#i dont even remember why them in particular i just know i wanted to earlier apparently

[lexydakitten]

i am only posting this because i want a specific mutual to see my doodle but i dont feel like getting on my computer to send this to it. so im just gonna hope that they see it this way and if they don't i'll just send it to it later im chilling rn who gaf

[agirlwithglam]

🎀 The It Girl Lifestyle Guide 🎀

hi girlies! this guide is a part of the big series: The Ultimate It-Girlism Guide. in this mini guide i'll be including all things health, morning/nighttime routines, and more!

How to create your ideal morning / night / any other routine:

Here’s a mini step by step guide to curating a routine that works specifically for YOU, tailored to your own needs and wants. This can be for any routine u wanna create: morning, night, after school, after work, before school/ work, etc etc.

Apps / things needed:

ChatGPT (or an AI like that- it’s not completely necessary but it’s useful)

Notes app / docs app. (Or a pen and paper- this will be to write down the routine!)

Calendar app (optional tbh)

Ok so first off: decide what you want in your routine. Make a list in no particular order of what you need/ want in the routine.

Some examples:

Once you’ve created this list, you’re pretty much half way done. In this next part you can use chat GPT to make it easier, or use your own mind.

The next thing to do is: ask chatGPT to make a routine with the steps u wanted.

Make sure to mention what time your routine starts and ends. And if there’s anything you want to change, you can just ask the AI or make those changes yourself!

The last step is to write it down!

You can either write it down on the notes app, docs, on a journal/ piece of paper, anything that’s easily accessible to you. I heavily recommend writing it down somewhere, but if you dont want to you can…

Put it into your calander. This can help you be a bit more organised, but it’s not completely needed. As long as it’s written down somewhere- so you dont need to always remember it- you’re good.

Health and wellness

In this section, i will be talking about fitness, mental health and physical health. I will mention some useful tips to finally start, how to overcome procrastination, and how to take care of that area of your body.

1. FITNESS.

Numero uno: fitness! I’m not going to go yapping on about how fitness is so important- im assuming you all know that by now. But let me just remind you that staying fit is not only exercising or going to the gym everyday. It can be: running, going for a walk, playing a sport, yoga, pilates, dancing, cycling, and THE LIST GOES ON. DO anything that moves your body and gets you fit!

Here are some tips to help you get started:

Start small. Set small goals first. Set SMART goals

Choose the activities you enjoy. Like i mentioned earlier, there’s tons of ways to stay fit- cycling, running, swimming, yoga, dance, sports, etc. etc. (if you like, joining a class or working out with friends can help you stay motivated!)

Stay consistent. I know i know, this is said everywhere. But there is no progress without consistency. Even if you can’t do a whole workout one day, try and do 10 jumping jacks, or 5 pushups. Do whatever you can. Remember: 1% is better than 0.

Create a vision board. You can create one yourself, or find tons of them off Pinterest. Vision boards will make the process so much more fun and will certainly motivate you.

Set a reward system. Tell yourself: if you do this high intensity workout now, you can go to the spa later or watch tv.

Find a why. This goes for like everything tbh. If your why is big enough, you are capable of doing anything (even finding that lost book that you owe the library!) basically, are you doing this to get ripped? With tons of abs, or to get strong and impress people? Or are you doing this to boost your self esteem and improve your health?

2. FOOD & NUTRITION.

Balanced diet: eat the rainbow! Meaning- eat meals with a variety of different colours. Fruits, vegetables, proteins, carbohydrates, etc. it’s completely alright to eat a chocolate, but remember: EVERYTHING IN MODERATION.

Hydration: aim for at least 8 glasses of water a day. Trust me, drinking the magical potion that is water will help you SO much! It can help you clear your skin, have pink uncrusty lips, keep you fit and soooo much more.

Mindful eating: in the book IKIGAI it is said that you should only eat until you’re 80% full. Not 100%. Why? Because the time it takes for you to digest the food will have already made you extremely full. You may even have a stomachache. Studies also show that cutting back on calories can lead to better heart health, longevity, and weight loss.

Here are some tips to manage cravings:

Find healthier alternatives. If you are craving something sweet like chocolate, have something like a sweet fruit. If you crave something salty, try nuts. If you can’t think of any, search up some healthier alternatives to it!

Create more friction for junk, and less friction for healthy. This concept was said in the book Atomic Habits by James Clear. What does it mean? Make sure that it takes a lot of energy to get the unhealthy junk food. Maybe keep them high up in a cupboard so whenever you want it you have to go get a ladder, climb up, and then get it. And keep the healthy food in easy reach. Like some fruits open on a table, etc. (also remember to keep some actually yummy healthy food like Greek yogurt or protein bars.)

Distract yourself. Go do a workout or engage your mind in a hobby that you enjoy. Basically take your mind off food.

Yummy water. Make some lemonade for yourself. Or perhaps add slices of lemon, cucumber, mint or strawberries to it for some flavours. I’d do some research on this cus i know that some combos can rly help for things like clearing your skin, boosting energy, etc.

3. MENTAL HEALTH

Taking care of your mental health is just as important as taking care of your physical health. It affects how we think, feel and act and also determines how we handle stress, relate to others, relationships, etc.

Of course there will be ups and downs for our mental health. It’s not something that you can just fix once and it’ll be good forever. No, it’s a rollercoaster. But having a “good” mental health is really important for a successful lifestyle.

Here are some tips to help you improve your mental health:

Meditation / deep breathing. I can’t emphasise how important this is. Even 1-2 minutes a day is good. Start small. You dont even need to be sitting crossed legged for this. Whether you’re in class, on a vehicle or in a stressful situation; just breathe. Take a deep breath, and out. Do it right now.

Journalling. Write. It. Out. Writing your problems and worries out is SOO therapeutic, especially when you want to calm down. There are SO MANY benefits to journalling. But remember that once you’ve ranted on the paper, tear it, rip it, and watch it burn. (Don’t keep a journal for this unless you KNOW 150% that no ones ever gonna read it. Trust me, it’s terrifying knowing that someone’s read that.) other things you can do is create a gratitude journal, so whenever you’re feeling low you can just go to it or write in it.

Self careee!! Create time for self care in your week. Because if you do that, it’s gonna be that one thing which you’ll be looking forward to each week, which will make life SO much more fun and bearable. For me, my forms of self care are watching thewizardliz or tam Kaur, reading, watching a movie at night, etc.

POSITIVE. SELF. TALK. Need i say more? What you say to yourself, is what you believe. And what you believe reflects in your external life.

Sing your heart out to Olivia Rodrigo. I swear this is actually so calming and therapeutic. Basically: express your feelings. If you’re angry at someone, feeling grief or really hurt by someone, screaming to Olivia Rodrigo songs in my bedroom is my go-to (i just make sure not to do it when others can here hehe). You can punch your pillow, scream, cry, etc.

Remember honey: this too will pass. Repeat that over in your head. This will pass. This will pass. This will pass. I know you may be going through the toughest time ever, but this too will pass. Nothing is forever. You’ve gotten through so much worse. You’ve got this.

!! Girls, please remember that these are just some tips. I am NOT a professional. If you really feel horrible every single day, go to therapy or counselling. Also contact mental health hotlines or emergency numbers if needed.

Mkay thats it! I hope this was of some value to you, and stay tuned for the next guide in the it girl series!

[hellfire--cult]

That other story was romantic and cute as shit, but it made me remember what happened to me at a party once.

There was this guy there, he was very charismatic and all the girls wanted him. This one chick in particular I remember was constantly leaning against him and rubbing his arm. He was polite but kind of ignored her.

