#i usually dont catch them directly interacting

[lokh]

do u guys come up with like. stories between ur animal crossing villagers. i usually dont but i can see the appeal

[lesbiancarat]

I'm gonna just post Twitter updates for the time being... I'm still a little burnt out on posting updates but I don't want to completely get out of the habit and Twitter updates are usually the easiest to post

[bountycancelled]

dirty secret

coriolanus snow x reader

tip me on kofi

requested: nope, I pulled this out of my ass, but if you want more coryo stuff lemme know 😜

warnings: suggestive content, coriolanus snow (derogatory), speaking of derogatory, snow has a degrading kink in this so yeah, mentions of cockstepping, faceslapping, just... be prepared

content: im p sure i dont mention readers gender but pls correct me if you catch anything, hella ooc snow (like, this dude would never act like this but I'm a writer which means I can make him do whatever I want), readers a bitch but snow likes it, sub!coryo, lowercase intended because fuck grammar, unedited

smut under the cut♡

a/n: give me more submissive coriolanus you cowards (I'm kidding ur not cowards but pretty please write this man begging for mommy to let him cum or whatever, not for me, I swear.) also, this is my first time writing full smut like ever so, idek what came over and I wanna apologise😭😭

here me out, academic rival!coryo with a little secret...

the two of share a friend, for lack of a more fitting term, in clemesia, and find yourselves in each others presence often as a result of the fact. and this would be good and well, if the two of you didn't despise each other down to the bone.

besides the fact that the two of you felt the need to prove yourselves due to differing circumstances, you both also shared an insatiable need for power, the kind that could only be obtained by being the very best at the academy.

it was almost comical how much you wanted to beat each other, and this rivalry bled into your non academic interactions, making them just as sour.

coriolanus found genuine enjoyment in getting under your skin, and you retaliating only made him want to poke at you more, which led to you retaliating once again, and so on and so forth.

as time passed, you'd somehow found yourself tolerating snow, even going as far as to enjoy your occasional back and forths with each other when you were the only two in the library, sitting at same desk even though you didn't need to (coriolanus insisted on planting himself directly across from you just to be a nuisance, and it worked.)

your banter turned more and more friendly, confusing your peers as you walked side by side, your arm linked with his as you bragged about receiving a higher score than him on a test, to which he just responded that you had gotten lucky and that it wouldn't happen again.

you didn't turn completely soft though, your insults were still as sharp as ever, even though you now said them with a playful smirk. they were cruel, and always seemed to send coriolanus into a spiral as he attempted to get the last word in, which he never did, always waving the white flag at the end.

you had always held that over his head, the fact that you could always best him in a verbal battle, on top of beating him in assignments and the like. but what you didn't know was that you were mistaken.

coriolanus didn't always relent because you were better at verbal lashings (which you were, but that's besides the point), he always stopped egging you on before your words escalated because if he let you degrade him any further, he wouldn't be able to hide how much he liked it.

he was almost shameless, as if he wanted you to know just how much you turned him on during you spats with him. like today for example, where you had been particularly harsh to him, even going as far as calling him useless. it wasn't his fault, someone had pissed you off before you had met up with him in the library and you were more agitated than usual.

he excused himself to the bathroom shortly after, and you found yourself wondering if what you said had affected him so heavily that he needed to get away from you.

oh, it affected him alright. he thanked the universe that 1) something had happened to make you as harsh as you were and 2) that the bathroom he entered was completely empty because he knew that he would have a bit of trouble keeping himself quiet.

he had barely made it to a stall and closed the door before palming himself through his pants, shudders moving through his whole body as his hips canted to meet his hand.

a whine tore through his throat as he imagined you catching him like this, and he quickly unbuckled his belt and slipped his hand in his underwear, stroking his dick firmly at the image.

you would probably laugh at him, dishing out every degrading name you could think of, calling him a dirty slut, saying that he was disgusting pervert for being so turned on at you being mean to him. and he would nod his head vigorously, because he was a slut, only for you.

maybe you would slap him across the face, leaving him with red cheeks, or maybe you would step on his poor weeping cock until he came on your shoe. would you make him clean it off? god, help him if you did.

his hips stuttered at the thought of eating his own cum, it was just so dirty and the fact that a simple look from you could turn him into such a depraved shell of the image that he excuded in his day to day was enough to send him over the edge.

he came with a groan, his hips not ceasing their thrusting into his fist until every last drop was out. as he cleaned himself up, fixing his uniform in the mirror, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, you knew what you were doing to him. and if the look you gave him when he came back, timidly taking his seat, it seemed that you had some idea.

"you know, I think you need to punished for what you just did, coryo. for what you've been doing. do you like the sound of that, hmm?"

and if the way the cock pulsed in his pants, already hard again was any indication, he loved the sound of that.

[calypsolemon]

okay let’s try and analyze anthy’s reactions during duels and why she sometimes is just completely still and other times she’s like “utena watch out!!” and other times she’s full on interfering. also how her relationship with utena and vice versa changes during the whole season

Lune you had no clue how much you were asking for when you sent this partway thru our watchthru lmaooo

I think the easiest question to answer here is "why she is completely still sometimes" and well it's that... most of the time she doesn't need to do anything. Anthy has been acting as the rose bride for what is clearly a looong time, and her "job" (her real job, as commanded by Akio, not what she presents to the duelists) essentially amounts to subtly manipulating people into projecting their desires onto her, so they will fight to own her. Usually, by the time they are at the arena clashing swords, Anthy has already done everything she needs to - the pawns are in place so to speak, she only needs to watch them play out their parts.

Beyond that, Anthy is generally emotionally disconnected from what goes on in the duels, despite the fact that they influence who she is going to have to live with. Though some duelists may, on a surface-level, treat Anthy better than others, and that might lead her to attempt to subtly push duels in her favor when she can, she ultimately sees her abuse at the hands of duelists as an inevitability, just another Thursday in the life of the Rose Bride. Therefore, apathy is the default Anthy emotion for any given duel.

So lets talk about the times when she is Very Much Not Apathetic

From the very first duel, she actually does express shock at Utena winning the duel with just a wooden sword. I will be honest, I dont actually put much weight onto this moment. I think its just sort of a natural reaction to someone so uninvested in either Anthy or the power she represents, winning the duel in such a dramatic way. I'm not even sure at this point she's clued in to Utena embodying Dios.

More notably, we have Miki's duel, which is the first true sign of mid-duel intervention by Anthy. By this point Utena has had an actual moment of "Dios coming down from the castle to possess her," which... depending on your reading means either Anthy, Akio, or both see some sort of potential in Utena. So she blatantly throws the duel for Miki by directly contrasting the idea of protecting her she's purposefully built up till this point.

The most notable reaction from the first arc, though, would be in the second duel against Touga.

This is after we get one of the only direct confirmations in this arc that Anthy is actually beginning to care for Utena; the scene where she is sitting alone, imagining Utena across from her at the table. In this moment, when Utena is fighting for her princely ideals despite the risk of actual death, Anthy is (for lack of a better term) triggered into recalling when Dios was gravely injured and still attempting to act as prince. And whether it is through the protective instincts of those memories, or just straight up being pulled out of concentration of what she's doing, it causes her to accidentally throw the duel for Touga, by rescinding her power from his sword.

So, we basically have two precedents set for Anthy reacting during duels: She sometimes consciously interferes as a strategic move, and she sometimes has a genuine emotional reaction, usually in relation to her memories of Dios being triggered and/or potential care for Utena. I don't actually think these two things are mutually exclusive, however, and they become muddled as we move into the Black Rose Arc.

Anthy definitely begins to be a lot more lively during these duels, from interacting with the objects on the tables, to giving Utena's sword the blessing, to yelling for her as she catches her mid-air. Is this because she genuinely cares for or is concerned about Utena? Is projecting Dios onto her? Or is it just because Utena winning is what is necessary for the duels to function? Maybe some combo of all? Who knows

The most notable Black Rose Duel reaction, to me personally, is when Anthy downright demands Utena pull the sword from her against Wakaba. Its very uncharacteristic of her, and I believe its because, despite the Black Rose Duels being something she has a hand in, she may genuinely be concerned for her own life here, as she has built up Wakaba to be actually, murderously jealous of her personally, and Utena is actively refusing to fight.

As we move into the final arcs of the show, we get one of the most blatant Anthy duel disruptions to date:

The sword of Dios disappears mid-battle, and instead of remembering Dios in the face of fighting against impossible odds, it is now Utena's words of friendship that spur her to jump in front of her, and draw her own sword from her chest. I really think this is one of the most significant mid-duel actions Anthy takes besides the final duel. It shows that Anthy's emotions are no longer being spurred on by simple relation back to Dios, but rather by the genuine care that Utena is showing her. Even if their relationship is about to be mired in turmoil thanks to Akio's interference, it was starting to become something real, and it was also starting to break down Anthy's carefully built walls.

I'm getting eepy and also this is getting long, so I'm going to stop the analysis train there. I could get into the final duel but quite frankly I think thats an essay in and of itself. Anthy's reactions during duels is really a fascinating topic and you could probably go on forever talking about it (just like everything else in this show)

[strilonder]

(Got rid of all the colors and kept the text sizes WITH translations :V)

Shitty Blog Intro

[text reads: “Shitty Blog Intro” text ends.]

Hallo this is Timothy Simmons Rey and i will be creating this SHITTY AND LOW EFFORT introduction for our, uh, system?? I dunno, i dont really give a fuck. (/neutral) We have no collective pronouns/terms because half of us are the other half’s opposite gender and it’s sort of infuriating to try and decide what we all want to be called. Just ask for our fronter’s/s’ pronouns. Please? We use alters, parts, and headmates collectively—however, some are more into just saying parts.

Also if you have “18 & older” or “MDNI” in your bio/intro, please block us. We are bodily a minor and a vast majority of us are too. We don’t want to break your DNI because one of the adults in our system had followed you or we didn’t read your blog’s DNI.

>8< (cool little spider)

SMALL DISCLAIMER: Just because most or some or maybe even just one of us have an odd/differing opinion doesn’t mean we all have the same exact thought. We disagree and argue as much as every other System.

Our DNIs (even though we literally cant do shit about it in two whole different ways):

Most of our humans are uncomfortable interacting with proshippers, which includes two of our hosts. Our trolls don’t mind interacting with them while our (currently singular) pony does mind if they interact. You might wanna ask whoever’s fronting if they’re okay with you talking to them since our stances are very diverse. The last statement applies to every single discourse on tumblr actually. Whatever you are, you might wanna ask if we’re okay with it, whether it be radqueer, endogenic, whatever. We’ll usually say we arent okay with talking with you but there are occasional okay’s depending on the alter.

Since a lot of us are minors from universes where our adults weren’t the best, we won’t be directly talking (DMs, private group-chats, etc) to to people at and over 18. Our adult alters don’t mind interacting as long as you aren’t asking for anything suggestive or romantic (half of them are either happily taken and happily single).

On the topic of relationships: don’t be weird to us about what character you ship with our source. No, Dave doesn’t romantically like Karkat, Rose doesn’t romantically like Virgo (Maryam), Dirk doesn’t romantically like Jake, etc etc etc. Of course there are exceptions but those are rare (an eighth of our Parts are “popular” or at least “well known ships”). Don’t go poking us with your elbow saying “[Alter] is cute, arent they? winky face ;D” because it’s really uncomfortable to hear for literally everyone.

Our alters/parts have certain source characters that they are uncomfortable with (that also overlap into our system). Those of them that were directly stated are Beta Bro Strider, Alpha Bro Strider, possibly Vriska’s lusus, most definitely Dreamwastaken and Wilbursoot, and probably a bunch of more adult character sources. However, this isn’t the case for all and there are exceptions (such as our Beta Bro who never had Dave), you will just need to ask the alter personally.

We will block you if you concern more than half of the system or our protectors and gatekeeper.

[text reads: “We will block you if you concern more than half of the system or our protectors and gatekeeper.” text ends.]

On to our system info: (At this point, Timothy S. R had already Switched places with me, LZ. I am now in Front.)

Hello, travellers, most likely from the Homestuck fandom.. We are an untitled, (fictionally) Introject-heavy System under the handle “strilonder”, which you may use as a collective name for us! :3

Our Alter/Part count is currently unknown; 16 discovered and whispers of 40+ existing. (We have literally no idea.) That is an older statement. We are now nearing 50 Members. Fuck our life. As we stated beforehand—bodily, we are a minor. If you didn’t catch it before, the many Parts in our system that relate to the Body’s age group would not like to directly contact (via DMs, private group-chats, etc) with adults, so please ask us if any Middles/Littles are Fronting before conversing (this is for the others’ comfort and safety <3).

Since we are leaning low tolerant when Splitting/Forming new Parts and we currently have a massive hyperfixation, we have a lot of Homestuck Introjects. We have one DSMP/MCYT Introject (the aforementioned Timothy who goes by he/they/dee/dem/red pronouns) and one MLP:FiM Introject (Applejack, who goes by she/they/he pronouns). Please excuse us if we have no translations for any typing quirks, we forget a lot and people who don’t really care. x(

Unfortunately, when I (LZ) had first tried using tags for the System to use, it didn’t work at all due to people forgetting to tag or forgetting the tag/s even existed and it doesn’t help that all(?) of us have shit memory so we are gonna just stick to sign-offs/proxies or names in the tags to keep track of who posted what.

Hosts: (They will change over time.)

