth hanging slightly open at the sight. Who could blame you? His hair looked so soft, and from what you could see, his face was probably just godly. He looked heavenly,and he clearly didn’t hear you come in from how loud the music was. You clear your throat lightly, clutching the strap of your purse tightly. “Um, excuse me-” you say as quietly as you can, not entirely sure you want to draw his attention. Yet somehow he still hears you. His eyes snap up to meet yours and the look of peace on his face immediately transforms into a look of permanent annoyance.

Shit. He does have a pretty face. A sculpted jawline and a little stubble lined his jaw. Pretty eyes too.

Imagine the way his eyes would roam over you. Your hair held back in a little ponytail, your short blue sundress with daisies that barely just reaches your thighs. The way his pretty lips would set in a hard line and his jaw clenches, and while his eyes take in your pretty look, the way that dress rides up your thigh whenever you take a step, you can see his jaw tick and the frown lines forming.

“Yes?” He said slowly, one eyebrow raised.

“Um,” You shuffled a bit, carefully stepping into the garage, but making sure to keep a distance from him and the car. “Um, my uh, my car broke down, and I kind of need help,”

He wipes his hands on the towel tucked into the pocket of his jeans, walking around the car to stand in front of you. Well, more like tower over you. He was, to put it simply, enormous. At least 6 foot something with broad shoulders and a deliciously sculptured and defined chest. His muscles weren’t the pretty boy skinny things you’d see at the gym- his biceps looked big enough to crush a man’s skull, and his chest looked comfy enough to use as a pillow.

He clears his throat, and you realise you missed a question. You look up (practically STRAINING your neck) to meet his eyes. He definitely looks frustrated. Maybe he's annoyed that he has to repeat himself.

Imagine how mean he’d be about it- he doesn’t mean to be rude, or to come off as an asshole. He definitely didn’t mean to act as if your lack of knowledge in this situation bothered him. Normally he didn’t care, but the way you looked up at him with big worried eyes and the anxious fiddling of your hands just…ticked him off. He certainly doesn’t mean how condescending his tone is, but he just can’t help it. Pretty girls fucked him in the head.

“What’s wrong with your car, doll?”

You fiddled with a strand of your hair. “Um, I don’t actually know,” He lets out an annoyed grunt, running a hand down his face. “Where’d it stop?” “Um, just a little back,” You pointed behind you. “Not too far. I don’t know, it started smoking and making weird noises. Assumed it was bad, so I came here,” He shakes his head, throwing the towel in his hand to the side and grabbing a shirt from one of the chairs. “Yeah sweetheart, that is very bad,”

“Okay well, I figured,” You hesitated. “Can you uh, can you fix it?” “Depends,” He grunted, pulling the shirt over his head. He’d walk past you out front to grab his truck keys from the cash desk, making a couple more caveman noises to indicate that you should follow him.

Imagine getting to his truck and you stand there awkwardly because there’s no fucking way you could get in there. It’s too high up, and you sure as hell can’t just jump into it. You throw your purse in, brace your hands on the door, and try to lift your leg high enough to reach the step.

Imagine Frank getting so fucking pissed when your dress rides up to barely even cover the curve of your ass and he just places his (very big, very warm) hands on your waist and hauls you up, firmly sitting you on the chair and slamming the door shut.

Imagine how the short drive to where your car stopped is just filled with really awkward silence as you clutch your purse to your chest. Frank's got the radio on, an arm hanging out the window, but his other hand on the steering wheel is holding it so tightly his knuckles are turning white. And he looks almost calm, if not for the way he’s clenching his jaw so hard you think he might shatter his teeth.

You pull up to your car, and Frank whistles quietly as he gets out of his truck and walks over to examine it. “What d'ya do to this thing?”

You practically hopped out of the truck, frowning. “Nothin’! I didn’t even do anything. I was just driving back home and it broke down,”

“Well ya must’ve done somethin’ if she broke down this bad,” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Can you open the front?”

“What if it like- explodes on you? What then?” You ask horrified. That’s a horrible impression to leave on someone.

“Not gonna explode, now open the damn front,”

You nod hesitantly, unlocking the car to open up the front. He tries to blow away the smoke with his hand, but it’s really no use. “Yeah, might need to take it back to the garage,”

“But-” You felt your bottom lip wobbling. How could everything go to shit so fast. “I need to get home!”

Despite how grumpy Frank wanted to stay, he can’t help soften when it’s clear how panicked you felt. He knew you were the newest person in town, and he also knew he’d have everyone on his ass if he didn’t try and help a little more.

But he’s still gonna be an ass about it. “I’ll drive you back to your house and send someone for your car, no need to cry ‘bout it, doll,”

You nod hesitantly, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. Okay, thank you,” And then you smiled this shy, grateful smile at him and he felt like the air was knocked right out of his lungs. You were gorgeous, he knew that, but looking at you now he felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. You looked….cute. And he wanted to keep that smile on your face. Shit. Imagine Frank realising just how fucked he is, having to help such a cute and pretty girl out, he’d just shut himself off even more. His frown deepens and he only communicates in grumbles and grunts as he drives you back home and calls someone to come pick up your car. He only holds out his hand to ask for your keys- not even uttering a word, just holds out those really sexy hands. He just sits in his truck with his arm out the window as you hop out of the seat and make your way up your porch. He feels so screwed. Even your house looked cute.

“Thank you,” You call out to him.

He raises a hand in return and then he pulls out from in front of the house and drives back to his shop.

You falter a bit, feeling a tad stung at how shut off he is. Maybe not everyone is as open as you were, but he could have at least smiled. You sigh, walking into your house and dropping your purse at the door. You discard your shoes, and head to the kitchen to grab a couple snacks and collapse on the couch, feeling overall exhausted and drained from the whole day. Maybe you won’t have to see Grumpy for another few days- just so you could cool down.

The landline rings a few minutes after, and you frown. Who the hell would have the landline’s number? You get up and answer the phone. “Hello?” “Hey daisy, it’s Frank. You left your groceries in the car,” Frank’s voice fills your ear (god he sounds so…so hot)

Your eyes widen and you gasp in shock. “Fuck, I did!”

He hums in response. “Yeah. Bet you need those, don’tcha?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, I kind of do,”

There’s commotion from Frank’s side, it sounds a lot like someone yelling at him. He sighs heavily. “Alright daisy, I’ll figure somethin’ out f’r you,” And then he hangs up.

Daisy? Figure it out? And why was it so oddly comforting to know he could handle this without you needing to worry?