We both happened to sit on the couch next to each other. We talked about something and he asked me if my hair was natural. "The color isn't, but the wavy curly thing is." He smiled and said," I like the color, it brings out your eyes. The curly wave thing...call it a curve and you definitely have them" I was dense as fuck my man. Didnt even click that he was flirting, mainly because I am just tall, barely have an ass but I got big thighs, and I thought oh he's so wrong. He had said some other things that were borderline kind borderline flirting.

I do a shot of something with my girlfriends. Fourth of the night, not including the beer. Cue me going to the bathroom to throw up. The door opened because I forgot to lock it. I look back and see the guy. "Get out!"

He didn't. He locked the door and held my hair back for me. He rubbed my back and talked me through it. Then he ripped off toilet paper and gave it to me, rummaged through the cabinets and found mouthwash, gave that to me. Used it, spit in the toilet.

Well he was standing and I was still kneeling. I guess seeing that position does something as a man. All I know is i was perfect level with you know what. He froze as soon as he realized.

I didn't intend to be a tease. I truly didn't. I wanted to stand up, and so my brain thought "lets hold onto him for stability". So I put my hand on his thigh. The silence was thick. You could cut the tension with a knife.

He made the first move and kissed me and let me tell you what, he hauled me up off that floor and had me against the wall so quickly. He moaned once and I'll never forget it. Might I also say, I could feel him against my hip and he was BIG.

I was about to get down and dirty in some person's bathroom at a college party. But he had more sense and pulled away, immediately apologized, and told me I was too drunk to consent. "Wait sorry did this just happen?" I had asked to which he said "you're proving my point, you can't consent im sorry fuck I didn't mean to take advantage of you" "no I meant. Me. Like, there was that girl earlier, like...why me?" "I've been flirting with you all night!"

OH MY GOSH

I'm sorry I imagined Steve in this but OMG

YALL ARE LIVING THE FANFIC LIVES MY DUDES

Like JESUS CHRIST DONT BE SO DENSE LOVE

I am so happy he didn't take advantage of you and that he was a gentleman all night about it

PLEASE TELL ME YOU DID GO OUT ON A DATE WITH HIM OR THAT U KNOW U WINK WINK WONK WONK RIGHT

I am a slut for all your love stories or sexy stories

Thank you for sharing them with me ❤️❤️❤️

[tendouluvr]

aizawa calling you clingy - gn reader

- [attempt at] angst to fluff

- warnings: being called clingy, aizawa gets annoyed with reader and berates them, one use of the word ‘shit’

- wc: 1.9k

a/n: this wasnt......as sad as i wanted... i cant tell if im just not so good at writing angst or immune to it T_T

once again, not edited!

#! aizawa!!!! eee

#! hes a levelheaded man so arguments are rare

#! u both trust one another so theres no reason to have doubts in ur relationship

#! being his s/o, he tells u things thats not so easy to tell others over time, and you’re patient enough to let him take however much time he needs to let u in

#! however, years of keeping to himself most of the time doesnt just disappear even if you’re his s/o

#! so aizawa does have this tendency to close off and distance himself from u bc of his stress and insecurities

walking through the spacious halls of ua, you were headed towards your lovely boyfriend. aizawas been pretty busy lately with teaching his class, making sure no one is being left behind progress wise, doing his job as a pro-hero, and then spending his free time training with shinsou.

you knew showing up at school unexpectedly was something aizawa found irky, that’s why you made sure to tell him the night before that you would be coming during lunch time to bring him some yummy homemade food.

humming softly to yourself, you finally reached the door opening to class 1-A and walked in. the classroom was empty, but there at the front was no one other than mr. aizawa shouta. you quickly greeted him with a smile and he turned to look at you.

“what are you doing here?” he slowly asked with a look of confusion.

“i brought you some food! did you eat yet? i hope not, i made-,” you quickly stopped talking once you noticed the look he was giving you.

“why are you here? i already told you, you shouldnt be showing up without letting me know first. our relationship is quiet, if the students see they’ll get noisy and ask questions, i’ll get bombarded by my colleagues, and it’ll put you in danger if words get out. did anyone see you coming here? can you listen to me for once instead of continuing to always be near me? you’re so damn clingy and need to start thinking about the consequences your action will bring. i already ate, just go home before anything happens.”

your jaw dropped a little after hearing what he just said to you. did he not remember what you told him last night?

worst of all, you couldnt believe he just called you clingy. you just wanted to do something nice for him by making his favorite food hoping that it’ll relieve some of the stress thats been building up, but he just thought of you as clingy.

fine, if clingy is what you are then you’ll stop bothering him. you quickly whispered an apology, not sure if he could hear or not, and began making your way back home as fast as possible. the food you made for him was still tightly grasped in your hand.

due to the new dormitories, aizawa stays at ua majority of the time. he comes home to your shared apartment whenever he can to spend time with you. unfortunately, those time aren’t usually much because as soon as he’s free, he’s quick to do something else.

once you’ve made it home, you packed the food away and put it in the fridge. you felt your phone buzzing repeatedly, already guessing who it could possibly be, you took it out to see it was your boyfriend.

shou <3: im sorry

shou <3: honey, im so sorry. pls text me back when u can

shou <3: i know what i said hurted u, but i promise u i dont mean it. pls just call me or text me so we can talk about this

shou <3: i have to go back now. but i love u. so much.

staring at your screen, you contemplated texting him back.

letting out a sigh, you decided not to.

putting your phone to the side, you walked to the bedroom and changed out of your clothes into the comfy pjs you were wearing right before you left.

seeing that there was nothing for you to do other than wallow in your insecurities and let out a few tears, you got into bed and made yourself comfortable for an afternoon nap.

aizawa on the other hand was at school and distracted. his own words kept replaying over and over in his head and all he wants to do is smack himself a few times (after comforting u ofc).

his students could tell he was in a badder mood than usual so they collectively agreed to not worsen it (one particular student does not care. can u guess?). aizawa just wanted the day to pass so he can apologize to you directly and make it up with some cuddling.

despite being distracted with planning his apology and thinking about you, he was still teaching as he should and constantly telling his students to be quiet because he’s intimidating like that.

a few hours passed, the students are back in their dorms and some of the teachers are still in school finishing up some work. the hallways were empty and silent, and the weather outside was nice and calm - not too sunny with just the right amount of wind.

however, if you were to peek your head inside of class 1-A at the moment, the environment is an exact 180. aizawa is quickly trying to grade the remaining stack of papers he has on his desk so he can leave as soon as he can. there’s papers everywhere, he’s not so sure where the answer key went off to but to hell with the answer key. he just needs to go home.

his hair is messily tied up and his lips have probably been gnawed off by now. as soon as school ended, he got out his phone to see if you replied and sadly you didn’t. he doesn’t blame you though, considering all of the shit he said to you earlier. 

finally writing down the fat score in red pen onto the final paper, he gathers everything and put to the side of his desk and packed up his stuff. his stuff being his yellow sleeping bag and that’s it.

he went to his room first to clean himself up a bit, and then grabbed a taxi to go to your shared apartment. arriving at the front door, he takes out his copy of the key and entered.

first thing he noticed while entering and taking off his shoes was that the apartment was dark and quiet. he made his way to the kitchen first and turned on its lights to check the fridge. in the fridge laid the food you made for him earlier today. he took it out to start heating it up in the microwave then he walks away from the food and to your bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he poked his head in to see you laying on your side with your back facing the door. he assumed you were asleep and gently closed the door to not wake you up. he made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. 

you, feeling the bed dip, slowly opened your eyes to be greeted with the sight of your boyfriend gingerly brushing his fingertips across your cheekbones. he notices that you’re awake and looks up to meet your eyes.

making eye contact with him, you quietly grunted and brought the blanket up to cover your face while turning your entire body to the other side to ignore him. aizawa sighed and brought his hand down to rest on your waist as he begins talking.