LZ (proxy -LZ), any & all pronouns : The Core of the System. (Despite how problematic the coined term “Core” is, we have all collectively agreed it doesn’t affect us. This is a personal term to differentiate the other hosts from the human child they had split from, primarily because the Core has most of the memories + experienced them. Of course, we will take offense to it if it’s used offensively/incorrectly.)

Karkat Vantas (proxy -CARCINOGENETICIST or -CG), he/him : The Gatekeeper of the System. He has been keeping track of the other Alters’ activity and roles.

Dirk Strider (proxy (🧢)), he/him : The second Part to Form/reveal himself and made it clear he was Formed to protect the System. Has been fronting ever since he went dormant.

Past Hosts:

None.

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

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

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

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

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

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

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

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

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

Dameron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

You're finally alone.

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

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

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

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

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

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

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

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

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

There.  There’s the drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

You lose count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you just start giggling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… to pull a bag of chips out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a nice voice, you think.

[elysianslove]

cheering you up ; haikyuu boys

synopsis; different ways the haikyuu boys care for you and cheer you up when you’re sad

pairings; karasuno x reader, nekoma x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, shiratorizawa x reader, inarizaki x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; none probably a bunch of mistakes lmfao

note; i had to repost this like 3 times rip. anyways, im sorry for not adding inarizaki on my last one jbshds but they’re here now!!

karasuno ━━

sugawara koshi; i definitely think he's so in tune with you, and your emotions. he learns your cues very well, and knows every little thing about you that there is to learn. if you're having a bad day, he'll notice right away. he won't comment on it though. all he'll do is these little things to try to cheer you up, but it's going to be very subtle. he'll let u rest ur head on his shoulder, run his fingers through ur hair. he'll sneakily buy u ur favorite snack. doesn't bring anything up until you do. ends the day with cuddles and a chick flick.

sawamura daichi; he notices but he doesn't really know how to react. not because he doesn't know what to do, but because he doesn't want to trigger you or deepen your sadness in any way. he's very careful with you. if it's something throughout the day, he's very quiet and tender with you, just silently lets you rest your head against his chest and rubs your back/arm tenderly. as you're walking home he asks if you want to talk about it, and reminds you that it's good to, but it's also okay if you don't want to.

nishinoya yuu; not a single sad moment with mr noya here. seriously you cannot breathe. ok but in all honesty, when you're sad. he's sad. sends you memes, and you'll be laughing at them with tears streaming down your face because you don't really know what you're feeling anymore. he does a lot of tiktok trends with you, any of the couple ones. grabs your faces and ,,, smooch all over. until you have no choice but to laugh. if you want to cry even more, he'll watch the notebook and the vow a thousand times over, and be a sobbing mess next to you. just don't tell the guys okay? <3

kageyama tobio; he's so.   bad. at this please help him. like he can tell ur sad, bc he's v good at reading people. but like. what the fuck is he supposed to do. anyways. when u two get to be alone and he kinda notices how quiet you are, he just nudges you slightly, and pulls you to him. it's easier to talk to you, he's calmer, when he can't directly look at you. when he feels you start to shake in his arms, feels the wet tears down your cheeks as you start to sob in his arms, his heart kinda breaks. all he can do is hold you, but it's what you need. and he'll listen too, if that's what you need as well.

tsukishima kei; i think he notices, but doesn't bring it up at all. the way he goes about it is he'll tease you to try and bring a smile on your face. because this is tsukki, and you know him well enough, you know the truth behind his jabs, enough to appreciate them. if it doesn't work, he'll just start to make fun of people in front of you, pointing random people out with you and just being like "wanna bet on what's making their relationship fall apart" this sadist i stg. like suga, he subtly makes you feel better until you yourself approach him about whatever's upsetting. actually gives 10/10 advice bc he's v honest.

asahi azumane; he's so empathetic oh my god bruh. notices immediately. "baby what's got u so upset" w a big pout on his face and when u just mumble "nothin" so low he barely catches it and instead throw yourself into his arms, he gives you a big, certified asahi bear hug. doesn't leave your side at all. constantly mutters sweet nothings and encouragements. if you do the bare minimum like make it through class he'll meet you after and be all "im so proud of my pretty baby". cuddles all day. all night. he's not very good at advice but he is the best listener !!! so attentive and you'll feel a huge weight lifted.

tanaka ryunosuke; "aight who do i need to jump" type beat. u love him so much though. that one sentence and sentiment already has you feeling better. immediately hugs you so tight, borderline suffocating you. "wanna ditch school". 100% willing to do so. he doesn't really know whether to approach it with distracting you or facing the obstacle head-on, but he finds a middle ground. eats your feelings out with you. saeko pulls out the embarrassing ryu pictures and suddenly you don't know why you were ever sad.

hinata shoyo; is really oblivious for a bit tbh. when he first meets you at the start of the day and his hyperactive self is greeted by your duller, sadder self, he doesn't think much of it. it's when you don't react to him or interact with him the way you usually would that he starts to notice you being off. he's actually super straightforward about it, and approaches you with some of your favorite snack that he bribed ukai to give him for free and just "wanna tell me whats up, baby?" he's so, so easy to talk to. immediately you're venting. and he listens to intently, gives stupidly good advice. it's like such simple approaches to your problem but?? it works. anyways you love him.

yamaguchi tadashi; will be super worried about what he could do to make it better, and kinda just tries to feed you as much positive energy as he can. once he's comfortable with people, he becomes really chatty, so i see him talking your ear off with the biggest smile on his face that you have no choice but to kind of ? mimic it? he just radiates goodness and sweetness that it shifts your own energy. he on some witchcraft shit on god. anyways when he walks you home or something, he'll just stop for a min and avoid your eyes when he says "ik u dont feel the best, but i dont want you to have to hide that from me, okay?" stan tadashi <3

nekoma ━━

kuroo tetsurō; drops everything. i mean it. i genuinely think kuroo would be such a good boyfriend that he'll sense it and text u as ur getting ready for school and be like "are u sad i feel like ur sad". you dont really wanna worry him and you'll just reassure him ur fine but he's already at your front door in — not his school uniform. insists the two of you take the day off saying "its fine babe im super smart". you two will spend the whole day just simply existing, talking when needed, he listens to you if you vent, and tries to come up with as many options of solutions for you so you don't feel weighed down. he'll make sure you eat even if you don't have an appetite, and will try to make u do something productive bc in a lotta cases, it could help you feel a lil better yk :)

kozume kenma; i pretend i do not see it — kozume kenma (2020). jbwjwks im jk. he's like tsukki in the sense that he will never address it, and he doesn't outwardly approach you about it. if it's just an off day for you, and you also happen to not have school, you'll go over to his house, hoping to feel a little bit better when you see him. "can i have a kiss, sunshine" to which he responds "why." you just go "im sad" and he gives u a big smooch. he'll have you lay on his lap while he plays his games, occasionally just sneaking in a peak at you to make sure you're okay. he'll ask if you wanna play to get your mind off things for a while. eventually, when things wind down a bit, he'll just mutter "yk i love you, yeah?" and that lights up your world hehe

haiba lev; as soon as he notices you're sad he just ☹️. he picks out a small flower and as soon as he sees you, he just tucks it by your ear, and smile so brightly and youll just be like "oh my god lev please stop being so cute". he won't really know what to do tbh, but the way he's so lost makes it so heartwarming and it honestly cheers you up all on its own. he just. "would a kiss make it better" and if you nod he'll just start kissing all over your face so softly, until he finally kisses your lips. when he pulls away he asks "again?" with a cute smile and if you nod he'll just kiss you over and over again. very simple way of cheering you up, and very foolproof tbh.

yaku morisuke; i think throughout the day, he might pester you a little bit about telling him what was wrong, but after you keep insisting you're fine, he relents, and decides that maybe giving you your own time and space to open up to him is better. he tries not to act differently in that sense, but he finds himself being a little more soft spoken, and gentler with you. i just had this image flash in my brain of you resting your head on a desk, head turned to the right, and then yaku comes and sits to your right, putting his head on the desk and facing you. and just. "hi :)" your heart melts. he kisses your forehead softly and tells you you're wonderful, in case you've forgotten. if, or when, you do open up to him, he'll be very eager to listen, and ready to fight off whoever upset you.

yamamoto taketora; this man is angry. like properly. "who the FUCK put a frown on my baby's face. speak the fuck up. i won't hurt you. ill just mutilate you." if you tell him that it's no one, and that you're just upset, he'll be so confused but he'll just nod and be like "okay. okay. do you want a hug?" and he'll hug you so tight. he'll admit that he doesn't like seeing you like this, and that he'll do anything to make it better. at first he's very cautious, but then he just lightbulb moment and as soon as you get home he'll be like "karaoke night babyyyyy" and then. no more sad.

aoba johsai ━━

oikawa tōru; very. perceptive. he greets you normally, even if he notices something's off, because he won't want to worsen anything. you meet him right before he has practice after school, and he'll just cup your face, lifting them to brush at your hair, and you just sigh. "my baby's had a long day, yeah?" he'll be very gentle and careful with you, i'm sure. he gives you a kiss, smiling softly into it, and reassuring you that you're much too strong to let a single bad day destroy you like this. he meets you later that night with a lotta ice cream and you two just binge watch any reality show you could find, shit talking the actors together. he himself is terrible at talking about his feelings this dumbass >:( so he understands if you don't want to yk? will encourage u to vent it out though. expect terrible, makes no sense advice

iwaizumi hajime; he kinda like. gets mad? when you continue to be upset and not speak about it? he's not mad at you! he's just. mad. this is iwa okay. anyways. he won't bring it up mostly, only being slightly more affectionate, especially in his hand holding, which is super gentle already as it is. when he invites you over, that's when he actually starts to talk to you about it. he lets you know that there's nothing worse than seeing you like this and not knowing what to do, and that he wants you to be able to talk to him. about anything. even if you think it's stupid. he'll listen, and tell you that it's not stupid if it's making you upset. he cooks for you <33333 then bakes with you <33333 you feel a lot lighter at the end of the night tbh

hanamaki takahiro; (he's so annoying i love him). as soon as he sees you upset he makes it his mission throughout the day to cheer you up in any possible way. spams your phone while you're class with ten thousand wholesome memes. sends you pick up lines. when he meets you in between classes he just yells out "how's my favorite person in the entire world!" and kisses you so wholly in the middle of the school hallway lmfao. while he's walking you home, takes a longer route and purposely, he passes by your favorite store/bakery/ice cream parlor. buys u ur favorite, and pretends to be shocked when you give him a piece. late at night, he'll facetime you, wondering how you're feeling, asking if you needed to talk about it. whether you do or you don't, you two will fall asleep facetiming.

matsukawa issei; the minute he sees you he's like "whats wrong". no hi or anything. he has like this frown on his face, which seems off bc it's rare to see a frown on issei's face, and he just tucks your chin in his palm gently and stares at your pout. "you good, baby?" he can tell you're not, but he wants you to be able to tell him on your own. sticks by your side the entire day, and nobody really mentions it. he talks to you as if it were a normal day, but his voice has a softer edge. he's not distracting you, per se. he's more, talking to fill the space while giving you your own space to think. once you're alone, he'll just drag you to the nearest comfy surface, flop down, and pull you on top of him. if you even try to resist or ask whats going on he'll just "nap and cuddles first." and when u sleep a lil bit of ur sadness away, he'll just let you talk it out as he continues to hold you <333

fukurodani ━━

bokuto kōtarō; just as empathetic as asahi, if not more. he really does feel it all with you. yk sympathy pains that partners get when women get contractions? bokuto is that partner. with bokuto, i feel like he'd never make you feel like you couldn't just straight up text him "im sad" and feel bad about it. if you ever do that, he'll immediately call, not even bothering with a text. if he can't come over, he stays with you until you've cried your heart out and then laughing until you can't breathe. if he can go over, he smothers you with love. repeatedly says "you know i love you, yeah? you know how grateful i am for you?" and in between kisses "im so lucky. so, so lucky."

akaashi keiji; i feel like as soon as akaashi notices you're down, or you're slightly off, he just grabs your hand and squeezes, forcing you to stop spacing out and focus on him for a second. if you're with a lot of people around you, he'll lean close to you and ask if you wanna go home. he'll be so soft and gentle and understanding, making up some excuse on the spot on why the two of you have to leave. if you're alone, he'll grab your hand and kind of tug you towards him, silently asking you to come into his arms, where you yourself know you feel safest. as soon as you're in the comfort of your home together, he'll like run you a bath and slip into it with you, just holding you until the water grows cold and the droplets on your skin are from your own tears. he'll wait it out, just holding you as reassurance, then make sure nothing's stopping you from spilling everything to him.

konoha akinori; when he first notices, he kinda deflates. like. who would wanna see their s/o like that? his smile is gentler when he greets you, and he's so soft with you. he grabs a pen and lifts your palm up, quickly scribbling down in his unique handwriting "i love you :) <3" on your skin, whispering for you not to wash it off until the end of the day. it is weirdly motivating tbh. as soon as the two of you are alone, he says it to you, face to face, an expected look on his face as if to ask "you know that, yeah?". puts on a movie to tune out the rest of the world, and holds you close to him as it drags on. he'll give advice if you're asking for it, but he's a better listener than anything else.