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #the punisher #jon bernthal

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bucklovesyou · 1 year

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NOPE kissing preferences

pairings: oj haywood x reader, em haywood x reader, angel torres x reader, ricky "jupe" park x reader

synopsis: just me rambling about how they'd kiss you :)

warnings: slight bit of angst for jupe but i think that's it. if you need something tagged, dont hesitate to let me know

a/n: hi hello this isnt my first fic for nope but it's my first one on my new account. one of my favorite movies fr. feel free 2 send any requests u have <3

oj would be hesitant to kiss you at first. he's not used to romantic gestures, as he hasn't dated much before you, and doesn't really know how to go about it. your first kiss was while he was watching you do the dishes. he asked you rather bluntly if he can kiss you and after you got over your initial shock and nearly dropped a mug you said yes. he was tense and clumsy the first few kisses you shared with him so you gently guide him and tell him what you like.

once he gets it down, though, his kisses are always sweet and passionate. he uses them to show that he loves you when he doesn't feel like using words. his favorite places to kiss you are on the lips and forehead. kisses on the lips feel more meaningful to him and he feels like they convey his feelings more than any other type of kisses. his forehead kisses come from times of silliness when you're having a giggling fit in his arms and he's grinning ear to ear and he ducks his head down to give you a sloppy kiss on the head, only causing you to giggle more.

em is more experienced and confident than her brother and will kiss you silly (after checking to see if you're okay with it first, of course !) she first kisses you when she drops you off after a date. it's night and she thinks you look so pretty with the moonlight shining on your face. she asks you if she can kiss you and you laugh and say yes so she gently presses her lips to yours. when she leaves, it's with a skip in her step and you laugh from your porch as she whoops and pumps her fist in the air.

after that, kisses are often. she mostly kisses you in passing like when she walks behind the couch you're sitting on she'll lean down and kiss your cheek or when you're both giddy and excited she'll squeeze you in a hug and pepper kisses all over your face. her favorite places to kiss you are on the cheek and on the nose. she loves how you squeal and giggle when she sneaks up and kisses you on the cheek or how you tighten your hold on her when she squishes her face against yours. nose kisses are more intimate to her and she loves watching your nose scrunch up when she kisses there. when you're on the verge of sleep she'll press a kiss to your nose and rub her thumb over your cheek until you fall asleep.

angel is a hopeless romantic and will fantasize about your first kiss immediately after your first date. he wants it to be perfect because he genuinely cares about you and feels like you have a connection. his vision falls apart, however, as angel is a mess and so is your first kiss with him. you were both on a date and everything was going to hell. the wait was long, he accidentally knocked your drink over and it spilled on you, the food came out cold. he felt pathetic but you reassured him it was fine and the two of you went to waffle house afterwards. he opened up about how upset and disappointed in himself he was for letting the night go so badly and you comforted him. one thing led to another and you kissed him. he was over the moon and the bad date quickly turned into the best date ever in his opinion.

he's still nervous kissing you even after your first kiss with him. you can tell when he wants to kiss you but is too shy to initiate because he stares at your lips and bashfully looks away when you notice him. ask him if he wants a kiss and he'll smush his face against yours immediately. he gets better about working up the nerve to kiss you casually but he still gets shy about lip kisses since they feel so special and intimate to him. speaking of, lip kisses are his favorite because it makes him feel so lucky to have you in his life and being able to share something like that with you. he also likes when you kiss his knuckles or the back of his hand. he always rolls his eyes when you do but he fails to suppress his grin.

jupe's first kiss with you was sorrowful and full of longing. it was the first time he really opened up to you about his childhood and although he didn't mention much, it was enough to cause him distress. you comforted him, of course, and when he pulled back from clinging onto you he pressed his lips onto yours. you kissed him back. his lips were salty from his tears and he apologized for spilling his guts to you all of a sudden but you reassured him that that's what partners are for and that he doesnt need to hide his pain from you.

from then on, jupe kisses you casually and sweetly. he's so much happier now that he has a shoulder to cry on and help him process his thoughts. he'll come up and pepper kisses all over your face before resting his head in the crook of your neck or he'll get excited and give you a quick peck on the lips before rambling about whatever it was he wanted to talk about. his favorite places to kiss you are on the nose and on your lips. he likes how you look up at him all shy from under your lashes as he kisses your nose and how you scoff and look away before shoving him. when it comes to kissing you on the lips, he loves how it can have different meanings. it can be fun and silly or deep and loving.

#oj haywood x reader #em haywood x reader #emerald haywood x reader #angel torres x reader #ricky park x reader #ricky “jupe” park x reader #jupe park x reader #jupe x reader

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keibea · 10 months

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Get to Know Me - Sims Style

i was tagged by @amuhav because she loves me and knows i love doing these things

what's your favourite sims death?

ngl i dont actually have one, im terrified of any of my babies dying so they never do...but i guess old age maybe? because that means theyve lived a long life and ive played with them for a long time?

alpha cc or mm?

alpha HANDS DOWN...i dont hate mm by any means dont get me wrong, but ill always be an alpha girl at heart. its the alpha hairs, they always get me.

do you cheat your sims weight?

only if it fits their character i guess? not usually in gameplay.

do you move objects

i move objects every single day.

fave mod?

ooofff i mean out of necessity? nraas. but just the one i love? hands down pose player. mostly because i was so excited when i finally got it to work (i was like 13 or something and before then i could not figure out how to get mods to work) so a lot of happy memories from finally getting my sims to pose.

first expansion/game pack/stuff pack?

my first ever was sims 2 glamour life stuff pack when i was a kid. if we're talking sims 3, i believe the first pack i got was generations, which is still my favourite sims pack ever.

do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

i pronounce it LIVE, always have as far as i know.

who's your favourite sim that you've made?

well, its gotta be elodie honestly. she and eli are the longest sims i have ever had and i love them both dearly. in the sims 4, its gotta be my girl pippa. before tumblr? i had this family called the moretti's, i miss them and i think about them way too often. i loved them all.

have you made a simself?

oh yeah. loads of times. i think ive shared my sims 3 and sims 4 variations on tumblr (but they look really weird tbh). i love making myself, cause then i can wear all these clothes i cant afford in real life.

favourite ea hair

im with aimee on this one.

im mostly joking, but usually sims 3 hairs are a no go for me, except for some store ones and the hairs that are pulled back into buns always look really nice. for sims 4, only the newer ones. the older ones are not for me.

favourite life stage?

young adult. i feel like you can always do more with young adult sims and you have so much more time (except in sims 1 i believe?and sims 2 only if u went to uni?? idk). 90% of my sims are forever young adults because i love that life stage so much.

are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

mate ive been trying to build for donkeys years to no avail. so im almost always in it for the gameplay.

are you a cc creator?

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAHAHAHA HA once upon a time bro maybe. your girl tries to be, but uni is a pain in my bottom, and sims 3 loves making my life difficult.

do you have any simblr friends or a sim squad?

somehow i do?? more friends then irl anyway. the girl gang is @thesimperiuscurse , @lazysunjade & @amuhav these 3 have put up with me despite my crazy personality for an incredibly amount of time and i love them all dearly. but i have so many friends on here its crazy (more than 3 people its incredible!). obviously they havent seen my real personality yet. besties include: @catharsim , @plumbobem , @johziii , @rollo-rolls , @moonsonnet , oh gosh im forgetting people I AM SO SORRY I LOVE U ALL SO MUCH

do you have any sims merch?

bro i wish, but no money. spent it all on anno 1800. no regrets.

do you have a youtube for sims?

i believe formally i do, but i dont post anything. i do have some ideas if i ever wanted to, but my adhd brain couldnt cope being consistent so i probably never will.

how has your "sims style" changed throughout your years of playing?

as in sims or gameplay? idk ill talk about both. gameplay wise, not much, except im weirdly a lot more controlling then i was over my sims WHOOPS. but i still cant get passed gen 2 so that hasn't changed. but i still prefer family gameplay, probably always will. and challenges, always challenges. sims wise? a lot.

this is one of the earliest sims i have photo evidence of. this was in 2018 i believe?

whose your favourite cc creator?

the people that are the cause of most of my cc obsession are @kerriganhouse , @rollo-rolls , @johziii , @joojconverts & @martassimsbookcc and probably a few more but mind blank

how long have u had simblr?

since 2020. one of the longest things ive ever committed to.

how do you edit your pictures?

with my blood, sweat and tears. im not joking, a lot of sweat and tears goes on when im editing.

what expansion/gamepack is your faveourite?

of all time? generations, no doubt in my mind. i never had any sims 1 or sims 2 expansions, so i never got to experience those unfortunately. generations was perfection though. i mean, boarding school? lifesaver. also led to the best sims series of all time: lifesimmer's generations. for sims 4 though? probably get together, purely because of the world.