“yn... i know you’re.. mad at me for the things i said to you earlier, but i’m truly sorry. i know saying i didn’t mean it isn’t good enough for you to forgive me, but i want you to know i’m really really sorry. i’ve been so busy for the past few days, my head is all over the place, seeing you at school just got me overthinking and worried that i ended up saying things about you that’s not true at all. i love you so much, hun. you’re the best thing to happen to me. you don’t have to forgive me now, i understand if you want some space.”

it was silent for some time after he finished his apology. the echoing silence was slowly making aizawa worried that you’ll leave him, but he won’t tell you that. thinking that you wanted space, he lifted his shaky hand off of your waist and moved to get off of the bed when you suddenly grabbed onto his hand to keep him there.

“i...i told you the day before that i was going to be visiting you during lunch time. did you not remember? or even hear me tell you?”

aizawa situated himself back down onto the bed before replying. “if i’m being honest, i don’t really remember much of that day at all. my brain was occupied with work and rest, so i was practically drained by the end of the night. i’m sorry i took it out on you, it’s my fault for overworking when i know you’ve been trying to help.”

letting out a soft sigh, you turned your body back towards him. still holding onto his hand, you carefully slotted your fingers in between his and pulled him down to lay with you. he immediately found comfort in this and placed his head into your neck. you could feel his facial hair against your skin making you let out a quiet giggle.

“i love you. i know you have a habit to overwork since that’s all you did before we dated, but please shou, take care of yourself. im not talking physically, cuz you’re already so damn fine, but mentally. i hate seeing you bury yourself in work and training that it even makes me tired just watching you.”

he grumbled something against your neck - his usual reaction to you complimenting him - and held onto you tighter while putting light kisses on your collarbone.

“i know. i will. please bear with me, i know i’m a pain but i’ll always try to be my best for you. i’m never letting you go, love you too much for that.”

“hmm? who said i’m going? you’re stuck with me forever just so you know,” you laughed and patted his head before rising from the bed.

“i heard you heating up the food earlier. get up and come eat,” you tugged aizawa to get him off the bed.

he grumbled once again because he was being forced to leave the warm comfort of your shared bed, but followed you out anyway holding onto your hand.

“wait. you heard me entering? so you were pretending to sleep when i got here?! not funny, babe. not funny. -also don’t take sleep for granted. i did and look where that got me. stop laughing!”

bonus:

it was the next day and aizawa just finished passing out the grades he rushed grading yesterday. even though it was rushed, he was confident that there wasn’t any mistakes-

“aizawa sensei, you marked this question wrong when it’s right. this one too. and this other one on the last page. are you trying to fail me?!” denki dramatically wailed as he showed aizawa his papers.

guess he did make mistakes after all.

[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.

[absolutepokemontrash]

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

[pandastern]

What’s Your Poison, Captain Levi

Part 1: Desire

Sub!Levi Ackerman x Dom!Reader

Warnings: explicit, mature content

Word count: 2989

Genre: romance

When Levi overhears a fight between Y/N and Erwin about their newest addition to the squad, his curiosity leads him to investigate. Little does he know that this decision will confront him with his deepest and darkest desires he had hoped to keep buried.

The castle fell silent after a long day of work, most of the cadettes were already asleep and those who weren't, better got to it before he found out. Levi sighed deeply and downed his last cup of tea. The fragrant blend had lasted him for almost 2 months, but as so many things in his life even this was coming to an end. 

Levi did not allow himself many luxuries. A clean space and some tea. That had always been enough for him. 

It had been a week since Eren had joined his squad. The boy was so lively, so full of life and determination. How many soldiers had he seen with the same kind of attitude. How many had died before his eyes.

Putting down the cup, he got up and rubbed his eyes. Levi couldn't tell how long he had been sitting there, contemplating so many things, he could barely remember what he had mulled over. Maybe he was just utterly sleep deprived. 

Yes, that had to be it. 

“Off to bed it is then…” He mumbled to himself, blowing out the candle on the table. The moon was shining brightly, the light coming through the windows illuminating his way enough to find his path without needing another light source. 

How eerie this castle could be at night. The creaking of old wood and the howling of the summer breeze almost sounded as if the building itself was breathing.

Halfway up the stairs that led to his quarters he suddenly heard a door slam in the hallways below him. The loud sound made him freeze. “This better not be one of the brats out of bed.” He grumbled and listened into the darkness.

“No Erwin! I dont give a flying fuck. That kid has been here for a week. A Week, Erwin! He's been in my office with burns, a bleeding nose, overexhaustion and oh, yes, snapped tendons! Ah! No! Close that mouth of yours I don't want to hear it! I don't care that he regenerates like some Lizard on drugs! Eren is 14!”

“He is a soldier and doing his duty. As should you. Eren is not a child and he knows the cost of his purpose! This young man has seen more than enough of the gruesome reality of this world to make his own decisions!” 

“Yes, Life is shit. Reality is cruel. Trust me, I fucking know that! It doesn't change the fact that you are sending children to die, asshole. And no excuse of yours makes it right.”

“Y/N, you-”

“No, fucking save it. I don't want to hear another word. I am not a soldier, nor a cadette, so you can shove your Commander bullshit right back up your arse.”

The sound of angrily stomping footsteps followed by a never ending string of curses echoed through the staircase. Levi rose a brow. He had recognized that voice. Y/N was one of the Medical staff they kept here to support the survey corps. Usually that woman worked under Hanji Zoe's Squad unless she had to take care of injured soldiers... Or Eren. 

He couldn't remember having ever heard her use that kind of tone before. He'd seen that woman pop a dislocated limb back into place while sweet-talking the whimpering soldier into a blush like it was nothing. Not much of a soldier herself, he had to admit, but she kept her medical office under strict rules that no one dared to break. Y/N was strict, but she was never harsh. Not like this.

He knew it was probably for the best if he just went to bed. It was none of his business. They weren't friends so he was probably the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Especially since he was also a reason why Eren was here in this castle. Granted, if he and Erwin had not intervened the boy would be dead by now. However that didn't change the fact that whatever argument Y/N had had with Erwin she would most likely have with him as well. And as someone who had seen what that woman was capable off, he'd rather not be on the receiving end of that.

After hesitating for a moment Levi sighed deeply and turned around and followed in the direction of where Y/N had stomped off to. Why, he couldn't say. Maybe it was that slight tremble in her voice when she had hissed at Commander Erwin, that he had never heard before. Maybe he was just...curious.  

It took a little bit of searching before he found her. Y/N was sitting outside in the grass, resting against a tree. When Levi approached her the scent of something sweet and burning wafted around him. 

“What the hell are you smoking?” he asked and wrinkled his nose. “Don't tell me you actually got your hands on tobacco. What merchant did you shake down for that?”

Taking a deep drag from the hand rolled cigarette in her hand she gave him a very calculated look.

“Isn't it past your bedtime Captain Levi?” Her lips curved into a smirk that made her look like a Cheshire cat. “Don't you know? To stay sane in this wretched world everyone needs a little pick me up. Some people like to fuck an excessive amount, some people drink alcohol till their liver burts like an overripe tomato. Others…”

She took another drag from the cigarette, the sweet musky smell getting stronger. “Others just know where the good stuff grows.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. Levi didn't reply to that. He could sense the frustration in her demeanor. “It's not like you to numb yourself with substances to escape whatever upsets you.”