shiratorizawa ━━

ushijima wakatoshi; does not notice. in all honesty, he expects you to approach him whenever you have an issue or if you're upset. he's kinda like ? so confused when you're so down and really unresponsive, until he starts to notice how touchy you are. like you're leaning more into his touch, holding onto his hand like it's your lifeline, stealing his vbc jacket because it smells like him. is very straightforward, and will just ask you if you're okay as he walks/drives you home. kinda just stops in front of your house and presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulling you into a hug. "please don't be upset." he won't tell you that it kills him, but you can sense the unsaid words. he urges you to keep his jacket when he notices how safe it makes you feel. greets you the next morning with a new cactus in a pot hehe.

semi eita; is very cuddly once he notices. you'll sit at a table in school and he'll be sitting next to you, but he just pulls you into him and lets you rest your head on his chest, mumbling softly into your hair "i know you're sad and it's okay." he doesn't say anything else, just holds you there with a few kisses in between until he has to let go. late at night, if your thoughts are still keeping you up, he'll be up too, worrying, and will text you at 3 am if u wanna sneak out to meet him. takes you to the park and lays on the grass with you, picking out stars and constellations in the sky, with a soft soundtrack playing from his phone next to the two of you. he makes you feel secure enough to be sad even if you have all the blessings in the world, and makes sure you know that he'll always be there for you, even at 3 in the morning.

satori tendō; cheers you up by making you forget literally everything. replaces the sadness in your brain with just pure serotonin in any way he can think of. he'll take you to an amusement park, get ice cream with you, take you to the carnival in town, to the park, to the beach, to the pool, take you up to his house's rooftop. literally anything. and then he'll say something like "life's too short to spend it being sad over anything, darling." he's so understanding, and if you're frustrated or something he'll tell you to let it out by like wrestling him or some shit. exhausts you so much and you're filled to the brim with dopamine. he makes sure you're always happy, never seeing a dull moment in your relationship with him.

goshiki tsutomu; freaks out. plain and simple lmfao. but once he like grounds himself, he just softly comes up to you and asks you if you wanna talk about it, or if there's anything he can do. if yes, he'll break his leg running to go do it. if no, he'll just sit with you in silence, leaning over to hold your hand, talking to you about volleyball and his aspirations and how well he's improving. he's better at distracting you than helping you face your issues, mainly because he stresses out about giving the wrong advice or somehow making you sadder. he'll take a lot of pictures of you together on snapchat random filters to try and cheer you up, then later on in the night he'll send them to you and be like "look how cute we are ugh what a power couple" i love this dorkhabsjsks

shirabu kenjirō; i think he definitely notices, but keeps it to himself. he’d maybe think he’s imagining things and that you’re okay, so he’d go about his day normally. he doesn’t see you after school, and that’s when he puts two and two together and realizes yeah maybe you are sad. so he texts you, and texts you, and texts you, and gets no reply, so he just. comes over. unannounced. uninvited. just straight vibes. he’s already ordered your favorite take out, and already settling in bed with you under the cover with the lights dimmed and some chick flick playing in the background. gives the b e s t advice because he’s so blunt. like he will tell you if you’re overreacting, but you’re still his s/o, so he’d like wince as he says it. that’s all the sympathy you’re getting <3 but his bluntness will shock you into laughing hehe

inarizaki ━━

miya atsumu; usually, with atsumu, you’re always experiencing loud days. your relationship is all fun and flirty and suave and cool. but when he notices you’re sad, he goes quiet. like. eerily so. immediately pulls you aside somewhere private if you’re at a public place like school or something, and with his hands in yours he asks you if you’re okay. yk that thing where ur on the verge of tears and someone asks you if you’re okay and you just burst. yeah <3. his heart absolutely breaks and he just pulls you into a hug, resting your head on his chest and wrapping his arms around your neck. he just holds you there, even if you’re missing class/your friends are worried. he’ll stay with you until your tears have dried up, until you yourself let go.

miya osamu; i don’t see osamu as someone that loves pda. i feel like he’d be a more lowkey kinda guy. but if you’re sad, that gets thrown out the window. he doesn’t really in the moment, and won’t think too much when he pulls you close to his side and just wraps an arm around your waist/shoulder. yeah he’ll get looks but he can feel you trembling and shaking from holding back tears so yk, priorities. he’ll definitely stress eat with you. takes you literally anywhere and feeds you as you rant to him with tears streaming down your face and he’s just nodding sympathetically as he stuffs your mouth one bite after the other. romance is beautiful

suna rinatarō; when he notices you’re sad, his first response is alright what the fuck who messed up. he immediately blames someone else, and if he’s right, he’ll only get really agitated. just giving everyone the side eye from where you can’t see as he walks the two of you, your hand in his tight. if it’s not someone specific, he’ll just hum thoughtfully and then nod, before pulling you away somewhere private and just sitting you down and saying “talk.” very, very good listener. i can’t stress this enough. as you’re speaking he’s already thinking of a million different ways to help you solve your problem. walks with you as he traces your hands and just quietly tells you all the solutions.

aran ojiro; oh my god as a boyfriend he ticks all the boxes. he’s great at communicating, always satisfies your needs, is trustworthy and trusts you. the list goes on. immediately knows when you’re off/sad, and just smiles softly as he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles and saying, “let’s go home, yeah?” at home, he makes you some calming tea, probably pulls out some cookies or brownies or biscuits (that HE made but we’re not gonna get into that) and just listens as you talk, whether it’s about why you’re sad or just in general. gives you honest advice, but also a lil biased bc he loves you hehe <3

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Momma is a badass?

Fandom: DC Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Batmom!reader (in the background) Word count: 1.4k Summary: Your Children don’t know about a big part of your past, but when the situation calls for it, they find out, one way or anotherm Requested by a hydrated Anon: since the request are kinda open. Can i request something where batmom was a former suicide squad member, now dating batman and the batkids dont know? Maybe they are in a dangerous fight against someone and the suicide squad helps them? only if this is okay for you. No pressure or something. Stay hydrated love

Your children knew that you were a great fighter, one that could hold herself against Bruce easily, and they knew that you had been a vigilante long before you had met their father and fallen into the more domestic role of a part-time event-organizer and a full-time momma at day and a crime fighter at night. Sometimes they had tried to ask you and Bruce about what you had done for the most of your early adulthood, but they never found out anything about what happened between your 18th and 25th birthday. A few of them - mostly Tim, Steph and Damian - had thought about finding out the old-fashioned way, but everytime they seriously considered it they remembered that not once since you had taken them in as your children have you breached their privacy without a very, very good reason. So they quickly started to forget about it again and face their own problems. What none of your children had expected was that that blank on your resume was going to be filled on what was supposed to be an easy mission in Gotham’s Docks. You and Bruce were the ones who went, Tim on the Comms, only to find that three of the most dangerous and violent - but in themselves alone relatively small - crime families had “bonded” together to defeat the one thing that kept them from ‘rising to their true size’: Your family. The two of you were good, years of beating and defeating big baddies have shown so much, but not even the two of you were good enough to defeat the small army that was attacking you now. Under the hail of bullets that were raining down on you, a few of them hitting your body armour, but luckily not you, you barely managed to dive for cover behind a metal pillar. Looking over you were relieved to find Bruce behind cover too, seemingly not hurt. He nodded at you, most likely having the same thoughts about you, before talking to you and Tim over the Comms. “Red, we need everyone here asap, this is at least a code blue situation.” “Code blue? I thought this was just a quick in-and-out,” Tim asked surprised. “Just do it, no time to explain,” Bruce grunted as he threw a Batarang at a particularly bold individual that tried to break his cover, disarming him quickly and knocking him unconscious. “I contacted everyone, Nightwing and Red Hood are on their way, ETA is at least ten minute. Robin is preparing and will be there in five. Oracle is going to take over the Comms as soon as she’s online from her homebase and then I’ll hurry over with Black Bat. The others will try to come, but are indispensable at the moment,” Tim informed you and you could hear the almost inhumane quick tapping of his keyboard in the background. Before you had the chance to answer you noticed the small circular object rolling towards you and just almost managed to kick it away and shield yourself with your cape. “We don’t have enough time to wait for all of them!” you shouted over the sound of another explosion and when you looked over at Bruce you almost saw the internal conversation, “They’re on a mission not far from here, they could be here in five minutes.” “Who are you talking about?” Tim asked, but you and your husband just ignored him. “Do it!” Bruce said after he had to dive for a new cover when the pillar he was standing behind got damaged by another granate. Not waiting another second you pulled out a small button that was protected by a glass hood. You clicked the glass hood off and pushed the button, a little relief flooding you when you saw the blinking light below it implicate that the signal was received. Now you just had to survive long enough for your help to arrive. Tim and Cassandra, closely followed by Damian, arrived shortly after, but even with the five of you, you weren’t remotely able to do more than hold yourself against the seemingly never ending attack that got worse with every minute. When you heard the flapping of a chopper somewhere above you, you could have wept with joy, but soon got pulled back into reality when a bigger explosion rang through your ears and debris from the newly bombed open roof missed you by literal inches. After making sure neither your husband, not your children were hurt badly, you looked up to find that the chopper was not the one you had hoped for when you were looking directly into the barrel of a bomb launcher. The thought of retreating filled your mind, but before you could suggest, you saw the opposing chopper blow up in a haze of fire before a very familiar crazy laugh filled your ears - even if it was still half a mile or so away. More explosions rang through the enemy lines and the shift in power was immediately feelable. You had just won the upper hand. Five ropes were lowered around you and soon after you found yourself surrounded by your former team - or rather one version of it, the suicide squad never really being one to keep stagnate. “Did ‘ya miss us sugar?” Harley crackled as she fell around your neck, hugging you with one arm while the other was occupied with shooting an enemy that had been charging at the six of you. “You wouldn’t believe how much,” you smiled and - after quickly greeting the rest of the team - got back to fighting. Dick and Jason joined the fight shortly before the end - before your win - and were surprised by the people who were fighting in such a harmony with their mother that it looked like they had been fighting with you for years, but with the fight still going on they had little time to care about it too much. The twelve of you together had an easy time fighting against the gangs and it only took a few minutes more before you left unconscious, dead (the suicide squad had no no-killing rule after all) and tied up gang members for the police to lock up. The squad's chopper had been severely damaged during the fight so the five went with you to a second-emergency base on the outskirts of Gotham to wait for Waller to send them a pick-up, leaving you with a bit of time to catch up with your old mates. While you were laughing and talking to Harley, Rick, Floyd, Digger and Tatsu like you were old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while, Bruce standing a few feet behind you - keeping up his grim persona, but not stopping you from interacting with the (mostly) villains - your children were at the other side of the room completely dumbfounded at the way their mother was acting.

“Remember that time Waller almost blew up your head because you thought it was a good idea to play pranks in the base?” you asked laughing, the others joining you. “Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know she’d react to a bit of water like that,” Dagger shrugged, but smiled at the memory. “Can’t believe it’s been so long already since I left, it feels like yesterday I almost cut your eyes out,” you smiled - you much like Katana not having been there as a criminal, but rather as a guard yourself. “Hey, if you want back, we’d gladly take you in, I still think Waller considered planting a bomb in your head just so that you would come back and bring some order back,” Rick shrugged, but you just shook your head. “Thank you, but no thank you, I have a life here now. Also I don’t think Hubby would like that too much,” you giggled a little and blew a kiss at Bruce, who responded only with a stern nod in an interaction that your children would have usually found hilarious if they weren’t so occupied with staring. “Ya’know sugah, Ah love attention, Ah really do, but even Ah get uncomfortable if dah little batlings keep on starin’ like tha’,” Harley nudged your shoulder and nodded into the direction of your children. “Oh, don’t mind my little ones, they just didn’t know about my time at the suicide squad,” you shrugged, well aware that you were going to have a lot to explain later on.

[bimb0beee]

stay with me.

suna x y/n

in which youve liked suna for years, suna is a tsundere, and tsukishima is a little shit.

includes tsukiyama, best friends tsuki & yamaguchi, mentioned miya twins, tsukishima is a shit stirrer and we love him for it.

warnings: smut, public funking, big cock suna, stupid suna, a little spit, uhhhhh, also my fics are never beated all mistakes are my own 🥴

wc: 4.1k

The first time you saw Suna Rintaro was at nationals. He was easily one of the prettiest boys you have ever seen. All you wanted to do was introduce yourself to him, but seeing as how they lost to Karasuno… you didn't think he'd give the time of day to a student there.

You debated following him on his socials… but ultimately went against it.

There was no way he'd be interested in you anyway.

The second time you saw Suna Rintaro, you were eating lunch with Kei and Tadashi.

You were midchew listening intently to Tadashi's story when you looked up and saw him.

He was walking with his friends, the twins, and you started choking.

Kei glanced at you while Tadashi fussed to make sure you weren’t dying.

He also happened to glance in the direction you were looking and saw the reason for your sudden choking.

“Y/n, oh my god, are you okay??”

“Tadashi, she's fine. She just so happened to see her four year crush.”

You punched him in his stupid gut.

The third time you saw Suna he was in one of your classes. Along with one of the twins. The one with yellow hair… What was his name again?

You were seated near the back, always keen on avoiding human interaction if you could.

And, of course, they both decided to sit directly in front of you.

Not that they paid you any attention.

Which was fine.

Until your professor told the class they should get someone elses contact information.

Since you were alone, and no one was near you except for Suna and Miya, you had no choice but to give it to Miya when he asked.

“Yo, I’m Atsumu! This is Suna.”

You looked up at, ah his name is Atsumu, Atsumu and smiled shyly.

“Hey! I’m Y/n…”

You took a chance at Suna but he's looking at his phone, not even bothering to give you another glance.