#nonsims #saviourhide #aboutkeibea #jessietalksaboutherselfagain #HELLO #GOODBYE

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glove23 · 6 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

I WAS TAGGED BY @nooowestayandgetcaught THANK U ILY

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

- 158

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

- 325,837

3. What fandoms do you write for?

- any and all that I know/like!! I have the most fics in kinnporsche, hp, and grishaverse, but I write for a lot of different fandoms

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

- Meeting Your Maker (Literally)

Harry Potter, Time Travel AU, 64,543 words

- a colorful past

The Batman (2021), Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne, 688 words

- Your Makers Meet (Figuratively)

Harry Potter, sequel to MYML, 30,726 words, incomplete

- I'm not leaving your side

Love in the Air (2022), Whump, 1,307 words

-no body, no crime

Kinnporsche: The Series (2022), MURDER, kinn kills vegas, 943 words

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yeah! I try to at least, I have a huge backlog to get through whoops. I started writing in the era of ffn where like half the experience was talking back and forth in the reviews and then pm-ing and that's how I made a lot of friends that I still have today. and without that kind of comment culture and the author replying to messages, I might not have ever started writing.

someone replied to my review very kindly and asked why I didn't have any fic, my ideas were awesome (hair flip) and that made me realize oh. I don't have to Just read, I can also write the stories

and the rest is history

but fostering that kind of community, just talking to people who love the things you love, is such a fun part of the fandom experience for me and so I'll always reply to comments (eventually. I'll always get there eventually.)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

KDHAJCHSJXJSJZ I DONT KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THAT I HAVE A WHOLE SERIES WHERE I JUST KILL PEOPLE AND WATCH THEIR FRIENDS GRIEVE

but that being said, the answer is

into the wind (Love in the Air (2022), prapaisky, MCD/suicide

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uhh. this one I don't actually know but imma say

love me there (His Dark Materials, lyrawill, fix-it, lyra finds will again after the events of s3)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

yeah, sometimes! 👍 don't do that

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

sometimes. not very often, it's usually M-rated if I do, but just. yeah. I don't know how to answer this

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yep!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, many times! back in my OG ffn days, and then a few times with @nooowestayandgetcaught

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I'm gonna say percabeth but I don't think there Is a real answer to this question, bc I love so many of my ships So Hard that just thinking about them makes me cry

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

......I will finish every wip leave me alone (I WILL FINISH YMMF I PROMISE) work in PROGRESS and the progress may be slow but it's PROGRESS

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue I am so fucking good at dialogue, and character interaction. definitely my strengths

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

descriptions. I am too lazy to do them all out the way I want to and so I just kinda. skate by

except in guess I misjudged you (gods I loved you) that one is PACKED bc I spent 9 months on it so

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

mmm unless I know someone I can talk to and get accurate translations, I don't really do this bc I am so afraid of conjugating wrong and google translate is SHIT. but when I do I try my best

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson! in 2012 on ffn on an account that still exists but I will not give u the name of. 🥰🥰

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

as of rn (October 2023) it's

guess I misjudged you (gods i loved you)

Percy Jackson, Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage AU, 56,438 words

it is my BABY and I think one of the best things I've written tbh

#2 would be

if you don't like it (lie)

KinnPorsche, kimchay, MCD, 3,516 words

it's just so delightfully painful and it's the one I show to everyone I show kp bc I'm obsessed with it

ANYWAYS THATS ALL THANK YOU!!!! if you wanna do this feel free to say I tagged you 💞

@seaweedbraens @perseannabeth @karin848 @waitingondaisies (y'all don't have to do this. but ✨✨)

#tag game #fanfiction

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chnldivr · 1 year

Text

i still dont really know how tumblr works so dont hurt me about tags whoops </3

#murder drones #murder drones oc #murder drones fanart #voidteeth art #my fanart #a #12

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thedragonagelesbian · 4 months

Note

For the OTP asks: 5, 13, 22, and 26 for Cyrus and Wyll

yaaaaaaaaaaay

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

Cyrus socializes like a cat, so he's happiest just being nearby for whatever activity Wyll wants to do-- snuggling while Wyll reads or listening him play his flute (or his cello once they're moved in to their estate post-game). Wyll similarly insists that his greatest creative inspiration comes when he's with Cyrus and loves to compose in Cyrus' garden, drafting sonnets and serenades while Cyrus is tending to his plants.

As for things they really do together, they love planning outings into the woods around Baldur's Gate. Romantic picnics, hunting, foraging, birding, just getting away from the bustle of the city

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

Cyrus for Wyll: I think Cyrus outright refuses to do the Champion/Ansur/whoops bitter gay exes quest. Not even in a reluctant 'I'll tag along to make sure you stay safe' thing, drags his heels to the very edge of the chambers of trials and is straight up like 'we shouldn't do this. I don't care how helpful the dragon will be we should Not Fucking Do This please don't do this i don't want to lose you to some impossible bullshit test you're already enough please don't make me watch you do this'

Of course there's no vindication in being right.

Wyll for Cyrus: Hmmmm Wyll is so accommodating it's hard to think of what he'd refuse… Of course there is the classic "you don't have to be the Blade of Frontiers" for me early on. No matter how many times Cyrus tells him that he doesn't have to perform for him, it's so hard to let go of a technique that has allowed you to cope with & make the best of such horrendous circumstances

22. If their lives were what was originally intended at birth, would they have still fallen in love?

Oh boy the 'at birth' specification is interesting, I've never really thought about what this version of Malcolm and Leandra had planned for him… He grew up on the road because Malcom was being hunted by his archfey patron who ends up killing him when Cyrus is very young (tho I have some. Extremely vague ideas about a post-game adventure involving Malcolm actually still being alive & Cyrus & his LI needing to save him). Presuming Malcolm doesn't die and is thus still around when Leandra passes from her illness, I could see him raising Cyrus as a much more well-adjusted rangers, mayhaps even of the fey wanderer variety as they work to free Malcolm from his patron

(…..i dont know how i've gotten this far without realizing before that the first loss in cyrus' life was to a vengeful warlock patron but it sure. Uh. Adds some Something to this dynamic…)

Wyll more obviously grows into a young lordling, but even without Mizora, I think he goes through life about 5 terribly repressed seconds from a nervous breakdown having grown up knowing absolutely nothing but his father's rigid expectations

And while I can't think of any self-evident way for their paths to cross, the notion of Wyll meeting a more fey version of Cyrus who whisks him away from the pressures of noble life for a whirlwind adventure straight out of the fantasies and fairytales Wyll grew up reading and dreaming about but had given up experiencing himself… well i think it FUCKS immensely

26. What are their favorite parts about physical affection/sex?

For both of them, the best part about physical affection is feeling safe. It's so new for them, but being able to melt into each other's arms and let all of their past disappear into the sound of the other's breathing and pulse is just one of their favorite things about being together, period.

For Cyrus, his relationship to sex is different than other iterations of the character because of his history with Meredith. Generally, Cyrus has two somewhat contradictory things he wants out of sex: to please his partner as much as possible, and to know himself and his body in relation to them. Contradictory because that first desire always trumps the second one and can even foreclose it entirely, depending on the partner, or make him vulnerable to someone who wants to control his sense of self.