Another dry laugh.

“I am not. This is St. John's wort and lavender. Helps me sleep. And considering you're up at  this ungodly hour I am guessing you could use one as well.”

Levi watched as Y/N softly patted the grass next to her, motioning for him to sit down. With a sigh he let himself fall into the grass. Silence spread between them and Levi just watched her carefully. 

“I heard your fight with Erwin.” He finally said.

Y/N clicked her tongue and shot him a glance through narrowed eyes.

“Oh? So you're here to...what? Scold me?”

“No. Not like a brat like you would listen to me.”

“It doesn't matter what I think anyway, does it?”

Levi sighed and stretched out his legs, leaning back against the tree. “You know that what we do here is necessary. You also know that Eren is not a child. No matter his age. It may not be pretty and it may not be what you want for him, but you can't forget that Eren killed twenty Titans by himself in his Titan form.”

Grinding her teeth Y/N pressed the cigarette bud into the ground and cursed again.

“Fuck you. Don't you think I know that?! I am fully aware that this kid can turn into a building sized naked killer man. Trust me, Hanji told me all about it in one of their ‘I am horny for Titans’ rants. It doesnt change the fact that he is a child. Just because he's seen some shit doesn't make him any less of a 14 year old kid. If you're sending soldiers to die, then at least make sure they are fully grown first.”

Her voice had gotten louder with every word she spat out before she cut herself off. Levi watched her take a deep breath and pull out a second hand rolled cigarette.

“We have no choice. Not when the survival of the human race is on the line.” he stated with a stern voice. It wasn't that he didn't understand where she was coming from but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

“Spoken like a good little soldier. I know that of course. Doesn't mean I have to like that shit.” Y/N scoffed. “How far you've come from just a little underground street rat.”

Levi stiffened. It had been so many years since someone had brought up his origins. He wasn't ashamed of who he had been, but being confronted with it so suddenly still made him tense up.

“What, surprised? Of course I know. Where do you think I come from. You're not the only underground rat dwelling on the surface. Like you, Erwin was the one who pulled me up.”

Now she sounded almost bitter. 

“Now that you mention it, it explains a lot about you.”

Like that time when he had watched her knock a hysteric solder out cold with one brief move so she could treat them.

“I suppose it does.” Y/N pulled out a lighter and ignited her second cigarette, taking a deep drag. “I've always been good with herbalism. Drugs...Poison...Back then I used that knowledge to cater to Clients with a very particular taste of pick me ups.”

Another side shot glance and the smirk returned on her lips. “But enough about me. What is your preferred poison, Captain?”

The swift change of subjects did not go unnoticed to him. Not that he minded. He personally didn't much like to talk about the past. That, however, caught him off guard.

“What do you mean?” He asked carefully.

Y/N sat up, put out her cigarette and leaned closer, her eyes having a glint in them he had never seen before. “Like I said before. Everyone has that little something that keeps them sane. So what is it for you? And please don't say tea. That doesn't count.”

“Why wouldn't it count? Who gets to decide what keeps me sane if not me?” he huffed. Levi didn't like where this conversation was headed. As Y/N leaned a little closer, he instinctively leaned back but the tree trapped him in place. 

“Because I am talking about something more...decadent.” Her husky chuckle made him shiver, her face now so close to his, he could feel her breath on his skin. She smelled sweet, just like the herbs she had smoked earlier. To his surprise it wasn't unpleasant.

“So...tell me. What is it the Levi Ackermann, humanity's strongest soldiers desire? What is it that makes your fingers itch? You always seem so stoic but I know there's more. I can see it in your eyes”

Levi finally recognized the glint in her eyes. It was the same look a cat had that was playing with a mouse, ready to pounce. And he didn't quite know how to feel about that.

“I have no idea what you're going on about.”

“No?” Another soft chuckle that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. She was so close now, he could make out the soft dusting of freckles on her cheeks. Before he could stop himself he evaded her eyes to focus himself.

Soft fingers grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Y/N-”

“Do you think i haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow me the moment I step into a room?” She whispered.

Levi could feel his face grow hot. Had he really been so obvious? 

“I- wait, Y/N its not- “

Before he could answer, Y/N moved even closer, climbing into his lap. Levi stiffened, his eyes wide as her warm hands cupped his face. 

“It's okay, I don't mind. Not like I haven't done the same thing…”

Her body was pressed so flush against his, her body heat almost scalding him. Levi's breath caught in his throat. Their faces were so close, noses touching, breath mingling together and somehow the entire world started to fade away, leaving just the two of them together. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure the sound must echo through the entire castle, but he just couldn't push her away. He knew he should. He knew he couldn’t allow this. Knew this wouldn't end well for him.

But the look in her eyes told Levi, Y/N already had him in a trap he couldn't  escape. Not that he wanted to.

“Such pretty eyes you have, Levi.” She whispered in a low voice. “I’ve always wondered what's going on behind them.”

Keeping one hand on his cheek, Y/N gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face making him shiver. No one had ever touched him that way before. “W-what do you mean?” He managed to whisper hoarsely.

“What you crave of course. Everyone has something. Fantasies of pleasure and lust that keep playing in your head when you are all by yourself and need some release.” Y/N laughed softly, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. Gods he was blushing like a boy but that look in her eyes kept him enthralled, unable to move a single muscle.

“I have two theories. Lets see which one hits the spot.” She purred. “My first theory is that you crave control. You are the captain after all. So what is it you think of when you watch me?”

Another shiver ran down Levi's spine, Y/n's feather light touches ghosting over his skin igniting his nerve endings in exhilarating sparks. Why was it so hard to breathe? 

“Do you think of me, naked? Tied up with ropes, suspended limbs hanging in the air like a doll...completely and utterly at your mercy as your wandering hands coax soft moans out of me? Do you dream about teasing me till I fully submit to your authority?”

Heat started pooling in his stomach and instinctively Levis' hands moved to her hips gripping them tightly. Y/N leaned in, softly brushing her lips against the corners of his mouth. Levi froze, his fingers digging into her soft, supple skin. “W-what?”

She was searching his eyes intently and it felt like she was stripping away every little layer of protection he had built over his lifetime. Dangerous. She was dangerous. He'd always known that. Hed known the moment their eyes had met for the very first time.

“No...no that's not it…is it?” A lascivious smirk spreading over those sinful lips of hers. “So I was right. See, my second theory is the one I find most plausible. It's human psychology after all…”

Her hands started to travel down his jaw before resting gently around his throat. Levi swallowed hard. He could feel himself tremble softly and that predatory glint in her eyes told him, she felt it too.

“You don't wish for control Levi, do you? You crave release. So much responsibility on your shoulders. Always having to be reliable. Humanity's Strongest. A leader in his own right. But what you really want is to let go. To give yourself into reliable hands that roam your body just the right way”

Levi could feel her lips on his ear, nipping at the soft skin. The gasp escaping his parted lips was almost treacherous and wrong. But dammit she was right. And he hated that she was.

“I am right, aren't I? I can feel you getting excited…”

As if to prove a point Y/N rolled her hips against him, coaxing a soft moan out of his parted lips. Levi's head fell forward against her shoulder, the scent of her herbs wrapping around him, more intoxicating than any booze he'd ever tasted.

“Please-” He rasped almost helplessly.

“Please? My, my, Levi...such beautiful sounds you make.”

More featherlight nips and kisses trailing down his jaw and neck, making him dizzy. She was toying with him.