Unknown to you, he was already looking at you, but decided to look away before he got caught by either you or Atsumu.

You offered up your email and number to Atsumu, looking over to see if Suna wanted to as well.

He didn't even look at you, which may or may not have bummed you a bit, but you decided it was better this way.

You and Atsumu exchanged at least which was better than nothing, you suppose.

From then on, you and Atsumu became fast friends. You would try to talk to Suna, but he would just grunt at you or not even bother answering. So you gave up on trying. Which kind of fucking sucked, but if he wanted to be a prick, then you wouldnt bother with that.

Has your crush dwindled? No, of course not.

Atsumu was always talking about Suna and the stuff they were up to and he seemed so wonderful, so it sucked that he wouldnt even look at you.

You're crying about Suna to Kei and Tadashi; you're so distracted you don't even notice them walking in.

But Kei does, and right before you say his name he decides to be nice and cut you off.

“Shut up. Look who’s here.”

You look to glare at Kei and then you look up and, oh my god, of course it's him.

Suna and the Miya twins.

Atsumu notices you and starts walking over to you excitedly like a little puppy.

As annoying as he is, it's so endearing, you can't help but love him.

“Hey, Y/n!”

“Oh, hey Atsumu. Whats up?” You crinkle your eyes at him and in the most subtle way a tick appears in Suna’s eyebrow.

No one notices, except Kei.

He mentally grins.

“Oh, this is my brother! Osamu! We’re twins!”

You laugh and Kei puts his arm around you.

“Wow, really? I would've never guessed.”

You slap your hand on Kei’s leg and tell him to be nice.

He turns to whisper in your ear, “Leave your hand there. I'm testing a theory.”

You look at him with a question in your eyes but decide to listen anyway. Let him have his fun.

“I didn't know you had a boyfriend,” someone who definitely isn't Atsumu says.

You look up, why is Suna talking to you?

“Hmm?” You're staring at him curiously and then he just stalks off.

Atsumu starts to cackle. “What the fuck. He doesn't talk to you at all and then says that shit?”

“Y-yeah. What the hell was that about?”

Osamu is looking at you with sparkles in his eyes and you're about to ask what that means when he's suddenly walking away, “Sorry, gotta go and make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt himself! It was nice meeting you, Y/n.”

“You too…?”

Atsumu catches up to them to see what the fuck that was about.

They're sitting on a bench outside and Atsumu walks up to them trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck was that, Suna? I thought you didn't like her!”

“I don't.” He rolls his eyes, but there's a faint blush to his cheeks.

“Oh my god. You fucking like her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tsumu.”

“LMFAO.”

“Atsumu, why the fuck did you just say that out loud?”

“Suna, you’re such a fucking tsundere. Why don't you just talk to her, idiot?”

“Why would I do that, when she clearly has a boyfriend?”

“Well, Rin, you didn't even let her answer before you stormed off. Maybe if you actually talked to her, you might find out the truth.”

Suna blinks at Osamu and gives a gentle smile.

“This is why you're my favorite twin.”

“Fuck you, Suna. You can't even talk to the person you like.”

“What the fuck was that. Kei? What the fuck was that?”

You're kind of having a little breakdown. Why did Suna randomly ask that, out of absolutely nowhere. He doesn't give you the time of day, then all of a sudden asks if you have a boyfriend? In what universe is Suna Rintaro living?

Kei is smirking.

“Babe, I think Suna likes you.” Surprisingly, it's Tadashi who speaks.

“Suna doesn't like me, Tadashi. He's clearly an idiot who knows nothing.”

“No, yeah. He totally likes you. He looked like he wanted to kill me.”

“Kei! You can't go antagonizing people!”

“Yes. i can. Especially assholes who think they can say shit when they don't even bother to talk to you.”

You smile wide. Fuck. “Oh my god, Tadashi! Kei loves meeee!”

He blushes and pushes you. “Fuck off, no one even likes you.”

You wrap him in a hug and he's groaning the whole time, but Tsukishima Kei loves you. 

Thankfully, it's friday. Which means you're not going to think about school for the next two days.

Unfortunately, Tadashi is dragging you to a party. Originally, he was only taking you because Kei refused to go. But now there's a change in plans.

You're whining into the phone, “Tadashiiii, if Kei is going then why do I have to??”

A voice, who is most certainly not your sweet freckled baby, answers instead, “Because your stupid boyfriend,” “I dont have a boyfriend, Kei” “is going to be there, and my job is to piss him off.”

“Why do you live off of chaos? What do you get out of it?”

“Pissing people off is one of my favorite pastimes, midget. Get ready.”

And the mother fucker hangs up on you.

One of these days, you swear you're going to kick him right where it hurts the most. 

You walk into the party, Tadashi holding your hand and Kei's hand on your back. It's nice. It's comfortable. You feel like everyone thinks you’re fucking them both. You're not. They’re fucking each other, but that’s a whole other thing you’re not going to get into.

Tadashi goes to get some drinks and Kei takes you to a wall and cages you in.

You blink up at him so prettily, he thinks, if he wasn't in love with his boyfriend, you would've been his next one.

“Kei?” You say so softly and he smirks like the demon he is.

“Saw dumb, dumb and dumbest playing beerpong. I think one of them saw you, so I’m just doing my friendly duty and pissing him off.”

You roll your eyes good naturedly at him and see Tadashi making his way over to you guys.

“Yummy! Give me, give meee!”

Tadashi smiles at you so sweetly and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, sweetheart!”

“Babe, I'm gonna blush, you womanizer!”

He blushes at that. Tadashi is much too sweet for your teasing but you love seeing how red he can be.

“Shut up, you little brat!”

Suna noticed. He always notices you. He saw the moment you walked in. He narrowed his eyes the moment Kei caged you next to the wall. He also saw when Tadashi kissed you.

The math aint mathin, he thinks to himself.

Atsumu notices his glaring and wants to see what has Suna so angry. At a party.

Then he sees you and who you're with and he laughs in Suna’s face.

“What are you angry about? You never talk to her, idiot. Why don't you change that? Actually, lets go.”

He grabs Suna by his wrist, dragging him across the room to where you three are.

“Y/n! Hey! I didn't know you came to parties!”

You blink your pretty eyes towards them and you smile wide.

“Tsumu! I don't usually, but they wanted me to come and I love them so… Here I am!”

“What, you're not gonna say hi to me, too?”

Now. normally, you would blush and brush it off. But unfortunately, you got some liquid courage in your system because of Tadashi.

“Oh? What's this? Suna is actually making an effort in talking to me?”

You smile so cutely at him and his eyes widen. Is that a blush?

Before he can respond, Atsumu is laughing his ass off.

“She’s got a fuckin point there, Suna!”

“Shut the fuck up, Tsumu. Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Obviously, Y/n’s side.”

You start laughing loudly at their interaction. Kei has a tight grip on your waist and Suna is glaring at the offensive hand.

“You got a staring problem, Suna?”

You glance up at Kei and see a mischievous fire in Kei’s eyes.

“Can you be nice for two seconds, Kei?”

“He's glaring at my hand. Am I supposed to say nothing?”

“Maybe you're just imagining it, hmm?” You say sweetly to him.

He’s about to tell you how stupid you are when someone speaks up, “Hey, Y/n. You wanna go outside? Me and Tsumu are gonna go get some fresh air.”

Kei raises a brow at that, “What, just Y/n? Not us?”

“Nope.” He says, popping the p extra loud.

“Yeah, sure. It's stuffy in here. I'll be back okay? Try not to murder anyone. Love you, bye!”

You make your way outside and find a nice little secluded spot.

It feels so much better than being inside a cramped party where everyone is breathing the same air.

“Wow, it feels so nice out here, huh?”

You have such a pretty little smile all Suna wants to do is kiss you until you're giggling just for him.

“You're really touchy with your friends, aren't you Y/n?”

To your utter surprise, it's not Atsumu who is talking to you.

Atsumu is trying to hold back his cackle; sometimes Suna is too blunt for his own good.

“Hmm, I guess so. I've also known them forever, so it's natural for me to be like that with them. Why, you jealous, Suna?”

You're sitting down squished between Suna and Atsumu and it's giving you butterflies.

Suddenly, Atsumu’s phone is ringing.

“Fuck, its Samu.”

“Yeah? What's up? What? Why did you leave, you stupid… Alright. Stop. Osamu, stop, I'll be right there. Jesus.”

“Sorry, guys. Osamu is drunk and is attempting to walk home alone for whatever reason. I'm gonna go get him. See you guys later?”

“Hopefully! Let me know when he's safe, okay, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart!”

You blush, Atsumu has never called you sweetheart before.

Suna knew he was a fucking liar and only doing it to get a reaction out of him. Fucker.

He clears his throat, “We’re friends, aren't we, Y/n?”

You hum, thinking over what he's asking. “Are we, Suna? How can we be friends when you never speak to me?”

You smile oh so sweetly at him and he wants to bite it off of your face.

“We’re talking now, aren't we?”

“I suppose we are, Suna…”

“Call me Rintaro.”

You stammer at his bluntness, “O-okay… Rintaro…” It feels like candy on your tongue.

You’re so fucking cute, he thinks.

“Are you shy? Like a cute little… bunny.”

You stare up at him, eyes wide, face red.

“B-bunny?! Do you go around calling all unsuspecting girls, bunny, Mister Rintaro?”

“Nah. Just the cute ones named Y/n.”

“You're very bold for someone who I just became friends with, aren't you, Rin?”

He puts an arm around you and pulls you closer.

“But, you're so cute, bunny. I can tell you like the nickname. Should I keep calling you bunny? Hmm?”

You're trying to fight the heat on your face, but he's so cute. His words make your insides jelly and you want to kiss him.

“Should I keep going, bunny? Or go back to Y/n?”

You whine at him, “Noooo, Rin…”

Suna can’t help but think how cute you are. He can't help but want to pull more reactions out of you. He manhandles you onto his lap and you're squirming around a little too much.

“Watch it, bunny. If you don't stop you're gonna make this hard for the both of us.”

You stop squirming and cover your face with your hands trying to fight off your blush and embarrassment.

“Rintaro! You can't just say shit like that!”

“Oh? So you want me to get hard? Bunny, you're nasty, aren't you?”

He wraps his hands around your back and snuggles you right next to him so he can whisper naughty things into your ear.

“Bunny, if you wanted me that's all you had to say. I'm all yours, yeah?”

He brings his mouth to plant sweet kisses onto your neck and you're so embarrassed and in shock this is happening to you, you don't react immediately.

Then you feel his teeth sinking into your skin and you let out a breathy moan.

“Oh? What's this? You like being bitten, little bunny?”

“S-shut up, Rin…”

He huffed a laugh against your skin and continues to kiss and nibble at you. He's determined to mark you up so everyone can see just who you belong to.

He moves his hands so they are under your clothes touching your soft skin and it feels so good to have him touching you like this.

“Rin, more, please…”

And who is he to say no to a pretty little bunny?

He gives you the sweetest kiss which is all the warning you get before he's thrusting his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss and he soaks it up. Your tongues are battling and you've never experienced such euphoria in your life. If you could die right now you would be happy.

He removes himself from your mouth and you whine out a protest.

“Hush, bunny. Open up, yeah?”

You look at him questioningly but do as he says anyway. You open your mouth wide and loll your tongue out just a little bit and he groans at his obedient little bunny.

He stares you dead in the eyes and slowly drops some of his spit into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow until I tell you to, bunny.”

He watches the way his spit runs down into your throat and his dick swells tremendously.

“Okay, sweet baby. Swallow for me, yeah?”

You start to grind down onto his clothed cock and, fuck, it feels so good.

He grabs your hips and helps you rub your tiny little cunt all over him.

“Feel good, bunny? Hmm?”

“Y-yes Rin, feels so good… More…”

“More? Here, bunny? Are you sure?” He laughs into your skin.

You're so delirious with lust it doesn't really occur to you where you are, just that you need to feel him inside you.

“Are you sure bunny? I don't know if your little cunt can take me like this…”

You pout at him, “I can do it, daddy…”

He stiffens at the name. That's new.

“Daddy, please…”

Suna is pretty sure you have no idea what you're saying to him but how can he deny you when you're begging him so sweetly?

“Alright, pretty bunny, let daddy take care of you, yeah?”

Your eyes sparkle in utter happiness and he's struck back for a second. You're going to be the death of him, he thinks.

He goes to move your panties to the side and scoffs. As if he could even call these panties. It's basically a piece of string covering your little cunt.

So, he rips them in two.

“Rintaro! You can’t just rip my fucking underwear!”

You’re pouting at him and, fuck, he wants to shove his cock down your sweet little mouth. Another time, perhaps.

“Hush, baby. I'll buy you more. Not that it was covering much anyway.”

You're about to give him an earful before he's shoving a finger into your sopping cunt.

“Wow, bunny. You're soaked. Is this all for little ol me?”

He's leisurely pumping a long, thick finger in and out of your cunt and it has your thighs quivering.

“Yes, Rin, all for you, always for you,” you cry into his neck.

And all too soon he's taking his finger out and you look into his eyes and watch as he sucks your arousal off of his finger.

“Alright, bunny. Take my cock out.”

You're reaching down to his jeans and just seeing his bulge makes your cunt throb. Fuck, you cannot wait to have it inside you.

You slowly take his cock out and of course it's big and pretty just like him. Can't really say you're surprised about it.

He watches you as your eyes widen in excitement and softly stroke his pretty cock.

“You like what you see, bunny?”