Whereas ranger!Cyrus is pretty adamant about not relying on anyone else for that external validation/appraisal/identification. That just leaves "trying to give Wyll a religious experience every time," and that is something Cyrus adores immensely. (And his favorite part of /that/ is any indication of incoherency-- babbling and whining and stammering. Any sign that Wyll is trying sooo hard to be the calm & collected Blade and failing miserably turns Cyrus on a Lot; he refers to it playfully as 'making Wyll sing')

And as hard as it is, Wyll enjoys being made to let go and get out of his head and into his body and being taken care of and treated with a level of slow, gentle tenderness that is almost too much to bear (but he does and Cyrus praises him throughout to tell him he's doing a very good job bearing it)

#cyrus bg3 #cyrusXwyll #these were a ton of fun to answer & think about thank you sm!!#esp making the connection between malcolm being a warlock & wyll being a warlock... i will have to think about this more for sure........#aaaaaaaaand that is the last of my asks from november #i get to go into 2024 with a clean slate ready to yell more about my boy always and forever

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purgemarchlockdown · 4 months

Note

For the ask game, I checked the second-most-tagged character in your archive... Kazui? 8, 11, 12, 13.

I didnt realize he was second-most tagged! He's my qpr's fav so Im not really surprised....

8. what is your theory for their crime? if there is general consensus on it in the fandom, do you have any other, not-so-widely-accepted thoughts on it?

I think I Generally have similar thoughts on him as the rest of his crime as the rest of the fandom does (it was suicide not murder) Uh...honestly I worry my answers for these arent too interesting since I dont Tend to think too much about the crime itself ha...I do think that its possible that Kazui did Much Worse than we are willing to believe or accept. A friend of mine watched Cat and Immediately caught onto how creepy it feels which I agree with honestly since that was my other thought when I was watching it.

I feel like people get a bit defensive when the idea of Kazui being Worse gets brought up but admittedly a lot of times when people bring it up they go "I cant believe people are so Stupid" which is just mean.

I'm personally more fond of the interpretations where Kazui is some flavor of Queer and the shitty he did was lying to his wife. Since that Is a Really Shit thing to do already and I think it's more interesting thematically and story wise. Plus it makes his normalcy and repression parallels with Amane more fun I think.

However I don't think that means that possibility for Kazui being Worse should be Dismissed outright. Just because Kazui is regretful and self-hating and genuinely kind and understanding does not eliminate that possibility and what not.

It also doesn't mean he Can't be Queer....so like....I dunno. I'm just trying to say that I don't Mind him being a worse person than we would like to believe.

11. what are your favorite points about their story and the narrative surrounding them?

(I DID NOT REALIZE TILL AFTER I WROTE ALL OF THIS THAT I ANSWERED THIS BEFORE WHOOPS! YOU CAN READ IT ALONGSIDE THIS I TALK ABOUT SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT THINGS)

GIVE! ME! THOSE! FEELINGS! OF! REPRESSION!!!!!!!!!!!! He is so fucking repressed and is trying so damn hard to be normal and the Ideal Husband and it gets to me. It's something I find so interesting about Kazui. He's a big liar but that's because he's repressed as all hell. He believes he was Born Wrong somehow. Born different.

It's another reason why I really like Queer Kazui interpretations. I think those feelings of having to "be a man" and live up to "manly ideals" and being the Most Normalest Normal Man Ever works really well with that depiction of him.

Kazui is trying to fit the societal standard of normal and is really jaded about it as a result. The idea of Ideal Het Love is just something he's selling to people. The concept of being the Ideal Man is an ad. That one interrogation where he says marriage is good for your social status. He's trying to keep up with society's standards in a world that feels hostile to someone like Him.

Sure he could Try to be himself, but that means inviting so much hate and pain and even possibly risking his life. Leaving the comfortable world of normalcy means Being In Danger.

And he's repressed his feelings for his entire life. It's second nature to him.

How can he pull apart who he is from the lies? Is there even a difference? Is he doomed to lie forever and ever? He certainly doesn't know. There's a sense of stagnation and stillness in a way. A sense of being stuck in place Forever.

All he knows for certain is that Something is Wrong With Him. And that Something is what Killed Hinako. The dream he has is something that is unachievable, as it should be.

(Sorry but these are Really Appropriate WKTD scenes)

12 has already been answered here!

13. any ideas on what would they and their MV be like if they got a different verdict in T1?

Well ignoring the obvious "oh shit if Kazui was guilty Mahiru might of straight up fucking died, same with Amane actually since Presumably Kazui and Mikoto stopping Kotoko is what prevented her from being attacked" I think Kazui might just be kinda resigned to it, he's really like that i think. Kazui is someone Incredibly Resigned to Bad Situations, he doesn't really make much effort to fix them because he doesn't think they Can be fixed. And if he Tried it would just get worse.

He tried to bare his heart to Es but I guess that just didn't work out...I dunno if he would be more honest or not in his MV though...since Kazui seems to have noticed now that he's inno that even his Lies get into the machine. Im really not sure.

#asks #ask game #cw suicide

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transmasc-wizard · 8 months

Note

i'll ask u about your blorbo connections if u ask me abt mine <33 (i was tagged by someone else </3) Very curious about crowley in particular

YAYAYAYAY also I just realized we were tagged by the same person whoops. anyway

this is going to be just like heavily implied traumadumping on main btw but I've been in various stages of a breakdown for over 6 hours so i deserve it actually :3

BLORBOS:

tim stoker: anger issues. has lost some shit in the past. dresses atrociously. uses humour to mask how genuinely dysregulated they are. cares so deeply for people it drives them up the wall. bisexual

nico di angelo: happy queer child thrown starkly awake by a traumatic truth at a young age and becomes closed off confused manipulated and angry for several years only to find good supportive people who help him back on track (but he is still ill) (and that will probably not go away). also I took his name

eleanor shellstrop: sooooo scared of being left behind. so so scared. also, not entirely sure how to be a good person, but she wants to. kind of naturally mean and prickly and insults people out of love but is working on being nicer. (also side note I'm SOOOOO chidi coded too)

carlos: I have autism I like science he probably has autism (to me he does) and likes science and also we are both very quick at adjusting to weird shit if we find it interesting

L: why he talk like that. why he sit like that

michael shelley: trusted the wrong people 👍 changed a lot 👍 became a little fucking UNHINGED ! afterward 👍

crowley: it's the "let's leave behind everything else. I don't give a shit about the world I only care about you. we are on our own side against everything. we're a team. i love you, i dont have to say it, you know. you dont have to say it, i know you do too. please please please let me protect you please don't let them hurt you like they hurt me. wait please don't leave me why are you leaving me why are you choosing them. we're a team. I love you. i say it. say it back. why aren't you saying it back. why do you only want me how i used to be. I've changed so much. it wasn't on purpose. please love me this way. i love you. please. woah silly fashion sense :3" for me <3 does that satiate ur curiosity

martin: there is this pit of loneliness deep in your chest and it has probably always been there but now it will not go away and it consumes you, it swallows you whole. you are surrounded by people and surrounded by love but that pit has teeth and it tears you to shreds and all anyone else can do is watch. and yet, the love helps. it helps enough to hold on. that pit is inside you but it is not you. it hurts so much. it hurts because you're still alive. also bullshits skills and no one notices + homosexual + glasses :]

jinx: abandonment issues, anger issues, social awkwardness, intense mood swings, needs to be good enough to keep, unnatural hair colours <3

#asks #me #luce!!

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phoneybeatlemania · 1 year

Text

I posted 960 times in 2022

That's 831 more posts than 2021!

