#can you imagine the fucking misfortune of being someone that cares about him in his original life

[xoshepard]

OPEN THE DICTIONARY TO THE WORD HYPOCRITE AND JOHN GAIUS’S STUPID SMUG FACE IS THERE I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL HE GETS WHAT IS COMING TO HIM BC HES BEEN OUT HERE SACRIFICING PEOPLE- THE PEOPLE CLOSEST TO HIM HE SACRIFICED TWICE!!!!- AND HE NEEDS TO BE TAKEN OUT FOR GOOD

[howlonomy]

in all the 'trauma siblings' stuff with Clover & Kanako, I keep coming back to thinking about how Flowey engages with this

Like, here's someone who went through an at least similar ordeal of getting a human soul mixed into a monster body, leading to a lethal, traumatic injury, into a rebirth into a new body whose physical and emotional state are all way the fuck out of wack

Except Flowey was shaped a lot by having to go through the traumatic aftermath alone, and lives in the weird space of having experienced unknown years of resets but also is still mentally kind of a child

So I have to think that Flowey sees these kids and that little Asriel part of him is screaming "don't let them wind up like us", but being Flowey he also has no idea how to really comfort anyone.

Leading to sweet moments like Clover collapsing somewhere and before anyone else in their family can even pick up on something being wrong, there's already vines springing up to catch them, because of course Flower would know how to spot weakness in people after years of doing that, but now there's a productive positive use for that instinct and it's nice

But also moments like "Gee how do I cheer up Kanako about that appointment with Alphys... I know! We'll torment her! What a wonderful idea!" Because hey, a little bit of sadism always cheered him up when he was suffering

And he'd probably settle toward a crass & hyperbolic style of comforting people with hit-or-miss moments, like a sort of "Wow clover you ate SHIT just now", trying to get them laughing at the misfortune instead of crying, but obviously sometimes It's Not The Time For That or he reverts a bit back to thinking something really fucked up like "Man, that person was really rude just now, we should kill them and everyone they love" and the kids look back at Flowey like "dude what the fuck"

And everybody's different ways of processing trauma are constantly both helping and clashing with each other as these kids help each other figure this shit out because as much as the adults want to help nobody but these 3 can really come close to understanding how it feels

this has been a big ramble for an ask and not really an ask but I wanted you to have this

THIS IS SOOOO GOOD BECAUSE YOURE 100% RIGHT

flowey struggles with knowing the concept of empathy and compassion but not really. KNOWING it. i imagine he can at least remember how it feels being asriel and during the final boss but. its easy to know what it is and harder to put it into practice when you dont actually feel it

i think youre right in that he would try his best to help but not really know HOW. like it takes him a bit to realize that oh, i can see the weaknesses in people, whatdo i do with this information now that i cant use it to exploit them? what can i do to help instead of harm? what is objectively the GOOD thing to do with this information?

hes still an asshole and a bitch but he cares. hes learning to anyways. even if he missteps a lot the people around him are forgiving and willing to help him on the right path and correct him. i love…. flowey :[

[wilderness-of-thoughts]

Before:

You were sitting on the couch in the living room, the moon was shining through the curtains outside the window. And in front of you on the table was a miniature version of Gojo. You listened almost carefully to what he had to tell you. About how he was on a mission to the Old Temple in Kyoto. Routine. A few curses and a few bigger ones were disturbing the peace of the area. Nothing he couldn't handle.

"... And then the light and everything got big." He finished by raising his little hands up, his tail wagging nervously and his ears twitching. "I don't know what curse did this because I was sure I had gotten rid of all of them and none of them would have had that kind of power. And how the fuck did that damn thing get through my barrier?!" He was thinking more out loud than to you. He put his hand to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "hey, y/n, are you even listening to me?" He looked at you seriously now.

And here we have a problem. Did you listen to him at all? Well, yes, and in other circumstances you probably would have cared, but... Those eyes twinkling in the dark, that fluffy tail that seems as soft as dandelions, those little cat ears that move nervously with his head, and that body of his. Tiny, tiny, adorable.

"yes.. but now I'm fighting with myself because I have a great urge to squeal like a teenager, take you in my arms and cuddle you." You said honestly, clenching your hands on your T-shirt with your remaining willpower. "Stop being so cute or I'm losing." You warned.

"don't even think about it. I may have shrunk, but I'm still Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer.... Hey, are you laughing?!" He growled at you and his tail stood up. Your eyes sparkled with tears of suppressed laughter.

"No!" You lied.

"yes! You laugh at my misfortune! Fuck y/n get a grip and be serious."

"I can't believe those words are coming out of your mouth." You commented, reaching into your pocket for phone. Gojo was too busy dwelling on his fate to pay any attention to it at the moment.

"I am always serious!" He hiss at you. Wait what?! He made a hiss like a cat! No, that's something to remember, if you had any concerns before, they're completely gone now. You aimed the camera at him, enchanted. "Put that away, this instant. I warn you. One photo and...-" Snap. At that moment you felt a sharp pain in the hand that held the phone. It was perforated and completely unusable. Gojo used his cursed energy, you knew it even though you couldn't see it.

"Ouch! Hey! This was supposed to be for posterity!"

"Let posterity kiss my ass" He hiss again.

"Just imagine, in a few decades someone will want to write a PhD thesis on the life and work of the famous Gojo Satoru! This is for documentation." You tried to stroke his ego.

"so let them finish their sentence and move on to the next chapter!"He exhaled loudly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest.

"ok." You put your phone down, it's good that you have your progress in Genshin saved in the cloud, otherwise you would probably despair more than he is now. "But you know, it's hard to take you seriously in this state." You weren't even concerned about his shrinkage anymore, but rather about the fact that it was he himself that shrunk and not his clothes. At the moment, he was wearing only a headband that was clumsily wrapped around his entire body. As if he was trying to hide in it. In response to your words, he flattened his ears and lowered his head, flushed with shame, anger, and humiliation. You smiled wryly. "But hey, I'm here! Don't give up, little one."

"I'm not tiny!"

"Now you are." Gojo growled again. You sighed, looking away from him. You need to gather your thoughts. Focus y/n! Focus! His silence was unusual."Okay, so let's summarize. You are shrunken. You can use your power. You don't know what shrunk you." Gojo nodded, glancing at you, his tail moving slightly, pleased that you were finally starting to take the subject seriously."what do you say we go back there and.... check the place out?"

"That might be a problem," he grumbled. You tilted head to the side in surprise, sending him a questioning look. Gojo ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. "I blew up ...." He whispered.

"What?"

"I blew up this damn place when I discovered I couldn't become normal!!!" He screamed looking at you. He knew he did wrong but he can't turn back time.

".... And how did you get back here?" You were strangely calm. His tail curled under him, and his ears flattened back again. He didn't answer your question, he simply teleported from the table to the couch next to you. Oh, yes. You forgot about that. You sighed heavily. You wanted to calm him down so you instinctively placed your hand on his back, there was no barrier, you stroked his head with your thumb feeling his tail on your skin in nervous movements. Just like you would pet a little cat in a rag.

"No one can know about this." He spoke quietly, calmer than before. You agreed with him without saying anything. He was speaking out of shame, but also if anyone found out what happened to him, if the elders, heck! His enemies knew he would have a much bigger problem now... Heh... A bigger problem.

"so why didn't you call someone better? You know, Nanami, Yaga, even Megumi."

Gojo didn't know why. You were the weakest, had practically no power, and weren't the best at being ordinary either. A clumsy, indecisive, emotional girl. Despite this, despite all the years you worked for him, despite the fact that you knew each other even before Geto...

Why the fuck did he call you? Gojo lifted his head to look at your face. You seemed so different and yet familiar as stared at him with attention, curiosity and... Care. Gojo smiled slightly, for the first time since he became so small. He only now felt your warm hand on his back. He trusted you, you never betrayed him, you never let him down, you never said no. He gave you increasingly irrationally stupid orders just to test your endurance. When will you crack? When will you have enough? When will the weakest link give up and leave?

Never.

Even when he deliberately humiliated you with his whims, when he teased you, you never left. Yes, there were tears, words spoken in anger, he saw you break down, but you never left.

"Because it's your job to clean up my mess" He replied with a cocky smile, clearly calmer. He watched as you wrinkled your nose in dissatisfaction with the answer, as you twisted your lips as you thought of a text to get back at him. He loved it. And you probably would have thrown him some sarcastic line if he hadn't purred. He didn't even realize it. A quiet purr escaped his body, and you heard it, and then...

"Holy shit, Gojo! Are you purring?! Yiiik! Again!"You chirped, taking him in both hands, careful not to hurt him, and brought him to your cheek in delight.

"NO!" Gojo pressed his hands against your cheek, trying to push himself away, yet he purred quietly, so quietly that he hoped you wouldn't notice. Maybe it won't be so bad? Gojo felt that he did the right thing by turning to you for help. When this is over he'll buy your phone back, but for now for his own safety he'd rather you don't have the camera in your hand.

Next:

[writing-hat]

man I'm rewatching skybound (help) to focus on the misfortune crew so here's a kinda long ramble about Flintlocke and Nadakhan friendship below

the way Flintlocke's voice shakes when he says to Nadakhan he's doing a mutiny. when he says "stay right there"

I know it's most likely from fear, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was out of a broken heart too like- it's his captain. one he has most likely spent years at sea with. the one he'd trust with his life, and must've done so. most likely his best friend. AUGH

And how Nadakhan reacts to it, too! he gets angry, he doesn't believe what he's hearing! how dare they not trust him? (gee I wonder why)How is Flintlocke daring him to change things around?

Can you imagine watching someone you care about diving into some kind of infinite madness, and you not able to do shit about it? And it's not like Flintlocke could help much. Since yknow Nadakhan just lost all his people in a single moment after spending 300 years inside a teapot, and after losing the one he loves, too. And he sees something is wrong the moment he sees Nya. He knows Nadakhan too well, and I take it he's used to the captain sharing plans with them if he's already hella suspicious when Nadakhan doesn't tell him what he has in mind when coming back from Djinjago

And he's not the only one; like the whole 'close' crew (as I like to call them) notices how their captain is kinda getting distant? and losing it

But like what are you supposed to do about that? especially since they're pirates, and the captain has to be kind of scary if he still wants to handle psychopaths under an iron grip of some sort

And they were ready to trust him. To the end, I guess.

fuck! Nadakhan just ruined all that was left to him during skybound, didn't he? what a fucking idiot.