You don't even spare him a glance while you lick your lips and nod softly. You very much do like what you see.

“Alright, sweetheart. It's gonna be a tight fit. Are you sure you want this here?”

“Yes, yes. Rin, please, daddy, please if you don't shove your dick inside me soon I will explode!”

He laughs at your word vomit. You're just so unbearably cute and there is no way in hell he can ever deny you.

“Alright, sweet bunny. Get ready, okay?”

Even when hes about to fuck your brains out, you cant believe how sweet he actually is.

He spits on his dick and lifts you up ever so slightly so he can slip the head inside your quivering hole.

Not that he needed the extra lubrication, he just wanted to make sure it was extra sloppy.

The fat head of his cock makes its way past your folds and you close your eyes with a silent, open mouthed moan.

“Shh,” he coos at you, “look at my sweet little baby, taking my cock raw. Does it hurt, bunny?”

He thinks he hears you growl more at him and he chuckles into the night.

And then he’s sinking you lower and lower and lower, until he's inside you.

All of him is inside you and, fuck, he wants to live in your cunt.

“You take me so well, sweetheart. Were you made for me? Is this cunt made only for me?”

You're babbling a symphony of yes, more, all for you daddy and it's doing everything in his power to not pound you like an animal.

“Rin,” you whine into his ear, “if you dont start moving now im going to walk away and never look back you stupid-”

He grabs your hips and lifts you till he's barely inside you and slams you down onto him.

You're squeezing him so tight, your cunt fluttering around his cock and he's trying not to finish right then and there.

“You're on top bunny, come on, show me, help me out, yeah?”

You can't hear anything; you just have this raw, vicious need for his cock to split you in half.

You start moving up and down as hard as you can and it's the most beautiful feeling you've felt in months.

He's helping you so he reaches a little deeper, you are involuntarily squeezing his shaft, so lost in pleasure.

No one has ever fucked you like Suna Rintaro is currently fucking you.

You're pretty sure no one else will ever measure up to him.

He's sucking hickies all over your unblemished neck, a feral growl in him knowing he's the one who's gonna have his marks all over your precious body.

“S’at feel good, baby? You like when I bite your neck and slam you on my thick cock, bunny?”

“Yes, daddy, yes I love it so much, please more!”

And then he really puts you to work.

He's slamming you down onto him as hard as he can. Your heady arousal is absolutely soaking him. It's so filthy and nasty and perfect and you wouldn't have it any other way.

“God, fuck. You're perfect, bunny. Touch your sweet little clit for me?”

You're so lost in pleasure you don't hear him through the haze of your arousal.

He growls into your ear, “Touch your fucking clit and make yourself cum on my cock or you’re never getting this dick again, bunny.”

You whimper out into the night sky and sluggishly move your hand to your poor, throbbing clit.

You press your finger gently onto it before matching suna’s rough pace.

“God, how can you get any fucking tighter. Its like fucking a virgin, at this point.”

Which makes you rub your clit faster, “Daddy, daddy, please m so close, wanna cum all over your pretty cock!”

He wraps a pretty hand around your throat and demands, “Cum, bunny.”

You cum so hard you see white.

You're moaning and he shoves his tongue into your mouth.

Your cunt is fluttering around his so fucking deliciously he cant help but slam you down one last time and fill your guts with his semen.

You're still shaking in his arms from your orgasm and he just holds you and kisses you through it until you finally relax.

You blink up at him, trying to get some clarity in your eyes.

“Either you're an angel, or you're sent straight from hell. How can the best fuck of my life be at some shitty college party?” You ask him. And then it hits you.

“OH MY GOD, Suna! Why did you let us fuck at some shitty college party?!”

He laughs loudly at you.

“Bunny, you asked. I delivered. Shouldn't you be thanking me?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you so much, Suna-sama, for defiling me at a nasty frat party!”

“Baby,” he smiles mischievously, “anything for you.”

You're laughing into his skin when all of a sudden someone is throwing a towel? at your head.

“Hey, what the fuck-”

You turn to look at the offending fucker and you just see a blushy Tadashi and smirking Kei.

“Kei! Tadashi!” And then you remember Suna’s softening cock is still inside you.

“I cannot believe you nasty fucks couldn't wait until you were at someone’s house. Outside of a party. You're kidding.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kei. Mind your business!”

Suna pulls you protectively to his chest.

Kei laughs at him and rolls his eyes, “Relax lover boy, Tadashi is all the ass I need.”

Tadashi turns into an even blushier mess and hisses at him, “Kei! You don't have to be so lewd!”

They're turning to leave when Kei graces you with a parting gift.

“Good job, Y/n. It only took you 4 years to talk to your crush.”

Fuck. You're going to murder him in his sleep. You know where he lives. You have his key.

“What does that mean, bunny?”

You groan into his chest; you were hoping to avoid this topic forever if you could.

“Ughhhhh, I saw you when you played against Karasuno at nationals and I've just kind of had a crush on you since then,” you say really fast hoping he'll drop it.

Unfortunately, he does not drop it. 

“Well, I guess I have a lot of time to make up for then, don't I, sweet bunny?”

Your heart flutters and you place a heart stopping kiss to his soft lips.

“Can we go now?”

You laugh and yeah. You guess you’re kind of glad you came to this stupid frat party and had a class with Suna Rintaro.

[maschotch]

I'm glad I'm not the only one who's insane about hotch telling jordan to call him hotch ahdjjfkgkvmlh

I can't remember, so I could be wrong, but it's like one of the first times we see him acknowledge that as his nickname. obviously people call him that, he responds to it, but now we see him telling someone to call him that

I don't have any like thoughts to add to it, just that it does make me wonder where the nickname came from. did he ask people to call him that? was it gideon? someone else? so many questions

I don't know, something about it is endearing? he's the "serious boss man" but there isn't that formal-ness you know? there's a lot of thoughts and feelings about it, I just can't articulate shit gzjfjvlvmhlhlnl

akjsdhfgl i dont know WHY its so cute

normally when we see him introduce himself its in a purely professional setting? with sheriffs or detectives or local fbi agents.. not necessarily someone you would call by a nickname. he usually answers the phone with "hotchner," but when he's calling one of the team members he'll say "___, it's hotch." to be fair, i dont think most people have cause to say their own name in any other kind of situations, and definitely not a nickname. with other new bau members they seem to figure it out and catch on pretty quick, so he doesn't need to say anything there, so i think jordan is the only one he asks directly her to call him hotch. and its in such an uncharacteristic vibe from him? he's smiling and dips his head almost shyly when he says it.

anyway the important fucking question here: who gave him the nickname???? gideon tbh doesnt seem like the type to give nicknames, and rossi mostly calls him 'aaron' so i dont think it was either of them. honestly it seems like the kind of nickname thats been around a while.. its not anything he would go by when he's changing positions and climbing up the fbi career ladder, and i doubt its something he'd be called in a courtroom--or even a firm. and mmmm i dont see him going by his last name while his father is still alive, so its unlikely it happened before/in high school. mmaybe at a boarding school? i can imagine its not uncommon to be identified by last name. so either boarding school, college, or the fbi academy.. we see him interact w old friends from his past, but not anyone he seemed close enough with to be gifted a permanent nickname

idk maybe its not even important at all akjsdhlkj but i just have so many quuuuestions!! the hotch we see in the show is an end product of his life experiences up till now.. he's been creating the version of himself we see him stay at without further evolution for ten years--he's figured out his life and who he is, he's not making any major changes. and there are just.. so many missing pieces that would tell us why he is who he is. and maybe its not a big deal, but there are so many options that i think would have a major impact on his self image..

[voidselfshipp]

Paranormal Roomate

Cw: hurt/confort (none of the things my s/I says actually happened)

Summary: Jerico finds out shes sharing her house with someone unsual.

Only mutuals allowed to rb.

-> for this fanfic, I use the AU and visuals of "krosrios " on Instagram. (Aka. Dark//danny//Dan is older than me and the oldest of the feng.ton siblings)

Taglist: @tex-treasures @mercuryships @malewifehenrycooldown

Okay this was weird.

Jerico swears she had put that glass somewhere else, but whatever. Maybe she just imagined it.

Calmly painting away, she almost doesnt notice the sounds of heavy stepping. She stops, and tries to see if they come from outside. But then theres only silence.

"Weird" she thinks, to then shrug, and Keep painting.

Unbeknownst to her there was something going on, a local ghost decided it was a good idea to mess with her, scaring her with loud noises or weird sounds, footsteps.

Jeri at one point got used to it, to the point of talking directly to the ghost itself.

--I need to study, Keep it quiet!-- she said to the air, to then Open up her note books.

And what do you know, the ghost actually complied.

This ghost didnt seem to interact with her besides scaring the daylights out of her or eating food out of her fridge. But today was the exception.

Jerico closed the door of her house a bit too hard, locking it and leaving the keys on its usuall spot.

She threw her bag and jacket on the Office hair and plummeted in the bed. Letting out a loud sigh.

She curled up under the blankets, tears soon to follow as she hugs herself, and sobbs heavily.

She felt the weight of two muscly arms wrap around her waist behind her, something solid against her back. Shes too busy crying her eyes out that she doesnt freak out, only lean in the touch.

A soft and faint aquamarine glow catches her attention, she turns her head and is met with a heavily muscular Man, white flowing hair in a ponytail, red eyes and light Teal skin, wearing a black turtleneck and leather pants with combat boots.

The ghost clears his throat,after some seconds of silence he asks, almost in defeat-- What happened?

Jeri looks up at him, puffy eyes and red cheeks from crying, she just says--Bad day..

He sighs and pushes her head against his chest, body curling against her own in almost a protective manner.

--wanna talk 'bout it?-- The ghost said.

--...I dont know where to start...-- she made a pause, tanking a deep broken breath--remember that test I was studying for? I failed it, then there was so Many loud noises, ive heard them all day, someone poked fun at my insecurities....--she sniffed, the ghost Man looking down at her.

He says nothing and only hugs her tighter, anger in his chest directed at the person who dared make her feel bad.

--Easy...ive...ive got you now..-- he whispered against her hair, feeling her relax, still quiet.

They spent twenty minutes like that, in absolute silence.

--So youre the ghost that has been terrorizing me for months huh?-- Jeri asked, a faint tone of joking present.

--Hey..it never gets old-- he replied with a smirk, sharp fangs poking through his lips.

--Youre quite good looking-- jerico said off handedly-- I imagined you being like...a sheet ghost?

His flaming hair puffs up, cheeks turning a Darker shade of Teal-- Sheet ghost? Really?!

--hey! I dont know how ghosts look like!-- Jerico deffended herself, still joking.

He snorted-- well, cant blame you, I know for a fact that you dont like scary movies...you dont have any idea how ghosts look like

--that fact being that youve been living rent free in my house?

--i -- you-- he sighed-- youre the only one that lets me stay...

--Yeah I know..this house feels empty when im the only one living here...-- Jerico agreed.

--Uh..thanks for lettin' me stay..-- He looked away, awkwardly-- Figured you could use my name...Im Dan..

--Nice to meet you, Dan, im jerico

He chuckled thinking "dork"-- you better now?

--Yeah, thank you

--Dont mention it, hey...--his tone became softer-- ill make you some tea, you just..stay here..

--never thought the ghost who liked to scare the living shit out of me would take care of me like that

--You grew on me, youre too sweet-- Dan answered-- 'sides, if youre sad I cant scare you

--Haha, I like you too, dan-- jeri added sarcastically

He let out a happy "hmmpht" and flew through the wall to the kitchen.

Of course he knew how she liked her tea..., hes been living with her for months.

Though, a part of him was happy that he finally spoke to her, he didnt thought that he would get a crush on her when he first started scaring her. But she was very sweet, and a good person, and he couldnt help himself.

Jerico meanwhile had time to process what just happened. She grew fond of this ghost living with her, but now she had the smallest crush on him. I mean. He was very handsome.

Since then, Dan and Jeri became best Friends, and roomates, sort of.

Turns out, the beefy ghost was good at cuddling, and it didnt take long before Dan realized she had a crush on him. So, one night, they cuddled up in the sofá with some blankets and drinks, watching a movie, she was sitting on his lap, Back to his chest, both wrapped in a big blanket.

--Hey...-- he said, a bit scared-- I like you...

--Like you as in...*like* you like you? Romantically?

He looked away-- Uh- yeah..

Jeri made a pause as if she was processing what she just heard-- well..thats good..because I like you too..

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, to then move to her lips and kiss her with all his strenght, which was a lot..

Jerico kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

--I love you-- he spat out without thinking, love overwhelming Him.

--I love you too...-- She replied leaning in for another kiss. The movie becoming more of a background noise now...

[writing-gifts]

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

------

A/N: Back with the 2nd chapter! Previous chapter | Next chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

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[Mid Spring]

The bags hanging from your body make your movements sluggish as you make your way to the entrance of your home. While crossing the threshold, one of your satchels' straps catch on the door and you almost end up on the floor. You remove the strap and shut the door behind you slightly annoyed.

Your current fatigue was due to spending most of the morning gathering with few breaks. There were just so many flowers to pick from, and you struggled to decide. So you ended up stopping at every different one that you came across.

Knowing yourself, you had expected this and prepared the day before, collecting any empty canisters left sitting around your house. You even found some that you had thought you lost.

How you even managed to get off the ground with all the nectar weighing you down was a mystery though.

After setting the heavy satchels on the dining table, you take one of the canisters hanging on your belt to replenish some of your energy. Lilac. You stand in place to give yourself a moment to catch your breath.