363 posts created (38%)

597 posts reblogged (62%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@idontwanttospoiltheparty

@phoneybeatlemania

@charlesandkeef

@frodolives

@themagicalmysticalboy

I tagged 947 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#asks - 136 posts

#a day in (my) life - 120 posts

#beatles - 102 posts

#anon - 98 posts

#paul mccartney - 89 posts

#quotes - 88 posts

#john lennon - 69 posts

#pauls psyche - 53 posts

#song talks - 52 posts

#johns psyche - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#but maybe hes just being friendly because i dont actually know what good relationships between people are supposed to look like 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

My Top Posts in 2022:

You Just Scream: Janovs homophobia & John Lennon

“You've got to hide your love away…”

(Cw: Homophobic speech and slurs)

This post is part 1 in a series of essays I'm working on, entitled “You Just Scream: John & Janov", which aim to explore and investigate the effect Arthur Janov’s therapy sessions had on John Lennon. This essay will focus on the question: “did Janov give John gay conversion therapy?”.

Also, this post is extremely long–I’m aware lol–but 1. I promise a lot of it is just interviews and evidence, most of which you don’t have to read in full and 2. I have cut it into sections, so it should be fairly easy to skip to the parts you are really interested in reading!

Abstract:

So I said (ages ago, whoops) id post some quotes from Arthur Janov’s book The Primal Scream: the cure for neurosis for anyone interested getting a clearer insight into how Janov perceived of homosexuality—which is unequivocally negatively. I was initially interested in researching this, because I was somewhat confounded with the ‘Janov gave John Lennon conversion therapy’ argument, since I could see valid points on both sides. I knew it was true that Janov definitely held homophobic beliefs, but I was sceptical considering John still continued to joke around and hint at his sexuality, allegedly came out (to differing degrees based on who you ask) to those around him, and depending how much trust and reliance you place on certain sources, he might have "fooled around" with other men throughout the 70s. And I also wondered how deeply rooted Janov’s homophobia was, considering that when Janov published The Primal Scream in 1970, homosexuality was still deemed to be a mental illness (in the DSM-3), and would not be declassified as such until 1973—so essentially, it would not have been uncommon for psychologists to affiliate with homophobic theories and beliefs. What I wanted to discern was exactly how fundamental and present these beliefs were within Janov’s therapeutic practices.

But it was when I came across evidences revealing that Brian and Spain were topics of discussion during therapy, that made me decide to finally run a thorough investigation into this topic.

Recognising Janov's misconceptions surrounding the psychology of sexuality, and additionally noting that he was, at least for some time, a massive influence on John—as well as combining this with the evidence that they did discuss Johns bisexuality, it’s more then likely that Janov would have negatively impacted Johns relationship with his own sexuality. John, having spent an extensive and intimate amount of time with someone who saw homosexuality as a product of emotional and mental turmoil, was negatively influenced by his presence and beliefs.

So in this essay, I will be trying to discern an answer to the question: did Janov give John Lennon ‘gay conversion therapy’?

First off, what are Janov’s core beliefs, and how homophobic was he really?

Ive compiled various extracts from Janov’s book, The Primal Scream, which should provide you with an impression of his fundamental beliefs concerning homosexuality. I have also bolded sections of these extracts that I believe could have resonated with John, further alluring him towards Janov’s pseudoscience.

‘The homosexual act is not a sexual one.It is based on the denial of real sexuality…A truly sexual person is heterosexual. The homosexual has usually eroticised his need so that he appears to be highly sexed. Bereft of his sexual fix, his lover, he is like an addict without his connection; without his lover, he is in the pain that is always there but which is drained off sexually. But sex is not the ultimate goal — love is.’ (pg. 302)

‘If a man makes love to a woman but is totally involved during it with a fantasy about men, I would call the experience homosexual. The motions one goes through are less critical than the internal situation. When a person actually makes love to a member of his own sex, it means he is more totally involved in the symbolic behaviour…He has given up the battle and become more completely what he is not…There are men and women who have homosexual marriages but do not recognise the fact.’ (pg. 302-3)

‘It has been my experience that homosexuality may derive from any number of permutations of family interaction. A homosexual boy can have a weak father, tyrannical father, no father.What matters is that the boy has a need for a loving father…Many homosexuals do not seem to realise what appears so obvious — they are in pursuit of substitutes…What gives the sexual search of the homosexual such intensity is the need to feel loved at last and so to find an end to nagging tension.’ (pg. 303-4)

‘I do not think we are dealing with bisexual so much as with neurosis. So many of us have been deprived of love from both parents that there is often a lingering need for love from either sex.’ (pg. 308)

Additionally, there have been contemporaneous articles written by Janov and other primal therapy doctors, which offer further clarity concerning Janov’s stance on homosexuality. @eppysboys made a post (x) shedding more light on Janov’s beliefs concerning sexuality, so I would encourage you to read through that for further information on this topic. But for the purpose of this essay, I have collected extracts which especially focus on Primal Therapy being used as a means of ‘gay conversion therapy’.

“[Janov] claims that primal therapy has cured alcoholism, homosexuality, smoking…” — Boca Raton News, (June 16. 1971)

“Critical of the decision of the American Psychological Association in 1973 to remove homosexuality as a neurosis in its Diagnostic Statistic Manual, Janov called the decision a “disservice to homosexuals. It tells them that they are well when they are wracked with Pain and tension.” [The Primal Institute Newsletter, October, 1979, pg. 4]” — The Origins of Homosexuality: Insights From The Deep Feeling Psychotherapies by John A. Speyrer

“On occasion homosexuality has been reversed after a person has re-experienced very early and deep pain. Often homosexuality is a symbolic act out of early unmet needs and for that reason there are different scenarios or sequences of events which lead up to the first homosexual act.” — The Origins of Homosexuality: Insights From The Deep Feeling Psychotherapies by John A. Speyrer (c. 2000s)

“So if homosexuality is normal it cannot ever be treated and changed? I have found that not to be true. A few of my homosexual patients do change after many many months of therapy and very deep probing into the brain and the unconscious… If patients could be helped back into their remote history we would see the pain involved into homosexuality…” — On Homosexuality as a Normal Variant of Human Sexuality by Arthur Janov (c. 2012)

“Is homosexuality genetic? We have successfully treated it, which makes the assumption that it is a disease.” — What Is More Important Genes or Epigenes? By Arthur Janov (c. 2015)

“A priest who seduced one of my patients over years left him homosexual. It was the only “love” he ever got and he was seduced by it. That is, all of us get seduced by our need.” — So Why Are We Gay by Arthur Janov (c. 2013)

“Janov declared in a 1971 interview, for instance, that he could fix everything from alcoholism and menstrual cramps to “homosexuality.” It’s a position he does not refute when I ask him about it in an email, claiming that “we have done it” in “restricted circumstances,” before writing, oddly, that “I assume you are gay but do not pay attention to the hyperbole.” — How Primal Scream Therapy Has Survived Five Decades of Strangeness and Controversy by Oliver Hotham (Feb. 22 2016)

Finally, there have been former primal therapy patients who have testified that PST was used as an approach to conversion therapy. These two extracts come from Janov’s writings in The Primal Scream:

‘“Each new sexual contact left me slightly dissatisfied, and I never knew why,” a former homosexual told me. “I thought it was a penis I wanted, the bigger, the better — until I got it. Then I needed more and more. After I felt how much I wanted my father, I knew that it wasn't a penis I wanted. I guess I became a screaming fag because I could never scream for that bastard.”’ (pg. 304)

‘Another patient, whose parents were “dead” inside and completely unfeeling, said, “I know now why I used to be so hung up on blowing guys. I think I was literally trying to suck some life from someone.” What homosexuals, both male and female, seem to agree upon after Primal treatment is that each of their previous homosexual contacts seem to mean “Mommy (or Daddy), love me!” If we can agree that homosexuality in most cases is this need for parental love, we can then say that the aim of homosexuality is heterosexuality.’ (pg. 304)

Sorry, but his reason for blowing guys is SO funny >:)

Janov also details the experience of a lesbian named Elizabeth, and uses her testimony a case-study to present PST as a “cure” for homosexuality. The testimony is pretty long, so I won’t list it here — but if you do want to read it, here is a digital copy ofThe Primal Scream book found on the internet archives; her testimony begins on page 110 (x).