And Jay was this close to do the same with his own friends huh (NOT TO THAT EXTENT GUYS COME ON-)

I just love to think of parallels between Jay and Nadakhan. Cole and Flintlocke. The obvious (? I'm not really sure about this one) but awfully made Delara Nya one (not saying I made a good one in my fic either but eh)

But they're pirates. They're not good people, and Nadakhan is a fucking bitch. You have on one side how Arrakore dealt with the loss, and on the other, Nadakhan's, who was probably so used to being a prince and stuff he just- ugh.

But that doesn't mean they don't have emotions, which I'm trying to write about

also I'm noting Clancee probably noted Nya resembling Delara when he gave Nadakhan the newspaper. But he didn't say anything. Hm. I'm keeping that in mind.

anyway. back to writing I goooo

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Injured HCs

The lovely @mattkinsella asked me to write more HCs about how the boys react when you’re injured! (And I included small thing about them being injured too tee hee)

Frank:

When he’s injured, he will hide it. Same with being sick. He’s worked through worse, there’s no reason to get upset about it. 

He trusts you to stitch him up tho, and that means a lot. 

Matt

Doesn’t necessarily try to hide it, but will not stop to rest. Might ask you for help meditating. Accepts coddling, but will get defensive if you ask him to rest. 

Mikey

Not a drama queen, but much less averse to resting than the other two. Like in my illness HCs, I think he would be perfectly content letting you take the reigns and leaning into his time off. Adores that he has someone there to help him. 

Frank

If you’re injured? Oh boy. 

Very demanding. Leaves no room for argument. (Just hands you stuff, doesn’t even ask.)

“Frank, I’m—“ “Take the damn pills, doll.” 

Trusts himself and Curtis ONLY to stitch you up, 

Definitely not happy that you’re injured/comfortable with it, but he’s the most chill of the 3. (This is not saying much.)

If someone intentionally harmed you, they’ve sealed their fate. He will wait until you’re sleeping peacefully to take care of the problem tho. 

If your injury is because of an accident (clumsiness, general misfortune, etc) rather than a person intentionally hurting you, he’s a bit less intense. 

Once the initial shock of your injury has worn off, he will tease you about it, if it makes you laugh. 

“Careful, babygirl. Ya sure you’re ready to handle those evil stairs again?”

Relatively realistic about the severity of injuries, depending on the reaction of his partner. 

Like he won’t freak out over a paper cut if you don’t want him to. He’s perfectly willing to kiss it better if you ask tho. 

Matt:

The LEAST chill of the three. 

Treats a paper cut with the same severity as a broken limb. 

Though, I can’t imagine how scary it would be to smell your partner bleeding or hurt. Like that has to set off alarm bells regardless. 

Soooooo protective. Glued to your side immediately, practically snarling at anyone who gets too close. 

Won't let you lift so much as a FINGER if you don’t have to. 

Panics a little and offers you all of the options until you help him calm down. 

“Do you need painkillers? Or an ice pack? Or something to eat? Why don’t we take a nap or—“ “Matty, breathe. It’s just a pulled muscle.  I’m ok, love.” 

Will absolutely kiss it better and would prefer to do so. 

Tries to teach you to meditate to heal faster, but you keep giggling and turning to press kisses to his cheeks and neck, so he gives up. 

I think he would want to take time off from both his day job and deviling, but would ultimately compromise by splitting his time between all three of you, unless you really needed his company. 

Mikey:

So soft, the softest guy. 

More concerned with what you want than what he thinks you need. 

“How can I help ya, pet? Tell me whatcha need me to do.” 

Unlike Frank, he does NOT trust himself to assist and would much rather take you to a medical professional. 

Asks so many follow up questions after the doctor examines you to make sure to get everything right. 

I feel like he’d take notes on his phone or in a physical notebook even. He’s SO worried he’s going to fuck it up. 

Very hesitant to leave you alone, in case you need something. 

Regularly checks in on how you’re feeling, willing to help however he can. If you need cuddles, he’s wrapped around you before you can even finish the request. Looking for company on your walk to work or while running errands? He’s there with a smile on his face. 

Tbh this doesn’t only happen when you’re injured, I think he would take every available opportunity to spend time with you, but he will prioritize you to a higher degree when you’re sick or injured. 

Will tease you if you ask him to kiss something better, but only because he thinks it’s adorable to make you squirm. 🥹

[justcallmecj]

Epic: the Musical x MDZS???

As someone who just listened to the entirety of the Epic: the Musical playlist for the first time just the other day, all of these songs have been on loop in my head.

However, MDZS fandom, imagine this musical, but with the characters as those from the Odyssey...

(Heads up, some of this may completely disregard any blood relations or other relationships from canon. It's all for fun and food for thought so take nothing to heart)

There is a feral part of my brain that wants Wei Wuxian to be Odysseus. Both are men who just want to be with their families but are constantly being screwed over by the world, even if some of the tragedies are their own fault. Incredibly smart and cunning, too much for their own goods at times. And, admit it, Wei Ying would attract the attention of a goddess like Athena, or whoever the mdzs equivalent of that would be (Boashen Senren??)

This would make Lan Zhan as Penelope and Lan Yuan as Telemachus and I'm oddly okay with that even if canon Lan Zhan would have gone on that voyage with Wei Ying.

It is completely against her canon personality, but imagine Jiang Yanli as Circe? Using her infamous soup to trick men and turning them into pigs (or another animal more Yanli suited?) She's fiercely loyal and protective of her nymphs, much like canon Yanli is to her brothers and has "been in love once before" like Circe's line in There Are Other Ways, which would be Jin Zixuan in this case. (This is all under the pretense that there were never any sibling relations between wwx and Yanli bc...if you know the song, you know)

Idk who Jiang Cheng would be bc his personality doesn't fit neither Polites or Eurylochus, who were the closest to Odysseus/Wwx. Y'all can tell me what you think bc this also applies to Nie Huaisang.

Omg imagine Wen Chao as fucking Polyphemus making Poseidon Wen Ruohan. Kinda makes sense since wwx did kill WC in canon and tbh WR did not care about that kid, much like Poseidon was more upset that Odysseus had dishonored him by leaving his son blind.

Could Aeolus be resentful energy? Bc resentful energy is born from wronged humans after death, it tends to be vengeful/mischievous/looking to bring misfortune. These traits apply to Aeolus in the musical, getting a laugh out of playing with Odysseus' men and tricking him. Iffy with this one but a cool thought regardless.

I have no other ideas since this was simply me fantasizing moments with the mdzs characters while listening to the songs, but please give some opinions/thoughts if you have any!

[helaenalyst]

me when theres a war in the war show: guys im so fucking sad about the war

episode 4 reactions

fun note: i saw someone who knew either from the books or from leaks who died in the episode but described them as "the most annoying character in the show" and i loved that because depending on who you ask that couldve been literally anyone

anyway

SIGHS

aemond. aemond. what a character. ewan really squeezed his three milliseconds of screentime this season to provide a buildup for what happened today. aemond's inner emotional wound that he's carried all his life is so strong that he chose to take his revenge rather than seize an easy bloodless victory for his team. aegon's intervention even played in their favor, since meleys locked into battle with sunfyre was the easiest of targets for a melee attack. but he straight up chose to burn aegon, and later was seen trying to finish the job? hundreds if not thousands died needlessly, and among the ones that could have easily died as well was cole, who raised aemond like a father and who trusted him blindly with his life and with the life of his men. and for what? i can imagine this is going to be a divisive topic because i think this isn't how it goes in the books but personally i see it as a logical development of what we've seen of show!aemond so far. he's a deeply wounded individual who cannot see past his wound and an embodiment of what the targaryens are (and of the pain and damage that they cause to everyone who has the misfortune to interact). even in a gray morality context such as the one in this show, i feel that aemond earns the title of villain from me because he fights only for himself and does not care even for the lives of those who have been actively kind and loving to him

and i know a lot of people will likely disagree with that. personally i think in a show like this where all the big players in the war have done terrible things it is quite the fun introspection tool to see who we may consider the "worst" of them all and why. for me i think that the way that aemond toyed with the lives of hundreds today for his own personal gain is what takes the cake. i think the only other main character off the top of my head for whom "nothing is sacred" in pursuit of personal gain would be larys and i'm not sure what that says about the show's relationship to depictions of disability but that's a topic for another day. what i am trying to say is that it is fun to see what each fan considers the "worst sin" committed in a show that is basically a sin feast. hypocrisy? being a bad mother? being a bad father? kinslaying? we each feel our heart and our own wounds stir at ones and not others, i believe

daemon in harrenhall continues to be an A+ storyline, alys rivers is fantastic and i loved the little interaction between aegon and larys where aegon said "dude? you don't care? it's your fucking castle!!" and larys replied uhhhh yeah but it's haunted milord. i eat that shit up i love that kind of fantasy storyline. cursed castles, witches, battling your own mind, i eat it up. i loved one little shot where we could see daemon's bloodied hands from where the camera was but it disappeared as he turned his hands. i know he'll be okay but i just love descent into madness storylines

i loved jace and baela in the council btw they are so adorable if the shows turns them into bad parents or evil rulers i am going to jump off a cliff you cannot grow attached to any innocent kid / young adult on this show fr but i do think those two have a heart of gold and if not then i guess i will eat my words

so much more to say but its almost 6am i hope everyone enjoyed the episode i know i did except for all the scenes where i felt like there was no point to go on living. the fact that criston chose to hang out with gwayne despite being one of the few people he doesn't closely know in the entire fucking army has my approval and i hope gwayne didn't die so they can eventually kiss that's all

[bmbly17]

I told you @jinxcore that you would have the second part of my random idea on the 25th but let's just say that Santa Claus today has got his act together and unexpectedly has already finished it so here's my Christmas present!!!! 😊🎁

I hope you enjoy it more than Caitlyn and Jinx are enjoying it 🤣

.

.

.

.

Definition of hatred: Deep and intense feeling of repulsion towards someone that provokes the desire to harm him or her or to cause some misfortune to happen to him or her. That was what Jinx was feeling for the woman in front of her, or so she thought.