A giant part of you wants to taste all the nectar you collected, but you hold back. You needed to use some of it to trade for items and supplies, and a taste test could quickly turn into half the can.

And even though you wanted to lay down, you plan on making more trips before the day ends so you could have enough for yourself and trading.

Then there was the task of switching all the nectar to jars. There were also all the unlabeled jars from the last couple days too. You could just keep your favorite ones in the cans to save time...after you figured out which contained them.

Then you could finally have a day to rest.

You sigh and finish your drink. The image of a new sun hat keeps your resolve.

By the time you get back from your third trip, you can’t muster up the energy to organize everything right away and lay down instead. Just for a little bit. The sun was still out but you didn’t want to risk another trip when it was this late in the evening, so you had some spare time.

You don’t even realize that you're falling asleep--then you hear knocking. Groaning, you drag yourself off the soft cotton of your daybed to go answer the door.

When you open it, Bruno's on the other side and you wonder why he's here. You smile sleepily before noticing that the sun is long gone.

You look at the sky and rub the sleep out of your eyes. “There goes my lazy day...”

“Hmm? You look like you had a good rest. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“I didn’t even mean to fall asleep, so now I gotta organize everything tomorrow…"

You mumble to yourself trying to figure out how you could salvage this. Then you realize that what you collected for Bruno was still sitting in one of the canisters in your bags.

"Uh, are you okay with something random? I don't even remember what flowers I went to today...”

Bruno stares at your most likely disheveled appearance and shakes his head. “Don't worry about it. We can properly trade once you have your thoughts together."

However, he still holds out his canister towards you, but you can't help the slight guilt you feel.

"Sorry…"

“I wouldn't lie about something like that. It’s fine, really.”

“So you’d lie about something else?” You look at him, not expecting an answer to your rhetorical question, to see if he was actually okay with it. But you only find his usual untelling expression.

You take the canister from him, an unsure smile on your face. "I'm just going to believe you then. Thanks..."

When Bruno smiles at you in return, you immediately look away using opening the canister as an excuse. You almost drink from it but remember that it isn't yours.

"Wait l-let me go pour this into a jar real quick!"

You leave Bruno at the entrance, doing your best to slow your racing heart.

-----

“Hello!”

“Hi Mrs. Joestar! I brought you some Mum nectar and also a new drink I made."

"Oh, I’m good on the drink dear, but I'll definitely save it for later. I'm guessing you want to trade for fabrics?"

"Yea!"

"Good, cause I saved some of your favorite colors!” She goes to the back and quickly returns with them to show you.

You didn’t have any solid ideas on what you would make but some were starting to form now that you were here. You thank the elder bug and pull out the Mum filled jars from your satchel to place on the store's counters, setting the drink slightly apart from the rest of them.

"By the way, I heard you haven't been staying out late much anymore? Some of the neighbors were wondering if you were okay."

"Yea, I've been avoiding staying out too late now...”

"Well that's good, we don't want you getting hurt, but I find it hard to believe you would just stop so suddenly."

You fiddle with your satchel. "It’s because I met this moth and we started trading and stuff, so now I just try to go directly home so I dont leave him waiting."

"I see. Well, I'm glad you're making more friends dear!"

That makes you purse your lips. Were you and Bruno friends? You’d only known him for a little over a month now...How long did you need to know someone before you could consider them a friend?

"--____?"

"Ah...yea he’s really nice. He’s actually the first moth I’ve officially met."

“Hun.”

“Yea?”

“You know I’m a moth right?”

“Huh? But--what?”

She laughs. “What did you think I was?”

“I don't know, I thought you were like some sort of butterfly….Ah sorry!” Your face felt much warmer than before.

"It’s okay!” She's still laughing a bit though.

Mrs. Joestar’s partially transparent wings looked so similar to yours in shape and pattern. And with her being diurnal you had just assumed. You could definitely see the similarities between her and Bruno though.

“...Are all moth’s just super pretty?” The moment the question’s out of your mouth, you realize that it was better kept as a thought.

Mrs. Joestar places a hand on her cheek. “Oh, you're such a flirt!”

“Wait, I didn’t mean--!” You cover your face, unable to finish your sentence.

“I kid, I kid.” She smiles teasingly.

“You and Mr. Joseph are too much…”

-----

"I know you usually leave pretty quickly, but do you want to stay for a while--inside? I can make you something new to drink?”

Bruno seems to be thinking, and you prepare yourself for him to say no and leave after you both trade. But then he gives you a small smile. “You like mixing drinks?”

Averting your eyes, you ignore the weird flip within your chest cavity. “Yea, it’s something I learned from another bug some time ago. I'm still figuring it out though...” You move out of the way so he can walk in.

This was the first time that Bruno had actually come into your home. You had tried inviting him multiple times before so he didn't have to wait outside, but he would always politely decline.

You hope you didn’t leave anything weird laying around.

You softly close the entrance. “Ah you can sit over there, I’ll be right back.” Once Bruno sits down on your daybed, you quickly head into the space in your house where you kept all your food and beverages.

You decide to make something you had already done before with the Datura since you didn’t want any accidents right now.

You do your best to recall the steps that you should probably just write down at this point. And even though there were a few times where you thought you messed up, you end up with a result that’s not bad. You just hoped it was to Bruno’s taste.

After you pour the drink into two cups, you head back to Bruno. You plop down next to him and shove the drink a bit too close to his face.

He carefully grabs the cup and you watch him take a sip, forgetting your own drink for the moment.

After way too long for your liking he finally says something. “It’s not bad. I’d even go as far to say that it’s good.”

You roll your eyes at him but smile. “Well as long as you drink it all, then I consider that a win.”

You down your drink in one swoop and stare into your empty cup. "I think I might drink the rest of the pitcher by myself…"

"I think you might have a problem."

"What?"

"That sounds like a lot to drink at once."

"Please, I was like this before I was even a pupa."

Bruno raises a brow, skeptical. "How? I know wasps much bigger than you that drink less."

You immediately gawk at him. “You interact with wasps!?”

"Well one." The moth tilts his head slightly. "It’s a...unique relationship."

"...Bruno, what the fuck."

-----

Bruno didn't always come in to relax when visiting but when he did, you always made sure to try to give him something new to drink. They weren’t always hits though.

One time he shows up and you're surprised to see that he doesn’t have anything to trade.

"It's become habit now. The night wouldn't feel complete without visiting."

You keep your face from putting on the giant smile it wants to and instead settle for a regular one.

After inviting him in, you tell him to wait while you try to make one of your "concoctions". This time you decide not to do anything too crazy, just a simple sweet tea. You wish you could make it cooler. It would be much more refreshing in this weather.

The two of you sit together speaking idly. Your relationship was starting to get to the point where you both could sit in silence and it didn't feel awkward. Or maybe you just felt comfortable enough with Bruno to do that, and maybe he felt the same way.

"Hey."

“Yes?”

“What do you like to eat?” you ask.

“I don’t really eat that often but I like most fruits, except apples. Occasionally I’ll chew on something salty too if I can find it...Honey’s good too.”

That made sense. Some that drink nectar didn’t need solids to survive. It was strictly a pleasure activity in your case. “You don’t like apples?”

“I think they’re a little overrated to be honest.”

“Hmm, well I'm going to make sure to get you other fruits then cause I'm striving to be the best host ever.“

“Do you not invite people over?”

“My friend visits sometimes but they don't like my drinks! They only really eat grainy stuff without any sugar. The lack of flavour…” You grimace. “And I literally can’t make anything without sugar.”

“What are they?”

“A grasshopper.”

“Then of course they wouldn't want sugar.” A hint of amusement sounds in his voice.

"I know BUT I tried some of their grain stuff and it's not bad. It could be way better though. If you mix it with water and sugar--” You make an okay sign. "It’s at least 50 times better."

“No offense but that sounds disgusting.”

"You haven’t even tried it yet though!" The lack of sugarcoating caught you off guard.

"I’m going to make you take that back.”

Bruno shakes his head and smirks. "Good luck with that.”

You knew he was mostly messing with you but you were already set on proving him wrong. “Fine but I’m going to come up with something you really like one day.”

Maybe you were just excited to have someone you were somewhat close to to experience your relatively new hobby with, but you already felt like getting started.

"I look forward to it."

[bittersweetmelxdy]

May i please get a scenario where gavin and mc are in highschool; dont quite know eachother yet but gavin overhears some guys talking about her and he decides to teach them a lesson,,pretty please i've been thinking about this non-stop since i read something similar in one of his dates(??at least i think it was one of his dates)

Yes, it was his ‘Old Days’ Date (I think that’s what it’s called), and because of that date, you may notice this has some elements from that date, as I wanted to show the scenario where MC never finds out about it, and I hope you like it x

Title: the silent protector and his beloved girl

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Words: 1,806

It was early April, the cherry blossoms had recently bloomed, and the petals danced in the air as the gentle breeze weaved its way between the branch, jostling the blossoms. The early morning air, littered with the sounds of students, joking and talking as they made their way towards the campus. A girl stopped at the gates of Loveland High School, hearing someone call her name and she spun around, uniform skirt fanning out around her legs, bright smile painting her lips. The two friends ran up to the girl as she waited patiently for them to catch up, and the three of them chatted happily as they entered the main school building. Unbeknownst to the trio, as they walked through the school grounds innocently, a group of boys, hiding on the side of the building, eyed them up and down, especially the girl known across school as their ‘Campus Belle’. The leader of the boys who was crouched close to the floor, his figure half-shrouded in the shadows, smirked at stood slowly, eying his friends, silent words being exchanged between them as they entered the building.

A lone figure stood in the gates of the campus, all other students giving him a wide berth out of pure fear. The boy had just come back from a week suspension, his cheek still sporting a white bandage, and his knuckles mildly bruised. His honey-toned eyes narrowed, watching the boys enter the building, and his glare scared the students around him, their faces paling and pitying the people on the receiving end. As Gavin entered the building, he made his way over to his locker, and glancing out the corner of his eye, he saw you.

You were two years his junior, he had never interacted with you personally, but he somehow had your loudmouth friend following him around claiming he and him were now friends, so he was never starved for updates. He was content to watch you from afar, your beauty making you worth of the ‘Campus Belle’ title, but that wasn’t what truly captivated Gavin. Gavin knew that your status as the ‘Campus Belle’ did you no favours, he often sadly had to watch from afar as jealous classmates would talk about you viciously when you weren’t present. Along with jealous female classmates, Gavin gritted his teeth, jaw clenched tight as he recalled the leering glances some boys gave you, his fist tightening on the locker door. Seeing you were making your way down the corridor, waving to your friends who were making their way upstairs to the classroom, and you stayed on the ground floor walking towards the offices. Seeing that a couple of the boys from earlier were about to follow you, Gavin slammed his locker shut with loud bang, walking at least 5 metres behind you, cutting off the boys from you, silently protecting you as you headed over to talk to the music teacher, and Gavin seeing you safe, turned to speak to Mr Keller as he prepared to return to school after the suspension.

Lunchtime finally crawled around, every student breathing a sigh of relief as the bell rang through the school grounds. You and your friends moved your tables close together, choosing to sit around your seat, which was directly next to the side of the classroom, the sliding panels pulled back to reveal the corridor. You and your friends opened your lunchboxes, grabbing your chopsticks and digging in, chatting happily about the newest TV shows, idol performances and general gossip. Looking to the side you saw that Minor was rooting around his desk and after asking what he was looking for, he pouted telling you he couldn’t find his wallet to buy lunch. Laughing at his antics you smiled and dug in your backpack for your purse, handed him enough money to buy his lunch, him thanking you profusely before dashing off to buy lunch. What you didn’t know, was that Gavin saw the whole interaction, he was standing, leaning against the windows to outside, watching you through the sliding panels as you ate lunch. His usually cold gaze, melting into warmth as he watched you laugh and giggle carelessly, oblivious to the world around you. He watched you interact with Minor, and when you lent your friend money, his heart was touched at your kindness, reminding him of that day in the rain where your kind soul stopped to look after that poor stray kitten, despite the heavy downpour soaking you to the bone. He recalled you bright eyes, their light barely hidden by your glasses, stray hairs sticking to your face, as he threw his uniform jacket over both of your heads, ushering you to safety. To this day he could still faintly smell the scent of your shampoo, the thing that disrupted him from his musings was the reappearance of Minor, who was incessantly chattering at him. Gavin choosing to offer him a one-word response, left his post watching over you, to go each lunch on the roof, Minor following him the whole way.

It was after school, and Gavin took up his usual spot, sitting hidden between the boughs of the gingko tree, the green leaves shielding his presence from others. He sat quietly and calmly; his head leaned back against the trunk of the tree, as he heard the familiar and calming sounds of his girl playing the piano. The songs weren’t overly complicated, and she did often stumble through passages she wasn’t as well-practiced on, but Gavin could clearly hear the emotion in her tone, the clear notes soothing his troubled thoughts. However, unfortunately the peaceful moment was not to last, Gavin’s closed eyes twitched as he heard the callous words of the boys below him, thoroughly ruining his reverie.

“Hey, are you sure you want to go for her, there are easier girls...” one of the boys said, disturbing the quiet, but the conversation didn’t interest Gavin at first.

“Yeah but none of them are our ‘Campus Belle’, are they?” the leader of the group sneered your title, making Gavin’s jaw twitch.

“I’ve heard Gavin’s got his eye on her.” another member mockingly said, and Gavin glared down at them, as the others started to laugh.