“Your arms tied behind your back, maybe even on your knees. Helpless and taken care of at the same time. That's what you crave isn't it? That's the deep dark sinful little desire that's burning in your heart. Submission.”

Nimble fingers threading into his hair, gripping it tight before yanking his head back. 

“F-fuck!” The moment the groan left him Levi already knew he was done for. She was gonna swallow him whole.

“Say it Levi...is that what you want?” Y/N purred, her forehead touching his. It was an order. She was giving him an order.

Levi shuddered under her gaze, his throat so dry he barely resisted the urge to lick his lips. “Y-yes…”

“There we go...that wasn't so hard was it? Don't worry...I'd be more than happy to do that for you darling. I will keep you safe… take you apart piece by piece until you lose yourself in pleasure. Until you fall… and then I will put you back together.”

Her lips were hovering over his, a tease, an invitation. Why couldn't she just kiss him already?

“What...are you saying?” Levi whispered barely audible, his chest heaving with every breath. His lungs and all his senses already filled with her scent, her body pressed again so flush he could feel every curve through her clothing.

“I am making you an offer, Captain. And I want you to think about it before you answer. If that is what you want...come find me in my office. I'll help you fly in the best and worst way  possible...understood?”

Not knowing what to say or do, Levi just nodded. There was no way another word could make it past his lips. He wanted her. He wanted her so damn bad, the desire was burning him up alive.

Her soft chuckle echoed through the night.

“Good. I bid you goodnight then. Come find me when you're ready.”

Before Levi could process what she had just said, Y/N got off him and jumped to her feet as if nothing had ever happened. His body shivered at the sudden lack of heat, already feeling empty without her so close to him. 

Stunned, Levi watched her wink at him before disappearing into the night. What the hell had just happened?

[pa-panda-heroes]

Is it alright to request Bakugo, Todoroki, & Kirishima finding out that their usually well put together s/o secretly smokes (only to cope with stressful stuff like a rough home life) but now that she’s with them she tries to quit but then a bad mission happens & they walk in as she’s shakily holding a cig? Happy ending pls. Sorry if it’s complicated recovery isn’t linear & ive been feeling bad just thinking abt going back to it.

Sweetheart, please don’t apologize! I understand, okay? No judgements whatsoever. I’m really sorry you’ve not been feeling well, but keep fighting, love. You can do it!! You got this!! I’m so proud of you for taking this giant step for your health <3 and so are the boys :> I put it under a cut because it’s long ^^

Katsuki, Shouto, and Eijirou with a s/o who’s trying to quit smoking (Scenarios)

Warning: slight mentions of relapse, smoking

Katsuki:

He knew. He knew you’d had a particularly bad day handling an awful situation - the kind of job any hero (maybe even Katsuki himself) would pass off onto a rookie so as to avoid having to deal with it. He knew you’d been trying your hardest to quit smoking. He knew you only picked it up as a way to cope. He knew it was hard. He knew it all. He was right there with you.

Yet it didn’t break his heart any less when he got home from his own hero shift to see you trembling and holding your head with both hands, an unlit cigarette nestled between your shaky fingers. A lighter lay on the coffee table in front of you, seemingly forgotten but not really. Your sniffling was loud, and it pained Katsuki to hear it, as if with each sniffle the hand around his heart squeezed tighter and tighter.

“Y/n.” He doesn’t say or do much else, and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your sniffling and occasional hiccups. Katsuki sighs, not out of frustration, not out of pity, and certainly not out of anger. Well, maybe there was a hint of anger, but it was not aimed at you. It was aimed at whosoever pushed the put-together, organized you to this habit which was giving you a run for its money. Quietly, he moves to sit next your trembling form, wrapped in the plush blanket you got him for his birthday last year. It smelled like him. No smoke, no ashes. Him.

“Just take deep breaths,” he says quietly, afraid to spook you, as he slowly brings up his arm to wrap around your shoulders and bring you close. You’re rigid. Stiff. And so unlike yourself. “Don’t feel bad, y/n. Stuff like this... it’s hard. There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to recovery. No one gets it right on the first try.” It’s hard, rewiring your brain not to crave a certain substance, or anything else, really. Katsuki hasn’t dealt with this firsthand, but as a hero he’s seen enough to know no one gets it right on the first try; sometimes people slip up.

“People slip up. And that’s fine,” he continued softly. “They just need to push themselves back up and fight back even harder. I’m so fucking proud of you, alright? And you - you’re tough as hell, you know that?” He stops, as if to gauge your reaction. And react you do. You bury your head in his chest, dropping your hands to your lap without a word. Saying something is too much right now. The cigarette is still between your fingers, but Katsuki gently takes it from you and tosses it onto the table.

“Maybe you don’t realize it, but you are.” Katsuki pats your shoulder furthest from him, leaning down to whisper at you. “You’d have to be, to put up with me and my bullshit,” he jokes with a pinch to your cheek, and finally you chuckle with a wee grin. “No, seriously! I always leave the toilet seat up, I scream at the TV, I never put my laundry right into the hamper, and I always forget to wash dishes... I’m kinda hard to live with.”

“You also kick in your sleep,” you quip with a giggle, voice tiny and meek yet full of love and spunk.

“Ah hell, do I? See, the list goes on and on.”

You shake your head wistfully, your grin growing by the second, but then it leaves you for something sweeter, something quieter. “Thank you for helping me quit, Katsuki.” The gentle lilt in your voice is music to his ears, though he wouldn’t outright admit it.

He huffs at you playfully. “Aw, shaddup. With everything you put up with from me, I’d say we’re even.” He almost seems bashful at your thanking him. Maybe he is.

“No, not quite. You also walk around naked at the worst possible times.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

You turn to look up at him, eyes gleaming - and not from tears. “My friend really didn’t need to see you walking around in your All Might boxers.”

He shrugs it off. “She should’ve knocked. And you shouldn’t have bought them as a gag gift, babe.” Katsuki flicks your nose gently, leaving you to you wrinkle it and recoil from him.

“Jerk!”

Shouto:

Damn paperwork.

His back hurt, his eyes burned, and his wrist was currently cramping.

Yet it was better than everything you dealt with on patrol earlier. He wasn’t sure how you made it back in one piece like you did.

With a yawn he decided that’s it, a break is most certainly due. So he’d go looking for you, maybe even just five minutes together would make him a new man. But he couldn’t find you. Oh. Shouto wasn’t panicked by any means, but he was in a hurry to find you. He knew if even after one relapse, no matter how short-lived, you would beat yourself up about it better than you do villains. Even if there was no need to. Relapse happens sometimes.

Finally, he found you in the alleyway behind the agency. And he found the cigarette. It was lit, snug between your lips and slowly developing ash. Your hand was so shaky, Shouto was worried something was medically wrong for a second before he realized himself. He called out to you, a hand reached out as he approached. You jumped in your skin, head jerking his way, one lone tear trail on your cheek. “Y/n, please put that out.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand unceremoniously, but it didn’t bother him. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “It’s just- it’s hard. I feel like I’m trying to put myself back together, but I’m missing a piece. Does that make sense?”

Shouto looks at you gently. “It doesn’t matter if it makes sense to me,” he says clearly. “As long as you understand it and talk about what you’re feeling, I’m happy. Why don’t you tell me more about what you’re feeling right now? It helped last time.”

“Overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed as fuck.” You suck in a breath and bring your fingers to your lips to pick at them rather than take a drag.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Being a hero is hard work.” He’s being supportive. He understands; he’s a hero, too.

“With everything at home when I started... and being a hero...” your voice breaks, “pushing one down for the sake of the other and trying to hold myself together and quit... it sucks, Shouto.”