I can't even remember her name, what it was? Think ,Jinx, think...Carla? Catherine? Katie? Clark? Caitlyn? That it's! Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn.

Who did she think she was, oh yes, Vi's girlfriend, but other than that, what? Piltie, of course, just look at her. She gives herself away. Perfect hair, everything millimetrically well put in place, not a fucking strand out of place. Perfect eyes, neither too big nor too small, half round, half elongated, and blue. I've never seen this blue before. Not that I don't like my garish blue, of course I do, it's the best. But the blue of her eyes is lighter, brighter, like the blue of the sky, but purer. She doesn't have a single under-eye, and the makeup is light, but without being too much. And her full lips... will they be soft? Of course they'll be soft, you just look at her. I'm sure she uses the best of the best for her care. And that dress she's wearing... who in their fucking right mind would go to Zaun dressed like that? God, I can't even identify the brand of clothes she's wearing. Dior? Gucci? Ralph Lauren? Didn't Vi tell you where you were going? It's not like this is my wedding day, which of course I’m never, ever, ever getting married. I'm sure the two of them would love that cheesy stuff. I can just imagine what their wedding would be like. A big wedding, a Pilte wedding. Puagh, get out, get out. Focus Jinx, where you were going. Ah yes, that, this fucking lace on the top does honor to those boobs, and that the dress is open to show that leg... fuck, but this girl, how tall is she?

I'm getting fucking dizzy. Ekko, Ekko where are you? Here, come here. Like this, hold me, and now breathe, and breathe in the perfume he's wearing. That's it, very good. Fuck, I'm 10 feet away from her, and clearly, clearly her perfume is making me dizzy. I guess rich people must bathe in perfume because otherwise I can't explain it. And her voice, agh. "Hi I'm Caitlyn, Vi's girlfriend, it's a pleasure to be able to meet you guys, she's told me so much about you." Come on Piltie who are you kidding, you've got a lot to spare being here. Zaun is not for you. You don't like it and we don't like you.

How could Vi fall in love with a woman like her, look at her, what the fuck does she see in you?

How long had it been since Vi and Caitlyn had arrived? 1h or 2h maybe. They had been chatting about everything a bit, but without getting too specific. But it was enough for Jinx to reaffirm her hatred towards her. Jinx hated everything that had to do with Piltóver, and it wasn't that he didn't know anyone there. She knew Viktor, who, let's see, was technically from Zaun but was a professor at Piltóver University, and she also knew Heimerdinger, thanks to her boyfriend's fascination and adoration for that thing... What was Heimerdinger supposed to be?

Well, whatever, the thing is, Caitlyn is Piltóver. And she hates her. Deeply. Eyes fixed on her, as if she were a predator analyzing her prey, waiting for the best moment to pounce on her, and eat her whole. Wait, not eat her, kill her, that's it, kill her.

And not that during the whole course of the meal things got better, it could be summed up in Jinx attacking Caitlyn, and Caitlyn putting on her best face, just like Cassandra had taught her. And it is not that Ekko liked people like Caitlyn, but because of his friendship with Vi, he tried to stop the constant attacks of his girlfriend (which he did not succeed). And the meal ended and with it came the goodbyes. Obviously when it was time to say goodbye to Jinx, Caitlyn approached her to give her two kisses, but Jinx abruptly moved out of her way and spat in her face a:

I'd rather cut my braids than kiss you

And she simply turned on her heels and walked back inside the house, leaving Caitlyn with the word in her mouth.

I hate her. That was what Caitlyn had been thinking since they'd been on their way back to her house. Lucky that Vi would have offered to drive, because she didn't have the head, nor the strength to do anything but analyze what had happened that night. Vi had already pointed out to her that Jinx had a "peculiar" character, very much made to her own, different to others. Something Caitlyn was already used to, she had always been different from everyone in Piltóver. But she couldn't understand why these attacks. She hadn't even done anything wrong, Right? She hadn't, had she? She had even been kind enough to buy her favorite dessert, a chocolate cake filled with strawberry jam from one of the best bakeries in Piltóver. Everyone seemed to have been grateful for the detail. But Jinx didn't even try a bite. Maybe it was jealousy, jealousy that he was with his sister? That idea echoed loudly in Caitlyn's head, she even wanted to tell Vi, but she dismissed the idea, her girlfriend seemed so happy, she didn't want to be the one to wipe the smile off her lips.

The days passed and with it the weeks. She had not seen Jinx again, and she preferred it that way. The farther away from her, the better. Vi was still seeing her, and she was fine with this, she would never ever stop her girlfriend from seeing her sister, and even more after everything they had to live through. Sometimes Vi had offered to take the four of them out for a drink together in Zaun, but Caitlyn always excused herself behind work, there were times when she was grateful to be the "boss" of Kiramman Industries, she could always say that she had a meeting to attend, or had to review some reports, last minute trips. Anything to avoid Jinx. What she was sure was that the more they saw each other, sooner or later her patience would give out and that would only mean one thing, trouble with Vi.

I love him, but sometimes I don't know why I listen to him. Why did I let myself be convinced to do this? Oh yes, I remember, him and his strange fascination with Professor Heimer.

That's what Jinx kept repeating to himself, going back and forth reading the two admission letters.

It had been a few months since Ekko had told her that the University of Pilover was offering scholarships in search of new talents that were in Runeterra and that this also included Zaun. There were place for 10 all-expenses-paid scholarships and the possibility of an internship agreement with the best companies in Piltóver. All you had to do was fill in an application form, give your personal data, indicate the specialty you wanted to study at the university, and submit your project. The 10 projects that the jury liked the most, would get the place. Not that it was a difficult task for Jinx, but just the idea of crossing paths with...

No fuck, remove, remove, remove that image from your head.

That was what Jinx had thought when Ekko had told her about the scholarships, and now she was there, with the scholarship admission in her hands, and with her boyfriend jumping with joy because she could finally fulfill her dream. Living in Zaun there was no need for her to go live inside the dorm that the university had, she loved living in Zaun, she loved her house, her room, her lab, her things. But Ekko... he had accepted to go and live there, I want to live the experience 100%, just like my role model did. That was what he had answered her. Not that she minded, he was totally free to do what he wanted, besides they had already talked about it. Yes, they would study in the same place, but Ekko was determined to specialize in space-time physics, a specialty taught by Heimerdinger (obviously), and she wanted to specialize in Hextech technology, a spatiality taught by her acquaintance Viktor and a certain Jayce Talis. But their schedules didn't mesh, and living in different places made it difficult to see each other.

They had a peculiar relationship, oh, so different from the one her beloved sister had with her "cherished" sister-in-law, that typical relationship of soul mates, of two different worlds, destined to meet and fall in love, and have a house, with their Golden Retriever, and their wedding, and their 3 children... No, no way, nothing at all, that didn't go with her, never ever. That's why she liked the relationship she had with Ekko, a total and absolute freedom, but best friends above all, together, but with no strings attached. Without falling into those stupid sappy things. An open relationship you could call it. She could be with whomever she wanted, and so could he, of course. But at the end of the day the priority was the two of them. There were times when they had sex with people separately, and there were times when they had done it together with more people. They had some set rules, though. Like, for example, that they would always use protection in their sexual relations, that they would not have sex separately in places the two of them shared, not have jealous... But there were two, the most important ones.

The person you become sexually involved with cannot be a friend/acquaintance or close person that you both know.  

2. You will not fall in love with the other person.

I guess it won't be so bad, will it, this 180ª my life is taking, right?

That was what Jinx was thinking at that moment. What she didn't know, was that before accepting anything, whatever it is, she has to make sure which person she can find. And if the Jinx back then had known that she was literally running in the perfect direction to run into "a certain" person, would she still have accepted?

What the fuck good has it done me these past months to work overtime, to make excuses, to have to sleep for weeks in hotels, or friends' houses pretending to be traveling, basically, to lie to my girlfriend to avoid running into my sister-in-law, if now I have her inside here, in my fucking company, and in my fucking lab?

I'm going to kill him, when I finish going through these papers, I swear I'm going to kill Jayce first, and then Viktor. I'm going to revive them using Hextech and then I'm going to kill them again amidst terrible suffering.

Caitlyn was in her office when her secretary had brought her the resume of the person Jayce and Viktor had decided on and chosen with her mother's approval to intern at their company. The best of the best at the University, they had been told. She is one of our students and fits the profile you were looking for, they had assured her.

The internship would only last 3 months with the possibility of a part-time work contract so that the person chosen could validate her studies along with the job. Nothing they hadn't done before, that way Viktor had come to work at Kiramman Industries.

But of all the people out there, of all the people I could have chosen, not only to give her the scholarship (a scholarship that Kiramman Industries finances) but to come and do an internship at my company, it had to be her, of course, it had to be her.

The word pissed off was an understatement to describe what the young heiress was feeling at that moment. Heiress to what? She thought. What good did it do Caitlyn to be the heiress to that empire if even the easiest tasks had to pass through her mother's hands.

Hadn't she decided to take a break from work and go travel the world with Dad? Why won't she even let me do the simplest of tasks?

Her eyes roamed up and down the sheet in front of her, trying to look away from the picture covering the top right-hand corner. It fucked her up to admit it, but she had an impeccable resume. Top grades in the whole university, some fascinating ideas that really with some tinkering could fit what she was looking for, really with Jinx on the team she could give Kiramman Industries that turnaround she had in mind, there was only one problem, her mother, but if she was out of town she had free will didn't she?

She didn't realize how long it had been since Sky dropped the papers on her desk until soft knocks on the door brought her out of her thoughts.

Sorry to interrupt you Miss Kiramman, but Jinx is already here, shall I show her into your office or would you prefer to take a little more time?

Sky's voice sounded a little shaky, was she looking that bad right now for the young secretary to sound so slightly afraid?

Yes, yes sure, send her in, it's all more than read. Caitlyn said trying to fake a smile and calm voice to try to reassure her worker. She didn't know if she had succeeded as Sky quickly turned on her heels and set off in search of her "beloved sister-in-law".