“Gavin? The school overlord? Does he really believe he deserves to be with a girl like that?” the first member laughed as he spoke, a pit settling in Gavin’s stomach, knowing with your good grades and kind heart, you and he were worlds apart.

“Plus, I heard he’s transferring soon...” the fourth member of the group finally spoke up, sing-songing his open-ended sentence.

“I’d take the chance with Gavin for a girl with legs like that.” the leader spat on the ground, a sinister smile growing on his face, “Can you imagine, how he’d react having his beloved girl all over me? The revenge alone would be worth all the trouble he’s been putting us through.”

The leader, noticed a small statured freshman hovering at the corner of the building, knowing that this kid was there to hand over his protection money, the leader nodding to his friends and the four of them moved from below the piano room, walking to the alley behind the school building. A few seconds passed, before a ‘whoosh’ was heard as Gavin landed on the ground, having jumped from the tree. His eyes narrowed, an unusual cold breeze rattling through the school yard, taking a step in the direction of those boys. Pausing for a moment, he looked back up at the piano room, hearing his girl had moved on to play what he considers now as ‘their song’, a stark contrast to the brutal scene about to occur.

Gavin walked around the corner, leaning against the wall of the school, watching the leader and his followers bully the poor freshman into forking over his protection money.

“I thought he paid you last week, is your protection that expensive?” Gavin’s cold tone cut through each person present, the leader let go of the freshman’s collar, and the poor boy scuttled out of the alley, head down, Gavin watching him leave.

“What, terrorising us one more time before you leave?” one of the followers mocked him, “Is the school finally getting rid of you?”

Gavin glared at the boy, the force of his stare causing the boy to shrink back, “That’s none of your business.”

“But after you leave, your beloved girl will no longer be under your personal protection, meaning she’s free to take,” the leader arrogantly walked closer to Gavin, stopping right in front of him and getting in his face as he whistled in a low tone, “And with a waist and legs like hers, I would mind taking care of her mysel-”

He didn’t finish that sentence, as Gavin had punched him straight in the jaw, the leader being knocked clean off his feet from the punch. However, he scrambled back to his feet, launching himself at Gavin with his friends as backup. What followed, was a fight where Gavin took on all four guys, the sounds of punches being thrown, and grunts of pain permeated the afternoon air. Finally, the fight ended with the four guys nursing their injures on the floor, Gavin being the only one left standing, panting from exertion. Not sparing them a second glance, Gavin turned and left the alleyway, leaving the aftermath leaving with a simple parting sentence.

“Don’t even let me hear, you went anywhere near my girl.” his cold no-nonsense tone, not inviting any argument from his opponents.

As he approached the gates of the high school, he froze in his steps, seeing you on the phone, your bike balanced on the gate post beside you, and keeping his presence quiet he came within earshot.

“It’s fine Dad, I can pass by the grocery store on the way home.” you listened to your Dad’s response and giggled slightly, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be safe. Bye love you!” you ended the phone call and swung your leg over the bike and set off.

Gavin watched entranced, as you rode off, your hair flying behind you, and for a moment he wondered how your hair would look if he took you on a flight. But he shook his head sadly, remembering the words of the boys, he and you were worlds apart, you were the ‘Campus Belle’ and he was the ‘School Overlord’, there was no chance for the two of you. However, knowing how kind your soul was, he hoped the letter would reach you, if only so he could tell you the goodbye you deserved before he disappeared.

Gavin cast his eyes to the sky, allowing the warmth of the sun’s rays to warm his face, and whispered a wish to the wind, “Please, fate give us a chance...”

[angeloncewas]

dont wanna make this ask long bc i am tired and dont have the energy to be a well spoken (?) person rn but it probably will be long anyways, so sorry!! but like. as somebody who has hyperfixated on both idubbbz and schlatt (along with a plethora of other problematic content creators, i really know how to fuckn pick em!!) they absolutely foster a dogshit community, at least outside of platforms like tumblr, where like. you cant really avoid fandom culture like you can on twitter or ig, if that makes sense. on here, if you wanna post about your favorite youtuber, whether you tag it or not, other fans will likely see and if you say some bad shit, you will likely get called on it, whereas on ig basically only your followers will see it even if you use a hashtag and on twitter its like if you arent in a subtwt/fandom then you basically dont interact with any subtwt at all unless its an accident, ya know?

so like. i think what im trying to say here is that while ive met a lot of fans of both these creators, especially schlatt, who are great people as far as i can tell, i am also specifically on the fandom side of things and as soon as i step out of that space i realize that a lot of people who watch them are not actually minorities like me and my mutuals who can catch on to satire or who watch their more behind the scenes stuff where you can see them act like a decent person or even call out people for the things they usually joke about which just. fucking sucks. it sucks that, as much as i do believe schlatt is actually a good person (and sort of idubbbz, although i dont really watch him much anymore for a plethora of reasons, mostly related to the fact that i cant stand his jokes anymore even if he is playing a character as he's said before), he also keeps doing terrible fucking things and im really glad his actual friends have been calling him on it recently, especially after that jackbox video (which is a whole other thing on its own bc it literally seemed like nobody wanted to be there basically the entire video?? like as somebody who watched all the jackbox videos before that one, it was really fucking off in that call and the jokes were next level fucking upsetting), but sometimes it's just kinda like. exhausting. bc his community is already fucking bad now, you cant undo accidentally fostering a community of fucking racist homophobes who dont get that you're playing a character, unless you kinda drop off and build a whole new community from that, which would be stupid to do at this point in his career. not really sure where i was going with this tbh, but i thought i would chime in on this discussion as a viewer of mainly schlatt, but also a past idubbbz viewer who is basically a seasoned fucking vet at dealing with shitty fanbases because of him and many other dumb youtube white boys

(also, note on that anisa thing: ian's main fanbase was definitely pissed just bc she does sex work and a lot of them are too fucking young or just too fucking dense i guess to clock the fact that he's putting on an act bc, like i said before, they either dont watch his behind the scenes content, or they do and they kinda just miss those moments between still trying to entertain where he gets genuine. that being said, a lot of people outside of his fanbase were also pissy bc anisa is a less than spectacular lady if you really do your research on her, kind of a bad person but it's not something a lot of people know about, especially since one of the few videos made on it was by fucking creepshow art)

sorry for the rant again, i feel like i do this every other week now and i apologize, you just seem to have the best discourse and i enjoy partaking <3 hope you have a good rest of your day/night/whatever time you're reading this!

—🦷

Thank you for the input (don't mind the rant !) and I hope you have a good rest of your day too <3 For post length, I'll answer under the cut :)

Yeah, I get what you mean (I think ahdsufsd). Fandom as a concept is pretty... I don't even know how to describe it, but it's the kind of thing that I feel like white male Redditors would think of as pussy shit, y'know? Like the Ricegum gang isn't a fucking "fandom" they're a... well, a fandom, but they're not gonna admit to that. So when you step outside of a community like Tumblr (the queerest place on the internet TM) you come into contact with the faces of the fandom you're dealing with and oftentimes they're a lot less like you than you might've thought from the similar interest. It's like going to a Weezer concert and realizing you're surrounded by incels (this is a JOKE).

Satire's a rough topic because some people don't think it should exist at all. Like any words that can be directly interpreted as bigoted or problematic should not be uttered. I disagree with that, I think it's one of the most interesting forms of both social commentary and comedy, but I do see the problem. There are people who watched Filthy Frank (to take an example from that other anon) and didn't know or care what the point of his actions were (I don't know what they were tbh - I never watched him, but it sounds like he's a pretty decent dude) and instead read his jokes as-is. There are thousands upon thousands of people who aren't gonna get satire and that's a problem because if they're already bigoted they're gonna see people like Schlatt and iDubbz and whoever else as truly validating.

(Largely unrelated but yo, is iDubbz still going? Are the views alright? Is the adsense popping? Has he just kept going with Content Cops? I haven't heard about him since the girlfriend thing dropped.)

"you cant undo accidentally fostering a community of fucking racist homophobes who dont get that you're playing a character, unless you kinda drop off and build a whole new community from that"

I think this is what's pertinent when it comes to discussing Schlatt. After the Jackbox video (for me at least, he might've been there before) he put himself at a crossroads. If he'd apologized, said "sorry, I took it too far, that was a mistake" - yeah, plenty of people wouldn't have forgiven him and plenty of bigoted fans of his would've said that the apology was just to placate the snowflakes on Twitter, but to the sort of in-between people it would've shown that he's able to recognize and reconcile his mistakes. He could've transitioned into content that's A) actually good (when I say that the video was bad I don't just mean in terms of racism, I mean it straight up was not entertaining) and B) less "edgy" for the sake of. I wouldn't expect him to go uwu squeaky clean, but he's already reeled in the bad people, so if he really wanted to foster a good, progressive audience, he has to do something significant to show that.

But he didn't.

Maybe for the sake of his career, maybe because he likes those bigoted fans, maybe because he just doesn't get it - I don't know. I don't think we'll ever know. I spoke earlier about doing what is right over what is easy and in the case of Schlatt it just feels like he really did take the easy way out. Whoever he is in his personal life doesn't change how he's perceived online and the kinds of people that are idolizing him for it.

(And yeah I saw the video on Anisa when I Googled her to check if they were still dating, but then I saw who it was made by and I was like oh well whatever avhfdfkj)

[linphd]

monoma x neutral!reader | summer camp

neito monoma x reader

gender neutral

Neito gets worried about you when the League of Villains attack the students at the summer camp.

no warning

You didn't really know what your relationship with Neito was. Maybe you guys were in a 'flirt only' relationship. Well, it was mostly for him ; you were just getting along with it. ''(L/N), stop being so bright, people in your class need to look at the sun and become blind only because of you !'' And you would brush it off. How could he be flirty with you and still hate on 1A at the same time ?

Moreover, whenever 1A and 1B had to paired up, he wanted to be with you. At first, you were kinda disappointed to be with him, but throughout time it only became automatic. Actually, your first interaction with Monoma was when the 2 hero classes were going to the USJ to have a common class. In the bus, Mina talked about how pretty the girls in 1B were. ‘’We got the handsome boys, though.’’ Jiro commented.

You nodded. ‘’Only 1 of them is good looking.’’ You said, pointing to Juzo. Mina giggled, Momo gasping at how disrespectful you guys were. Monoma was actually sat close to you all, and had rolled his eyes. ‘’Dont be mad, you’d be considered good-looking if you weren’t an ass all the time.’’ You told him.

Throughout time, he became comfortable around you. You couldn’t even tell when the transition began. According to you, it simply went from ‘I don’t know Monoma’ to ‘he’s that guy who flirts with me’. Not that you actually minded ; he really was good-looking, despise his attitude. And he looked really into you and wasn’t actually pushing you or anything. He even had some good intentions, like that one time at the cafeteria.

‘’(L/N) ! I got you your favorite dessert !’’ He said at lunch, when there wasn’t any of those anymore and he had noticed you were disappointed. ‘’How do you even know what I prefer ?’’ You asked, taking it gladly, giving him the dessert you had taken instead. ‘’I just know it !’’ You rolled your eyes. ‘’Fucking stalker.’’

He simply giggled, thanking you for the exchange, and went to eat with his classmates. Yours, well, they were used to it. But they still were mad sometimes that the blonde was nice only to you and no one else.

That’s why in the bus for the summer camp, while you were sat next to Kaminari, Monoma decided to sit right behind you. He didn’t talk to you, but you knew he had sat there on purpose, like the fucking stalker he is.

The first day was great, even with the hard training, and the night was much funnier, even if everyone was tired. The second night, however, took an odd turn. The League of Villains had decided to attack, and with your quirk, Aizawa had told you to rescue as much people as possible, trying not to get in a fight.

‘’Bakugou is in danger ?!’’ Kirishima exclaimed, in his class with Vlad King ; he knew the villains’ target was Katsuki. ‘’Wait, is (Y/N) outside ?!’’ Neito asked, suddenly. ‘’We have to help them !’’ Sero said, turning to the teacher. ‘’No, we have to stay here. We’re much more safe here than we would be outside. We’re not moving until we’re getting the order to do so, or if I find it too dangerous there.’’

Of course, everyone was nervous about Katsuki being the target. However, Neito couldn’t care less, his main focus being you. Of course he was always flirting, even trying to make it funny. But he actually really loved you and cared about you, and just didn’t know how to properly ask you out.

When the students taking the late classes could finally go out, they found you, Tokoyami, Izuku, Shoto, Shoji and Tenya all together. You were sat on the ground, crying. Neito ran to you, not even noticing that Izuku had two broken arms and looked much more hurt than you were. In fact, you didn’t look hurt at all.

Still, the blonde sat in front of you to take you in his arms, like it was something you guys would usually do. ‘’Are you okay ? Are you hurt ? Why are you crying, is something wrong ?’’ He asked, actually worried. You gulped, trying to catch your breath. ‘‘They got Bakugou, we couldn’t save him ! I had to rescue everyone but I didn’t rescue him !’’ You said, between sobs.

Neito was actually glad that you weren’t hurt. But seeing you that pained made his heart ache. He cupped your cheeks, wiping your tears, and giving you a sad smile, for some reason. You looked at him, and then rest your head against his chest, finally hugging him back. He was glad you did, since he started to rub your back to try to make you feel more comfortable.