Intrigued by all of this, I reached out to academic and author of the book Debunking Primal Therapy, John Smith. I emailed him, enquiring into whether he knew anything about Janov’s homophobia, and how it was incorporated into his therapies. He told me that throughout the early 2000’s–which was when Smith underwent PST, and subsequently denounced it–no one within the primal community wasreally homophobic, including Janov, although some patients retained the belief that homosexuality could be caused by traumas. By ‘no one was really homophobic’, what Smith was getting at was that by the 2000s, Janov probably would not insist or pressure someone into undergoing conversion therapy—because despite clearly holding onto his homophobic stances from the seventies, his blogposts indicate that he had to accept social change, probably recognising that if he were to come out with blatantly homophobic speech in the 21st century, he would both lose part of his following, and his credibility within the scientific community. Janov’s views clearly are homophobic, but theres definitely an element of him trying to conceal this judgement, dressing it up as pure scientific speculation.

See the full post

238 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

can i personally ask that we talk about this more

264 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

source: Up Front: His Strictly Confidential Autobiography by Victor Spinetti*

This blog supports homoerotically charged friendships 💪

(*Spinetti played the role of the TV director in the film A Hard Days Night)

275 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

…when McCartney met Harrison in New York in January and said, ‘Look, George, I want to get off the Apple label’, Harrison came back with a line that perfectly encapsulates the sadness and venom that had brought the greatest group of all to an end: ‘You'll stay on the fucking label. Hare Krishna.’

— 1971: Never A Dull Moment by David Hepworth (pg. 23-4)

336 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

1,279 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #throwback to my Janov series which i WILL eventually finish #PROMISE!#have done too much work to not finish it lmao

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wrestlezon · 2 years

Text

liveblog containment post for aew dynamite 7/20/22

i am obviously excited for the best friends vs bcc fight :)c

theyre starting off with darby vs brody king? ok hes gettin thrown around like a ragdoll brody king won. makes sense hes a big guy

wait there was a chuck taylor sign in the bg. hold it up again i want to read it lmao the its my birthday sign upside down oh sting is here! hes been baited out whoa the lights are they going to make sting evil. evil grandpa they misted him OH ITS MIRO he got misted last time. and his promo was very suspect. is miro evil??? :)c SUNGLASSES SUSPICIOUS... lol he taped it over OHHH BEST FRIENDS ARE NEXT WOOOOOO

this is a backstage promo with the guy ricky starks is fighting for the ftw championship lmfao ricky starks and hobbes are so good. just putting the hat on tony schiavone

THE BEST FRIENDSSSSSSSS VS MOXLEY AND YUTA ORANGE CASSIDY GUEST COMMENTARY??? LMAO lmfao regal at it as per the usual

he doesn't know how to flirt with orange. hes asking to hold hands with him. TRENT TAGGED CHUCK IN VS YUTA OOOOUGHHHH i can hear that the the commentary is saying lore but im focusing 100% on chuck and yuta fighting I AM GOING TO KILL THE CAMERA CREW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY LITERALLY CUT AWAY AT THE WORST POINT Trent mad chuck stopping him :O and then beating up yuta himself lol moxley chasing him lmaooo OHHH CHAIR lmfao the daniel garcia "get a load of this guy" cam AWFUL WAFFLE... sorry i was too busy watching the match with my undivided attention. you know how it is YUTA WITH THE PIN... orange just gets up and walks off

oh theres a claudio promo right now? there better not be stage events happening behind this

swerve and keith lee celebration lmfao the cake... swerve you are trying so hard oh mark sterling is here with tony nese. i forgot about his anti-strickland agenda oh no!!!! their cake!!!!!!!!!

alex reynolds and john silver backstage promo with butcher and the blade?? hell yes LMFAO BUTCH IMPACT FONT SHIRT i love the dark order and im glad theyre putting john silver on live tv beating them up!!! HANGMAN TO THE RESCUE!!!!! :O

varsity blondes vs cage and luchasaurus oops i looked away

lmfao cage on lucha's shoulders? thats not your-- OH JUNGLE BOY??? with a chair... whaddya gonna do jungle boy... LUCHA TAKES HIS SIDE!! CAGE RUNNING i wasnt sure if luchasaurus was gonna turn on him last second. i wouldve yelled (angry)

the gunn club backstage promo! WE'RE GETTING A RAP BATTLE???? HEEEELLLLL YESSSS

ricky starks vs cole karter i dont know this karter guy. but he is wrestling out there lol ricky being like dang hold on time out. i need a breather same tbh i still need to think about that best friends fight oh man that cole karter flip slam looked harsh but i also can't tell when a move is bad for real starks is cool and classy. ohhh and he got the mic! lemme hear it mr starks oh really? are they gonna back to back wrestle match? this would be a first. im excited to see if theyd actually do it DANHAUSEN???? NO I ACTUALLY WANT THIS TO HAPPEN RIGHT NOW WHICH MEANS THEYRE NOT GONNA DO IT RIGHT NOW LMAO THE CROWD MAD THEYRE NOT GETTING IT RIGHT NOW OH HIS IMPRESSION SO GOOD IM EXCITED FOR RICKY STARKS VS DANHAUSEN

backstage promo with willow, statlander, and athena threats to slap his bald head WILLOW IS SOOOOO CUTEEEEEEEEE AUGUGHHGHGHHHH 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

in-ring promo with ftr! theyre promoting their match vs the briscoes? dax's daughter story... 🥺

jay lethal backstage promo... oh! christopher daniels challenging him on friday??

jade cargill and kiera hogan vs athena and willow!!! there is a lot of rappers involved in this show but i am not cultured and i do not know them. :( i love how this is team cyan vs team purple whoops i missed the beginning of the fight. athena is putting in work now though stokely has appeared to distract-- ohhh no!! lmao can you imagine if willow won in the bg while the camera was on jade we gettin pins here nooo... back to back triple pins on willow noooooooo

thunder rosa toni storm backstage promo oh theyre doing the title match with yamashita so soon japanese :O britt baker appears

HANGMAN JOHN SILVER TAG TEAM VS BUTCHER AND BLADE ON FRIDAY??? ohhh!! dalton castle on the ROH ppv!!!!

lmfao why are they showing excalibur reading a promo-- camera guys whats goin on

its time for eddie vs jericho!!! BARBED WIRE **EVERYWHERE** lmfao the MICROPHONE daniel garcia slappin everyones asses on the way into the cage here comes out painmaker jericho! huh. a mask huh. ive never seen painmaker jericho in a match oh i think you missed a spot there mr jericho eddie!!!!!!!! YEAHHHHH ok jim ross has been kinda eh this match but i laughed at "once they lose their blood they wont be able to recover it" so that makes him being there worth it BARBED WIRE RING BELL the person who is in charge of camera cuts today is making me go apoplectic ouhghhhh barbed wire... brutal... noooo!! tay conti!!! aughhhh WHAT THE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANNA JAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! uhghhHHHHHHHHHHHH >:(((((((((((((((((( imagine so many crossed arms emojis right here SAMMY TOO????? listen if eddie loses this i will be SO MAD oh hey guess what

i'm mad

oh well i guess at least eddie got to throw jericho into the Barbed Wire Square at the end there...