And there she was, the person she had been avoiding all this time. Avoiding seeing her in person, of course, because she couldn't get that day out of his mind, the day they met. Those eyes that had been running up and down her face, her body, that crooked, and hesitant smile, with her full lips painted with that burgundy lipstick. She had spent so much time staring at her lips that she even noticed the cracks in them. Her words stinging, and attacking. If she hadn't been so fucking rude, and arrogant, and unfriendly, and blustering, and taunting, and insolent and agh everything bad that came to her mind, she'd left her the lip balm she had, sure they'd leave her with soft lips, perfect for... And she noticed her slim but toned body too, dressed in those suggestive clothes, revealing more skin than any woman in Piltóver would be willing to do, but strategically placed to leave you wanting more, her tattoos on the right side of her body, running down her shoulder, down her arm, down her chest, down her abdomen... and what was that supposed to be, smoke, clouds? Blue, blue swirls, blue to match the color of her hair, blue like the color of her eyes and those long braids that kept swinging back and forth. And here she was, again, and a shiver ran through her whole body. She was the same, just as he remembered her, let's see, it hadn't been that long since they last saw each other, 3 months? 4 maybe? 6 months, 6 months were the months that had passed since the first and the last time they saw each other.

It's a pleasure to see you again Jinx. Jayce and Viktor have spoken very highly of you. Your inventions and studies have been amazing. I am so glad you are joining Kiramman Industries for these 3 months, and who knows, maybe longer and all. Caitlyn said, sounding as professional and believable as she could. She was in charge now, she couldn't let an unfortunate encounter like the one the two of them had had ruin everything. Everything in the lab, in the company, in her relationship with Vi....

Come on Kiramman, stop pretending. This makes you as uncomfortable as it does me, and you know it. So let's get this done as quickly as possible, and then you go about your business and I'll go about mine. Jinx said, feeling again how those eyes penetrated even the smallest pore she could have.

How long would the internship? 3 months? Caitlyn thought as she came out from behind her desk walking in all her splendor, like a worthy Kiramman to stand in front of the young woman.

All right Caitlyn try to endure these 3 months as best you can and then when the period is over, out. It couldn't be possible that in all of Runeterra there wasn't someone equally brilliant to take the place of scientist and inventor for Kiramman Industries, right? Cailyn thought as she held out her hand to welcome her new and unexpected headache.

[princessroyal95]

This is love (Charlotte Katakuri x Hirawashi Len) [English version]

Summary

Who can love a monster like Charlotte Katakuri? He is the son of Charlotte Linlin, known as Big Mom, and the question of the second eldest child in the family is who could love someone like him.

The idea of him falls apart when he meets a somewhat tsundere girl, but with a heart of gold that will make the commander fall in love.

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Chapter VIII

The young Len kept touching her butt because of the blows that Katakuri had given her during the whole journey in Whole Cake until she reached the door that gave access to the exit to the small city of the kingdom. Katakuri's brothers did not stop laughing at Len's misfortune, who from time to time looked at them with a face of few friends. Commander Sweet was only smiling to himself, very happy about what he had done. In reality, he has no regrets. Really, he doesn't know what that girl is doing to him, but he is making her bring out her funny side.

People in the city bowed or greeted Charlotte's children with great respect. That surprised Len; although it was normal, they are Big Mom's children after all. And one would say that they are the strongest in the family, or so the young lady believes. And the question: where do they plan to go? The truth is that she didn't know, she just let herself be carried away by destiny, being followed by the four adults. However, she turns to see them as she walks backwards, receiving the attention of all four, especially Katakuri, who was surprised.

"Where are we going?"

"Didn't I tell you?" raises his eyebrow Oven.

"Not really because we left the castle in a hurry while your paedophile brother kept slapping my ass," she blows her cheeks up in annoyance at such audacity.

"It's not my fault that a hobbit like you has such a small ass and has no difficulty at all."

"Katakuri, you are surprising me every time." Cracker's face was of surprise at what he heard.

"Something has been done to you by that girl to make you behave that way." Daifuku was also surprised.

Len sticks out her tongue to get back to her wanderings by dodging people before she runs into any of them. All four had no problem avoiding people as they were tall, although they had to be careful to step on one.

"I was thinking that maybe you would be interested in going to the coast." Now Oven speaks a little bit quietly.

"And why would I want to go to the coast?" asks Len rolling her eyes as if she thought it would be boring.

"Because today is the Chocolate Festival."

Len's footsteps stopped short when she heard those three words: Chocolate Festival. Oven and Daifuku did not know why she stopped, but Cracker and Katakuri knew that meaning. One of the triplets approaches her to see if she is all right and her eyes open wide when she sees that face. The young woman's eyes sparkled with excitement and her lips formed an "o" of pleasure until I think she was drooling.

"Stop making that stupid face," Daifuku said noting how a drop was slipping down her temple.

"Brother, meet the chocolate lover," laughs Cracker with a broad smile as he imagines the girl's face.

"I'm even afraid of her."

"Oh, come on, she's a cutie." The biscuit lover approaches the young woman while he' s already at her side. "Will you stay there or are we going to the coast?" he asks, seeing that Len was not reacting.

"Let's go to the coast!" she shouts loudly where everyone was standing still when she saw what was happening.

"Well, follow us if you don't want to get lost." Oven starts walking followed by his brothers Oven and Cracker while Katakuri stands next to the young woman.

"I don't think I can get lost since you are so tall."

"Normal, you're a little hobbit," she hears the voice of the sweet commander who even wanted to hit him.

"And you're a fucking pedophile."

"You gave me the opportunity to give you a nickname." Len zero, Katakuri one!

"Idiot."

They didn't argue any more as the three of them were ahead, so it was better to go to where they were. Len prefers to be near Katakuri because it somehow makes him feel safe from the attentive glances of his brothers, although she must admit that he is also a pervert because of what happened before. But he is very different, it is as if he really wanted to have something with her. Is it that or is it her imagination? It is difficult to know what he thinks right now.

Katakuri, on the other hand, was relaxed, looking at the horizon and seeing his brothers talking about their things. Aren't they supposed to want to try it with the girl? They seem to be having fun with something. What could it be? It's hard to know and to predict with his Observation Haki. He' d like to guess, but he' ll know soon enough. He looks sideways at the young girl who seemed excited about wanting to go to the coast to see that festival.

Almost every month there was some kind of festival, whether it was doughnuts, biscuits... Basically any kind of candy. And this one is about chocolate; however, there may be some shop that sells other kind of sweet than chocolate. Katakuri loves doughnuts, he couldn't help but look at them and ask for the odd box or two, but he doesn't eat them there. He prefers to eat them at home in peace without anyone looking at him.

And, finally, they arrived at their destination which was full of people. The atmosphere was friendly and many employees shouted to sell any kind of candy. Even Len had the eyes on the chocolate fountain. HerHis heart was racing for the smell.

"There are more people than last time."

"Mum said there was going to be a chocolate contest," Oven said, looking at his surprised brother Daifuku.

"Oh yeah? And when was that decided?"

"I don't know, it's Mom's business."

"If there's a contest, what does the winner get?" asks Cracker, climbing over the railing to get a better look at the atmosphere.

"Well, that chocolate fountain you see before your eyes."

"Well, the winner is going to gorge himself on chocolate." A smile forms on Daifuku's lips as he looks at his brother Katakuri. "By the way, where is the girl?"

"She is right here..." Katakuri stares at where Len was supposed to be, but she had disappeared in front of his eyes that even look for her. "Where is she?"

"Don't fuck with me, she's already lost?!" Cracker stands up and gets into position to look for the girl. "She's so impatient when it comes to chocolate."

"Guys!" They hear Len's voice that was down there next to some kind of board with some other people.

"Don't just disappear!" scolds the biscuit lover as he approaches the girl. "At least say where you want to go so we don't lose sight of you, because then Mummy will scold us."

"... Are you a mama's boy?"

"Don't make fun of me, you little brat!"

"Calm down, Cracker." Katakuri's hand rests on his brother's shoulder to reassure him. "Why did you disappear?"

"As I heard Oven that there was a chocolate contest and the winner was rewarded with a chocolate fountain, I went over and signed up."

"Ah... Wait... What?!" The eyes of the four of them were like plates.

"We were supposed to go for a ride!" quarrels Oven, getting too hot.

"Chocolate is my priority" she crosses her arms in annoyance that the guy is scolding her about something silly. "If you don't like my taste, you can go back to where you came from."

Oven was going to say something, but he kept quiet for a while. She was right, if he wanted to get anywhere with young Len he had to know her tastes and not get angry about nonsense like that. Even if there was a contest for the dish he likes, he would have signed up.

"Come on, Katakuri!"

"Mm?"

Len takes a tremendous leap, holding Katakuri's hand, forcing him to lean forward a little and being pulled by the young woman. And this time he didn't use brute force, but rather let himself be carried away by it. It's a miracle, isn't it? Or rather he liked the feeling that she was holding his hand like a little girl. It reminded him of good times with his little brothers.

And behind them, they were followed by the others who reluctantly looked at the couple who seemed to be having a good time. Cracker was feeling jealous of his brother, he would like to be in his position and laugh with her. Actually Katakuri was just having a nice conversation with her, and who knows what it is about. Until he stops right away to look at some small doughnut samples. Oh, no, his temptation was already appearing.

If he had a normal mouth he could eat peacefully, but it was impossible for him. He just gives a little sigh of frustration as he returns to his walk; however, he notices that something or someone stops him. His eyes sink into the ground and it was Len who stopped him. Don't tell me she had to see him in that state? He looks to the side avoiding the shame he was feeling right now.

Len walks up to the counter to see what kind of doughnuts there were.There are all kinds of flavors, but she prefers one with chocolate. She looks sideways at Katakuri as if finding out what he wanted. It's hard to tell. But for a moment she saw that she wanted to eat that food that attracted his attention. Len asks the seller for some, feeling the attentive look of the sweet commander. What did the young woman want? Already with a bag full of doughnuts, she turns to him to tell him:

"If you were so ashamed to ask for them, I had no problem asking for them."

"You didn't have to do that." He arranges his scarf to hide his somewhat flushed cheeks. Does she care that much about him?

"If you want, we can eat them together."

"... That's impossible."

Len didn't understand what Katakuri was hiding under the scarf. Is it too beautiful that if the girls see him they will faint? Or was it the other way around? Remembering Pudding's situation, maybe that man with maroon hair would be afraid that people would see him with fear. Len came slowly towards him to caress what he could reach, one of his legs.