Your love’s eyebrows pull upward with worry. “I’m sorry, love. You always do your best, you do so well.”

You glance at him with tears in your eyes before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with a drawn out sigh. That... actually felt nice. It hurt, too, but it was nice.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I want you to talk to me when you’re craving, okay?” Shouto’s hands grab yours, thumbs rubbing the back of your hand soothingly and slowly. “It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. I want you to talk to me. I want to help.”

You nod quickly, unable to form words as tears well up and your lips fight against you to grimace. You wipe at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling all the while. You choke out a quiet “thank you,” and swallow thickly, only for Shouto to lean toward you and plant a kiss to your forehead before pulling you in for a warm hug in the cool alley.

“Dont thank me,” he whispers, squeezing you tight for emphasis. “It’s only natural I want to help you. I love you. All of you. No matter what.”

You nestle your cheek to his shoulder. “Even if I fuck up?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, y/n. I’ll always be so proud of you for fighting on.”

Eijirou:

“Hey, y/n-“

You blink at him, cigarette between your lips and lighter in your shaky hand. Your eyes are puffy and your cheeks are red. The flame of the lighter licked the cigarette but did not light it, and then suddenly died out as you pulled your thumb off the plate below the wheel. You reached up and closed the window of the bathroom before sitting back down on the side of the tub with your hands in your lap. “Please don’t be mad...”

The grin he wore just before he saw the cigarette faded. “Hey, I’m not mad.”

“I had a really bad day and... I dunno.” You looked down at your hands and the lighter and cigarette within them. “I just needed one. Just one. To deal with it.”

“But...” He hesitated, worried he’d come off too chiding. “Remember? ‘Just one’ turns into two, then three...”

You nod. “I know, I know, but...” Your sniffle hits his ears and it’s hard to hear.

“I’m not mad, or trying to be mean... I’m just worried.” Eijirou scratches the back of his head almost awkwardly. “Why don’t we go for a walk, yeah? Get some fresh air, too?”

You didn’t feel like it, but agree anyway. Eijirou doesn’t take you anywhere in particular, just walking and turning here and there when he felt like it, your hand in his all the while. You’re quiet the entire time, but he speaks enough for the both of you, talking about everything he sees or whatever a certain sight seems to remind him of. His hand squeezes yours every so often, as if to remind you that you don’t need to say anything, as long as you let him do this, let him distract you, let him help you - how ever you want to word it.

But suddenly he stops and turns to you, red eyes bright and gleaming. “Can I ask something selfish of you?” It’s sudden and unlike him to ask something like this.

You’re taken aback, but nod anyway.

“Any time you get the urge, any time you catch yourself reaching for a cigarette, will you promise me you’ll get out and take a walk?” Eijirou’s voice is quiet and soothing, yet you pick up concern. “Or just get up and walk around if you’d rather not go out. Please? Even if I’m not around...?”

You smile at him, his expression immediately relaxing upon seeing it. “Promise.”

“Good! I don’t know how well distraction would work, but maybe it’ll help.” He shrugs and continues walking again, pulling you with him. He had a point. Some fresh air did feel nice, and hearing the birds chirping as you walked by a small park was relaxing. That, mixed with the warm and kind hand of your lover, seemed to wash away the awful day you’d experienced. It was so soothing, you wondered why you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

With a sweet sigh, the tension in your shoulders dies downs an you relax, finally, for the first time in a while. This was Eijirou’s doing, certainly. This walk would only be half as pleasant without him, but you promised. Push comes to shove, you could go out for a coffee or snack break on your walk to keep yourself occupied.

“Hey, Eijirou.”

His hand squeezes yours before he turns to look at you. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He gives you a toothy, closed-eye grin. “O’ course, sweetheart!”

[bethchapelsbonnet]

I Dont remember if it Was on you're Ways to Tell ILY Prompt list but might I suggest a "I Choose you" Hournite One shot?

I didn't see you interact with the original submission I answered, so I included it here

I Choose You

All of the fuss that Beth went through to try to compile each and every piece of evidence that someone may need in order to get Rick the heck out of that place was simply... Well - it was actually exhausting, but she never realized until she was at the end of her days.

The database was always excellent and as the official Dr. Mid-Nite, she had access to even more information.

Not what she truly needed - to be able to actually speak to Rick. To assess how he was doing. To at least hold his hand, which.. she was conflicted about that one in particular. She didn't understand why that idea kept coming to her when she and Rick never actually really touched each other that way.

Casually - pats on the back or holding each other back in a fight, but nothing so intimate as hand holding. Maybe it was her renewed self confidence. She had chosen herself. And now, she was choosing Rick. 

They didn't allow any of them to see him. He was currently being held at a juvenile center, assigned a caseworker and a child advocate attorney, with an ongoing investigation about his uncle and his home life. But, Beth found out the names of everyone involved in his case and she was sending them documents, school reports, and everything that she could scrape up to prove that Rick was in a dangerous household and had been abused and mistreated. 

It was her hope that they would all see it was self defense and go easy on him. Courtney and Pat had tried to explain to her that Eclipso was controlling him. It wasn't self defense. It was just a terrible mind game.

Not too long ago, they were pressing her to accept murdering a bad guy… but suddenly, when it's THIS bad guy… who didn't even DIE, they were willing to accept Rick turning himself in and being put away? "It's what Rick wanted, to be held accountable.."

"He didn't DO it! It was Eclipso!" Beth had snapped at Courtney. Courtney's eyes went wide and she got quiet. Of course she knew that and she didn't deserve Beth being rude with her, either, but Beth was too frustrated to tell herself that at the moment and Rick wasn't around…

She called him anyway, as she stormed out. 

"Rick!" She took a deep breath, "You don't deserve to be held responsible for something that you didn't do wrong!" She noticed Courtney in the corner of her eye and whispered, "There's nothing you need to be held accountable for and I'm working on helping you get out. Just… I hope you aren't too hard on yourself." She hung up and looked at Courtney.

"I watched him run around, hallucinating, breaking down as he was attacked by something that we couldn't see… it was like with Yolanda, only someone did get hurt. I didn't want to have to see that again and it wasn't easy to let Rick confess, but what else could we do? What would you have done differently?"

Beth wanted to say that she wouldn't have let him out of her sight, that she would have talked to him until he was back down to Earth..  but as a firm believer in herself, some part of her knew that Courtney didn't have that type of power. Beth was the one who could stop Rick in his tracks and make him think for a moment. 

"What about when you see a dead 10 year old girl? Would you have been able to use your head in that moment and stop him from reacting?"

Beth sniffled and wiped her face, "If I was here, I know that I could have fixed this. I know that I could have talked him down. He listens to me. It's different with us. And with Eclipso… it's personal now."

.

Rick heard about an "adorable but incredibly annoying" girl who spoonfed a lot of information to his case worker and his advocate. They didn't have to describe her. He did initially automatically think Courtney, since that was who saw him last on the outside and that's who annoyed him more than any girl he knew…

But when they spoke about legal documents, school incidents and cases and studies of similar cases..  He knew that they meant Beth. A lot of her findings needed to be double checked by the proper authorities and his advocate would need to speak with a judge, but it was looking like Rick may be entitled to psychological treatment from years of abuse that resulted in him finally lashing back.

He wanted to argue with that, but in a way.. that felt like some type of hope and he couldn't say there wasn't truth in it. Whatever Beth had done, he finally felt some peace of mind, since coming here…

.