#talkzon #livezon

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iced-souls · 9 months

Text

From this ask meme if you are wondering BUT ANYWHIZZLE

@courtpheasent

Alrighty im back to this finally whoops i forgor on multiple occasions but yes, i did 18 but now i am doin 50.

Random OC talk? I feel like if i included most of my thoughts this post would go on for WAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY too long so i am deciding on choosing 1 thing. Which i have no clue what to talk about—

I guess some mini plans i wanna finish for them?

I wanna do some posters for each of my……worlds? I still dont know what to call them, ‘original story’? Anyways, POSTERS. Ye Ye. So for my dynaton guys, bygones be bybones, auto-mundus, void-gang, etc.

And then i want to make more character details for the other skeletons in BBB, cause i only have a plan for that news goth skele, and then soop. But i wanna do some ref stuff, or just figure out what they doin in the story—

Next i got an animatic or animation i want to do for my void-gang guys while i wait to actually start its bigger thing.

Also an animation meme for beth and henry [and maybe also sans and paps included] cause i found/got reminded of a song that my brain has put said animation on loop for it so IMMA TRY AND DO-

Aaaannnddd also those others short animations i posted about a while ago that i havent finished yet—

Im also gonna draw some of my old *cough cough*gacha*cough cough* characters because im in an artblock and so its something a lil more fun and simple to do. Maybe ill add say some of those guys lore when i finish up that—

And then that one rottmnt voiceline thing that i havent been working on for a month or 2 now—

Aaannnnd yeah. That’s it for now. I guess im also trying to finish writing down left behind, and seeing how i am procrastinating in that i might start drawing the comics once im done chapter 1 rather than the entirety lmao—

Alrighty, hope that was a neat and/or worthy oc talk—. Some or most of you probably dont know who the heck im even talking about but mmmmmmm—. Ill tag their names/worlds if you want to check them out i suppose. This also Wasn’t specifically an oc but coughcoughcouhghcchohguhuhovhuchouh

#feel free to ask more questions! from the ask meme or not!!#oc ask meme #have a good day #soop #bygones be bybones #bygones be bebones #dynaton #auto-mundus #void gang #left behind #random stuff—#ask

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frozenrose13 · 10 months

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feeling very pacing gnawing at the bars of our "cage" etc etc

feel so very trapped; we did acknowledge would make symptoms worse by finishing desk bins and decided to do so anyways and it *was* in fact worth it but fuck i wish it didn't have to be like this i wish we could just *do activity* without first having to make sure we'll be okay with making things worse later. and used to be would be next day impact then was hours now is *while* we are still doing the (even short!) activity and lasts way longer after. remembering that months - years conversation with dr.

cant help think, if we could change the outside factors that made existing in our spaces difficult/not doable would we feel less trapped? how much of trapped feeling is needing to do brainwork around our wheelchair and how much is reasonable response to unreasonable situations? especially when we are content with using *a* wheelchair. we can be content with using a powerchair. we have (mostly) accepted where we are at and what our limitations are. but the flip side of that is we *know* what our limitations are, with a handful manageable exceptions, and there is so much more we could be living. makes us miss our manual wheelchair makes us miss our rollator. its not the specific aids we miss its missing how we could engage with our life with the limitations. and yeah the limitations are a lot different now but, it is still possible for us to live a life we can be content with within those limitations. we've done a lot of work with "what makes us happy" "what makes life enjoyable for us" "how do we make living worth it for us" and we know a decent chunk of answers to those questions. we *could have* options.

its the. artificial. of the limitations. its the, we could probably cook with help if we could reach the stove + counters, if we could access the fridge. we could probably manage our fatigue symptoms more effectively if we didnt have to transfer any time we want/need to be in a different room. we could probably fix the sleep habit problems if we could *access our own damn bed*. i dont doubt our pain would be more manageable if our wheelchair wasn't literally causing it to be worse. hell even going out would be more doable if wasn't so potentially hazardous with driving from the joystick/console/electronics problems or getting hung up on curbs or having to throw our weight around to prevent getting our chair stuck. some of that is gov accessibility obvs but the rest is entirely about the mechanical problems with our wheelchair.

and what sucks too is, this was the correct option. at the time. we needed something light + easily transportable by car with an okay price tag. and we didn't have the information we would have needed to make a decision that would have been more able to be used by us for longer. at that point we were still being told we could recover to where was previously. we were being told we wouldn't get worse if we managed our symptoms, and powerchair was a huge part of that management. but was expecting once it started breaking down in ways we couldn't fix, we'd be able to at least go back to manual wheelchair.

to be fair though, think 4 (?) years is a pretty decent amount of time to get out of a cheap off brand powerchair (that we *are* admittedly pretty rough on).

losing train of thought whoops. trying to think in complete sentences is making brain melt faster : /

0 notes

no-droids · 4 years

Text

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part. Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid. It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help. You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day. There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great. At least for you. It’s sluggish. Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in. Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle. As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore. Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate. Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side. There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time. Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally. You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened. You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it. You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys. They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up. There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured. They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso. The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands. You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet. You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly. You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving. You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you. You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching. Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you. After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip. “Seriously. That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring. Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away. You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now. You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup. Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself. “We…” Your voice sounds absolutely shredded. “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you. “But we are alive. Hey.” He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand. “We’re alive, right? Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative. A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence. You’re alive. Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering. Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back. But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking. Full of light, and hope. It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death. Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies. Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife. You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort. For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that. “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!” You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?” Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position. Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them. “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him. “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with. “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too. These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?” Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close. Why is he so close to you? You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space. Since when did he have that effect on you? You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in. You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness. Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though. Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands. Hey. Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips. “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under. Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement. You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though. His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head. Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else. Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

***

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and. Well. Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him. But like, fuck him. You know. In the negative sense of the word. The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it. Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here. Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall. You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today. You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again. So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him. Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now. You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots. He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you. What have you done to deserve this torture? Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay? No, you’ve decided. It’s not okay. He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him. In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie. Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues. “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps. “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly. “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?” You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite. Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug. “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question? It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache. Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in? “Ever. The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?” You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more. Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies. “Maybe some Reds. Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear. Where are stress headaches localized? Are those the ones right under your brow bone? Because stars, you feel it. “Fucking… why? Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?” Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you. “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what? No. I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit. This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that? It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him. The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you. “Quit being so sensitive. Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering. You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset. You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell. But today was… a lot. You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names. These people aren’t your friends. Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it? You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle. You almost died today. You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit. This is your squadron. These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs. You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that? You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine. How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you. No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?” You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy. Ooh, you can already feel it burning. It would be so fucking typical. Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight. How could he not know? With as many friends as he has? If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too. You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it. “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?” Zhang turns his head. “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No. Yeah? What?” He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?” Rossi confirms with a shrug. “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right. Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage. You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel. His pool is probably up soon, you figure. That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today. He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time. Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—” You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it. Nobody has any fucking idea. Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually… “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—” You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster. Dameron had some… what? “Wait. Explain. You’re saying he didn’t…” You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together. “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What? No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated. “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten? He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…” You blink, stunned. “But… why? Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs. “Fuck if I know. All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it. Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t. He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again. You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today. Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half…

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here. You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all. You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.

This is why he said that about Nine? Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head. Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today. You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone. Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow. “What now?” You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?” You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder. “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably. “Well, uh. We tried.”