She receives the attention of that man who was looking at his in confusion.

"Katakuri...," she speaks softly, but that was understandable to that man's ears. It's as if they were both alone, "you know I don't..."

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Children of Totto Land! I inform you that the contest is about to start! Participants please come forward!"

"You'd better go over there. We'll talk later."

She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay a little longer to continue talking to Katakuri. Still, she sighed slightly and nodded and then walked to where the participants were being followed by the man, as he had to get a place to watch the show.

Len was too calm when she arrived at the site, staring at each of the participants. Some were obese and others looked like cooks and chocolate eaters. The funny thing is that she's the only girl in the contest who has been bothered by the young girl who simply crosses her arms. But she relaxes at the sight of Charlotte's four children looking at her impatiently.

And very close to them, there was Flampe who did not stop laughing and had an evil idea to make a fool of that girl and that her brother Katakuri has a deep hatred for her. She only had to wait for the moment. The condemned was laughing because she could not wait for the moment.

"Welcome to the Chocolate Festival! Today we will start one of the most important contests in all of Totto Land! And here we have our participants!"

People cheered for the contestants who simply greeted them proudly except Len who looked at them with a face of few friends or disinterest. She just wants to start savouring that delicious sweet she is so keen on and to be able to win that chocolate fountain. At the mere thought of it he was licking his lips.

"The competition consists of twenty dishes full of different sweets" says the presenter showing the twenty dishes mentioned on each contestant's table. "The contestants only have thirty minutes to eat them! Whoever has the most empty plates is the winner!"

"And can he handle it all?" asks Daifuku with his eyes fixed on Len.

"If Katakuri and I have learned from being on Cocoa Island that she is a girl, she can handle anything, she can handle this one." Cracker was very sure of the young woman's victory.

"Did she eat too much?"

"She has a sweet tooth like Mom," Katakuri says quietly.

"Participants, are you ready?!"

"Yes!"

"Let the countdown begin!

With a slight shot in the air, the timer starts to work and the participants begin to devour the food. The expert chefs would do a few tricks to make their stomachs empty so they could eat more. The obese used water to retain that food and keep eating.

Everyone was screaming in terror, some even cheering loudly for their favourite. And the funny thing is that the women were shouting at the only girl who participated in that event. It was Len who was already stained by the chocolate and I start without stopping. She didn't even care about being dirty and eating badly.

"Come on, you little brat! You can do it!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, Cracker.

"How... do you eat..."

"She's worse than Mom when it comes to candy."

"I told you, she has a sweet tooth," smiles Katakuri, amused to see the amazed expressions of his brothers.

Flampe looked at the girl with repulsion every time she ate. How can she eat so panchio and not be embarrassed? She shook her head not wanting to think about it as she was about to attack. She is known to be a good shot and her shots can have a great effect on the person, such as leaving him motionless for a few seconds.

The young woman laughs as if she has won the battle and slowly inflates, taking her gun and about to throw her gum at the young woman. Just a little more and he was about to make his majestic shot. And already having her target in sight she blows hard seeing how that ball goes straight to the young woman. 'This time my sister will hate her because she will make a mess of the whole festival. And I will get all her attention"', thought the girl with great enthusiasm.

However, the presenter was not expected to get between Len and the shot, and that ball hits him head on, causing him to scream in pain. Flampe's face was so surprised that she didn't even believe that her plan was going to fail.

"That's not what I wanted to happen."

Len looks at the man in front of her with a raised eyebrow. The presenter had to rest one of his hands on the table holding that pain. Will he have lower back pain? She stopped for a moment to approach him.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't... I don't know, I feel strange." And, suddenly, that man, without knowing how, began to inflate at the attentive glances of the people who watched in amazement the transformation of the presenter.

Even the participants had to stop when they saw that. The man kept on inflating himself like a balloon that even destroyed everything in its path. Len had to grab him as much as she could as she was dragging him. But what was happening to him? Was he sick?

"Sir, could you stop? You are making the situation very complicated."

"And how do you want him to stop?!" He was getting nervous and, without realising it, he was starting to fly with Len holding him.

"What the fuck?!" The young woman had no choice but to grab onto one of the man's legs and let the wind carry them away.

"How could that have happened?!"

"Stop thinking about it and move your asses!" Katakuri left his brothers behind to chase the human balloon.

For his part, Len tried by all means to immobilise the man or to arrive with her feet some place that can be grabbed, but it was impossible it was far from the ground. Wait... They were that far away already?! Look she wanted to fly, but not like this.

Look for something close to them because if they keep on like this they might even end up in the sea. She looked down to see if she could see someone helping her and, of course, the four Charlotte's were behind them. And thank God she wasn't wearing a skirt at that moment because everyone could see her panties.

"Guys! Throw me something heavy!" she shouts at the top of her lungs, Len.

"Something heavy?!"

"An anchor! Or something!"

'This girl wants to kill herself?', that was the only thought Katakuri had at that very moment as he looked back and forth. Looking for some key object. Although his purpose was not to harm her.

The only way he could do that was to use his ability to catch her. With that thought, he stretches out his arm already turned into a mochi and goes for it. The bad thing is that he didn't expect the wind to complicate things. Katakuri grunts reluctantly with a single thought: 'Shit'.

'He doesn't understand why he has to throw a heavy object at me', a drop slips down young Len's temple trying to hold all the rage and shout at him. She screams as she feels the wind carrying them both away from the coast, but not too close to the sea. She did not like this very much, she had to think of an idea and quickly before they hit something.

"Hold on, my good man! I'll think of something!"

"I can't feel my body!"

"Well, let's not talk about my arms!"

She turns her body a little to see where they were going and her eyes dive into a forest that was all around the castle. Just wait until they don't bump into each other or Big Mom will have a fit and wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone. However, she notices something strange as if they were falling. And, indeed, the man began to deflate, something that was not pleasing to young Len.

"Shit!" She had to think and fast! "Guys! We're going down!"

"What?!" shouts Cracker, noticing that what he was saying was true. The man was starting to lose his breath.

"Break it up, they might fall somewhere!"

The three brothers to Katakuri and each going a different way; however, the commander sweet goes straight ahead without taking his eyes off Len and the balloon man. Does that man have some kind of disease? No, his Observation Haki had already warned him. Someone had fired from a position and his target was the girl and not the presenter. But the question is: why? Does Len have any enemies?

He wants to put those things aside and focus on what's right in front of him. Len kept telling the presenter that everything would be fine, but it seemed that the man was not going to collaborate. And every time he got nervous, the situation got worse as he lost more air. Su Haki did not predict what the next move would be. He only wished that they would not collide in any building like the castle.

Until his Haki is activated seeing how the man loses his air definitively and goes falling down to the ground with Len. Katakuri starts to run faster than before even using his backpack hurrying before it happened.

And it happened. The man started to deflate quickly by going down to hit the ground with Len. Katakuri took light strides to reach them. For some strange reason, he didn't want the young woman to take a big hit from the fall. He was so focused on her that he didn't even realize that he had lost something important. Something that covered one thing. Something that was the object of ridicule.

But he was already in front of them with his arms open to receive the girl and the man. The blow was quite hard so he squeezed the ground with his feet containing that force. Even the presenter shot out when Len let him go. The funny thing is that in the area where they were there was nobody, as they were near the entrance of the forest.

Len was safe. Although something strange was happening. She felt like her lips had hit something and she didn't know what. She opened her eyes slowly to meet the maroon ones of Katakuri. And her biggest surprise was that she was kissing the commander. The two were kissing and there was nothing coming between them!

Their bodies were strained by the atmosphere that was forming between them. There were no surroundings, they were just testing each other's lips. Len stepped back a little to contemplate what Katakuri feared so much and it really seemed like the most normal thing in the world. The scar that runs down his cheeks ends up in his mouth which was formed by a few fangs. The man's jaw was too attractive.

She was about to say something; however, a long sigh came from her lips as she felt Katakuri's tongue pass through her mouth, removing those traces of chocolate that the young woman left behind. 'God, she even has her sweet side', Len's thoughts went further each time that man went over her lips with his tongue leaving it clean.

And again that connection that only the two of them can understand. Sparks flashed in their eyes as if they wanted more. A rather intimate physical contact. May passion embrace them with its blanket and may they desire each other as they had been desiring each other for days. And now even more so.

The magic is gone when Katakuri opens his eyes completely to what he has done. He raises his hand to his so-called scarf and fear overcomes him completely. Didn't he realize that he had lost his garment? Did anyone see him? And Len was looking at him. What was she thinking? Does she think her face is horrible?

The young Hirawashi noticed how Katakuri's arms were shaking as he realized what was happening. She was going to cheer him up, and once behind that five-metre man, he appeared.

"Katakuri-sama!" was the presenter who was trying to get out of the bushes.

He was petrified of fear, he didn't know what to do. To scream or to run away.

However, everything vanishes when he feels some hands behind his neck and attracting him strongly. Len covers Katakuri's face with her whole body surrounding his neck with her legs and hugging him. It is a way of protecting him so that no one can see him. She looks around to see if she can find a way out and I had no choice but to ask her.

"Katakuri, are there people in the forest?" There was no answer from the Major. "Katakuri, answer."

"There are only hommies."

"Well, come on, I'll guide you."

Was she helping him? That's news to Major Sweet. He didn't have time to argue with her because he had to get out of there before the presenter saw them in that state and asked questions.

"Katakuri-sama! I want to thank you for what you have...!"

It was already too late. The two people who know the truth have run away. Let's just hope that the scarf hasn't flown away, otherwise how will Katakuri manage to return home? With Len in his face?

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Chapter VII.

Chapter IX.

[poisonedapples]

Murder was never Husk’s sin of choice.

Sure, that all changed when he went to Hell. Demons down here aren’t exactly known for being civil, and death is only permanent when it’s by an angel’s blade. Killing a rowdy patron at his casino was the Earth equivalent of putting a soul in time out. You pissed me off, now go regenerate over in the corner until you’ve learned your lesson. Blood isn’t the scary sight it used to be.

But in life? He never killed. Sure, that didn’t mean he was innocent. Far from it, he did a lot of shit that ruined lives in a way that was maybe worse than death. He was a thief, a fraud, a scammer. He’s sure his actions indirectly killed more people than he’d care to admit. He’s taken a lot from plenty. In a place full of sinners from across the centuries, Husk is long past the point of judging serial killers.