Because of that incident, the summer camp trip was over, and everyone had to already go back in the bus. Neito insisted on sitting next to you, and you actually let him do it. You were resting your cheek against your hand, trying not to break down again. But he noticed it. ‘’(L/N)... (Y/N), they’ll save him. They are pros, it’s what they do. It’s their job.’’ You nodded, not really caring about what he was saying, though.

Well, that was until he pulled you in a hug, kissing the top of your head when he was done settling you. ‘’Sleep, (Y/N). Don’t worry about him, they’ll rescue him.’’ You wanted to argue with the blonde. But you were too tired right now, and simply nodded, hugging him to use him as a pillow. He snorted at the sight, playing with your hair as you drifted to sleep.

Both Neito and you didn’t talk about you two being that close when you were back at U.A. And after that, well, you were busy being a member of the Bakugou rescue squad, so you didn’t have time to talk to the blonde at all. And even if you got grounded from getting endangered to save your friend, you couldn’t care less ; Katsuki was alive and safe.

Moreover, you were quite fond of the idea of living in dorms by now ; you were much closer to the school, and you could call a pro directly when there was a danger. Oh, and also because Neito was in a dorm as well, so you could see him very often. And that’s why, the next morning, when everyone was settled, you went to find him.

‘’Neito ?’’ You asked, quite unsure about if you could use his first name, even if he did use yours. He turned and smiled. ‘’Thank you, for the camp. You were nice with me.’’ He chuckled. ‘‘No problem, (Y/N) ! It’s good that your friend’s back, you won’t have to get sad anymore !’’ You nodded, staring at him.

Noticing it, he started to laugh. ‘’What ? Do I have something on my face ? You had never seen a guy that handsome before ?’’ And he didn’t look done, but you cut him off... by kissing him. When you pulled away, he was frozen in place. ‘’Did you... did you just kiss me ?’’ You nodded, once again. That made him laugh again. ‘’That’s what I was saying ! I’m so handsome you had to kiss me !’’ But you brushed it off.

‘’That also means that I’m very grateful you tried to cheer me up and that you can stop your cheesy pick-up lines and the flirting. I wanna go on a date with you.’’ Once again, he stopped laughing, and simply widened his eyes. He smiled, and hugged you. ‘’I’m glad you’re agreeing even before I ask you out.’’ You snorted. ‘’Else we would’ve never gone on a date. You’re too weird to ask properly.’’ He snorted as well ; maybe that’s why he liked you. You were witty, and you didn’t care picking a fight with him. And oh, how happy he was.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 3

Ask: OH MY GOD IMAGINE THE READER IS A GIRL FROM A GOOD FAMILY, SHES WITH ARTHUR FOR A WHILE NOW, THE PARENTS WANT TO MEET HIM. THEY’RE HAVING FAMILY DINNER AND THE COWBOY MAN JUST CANT KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF UNDER THE TABLE oh my god if your request are open and you would write that i would probably, most likely die...oh btw i love the “farmer’s daughter” story OH MY GOD MAYBE THIS COULD BE THE NEXT PART AAAAAAAAH SHIT! okay okay i’m sorry i just got excited! love your writing, have a great day!

Warnings: Cursing, probably. Slightly public sex, ya get fingered at dinner ok? 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: YEEHAW MY FELLOW SLUTS! ENJOY! Also, idk what they called panties back then so I just went with panties, ok? 

Two months later and you had fallen completely in love with the man. You both had told yourselves you wouldn’t let it get that far but it was nearly impossible. Every time you would see each other he had something to give you, be it a new drawing of yourself, wildflowers he had found out in the woods, or some suspiciously expensive jewelry that he wouldn’t talk about.

He hadn’t planned on any of it, really, but multiple times a day he would see something that reminded him of you and he just knew he had to take it. Even the jewelry he had stolen from the folks who were unlucky enough to start a fight with him.

After a while of successfully sneaking around the day came you’d both been expecting. Your father caught him. 

It wasn’t in the way you’d thought it would happen, thankfully. He didn’t walk in on the two of you or catch Arthur climbing up to your room or sneaking out of it. It was more subtle and less suspicious. The two of you, like the fools you were, were out in broad daylight at the stables on your property. You would go out there regularly to spend time with your horse so you knew your parents wouldn’t question you being down there. 

You should have known being that comfortable sneaking around was just asking to be caught. And sure enough, you were.

“(Y/N)? Who is this?”

You fucking twitched. When you turned around you saw your father standing behind you with a look of concern on his face and one of the stable boys watching the whole thing go down. You had given him some money earlier to keep his mouth shut and he sure was getting more than he asked for.

“Howdy mister!” Arthur waved and stepped past you. “Remember me? I stopped by here a while back to ask for some directions.”

Your father squinted and reluctantly shook his hand. Suddenly realization spread across his features as it all clicked. “Oh! Yes!” He laughed and clapped Arthur’s shoulder. “How have you been? Ever find your way?”

“Sure did, thanks to you. I was in town and was asking around, looking to buy some good horses, and a few folks told me you were the man to talk to.” You looked at Arthur with parted lips, in shock at how good of a liar he was. He turned a potential disaster into the most casual and normal interaction without the slightest effort. It was kind of scary.

Your father laughed and nodded, crossing his arms proudly. “You’ve come to the right place, follow me.” 

Arthur tossed you a wink and you had to smile then, dumbfounded by how smoothly the whole thing went.

***

After your father had whisked Arthur away to the expensive section of your stables you went back home. Your mother was preparing dinner along with one of the ranch hands, which surprised you. When you questioned why he was there she explained he was making his mother’s famous gumbo, your mother insisted upon it after she had sent some over to your family. 

When dinner rolled around your father made it back just in time, a surprise guest at his heels. 

“Jane, you remember this man, don’t you? He was the fellow on the white horse who asked for directions to-”

“Of course I do!” She wiped her hands with a kitchen rag, walking into the main room where the two men stood. 

You stood up from the kitchen table to watch the whole thing play out, locking eyes with Arthur who just shrugged.

“He came down today to buy a horse from us!” Your father said as he closed the front door behind them. “And to congratulate him on his purchase I’ve invited him to stay for dinner.”

Your mother smiled happily, it wasn’t often you had visitors that weren’t your families prude friends or relatives. “Good! We’re having gumbo tonight, Thomas is cooking his mother’s very own recipe.”

“Oh!” Your father raised his brows. “The one she sent over yesterday?”

“That’s the one.” 

“Brilliant! I loved that.” 

The two of them talked for a while before Thomas announced the soup was done and your mother went back into the kitchen to help him serve. Your father excused himself to wash up, telling you and his guest to have a seat in the dining room.

You sat down next to Arthur and gave him a look. 

“What?” When he finally noticed you looking at him he furrowed his brows.

“How did you manage that?”

“Manage what?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Come on. You’re the best liar I’ve ever met.”

Arthur shrugged, taking the glass of water that Thomas set down in front of him.

 “You must not of met a lot of people then.”

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” 

He chuckled and set the glass back down on the table after taking a few generous sips. “Before we almost got ourselves killed, I was going to give you somethin’.” Another gift? He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “Don’t let anyone see that.” He added with a whisper since Thomas had walked in with the rest of the drinks. 

You smiled at him and slowly unfolded the paper in your lap under the table. Once you had it done you squinted before realizing it was upside down. You flipped it the right way and your face was suddenly burning. Your breath caught in your throat as you took it all in, quickly folding it back up when your mother walked into the room carrying the giant pot of soup. 

The urge to punch him was strong. Why did he have to give that to you then? Why couldn’t he wait? You slipped the paper in the front pocket of your dress and cleared your throat. 

Arthur chuckled and took another sip of water, smiling sweetly at your mother as she started filling everyone's bowls. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

It was impossible to get the image out of your head. It was a drawing of you, completely naked, lying on your stomach with your head resting on your folded arms, your legs kicked up and locked at the ankles. You were looking directly into the viewer’s eyes with a wicked smirk on your face, some of your hair in your face. Once again you looked utterly magnificent, your body drawn in a way that accentuated every part of you perfectly. If it wasn’t a drawing of you, you probably would have gotten off to it. You probably would anyway, knowing Arthur was the one who drew it.

“What horse did you end up buying, Mr…”

“Arthur. The young brown mustang, think your husband called him Taro.”

Your mother nodded and sat down at the opposite end of the table when she was finally done serving. You wished she would let you help with dinner but she was firm in her belief, not allowing you or your father to help her in the slightest.

It was another ten minutes before your father finally joined you, taking his seat beside his wife. “Please excuse me, got carried away with my hair again.” He laughed and eagerly started eating. Your mother shared a laugh with him, chiding him lightly about how vain he was.

Most of dinner was fine, you all talked about the usual dinner subjects such as work, the weather, and town gossip. You barely paid attention though, the image of you drawn naked was stuck in your mind, along with the idea of Arthur drawing it. You wondered if he had done it in the heat of a lust filled moment or if it was just something normal to him.

What finally snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of a hand on your knee. You brushed it off at first, it seemed innocent enough, he had done it plenty of times before when the two of you laid together. It wasn’t inherently sexual.

But then he moved his hand lower, brushing his fingers against the hem of your dress. You looked at him with a subtle glance but he refused to acknowledge you at all. 

Crossing your legs you tried to get him to stop but that didn’t deter the cowboy at all. He pulled your dress up just enough to slip his hand under the fabric, then let the hem fall back down over his arm. You wanted to curse him out but you held your tongue and tried to act as natural as possible, taking another spoonful of soup into your mouth. 

“So, Arthur, you never told us what you do for a living.” Your father said after sending one of the kitchen maids to bring out a bottle of wine.

His hand traveled up to your thighs, his fingers gently rubbing circles over your skin. “Oh, well, it’s nothin’ excitin’. I work for a man collecting debts from people. Good money.”

“Oh!” Your father acted impressed, shrugging and exchanging a look with your mother. 

“If that isn’t exciting, I wonder what is to you!” Your mother laughed and so did your father.

‘Maybe fingering your daughter five feet away from you.’ You thought as you shifted in your seat, thankful for how high the table was. If it was any lower surely they would see that the lower half of his arm was extended towards you.

Slowly, extremely slowly, his hand continued it’s journey upwards. You forced yourself to keep a straight face, even when you felt the tips of his fingers brush against your panties. ‘No problem,’ you told yourself, feeling him pull the fabric aside so he could touch you better. ‘No big deal.’

Arthur rubbed slow circles into your clit with a firm amount of pressure, but not quick or firm enough to get you anywhere fast. And he knew it, too. He ate his second bowl of soup just as normally as he did the first, showing no signs of the fact that his fingers were about to be stuffed inside of you. 

You liked to think you looked just as calm as he did. You had finished your soup and were waiting for everyone else to so your mother could bring out dessert, and then you could finally leave the table. If only Arthur would hurry up and finish his meal. 

The small talk carried on and left almost no silence which worked to your advantage. If they were quiet they probably would hear how fast your breathing had gotten, especially when Arthur pushed that first finger inside of you. You had to practically bite through your tongue to keep the moan silenced. 

“(Y/N), you’re quiet, for once. Are you sick?” Your father joked and everyone laughed, including Arthur. That bastard. 

“I’m fine, just like listening to you all talk.” You said quickly, surprised at how even and calm your voice sounded. Almost as if you weren’t being finger fucked. 

That seemed to satisfy them enough and they carried on with conversation.

Normally at dinner, you rarely drank any wine, since you were never able to just have one glass. It always led to two, or sometimes even three, and you would end up passed out on your bed hours before you usually would. But tonight you happily drank, finishing the second glass right as Arthur had two fingers curling inside of you. 

As hard as you tried not to let yourself orgasm you could feel it approaching rapidly. Arthur could too, noting how your chest rose and fell and how you were twitching around his fingers. He slowed down momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath, before he was right back at it, quicker than before. He had a hard-on of his own but with his belt and gun holster in the way, no one would have the slightest idea, even if they looked right at his crotch. Lucky him.

“Are we ready for dessert?” Your mother's voice scared you out of your wits and you jumped. 

“Yes!” You laughed to draw attention away from the fact that you almost spilled your wine. 

She left along with the kitchen maid, directing her to get together new sets of dishes. 

His fingers curled quicker as he sipped on his wine, keeping his eyes anywhere but your father or you. Your father kept up the small talk, allowing you to give yourself the time to focus on having a discreet and quiet orgasm. 

You slowed your breathing as you felt it coming, gripping Arthur’s arm under the table with your left hand as you curled your other hand into a fist around your dress. He looked down at you for a split second, savoring the sight of you as best as he could before he forced himself to look away as to not look suspicious. He gave you a few more deep pumps before you came. The heat and tingles exploded, rippling from your clit and inside your body to your entire form. You bit your lip and looked down, sinking your nails into the skin of his arm. The waves of pleasure that coursed through your body were enough to make anyone scream but you kept your mouth shut and posture still. 

When it finally finished you sat back in your seat, running a hand through your hair as you sighed, wiping the sweat off your forehead when your father wasn't looking. Arthur smirked at you and you threw him the angriest glare you could, but you couldn’t keep it for long. When he chuckled you broke out into a smile and you had to look away so you didn’t laugh.

“Here it is!” Your mother said proudly as she carried the pecan pie into the dining room. “Took me all day!” 

Arthur made a show of looking impressed and your father praised your mother's cooking to no end, telling her that she was the best cook in the whole west. She smiled proudly and served everyone's plates. Thank god you had already came and Arthur’s hand was back where it belonged.

“I’m going to make you regret that.” You whispered to Arthur as your mother talked about how hard it was to find enough pecans. 

“Lookin’ forward to it.”