The court order to grant him a placement took shorter than he thought, even though it still felt super long. The Chapels weren't foster parents, but thanks to some… creative documentation on Beth's part, they were able to be listed as family friends to whom custody could be signed over.

He would be trying for emancipation, but in the meantime, he had a place to sleep and eat and stuff… and Beth was there.

"How did you manage to pull this off?" Rick wondered, more confused than grateful, but she didn't take it to heart. She smiled and tapped her goggles. "Of course…" he stared at his bags on the floor. "Did you get the full story?"

"I got Courtney and Pat's side of it. You don't have to tell me, but in your own time, if you want to, you can." She handed him some mail, "I filled out your paperwork and sent it in. You've gotten at least one response."

"My paperwork?"

She winced, "I totally trespassed into your car and home, scanning everything and looking for something to help me. I traced punched in walls, I took an inventory of the alcohol in there, you name it. I also found the forms that you had for college and financial aid. I took them with me, but also wondered what they were doing there. So I checked on cell phone records and saw that Miss Woods-" she rolled her eyes when she said her name. (She wasn't fond of how cruelly that woman had treated Rick, and she didn't mind saying so), "Had been there. I figured she was the one who gave those to you, went to pay her a visit and questioned her until she told me about what happened earlier. She had seen your uncle and he was belligerent and drinking. I told her that I would speak to your advocate in order to see if that was usable information. It was. She made for a very dependable character reference."

Rick looked stunned. He didn't know what to say, but eventually landed on, "Why am I at your house and not at Pat's? I don't even know your parents and they probably aren't pleased about what happened." 

"Well, I believe that I've managed to do quite the PR campaign for you when I was making my rounds to see if anybody had recollection of witnessing your uncle be unkind to you. A lot of people have been quiet about things that they should have spoken up about… myself included.." she lowered her head, "I noticed bruises on you sometimes at lunch when we weren't friends and I guessed that they weren't from some school fight, otherwise, the school would know." She looked up at him and her eyes were brimming with tears, "All of us made choices to mind our business and just leave you to fend for yourself. Everybody's been feeling pretty guilty that it came to… that.."

She cleared her throat, "There's enough going on at Courtney's house, and Yolanda's isn't an option. I couldn't let you wind up at the group home. Artemis is there. The last time you two saw each other, you almost killed one another. I thought my home was the best choice. It's safe, there's just me here. My parents believed me when I vouched for you, so they would be acting like wardens or anything, and I just… I feel better knowing that if something happens, I'll be there."

He sat down on the guest bed and twiddled his thumbs, "That's just it. If something happens, I… I no longer have the hourglass. I won't be able to protect you fully."

"I can protect myself," she said, sitting next to him. "Just wait until you hear my Eclipso story."

"Your what?"

"He attacked me the same time that he attacked you…" Rick looked terrified as he checked her over for damages. "It's a long story, but I'm fine. It went very differently for me than it did for you." She looked sad for a moment. I think he must've known."

He was confused. Beth looked him in the eyes through her goggles, "That we protect each other. That you fight for me and I fight for you. I felt so victorious when I was able to take my goggles back from me and solidify my place on the team… the. I found out he had gotten to my Rick…" 

His heart jumped in his chest and he stared at her. He reached for her goggles but she shook her head and he withdrew his hands. "It wasn't anything to do with you."

"No, but had I been there…"

"Then you could have gotten hurt or had to see me become the very kind of monster that I hate!" 

She furrowed her eyebrows and she grabbed his hand, harder than she meant to, but that demanded his attention and he stared at her face, "If I had been there, you would've had the extra strength you needed to see through him. I wouldn't have let you fight. Please believe me when I say that I'm sure I could have talked some sense into you. I could have saved you from thinking that you're a monster. Because you aren't a monster, Rick. You're a kid who was in a situation that most of us can't fathom, and when you needed me, I wasn't there." He started crying and shook his head. "I'll understand if you want to stay with Mr. Dugan instead…"

"No. No.."He had told Grundy that day that he just needed someone to care about him, to be kind to him, and he could be alright. Rick was so caught up in the stress of his uncle, he hadn't thought about how he did have someone like that. He had his friends, the Dugans, and he had Beth. She had done all of this, because she felt like she'd failed him. Like she was supposed to protect him. She wasn't obligated to do that, but the fact that she wanted to, that she tried to. 

Hell, she was even correct about being able to talk him down. He didn't know if she could have that night, but as much as she meant to him… he couldn't rule out that what if. He collected her hand to his heart and said extremely softly, "I choose you." 

@futurewriterwannebe

[writefightandflightclub]

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies​

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of  the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

[dirt-cup-draco]

"If anything happened to her I'll kill you, Yen." with Geralt x reader please

This doesn’t follow a particular timeline and it’s just sort of my brain spewing but I hope you like it! 

You’d been aiding Geralt for some time. He had been reluctant at first. He didn’t need a sidekick but you were a talented enough witch. You had a soul too. You didn’t crave unimaginable power nor did you thirst for blood. You used your knowledge to aid and nothing else. You were the best person he had known in some time. Selfless. Loving. Giving. He didn’t deserve you one bit, not even as a friend. Yet he felt he couldn’t let you go. He cherished you, or he hoped he did. 

The both of you had your fair share of fights. He was stubborn and you were easily hurt. Geralt knew how to make his words hurt though. He didn’t pull punches. He was constantly trying to drive away the good things in his life. It was something you and Jaskier had bonded over. Both of you knew he cared, both of you had been a victim to his tempers. 

Just the night before, you two had gotten into a foolish fight and Geralt wasn’t proud of how things had gone.

“I’m simply saying you should be careful around her...” You had muttered, eyes glancing to Yennefer as she smirked into a drink. You knew she could hear you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t trust her and in your opinion, Geralt was too caught up by the wrong head to realize that she posed more danger than he should be getting into.

“I’m careful. We all are. I don’t trust her either but she isn’t going to kill us while we sleep Y/N,” Geralt said moodily. 

“You trust her enough to fuck her,” 

“That has nothing to do with this,” He’d said, eyes burning and narrowed at you as your bottom lip went out into a pout. 

“My point is that you’re so busy thinking about getting laid you don’t realize that she might not be the sort of person you want to be in company of,” You’d tried reasoning but you knew it was a lost cause. 

“Maybe you aren’t the company I should be in if you go around making accusations simply because she gets attention for being beautiful and you dont!” Geralt had roared finally, tired of the conversation. He watched your eyes go wide for a second before he saw them go dull. You had erected a wall so quickly he barely had time to register your emotions. That’s how he knew it hurt. 

“Wait- I didnt mean it,” He sighed, hand going to rub at his face in exasperation. 

“Goodnight Geralt,” You had said instead of continuing the conversation. You had rushed to your room, wiping away your frustrated tears before they could fall.

By the morning you had been gone. At first he had believed that you had up and left with no reason to come back. You’d had enough of Geralt of Rivia. But your things were still in the room you had rented and Jaskier had been looking jumpy all morning while Yennefer was looking far too pleased. 

Jaskier had been the first to cave, admitting he had seen you earlier that morning and that Yennefer had been talking to you about the wraith that the witcher was after. Something had been said about impressing Geralt, of all things. How could you think you needed to seek his approval, especially by doing something so insanely stupid?

Yennefer had chased you into the arms of danger yet he hadn’t been there to keep you level headed. He had angered you the night before, wounded your pride. He should have known something like this would happen. 

“If anything happened to her, I will kill you, Yen,” Geralt growled, hand gripping Yennefer’s fragile throat as she grinned in delight but he couldn’t find himself to care. He was disgusted by the sight of her currently. All she was was a pretty face and a wicked soul. You were so much more than that and he had been a fool not to realize sooner.