It’s why he used to be friends with one. A cannibalistic one, to boot. But that’s neither here nor there.

He assumes Alastor is different than most murderers. More vicious, maybe, if his whole Radio Demon schtick means anything. He assumes most serial killers don’t eat their victims, so maybe that makes him scarier. Husk has no clue. Alastor just feels…different. He sticks out so much, while staying so hard to read even after decades. But who knows. Maybe Husk just spends too much time around him. The only pastime he has while in Alastor’s control is studying him, anyway.

Being around Alastor feels like what Husk imagines being held in a serial killer’s basement feels like. At first, yeah, sure, it’s terrifying. Cry and shit your pants kind of terrifying. Banging your head against the brick walls in hopes to end it sooner kind of terrifying. But then a decade passes. And another. And another. And you just…get used to it.

Alastor feels different because, at one point, Husk started to see him as human. Which, okay, no one down here is human. Demons condemned to eternal damnation and all that. But still. Even ignoring the whole demons in Hell thing, murderers have always felt like distant monsters. Their violent actions don’t feel real. Not like something a person could do. Someone who killed was nothing more than a villain in Husk’s story of misfortune. They didn’t have redeeming qualities.

When Husk sold his soul, him and Alastor stopped being friends. No shit. There’s only so many times a guy can hold you by the chain around your neck and leave you suffocating before you stop liking him very much. He became Alastor’s main source of amusement. A punching bag, something he could break and break and break until the pain of his own chain being yanked became a distant memory. Until Alastor felt like the Radio Demon again.

He was easy to hate. The concept of Stockholm Syndrome never made sense to Husk before and it sure as shit didn’t now. Husk has had some fucked up relationships in his life but he still didn’t approve of this. Being stabbed, beat, eaten. Claw marks under his chin from Alastor fucking petting him. Patches of feathers missing because Alastor yanked at them like a rowdy toddler with no fine motor skills. Broken bones. The screams Husk let out that Alastor so kindly decided not to broadcast.

Hell didn’t really feel like Hell until now.

So Husk hates him. An evil-ass piece of shit with a God complex and a habit of enjoying human suffering. It’s been decades, Husk still vomits when he has to watch one of Alastor’s broadcasts, how can someone human even be capable of enjoying that shit?

He doesn’t know. But he wishes he could still see Alastor as a monster.

Because now, he knows too much to think of him as anything but human.

It was pitch black outside, and Alastor and Husk were drunk on a bunch of bottles of whiskey. Alastor tells Husk how much he misses his mom, and Husk swears to never tell anyone.

Alastor likes the same jazz artists that he does. Granted, Husk was still a kid when Alastor died listening to them, but talking about the music he grew up on has always been Husk’s weak spot.

Alastor’s smile is fake. Most of the time. With Niffty, it’s not. Mimzy doesn’t deserve a second of Alastor’s good graces, but Husk can only try to warn him so many times about toxic friends before Alastor gets violent.

Him and Vox’s falling out was…pretty shitty, on Vox’s end. Husk pushes him a glass of rye from across the bar counter and tries to explain to this old-fashioned guy why boundaries are important. Just because Vox is a man doesn’t mean he gets to act like that.

Alastor died in his thirties. Husk has a soft spot for the souls that got taken young.

Alastor is desperate for power because he doesn’t know what will happen to him if he’s weak. Husk has to explain to him what a panic attack feels like.

And worst of all, Husk is patching himself up on the floor of Alastor’s new home. It’s the place they’re staying in while Alastor’s on what he calls a “sabbatical”. Husk calls it Hell part two, because Alastor’s temper has been worse now than it ever was before. Which is saying something.

He’s patching up the giant bite ripped out of his thigh when Alastor walks back in through the front door. His smile is crooked, desperate. His neck is bruised in a way that’s only caused by a soul chain. Alastor sits down next to him, and Husk flinches when he lays a hand on his shoulder. But he doesn’t scratch him. Just relishes in the comfort, and the shadows in the room dance around him, worried about their demented leader.

Husk starts humming old jazz tunes. When Alastor relaxes, Husk feels himself relax too.

So, yeah.

Maybe Stockholm Syndrome isn’t that confusing after all.

I need more of Husk being horrifically abused by Alastor. This is a neglected market that needs to be tapped into more

[noperopesaredope]

My New Fic

So, for a while now, I have had a weird hyperfixation on a somewhat obscure movie series: A Christmas Prince, which has a fandom of about 3 people at most. Recently, I mentioned in the comments section of this video that I had written a fanfic for it as a 14 year old. I got quite a few replies requesting the link to this fanfic, so I decided to look for it in my old drafts. 

I couldn’t find a full version (and I’m pretty sure I barely finished it anyways), but I did find a pretty through outline for the fic and a few scenes. I can remember a lot of my old plans about it, so I decided to rework some stuff, write some of it out, and start posting it on my AO3. 

So far, the first chapter is not great. That is because I needed to build things up, and because I only have so much to work with. But I have been trying my best, and I think it’s going to get a lot better over time. So here is a preview of the first chapter in case you are interested:

Out of everyone in his family, Count Simon of Aldovia was quite possibly the single most obnoxious royal imaginable. He was a man born into a high status, and he owned that fact, flaunting his place as second-in-line the same way a peacock flaunts its tail. As his father once said, “power is everything, so take as much of it as you can.” To get anywhere in life, you must be willing to do whatever it takes to get to the top. Being second-in-line wasn’t quite the top, but it was close, and therefore he had to cling to that title like his life depended on it. In some ways, it really did.

Which is why it really fucking sucked when Simon found himself stripped of his titles and disowned by everyone in his entire family.

And it was even worse when, after being married for just two weeks, his wife- sorry, his EX-wife managed to strip him of most everything he owned through the power of divorce. 

He was almost impressed with how well she was able to use and abuse every legal loophole imaginable for the sole purpose of robbing him in a way he couldn’t sue her for. After all, he himself was someone who had a tendency to mess with people through legalities and technicalities, almost like some sort of particularly smug fae. Then again, being a smug bastard who abuses legal loopholes was exactly what got him into this mess, so perhaps he needed to stop doing that.

Simon sighed as he sat on the steps of the courthouse, internally lamenting his misfortune and wondering where he was going to live. He was kicked out of all the royal mansions, and Sophie got the house, along with all the money necessary to buy a new one. It truly was a terrible situation to be in, and he was completely in over his head.

“You look like shit.”

He looked up to see Christina, his family’s former housekeeper, standing in front of him. Simon simply raised an eyebrow at the 70-year-old woman, confused but unsurprised by her blunt comment.

“I was recently made aware of your current predicament. It appears you no longer have a place to stay,” she stated in her typical, smooth, monotone voice. 

Simon bitterly snorted at this. “Seems like everyone but my family knows. But then again, they might also know and they just don’t care. As per usual.” He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long inhale before letting the smoke slowly release from his mouth. “And so is the luck of Simon,” he muttered with an uncharacteristic resignation.

Christina paused at this. She slowly looked him up and down with a contemplative look on her face before finally opening her mouth again.

“I’m getting old, you know. It’s getting harder to do things. I’ve been considering hiring someone to help me out around the house and such. Maybe get my groceries,” she mused, her eyes wandering around in thought.

“Okay…” Simon said with confusion in his voice, not sure where this was heading.

Christina’s eyes turned sharply back to him.

Simon stared at her in shock for a few seconds, before managing to fumble out, “may I ask why you would choose me of all people?”

“Because you need a home and I need someone to help me out. Someone who I trust. And I trust you. Besides, you owe me.”

Simon paused before nodding his head in agreement. He did need a home. He stood up and held his hand out for her to shake. “You got yourself a deal.”

Christina took his hand and shook it with a smile, before wrinkling her nose in disgust. “First things first: no smoking in or near the house. You’re going to kill me.”

Simon sighed and put out his cigarette. The old woman watched him as he walked over to a nearby trashcan to throw it away. She was going to need to help him get rid of that new habit. Smoking may be common in Aldovia, but that didn’t make it good.

He walked back over to her and Christina clapped her hands together with a smile. “Shall we start making arrangements?” Simon nodded his head, and the pair began to walk down the stairs to head over to Christina’s house.

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

Click here to read the rest on AO3! I’ll be updating whenever I feel like it.

[lavenprinz]

How about childe gets angry and then reader threatens to commit suicide. (hahahahah you totally get my thoughts laven be extreme all you want).

-Angst anon

0.7k word response to this and previous ask of angst anon <3

prompt: imagine childe having a sensitive darling and the darling is like has a past and when they met childe everything changed. One day childe received a mission from tsaritsa and this mission requires childe to get close to someone for him to get the info so he decided to charm the daughter of his target and yeah that's where he cheated. And the reader saw it, the reader decided to confront childe at the scene but at that same time childe almost got his info.

content warning: mentions of suicide, death, violence, cheating, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere (both parties)

my blog contains dark/nsfw content. minors DO NOT interact.

You could withstand the cruelest blows onto your body, whether it be unwanted love or the neglect that comes with the mood swings of your captor. What you couldn’t stand was another woman. You knew from the start that this wasn’t love but for Childe to get up and return home with notes of sweet perfumes on his collar, embracing you with faux words while charming another, it makes your head spin.

You may not have drank any alcohol in ages, but you sure could get drunk on this jealousy. Being trained by the Tsarita made your escape from Childe’s confines easy, you had just chosen to be broken by him yet he wanted a new toy? No fucking way.

You decided to hell with the obedient demeanor, breaking out from the mansion into the late chills of evening, dressed to kill. Knives concealed under your garments, you entered the venue of Childe’s night, adorned with chandeliers and individuals dripping in luxury. Flashing a smile at the Fatui guards and brushing past with the full confidence of the rightful lover, you blended into the crowds of politicians, nobles and elite.

No stranger to the scene, your eyes scanned the room while holding a flute of champagne before landing on the double-crosser and his scarlet letter of a mistress. Controlling the urge to smash the dainty glass in your hand took the steeling of your nerves as you crossed the dancefloor, anger boiling hot under your skin with each step towards the pair, acting like ditzy love-birds, in front of you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting. You seem to be having a wonderful time with your paramour.” You punctuate your sentence by splashing the drink down Childe’s front, soaking the man in the liquor with a cold face. All the watchful eyes of the hall stare as the drama unfolds, though you simply couldn’t care less. If they wanted a show, you would give them one, starring Childe as the unfaithful bastard.