“What?” You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more. “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing. So we thought we’d buy you one instead. Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air. You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right. Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar. He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes. The past… whole day. Month and a half. Or… fuck, how long have you known him? Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours. His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately. You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on. Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base. You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here. Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal. Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around. At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation. You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly. Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them. Constant, never-ending. Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe. Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts. You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance. Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was. Doesn’t matter now. They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise. It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary. You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now. But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms. You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship. You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized. Spectacularly so. Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary. There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it. Get each other. He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly. You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising. Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive. It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason… You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you. It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission. How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name. Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time. The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him. The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically. Remembered, or at least asked the right person about. But why? It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s notorious for not giving a shit. He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours? You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself. He was… singing your praises today. He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him. As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier. Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him. Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you. He… he defended you. Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back. And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you. What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago? He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier. The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh. This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck. The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder. Shower, you’re in the shower. Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck. As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard. You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here. Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it. If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today. Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it. You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you. You enjoyed the fuck out of it. You wish he’d do it again. Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer. He was doing you a favor, you realize that now. Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point. He turns you on, you fucking admit it. He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore. Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition. You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that. Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it. You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room. A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise. Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that. You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight. You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today. Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing. What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level. It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition. Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review. He could’ve thrown… three games, even. Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls. The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers. You’ll be able to cum, at least once. It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think. You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention. He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze. It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements. He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy. Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been. Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork. Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy. He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop. You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you. He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open. He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this. He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there. You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it. Fuck. This is torture. Fuck him. Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him. Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum. Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now. Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change. Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur. Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months. You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register. Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight. Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you. You deserve this, you deserve some relief. Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind. You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open. The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t. You don’t have to give it fucking anything. You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have? Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower? You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist. And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck. Was his hair wet? Fuck, why can’t you remember? His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much. Post-shower, then. Probably. Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk. You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started. His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it. The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point. You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away. Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor. The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him. A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way. Still, what can you say? Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him? Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it. Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you. Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now. Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed. Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way. You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it. You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion. He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more. Fuck, are you positive that was an accident? Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before. You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form. How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep? Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what? Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again? Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move. Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you. Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support. When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week. Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight. Nothing. You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up. Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut. After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room. However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams. He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on. The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines. Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do. He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one. The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to. Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it. You never tell him the truth. You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel. He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight. Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio. The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind. You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind. I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next. The silent promise that his actions allude to. You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in. Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth. Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth. You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought. You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it. A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine. “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight. Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too. His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs. You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit. Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago. Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers. The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow. Why is he going so fucking slow?? The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be. You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him. He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he? So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation? Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air. You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk. He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing. His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins. You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is. Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you. You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind. Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult? You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why. Why did the fuck did you stop? There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still. It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it. There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?” Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly. Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first? Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic? “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body. The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards. But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.

Fuck him, bad way. This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin. It’s not a warning, it’s a threat. If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you. It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it. “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again. Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere. Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all. The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want. As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy. “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone. Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen. You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami. You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment. A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude. Where’s the drop? You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat. It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There. There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress. It’s fucking mayhem. You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it. You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard. Fucking hard. It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow. Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is. Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other. Stars, what did he do to you? You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves. Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago. They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight. Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance. Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping. This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now. Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary. He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now. Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it. He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck. He was right. You needed this. Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it. He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns. Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it. He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing. Accommodating. Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation. You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again. “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first. “Mm. Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing. Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair. Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it. Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy. You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive. After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan. He’s so… fucking hot. Fuck. He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side. But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge. The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself. You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely. Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself. You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are. Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip. “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now. Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm. Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack. “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What? W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply. Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart. “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress. And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body. The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect. Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works. “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him. By this point, you’re worrying again. You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists. If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand. He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him. Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t. “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk. You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain. Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp. It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just. You need a hard reset. You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again. It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again. The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine. Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds. “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly. It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his. Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself. After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say. You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now. Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at. He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think. He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something. How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do? You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him. Why can’t you figure out something? You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent. Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?” Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking. Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours. “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried. He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?” He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time. Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions. “Well what do you want, baby? You wanna just hang out? That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want? The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?” You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body. “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears. “You can—?” Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious. “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now. “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right? So why not?” Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust. “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated. “You don’t get it. You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet? Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm. He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip. An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud. “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?” He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs. “Just say fuck it all and race for last place? Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself. “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room. “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh. Well, to sum up. May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it. Okay, you get it. He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it. You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk. Only now, you’re… humbled. By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight. It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it. It’s big. It fills his whole palm without much room to spare. Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow. Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his. You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing. The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right. He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock. He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it. It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance. “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct. The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh. Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening. “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself. You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it. Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip. “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point. You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression. His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this. You know then that it must be really fucking wet. You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it. You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you. He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast. From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative. You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it. It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts. But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad? It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right. You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you. But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off. The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it. You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up. You underestimate his self control, time and time again. But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you. “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad. You make me so mad. I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you. I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound. The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity. “Say it. ‘You…’—what? Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves. Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more. Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this. Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious. “Not tonight. I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs. His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl. “Fuck. Tight little baby. Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit. You already feel it. You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire. And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone. “Can you feel it coming? Fuck, I can,” he shudders. “Already. Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point. Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back. Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow. You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit. It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more. “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift. His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?” Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration. “Tell me. You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed. After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it. You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again. Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you. And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle. It’s tender. It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.

You handle it silently. At first. You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all. Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides. Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter. Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice. It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose. Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him. Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one. You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy. You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose. You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more. Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome. He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack. He tastes like you. He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you. It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still. But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours. His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves. Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time. What is he doing? What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace. You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum. He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you. “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up. He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him. “Never… fuck. Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet. Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels. So intimate. You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again. Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again. He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down. Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him. When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation. You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need. That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right? Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe. Fuck. His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open. Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller. And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going. He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you. He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied. Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock. Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it. Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating. Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy. Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while. You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you. Same speed, same control.

Your eyes nearly fucking cross. “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this. This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with. Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you. Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more. Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you. Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl. Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you. “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl. “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…” His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening. “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging. But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come. You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore. You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend. But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?” He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours, “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?” You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else. Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?” You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once. All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away. You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does. It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant. Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying? You don’t know anymore. Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope. Not even close.

He ruins you slowly. Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination. Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words. You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted. He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed. He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this. If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you. It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours. But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver. He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him. He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum. You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants. “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you. Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up. You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack. “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late. He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it. That is it.

“Fuck me!” You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole! Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far. He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm. Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go. His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars. Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours. Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?” He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs. “Huh? Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything? You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you? Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t. You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it. You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open. You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him. But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore. You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet. You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it. Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you. He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him. All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown. You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief. He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid. You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound. Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room. And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times. He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him. He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty. Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile. That one is practiced and alluring. It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy. Amazed, and uncoordinated. Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow. It makes you feel… alive. Colorful. Radiant. Sunshine. Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time. You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable. Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance. “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?” You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest. You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals. “Oh. Pfft. You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades. Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget. You forget everything. You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had. It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration. Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval. No. This is good, this is how you want to stay. The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect. “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze. A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you. Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out. “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again. Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it. Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement. “Gah—look what you did. I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times. “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs. It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again. The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason. You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap. Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again. You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing. Not saying anything. Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker. So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes. You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is. Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings. You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it. You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue. But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo. It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks. Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier. Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?” Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters. You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency. After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what? Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once. You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you. It seems appropriate. And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap. You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again. Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips. He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does. The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun. You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?” You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it. Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling. He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

#poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #Smut #no-droids

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