“What the fuck are you doing here, y/n?” Childe hisses with a furious look, though it just makes you sarcastically laugh at his anger, viewing him as nothing as a wet dog that got caught with its paws dipped in mud. “And what are you doing with this lovely miss?”

With your lips curved upwards and an indignant tone to Childe’s misfortune, his patience snaps from your aggravation, though he sends a placid smile to the woman before dragging you off to the exit. “That was my fucking target and I was just about to be complete before you rudely interrupted me! Why the hell are you here and not at home?”

As if unable to hear Childe’s heated words, you smile undisturbed at his rage and draw a knife from under your sleeve. “So, you’re mad I caught you red handed with that girl? She’s so important to your mission?” You twirl the blade before placing it dangerously close to your throat, directly against the essential veins.

“If she’s that special to you, I guess I’ll just die, how about that, Childe? Did you not fucking think of me when you were seducing and screwing her? Did you think I’d wait patiently for you while you two-time? On Tsarita, you really are a fool. Do you think you can live without the consequences of deceiving me? I will paint your hands red with my blood and watch you from beyond the grave.” As if to prove your point, you graze the sharp edge against your skin, letting blood pour with a composed face though your voice trembles in pitches of seething fury.

Childe may have held you in his arms or watched you attentively to the delusion that he loved you, you knew better. The man had never let you near weapons and never even seen you bleed, so his agape expression of panic further fanned the flames of your temper. “Better yet, why don’t we die together, Childe? We’ll see each other in hell.”

Can you tell that I’m crazy and that I love Amy Dunne <3 I left it an open-ending (but reader might have a sneaky gun in their hand hehe....) so either Childe manages to calm them down???? But his mission is fucked anyways and so is their broken love <3

[rebornologist]

Asdfgkhkajsb kinky headcanon… may I please request some for Reborn, TYL Hibari, and Dino?

I... have such mixed feelings abt Hibari bc he's so insufferable and also the sexiest man alive (I blame my bias towards his VA Takashi Kondo is my angel on earth loml). I appreciate your keysmash bc it really encapsulates a vibe hehehe thank you for rqing & enjoy the ride dear ♡

♡ Kinky KHR Headcanons (yet again)*:･ﾟ✧

WARNINGS: 18+!! kinks (duh) mention, dom/sub, bdsm, breeding, biting/marking/possessiveness, sadomasochism, blood, public sex, prey/predator, DUBCON and weapons!!! g*ns!!! madness, truly..

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · ˳ · ♡ · ˳ · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

♡ Reborn

Big on costumes and roleplay, yet again; He likes acting out little scenes to get his head in the game hehe... he also acts all coy when he's fucking someone's brains out and they can't even stay in character anymore

"Now why can't you answer this simple question? Cat got your tongue..?"

Or some line like that as he's got them pressed up against a wall and he's sliding in and out of them or between their wet thighs

Weapons If and only if his partner is okay with it, he'll consider playing a bit of cat and mouse with an unloaded gun, he loves the feeling of overpowering his partner and intimidating them, holding them down, and by dragging the cold weapon up their bare skin. He'd only go as far as nudging it between their trembling lips before he'd get too impatient and replace it with his cock

He's quite good at aftercare, since some people I can imagine would really need it after some more intense nights.. he's no husband material but he provides exactly what his partners need to recover, some drinks some snacks, a bath if they must, and some nice clean sheets to cuddle up and sleep in; The biggest misfortune is that he is usually up and gone the next morning before they stir, with a note written in his very small handwriting

'Breakfast downstairs. Till next time, my dove. Ciao'

And they go downstairs to find there's coffee and pastries for them :) We love a responsible and caring hitman

♡ Hibari Kyoya

Tbh I think Hibari is ace but in the case that he does want to get down and dirty with people, he's one kinky mf

Huge on prey/predator kind of dynamics, do let him chase you around and by the time he eventually catches you and pins to down between his legs, he's got a throbbing hard on lol

Biting in the literal sense, he's got an oral fixation and his partners' bodies will be littered with teeth marks, especially on hotspots like the neck and shoulders, and inside of their thighs

He likes leaving these where they're highly visible, kind of like marking what's his.. if a few drops of blood run, he'd just lap it up; What's worse is when he goes in to kiss them after.. you learn to love the metallic tang every so often ♡

Now this guy likes restraining his partners, seeing them helpless at his disposal to do what he wants with them, and he's a tease that will play coy and ask them what they want from him, even if they're clearly shaking and dripping under his touch

He hates having his own senses deprived, but wouldn't mind doing it for someone else; He relishes in the upper hand that he gets from it, and will prod and tease all the sensitive spots on his partner's body before giving them a real taste

He's generally a private person, but in his younger years (like, college days :) he found himself getting into physical situations in empty classrooms, or the corner of the library or study hall; He doesn't get off to the idea of being somewhere semi-public, but he also just couldn't be bothered with moving somewhere else

Kyoya also had the upper hand in these situations because he's not a loud individual, and loved seeing his partners struggle to keep in their moans

♡ Dino Cavallone

He has a thing for domesticity, I fully support this; He just loves the thought of a stable and healthy long term committed relationship, just thinking about being in love and ooogh starting a family?!?

Bam, breeding kink.. Even if his s/o or partner is unable to have a kid or they're not actually trying for one, he'll whisper dirty things in their ear about filling them up with his seed and putting a baby in them

If you flip the switch and mention that in your dirty talk to him he gets soo riled up, it's like he goes feral lmao

This might not be a kink specifically but he loves watching the reactions on his partner's face, maybe hooking their knees over his shoulders so he can push himself into them and just marvel at how their expressions change with pleasure

He'll have sex like anywhere that's his own private property, but he's actually kind of shy and wouldn't want to be watched; He would, however, blush furiously when he remembers what went down in the back of the car, or on the pool table, or the kitchen island...*

I don't know why I get these vibes from him but he kinda.. likes when his partners sit on his face, especially if they're curvier and he can just grip their plush thighs and hips and hold them down even if they wiggle and squirm from his ministrations

He doesn't have a size kink per se, but he almost does when his partners struggle to seat themselves fully on his big dick; His eyes are glued to the way they sink themselves down inch by inch, and the way they stretch around and hug him close.. oh, he could cum right there with that

It just means a lot to him to be so intimately connected with someone he cares a lot about :) He's a wholesome guy duhh hehe

*my fave. :)

Anyway I feel like I write a lot for Dino so I'm kind of out of ideas now; I've got a phat evo paper to write that I've rly been struggling with, so I can't believe I'm finishing this instead to post... rip me. Enjoy the thotty thoughts though, lovelies :) Til I post again xoxo

[sacredpit]

    no question exists in kakyoin’s mind concerning the   infinite depths   of dio’s depravity .   he seems to embody   some   moral standards ,   as he’s been known to leave people be if they exhibit no potential value to him   at least ,   but at large ,   he will stop at   nothing   to achieve his goal of ultimate power :   no matter who he deems necessary to exploit ,   manipulate ,   drive to insanity ,   force into submission ,   kill   ━━━━   dio will do it ,   &   do it shamelessly .   this considered ,   rarely does he so much as   feign   regard for the innocent bystanders that encounter the misfortune of being in the   wrong place at the wrong time ,   sucked into the growing ,   malignant void by simply existing in proximity to dio ,   or someone he’d influenced .   they are only collateral to him ;   little more than cattle led to slaughter ,   brushstrokes amid the   bigger fucking picture .

    his heart crumbles as charlie answers his question ,   revealing the   horrific acts   that forged her vendetta against the man mr. joestar had rightfully dubbed   evil incarnate .   at once ,   an empathetic understanding germinates at kakyoin’s core ;   dio probably doesn’t even   know   (   &   certainly   does not fucking care   )   about the tragic double homicide that had been committed in his name   ━━━━   &   if he does ,   the twisted darkness of his mind has likely construed it as some sort of   godly sacrifice   performed to appease him .   the more he thinks about it ,   the sicker kakyoin feels ,   &   perhaps it is merely a construct of his imagination ,   but it seems the nearer they get to dio ,   the   more potently   his evil can be felt ,   like noxious fumes growing stronger the nearer they draw to the source .

    prior to the opportunity for deterrence from the more   logical fraction   of his brain ,   kakyoin’s hand raises ,   veering toward the taut space between charlie’s shoulder blades in hopes to offer even a   scrap   of comfort .   he   stops short   just before actually making contact with her ,   that aforementioned rationale catching up to the   outpouring of empathy ,   but he elects to complete the gesture ,   anyway ,   daintily resting his palm atop the tense zone .   they are comrades ,   after all .   these are the types of graces they are meant to offer one another .

    “   you shouldn’t have had to see that ,   ”   he all but murmurs ,   bridging the physical gap between them by coming a bit closer ,   partly to spare his arm from overextension ,   &   partly to remind her that he is present ;   that she’s not alone .   “   it’s fucked up enough that he would do something like that to his own family ,   but involving you   . . .   even if it was unintentional ,   it only bolsters an already unforgivable atrocity .   ”   he’s aware that he’s not saying anything she doesn’t already know ,   but he thinks the confirmation may be   healing ,   in some way ;   to have another acknowledge the depth of one’s pain can offer some relief from bearing the burden alone .   he’s learned that much on this journey .   “   but that’s just the kind of behavior dio brings out of people .   he encourages it ;   it’s like he gets off on seeing just how far his little lackeys will go to show their loyalty to him .   ”

    following such a   cutting   remark ,   being that he’d been one of those   little lackeys   not so long ago ,   kakyoin falls silent .   he keeps his hand on charlie’s back ,   pensive eyes shifting from her face to focus on the magnificent gradient of the morning sky ,   the singaporean sun making way for a   bright cerulean blue   that mirrors the seemingly endless ocean .   he’d made it out ,   he could have gone about his life   &   never   faced dio again ,   right ?? 

    wrong .   the only way he   ━━━━   the only way   any of them      ━━━━   will be free from dio is to kill him with their own hands .   there is simply no other choice ,   no other way to progress their lives .   that’s why they’re here ,   together .

    “   we’re gonna kill that bastard ,   charlie ,   ”   kakyoin tells her ,   a   violet fire   ablaze in his forward - facing eyes .   “   we’re gonna send him straight to hell .   &   then we can finally move on from the   hell  he put us through .   ”

CHARLIE'S GAZE NEVER WAVERS AS THE RED-HEAD SPEAKS, an unveiling of his inner self he had kept in his heart like a locket inside a closed fist. she watches this bridge he allowed to be build by their words, rapport that was long overdue for the pair when they were similar in a way. she felt a sharp static of connection like wires that lit up the darkness that had hid themselves from one another -- she knew a thing or two about being weak, refusing to go back or in her case unable to return to a home that was no longer there.

there's a subtle lift in her eyelids as he speaks her name and reestablishes eye contact with those violets, that she swore seemed to brighten after him giving her the chance to peer into the windows of his heart. so it was her turn, KAKYOIN deserved as much considering they were not only teammate but now this sudden extension of his connection that had she knew how deeply it would twine like a single thread into a tapestry, she would of spoken earlier rather than later. the cigarette that had nearly burnt out, mostly from idling in her fingers and lips as she seemed much more focus on her comrade than her rather unhealthy habit, so she stubs it out, leaving a dark ring of ash on the metal railing and the smoke subsiding.

❝–   MY PARENTS ARE DEAD,

and it's DIO'S fault. ❞

a sheer contrast in their admission was enough to crack a mirror, KAKYOIN spoke with such gentleness, like a mother tending to their child's wounds and her boldness was like a knife straight to the heart, blunt and sharp. HOWEVER, she was not to beat around the bush, and she wouldn't leave KAKYOIN with such a harsh blurb and not tell the rest.

❝–   MY UNCLE, JEREMIAH... he sold his soul to DIO, the whole immortality thing was an obsession to him, the very idea of having whatever he wanted just too much, i guess. he wanted it so bad, so much that he wanted to prove how loyal of a follower he would be... ❞

letting those words create their own image was disqueting enough, but walking in on the event was something she doubted human language could conjure a word for. she had broken eye contact, looking ahead onto the sea's horizon, a sudden feeling of distasteful vulnerability comes through her upon her recount, the memories themselves forever there like clear photographs, the weight that came with being a witness, it was carrying it to the grave. her bangs veil her gaze in shade, yet another instinct to keep barbed heart from sight. ❝–   he killed my mother and father two years ago, he was my dad's brother, younger brother. and i walked in when he...❞ she pauses a moment, an crease in her features like a stab to the gut. ❝... finished. ❞

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

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

***

This.

This shit, right here.

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

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

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

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

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

But this?

This shit?  Right here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yep, there it is.  “Second of all—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You… aren’t expecting that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A false sense of…

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

… What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.  Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally.  The stars disappear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

[whorefordazai]

Ayo, I know ur requests are closed, but I saw your gender bent hc, and honestly the boys being the ones genderbent would be 👌👌👌

I had too much fun writing this 😏 and was kinda confused on what pronouns to use when describing them so uhh (him/her???)

bsd boys: gender bend edition

ft. dazai | chuuya | oda | aku x reader

genre: fluff, slight nsfw

warnings: slight depictions of sex

Dazai

Y’all think normal dazai is pretty? Just imagine him as a woman 🙈 FUCKIDN LORD🏃🏼‍♀️

Just imagine him with long messy brown hair, the same outfit but like hotter.

If he were to become a woman out of nowhere, the first thing he’d do is flash himself in the mirror to inspect his boobs🕺

“Wow...these look so majestic, I feel so lucky😧 is this what you do every time you’re in front of a mirror, belladonna?”

“...not every time...ಥ‿ಥ”

Would definitely boost his ego 100x more because now he can seduce men too😏

But dazai, why was seducing men your first thought 😄

Imagine giving dazai head oh fuck

“Y-y/n...” Dazai’s soft moans whimper from under you. You chuckle onto the soft skin between his legs. His hands grip the sheets and he tilt his head back in pleasure.

“Make some more noise for me, pretty girl.”

Anyways😏🤚

Getting his first fucking period. He has no idea what to do haha! Blood is everywhere, his stomach hurts, he feels as though he really wants to kill himself right this moment.

“I hate being a woman ಠ_ಠ”

“Babe, you should get used to this.”

You help him clean up and get him some light snacks along with a heating pad. Both of you snuggle up on the couch. Your arms wrapped around Dazai’s small figure🥺

“Y/n, can you sleep on my boobs?”

“...why ᇂ_ᇂ?”

“I wanna see what it feels like ◕ ◡ ◕”

“...okay ʘ‿ʘ?”

You softly lower your head onto his chest, careful not to hurt him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you bury your face in his shirt.

A giggle escapes Dazai’s lips. “Wait, that tickles!”

“Squish...squish...” you mumble, softly squeezing his boobs like a plushie.

“Okay, how do they feel ^ｰ^?”

“...very nice. They feel very nice ಠ◡ಠ”

He wears some of your clothes on the daily, but now he’ll wear almost half your wardrobe.

He feels really pretty in all those dresses you have oh my🙂

Chuuya

He’s already so hot and pretty, just imagine him as a girl. HOLY FUCK🏃🏼‍♀️

Curly red hair, that signature fedora, and even that choker around his neck. BUT ADD BLACK EYELINER OSHHS

He would definitely feel a little weird in his new body. Wouldn’t exactly like it at first and will definitely be complaining.

Give it a few days and let him look in the mirror and see how hot he looks as a woman😏

“Y/n...you’re still...attracted to me, right?”

“...babe, you have no idea ��‿●”

His attitude is the same so now people are even more scared of him. At first glance someone would think he’s just a cute little sweet girl but then BOOM he kicks them 20 feet into the air (only if they piss him off)

He now has the double struggle of being short and being a girl 👩‍🦯

FASHION SHOWS !!

This mf loves styling himself and looking really damn good, so once he finds out there’s a whole new world of outfits he can try on as a woman...just know you’ll be shopping for a while.

He’s a fucking mafiosa, always dressed in sleek black outfits with a hat that lets his red curls peek out. The black lace veil hiding his blue eyes just pulls the whole outfit together so well

He sometimes lets you do his makeup cuz he thinks he looks prettier with. The both of you will paint each other’s nails (he is somehow is very good at it. Anything you wanna tell us, Chuuya🧐?)

You thought you liked chuuya dominant as a male? Honey, you ain’t ready for him as a woman🏃🏼‍♀️

“Am I making you feel good, baby?” Chuuya looks up from the space between your legs. A few strands of his red hair fall onto your skin as he moves them away. You shiver, feeling his smooth fingertips dangerously graze against your core.

You can only nod, feeling his soft lips leave a trail of kisses on your inner thigh. The faint print of red lipstick followed the trail.

RED LIPSTICK ON YOUR INNER THIGH HOLY FUCKSJ🏃🏼‍♀️💨

Oda

I’M GONNA CRY he would be (already is) SO HOT

At first he wouldn’t have much of a reaction like, okay? I’m a woman now.

Little does he know there’s more to it than that😆

He’d go about his day like normal, sometimes even forgetting that he’s a woman now. But his hair keeps getting in his face?? Men keep staring at him?? Some kid thought he was his grandma??

It was sweet at first, but it was so overwhelming and uncomfortable.

He comes home, in slight frustration. Exhaling as he closes the door and begins to take off his coat, something harshly tugs at his hair.

His hair was stuck on the mf zipper ಠ_ಠ

You try to hold in your laughter at his misfortune. “Here, let me help.”

While you’re untangling his hair, his face remains still and stoic. “When will this be over ᇂ_ᇂ?”

He is actually very suddenly interested in skincare. Why? Not sure.

He sometimes sees you putting on all these serums and face masks but never felt the need to ask you about it. Plus, you sometimes helped him shave-that was the closest thing to skin care this man has ever gotten to.

But now he has a face of a woman, so his skin feels a lot smoother and softer. He thinks to himself, should I be taking care of it?? What were all those things y/n was putting on her face🧐?

WAIT THATS SO CUTE OSKJS🏃🏼‍♀️💨

So you help tie his hair into a pony tail and the both of you put on face masks😆

He somehow really enjoys doing all these self care tasks that he’s never thought about in his life🤔

Imagine the both of you sitting in a bathtub, rose petals covering the water. Your heads are wrapped up in towels as you sip on wine. Cucumbers are placed on Oda’s eyes.

He could get used to this😏

Sexy time🙈

He’s a very quiet dom on the usual, but suddenly he’s very vocal when he gets his pussy ate‼️

He’ll love it when you top. Now he kinda knows how you feel when he’s pounding into you 😏

If oda actually had kids as a woman, he would a A HOT MILF😳

Akutagawa

He’d be like what the fuck is happening ಠ_ಠ?

Wouldn’t give much of a reaction on the outside (pretending to play it cool) but on the inside he’s having 20 mental breakdowns at the same time.

Please help him😁

He’ll definitely dismiss you saying “I can handle it myself ಠ_ಠ”

“Ryu, your hair is in knots and you’re limping on your heels ◔_◔”

“...ಠ~ಠ”

Taking a bath is now even more difficult for him. He feels embarrassed even looking at himself. His chest has these two lumps and his hips suddenly have curves and his skin feels smoother and softer.

His boobs catch his eye in every outfit he wears. No one else really notices or cares except him. Finally one day, he’s had enough. He stomps to you with a determined face, pointing at his chest.

“I want these off. Now ᇂ_ᇂ”

“...I don’t think it works like that...◕ ◡ ◕?”

Eventually he’ll have to adapt. He’s still the same person but just imagine aku as a hot emo goth girl 🕺

Will be 10x scarier than before now that he’s discovered black eyeliner and actually likes growing his nails out (reminds him of claws to rip off people eyeballs)

It’s a love/hate relationship tbh LMAO sometimes he loves how powerful he feels in high heels. Other times, he hates how others look down on him just because they underestimate how powerful he is (even as a woman)

Can I just add, Atsushi almost did a double take and called aku “the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” before he found out it was aku ಥ‿ಥ

Aku noticed, Atsushi noticed that he noticed, and they both just decided to keep silent and move on as if it never happened 🤝