“Oh please,” Yennefer gasped, craning her neck in an attempt to get out of his grip. With every passing second Geralt was getting more frustrated, more worried, and every second his grip around her throat was getting tighter. She couldn’t breath properly and it was beginning to get uncomfortable. Her eyes flashed a dangerous purple as she wiggled out of his grip. “Y/N is fine, and if she isn’t, it’s her own damned fault for being weak.”

Geralt tensed considerably more and his shoulders were tense. He towered over Yennefer with a threatening glare. “She is not weak,” He hissed, “She never has been. And if you think she is then you are far more misguided than I thought you were Yennefer,” Her name was spat out like poision from his lips. He felt sick. Falling under her spell and her vicious beauty. Yennefer was corrupted and wicked and terrifying. She was rage and hatred and vengeance. He had so easily fallen victim to it. Taking his own troubles and letting them get caught up in her whirlwind of pain.

He couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh, the fight leaving him as his shoulders sagged. He stepped away, releasing Yen’s throat as she gasped for her first full breath in some minutes. Geralt’s worry was getting the better of him. You were nothing like Yennefer, nothing like him for that matter. Your heart was gold and your smile was sunshine. You had experienced pain, far more than your fair share yet you weren’t spiteful. You let it mature you instead of letting it destroy and distort you. You became better than what your circumstances had tried to make you into.

And here you were, trying to prove something to him by taking on that blasted wraith by yourself. He snapped out of his upset stupor. You were out there, in danger and he was feeding Yennefer’s cat fights by staying. Without another word he was storming out of the inn and throwing his leg over Roach’s saddle. 

Not halfways to his destination however he was met by a familiar sight. You were slumped heavily over your horse, hair matted to your head. Your clothes torn. He called your name and watched as you slowly lifted your head, eyes squinting and falling shut with the effort it had taken to open them in the first place. 

Geralt felt a lump in his throat as he noticed that blood caked underneath your nails and smeared across your face. There was a fresh wound that was dripping crimson blood onto your bare shoulder. He dismounted Roach quickly and your horse halted before him and you groaned at the sudden stop. 

“Y/N...you fucking fool. What were you thinking?” He said but there was only concern in  his voice. 

“Trying to prove,” You rasped, letting him pull you from your horse with gentle but sturdy hands, “that I don’t need to be beautiful, I just need to be better than that bitch, maybe then you’ll notice me,” You admitted. You weren’t thinking clearly. You’d hit your head quite a few times. Been through hell with that damned beast. “I did it Geralt,” You said once more before falling limp in his arms.

He took you back to the inn quickly and when Yennefer met him at the door he made sure to put her in her place. That blasted woman wouldn’t be sticking around any longer, his attention was on you now. You needed him. You were important to him. You were good to him and he had been wretched to you. Maybe Yennefer was now the scapegoat of his frustrations but he did feel relieved when she disappeared from his sight. Jaskier had come to check on you shortly after, reporting that the witch had indeed left. 

You were thankfully, going to be alright. Geralt stayed with you and refused to move. When you woke, he was there with a lukewarm glass of water and furrowed brows. 

“Explain,” He demanded and you winced as you sat up enough to sip at the drink he had given you. 

“Got anything stronger?” You requested and once the alcohol was in your hand you sighed. 

“I just figured I could take care of it myself. I believe in my abilities and if I didn’t think I had a chance I wouldn’t have gone, but I was successful so why are we talking about this?” You asked, exhaustion lacing your words.

“Because what you did was pure idiocy, Jaskier has more brains than you,” 

“Ah, back to insulting again, are we?” You commented. “So lets see, Yennefer has more beauty and Jaskier has more brains so I’m what? Useless to you?” 

“No-” Geralt rushed to get out as he realized once again he was causing more damage than good. Your voice was bitter but your eyes were sad, downcast. 

“It’s fine, I’ll get over it. It did hurt though, what you said last night. I know I”m not the prettiest thing to ever walk the earth and I don’t care about that anyway, but I felt like I needed to do something to get your head out of your ass. I’m worth something Geralt and I don’t like when you make me feel otherwise,” 

At your admission his hand was engulfing yours. You were comforted by the lazy strokes of his thumb across your knuckles. “You are worth much more than anyone has ever given you credit for.... It was cruel of me to make you feel like you weren’t wanted or needed. You’re my...friend, Y/N.” He nearly grimaced at the word but it brought a small smile to your lips.

“A friend. Was that so hard to say?” You teased. 

“Yes, no shut up or I’ll regret it,” He seethed but you gripped his hand tighter, kissing his knuckles. 

“Just try to remember that I may be tough but I’m not invincible Geralt, I care about you and when you say things that make me feel like you don’t care, I take it to heart,” 

“I do care,” Geralt grumbled, pressing a kiss to your bruised temple. “A lot, actually. I was terrified when Jaskier told me where you left to. I saw red, blamed Yen for it and grabbed her by the throat, made her leave... I do care.” 

“I know now,” You smiled letting your eyes close again as sleep approached. You had taken quite the beating and now that you and Geralt were in a good place again you were ready to rest some more. 

[hockeytrashgoblin]

I’m Needy ~ Travis Konecny

A/N: Hi yall, a special treat for you! A two for one smut with Nolan and Travis! Not together but hey maybe later. I’m stressed, depressed, and dealing with it by writing smut. A Max Domi one is on the horizon. Enjoy!

*4 months earlier*

"(Y/n) just move in with me! I live right near the university!"

"No you don't you ween."

"I live pretty close. Come on it'll be perfect!"

"Trav please be serious for 5 seconds." I sighed loudly making him laugh. 

I'd been friends with Travis since we were kids. He was my brother and I's best friend actually. We're twins and Travis loved joking around about it. I would be lying if I said I didn't apply for a Philadelphia school to be closer to him again.

"I am being serious babes. I've got a two bedroom and it's big so all your shit will fit."

"I dont have that much shit."

"Pfft yeah okay."

"I can hear that eyeroll you bitch."

"It was deserved. But seriously (y/n) think about it."

"I don't want to crowd you teeks."

"You won't. I really want you to be close if you're gonna be here. Just promise you'll think about it? You've got a few months to decide still, I don't need an answer now."

"Okay I'll think about it."

"Promise?"

"Yes you goon, I promise."

*present time*

I didn't realize that living with Travis would entail so many parties. The parties weren't really an issue but watching him get drunk and grind all over countless girls was. No girls ever spent the night thank God. I always took care of Travis once the party was over. 

Now however the party was in full swing. I was sitting on the counter nursing a drink talking with Nolan while trying to keep an eye on Travis. A box-dye blonde laughed too loud at something he said. I rolled my eyes and Nolan made a gagging sound making us both laugh.

"How long do you think until they're in bed?" 

"Judging by how fucked up he is I'm surprised he's not fucking here right now." I said laughing with him.

"I'm just glad there's another person around to deal with him too now. Before I was the only one who would only get tipsy and make sure no one died."

"I don't like getting crazy drunk. Trav on the other hand.." I trailed off looking over to him mixing a bunch of alcohol together.

"He's fucking insane. I dont think he ever remembers what happened the next day."

Conversation flowed easily between Nolan and I as it always did. He was around so often so he had quickly become my best friend too. He was the only one who knew about my feelings for Travis.

"Hey how's your head? Should you really be at a party right now?"

"I'm fine mom." He said rolling his eyes and playfully shoving my shoulder.

"I just wanted to make sure." 

"I know, it's sweet that you care but I'm totally fine. Promise."

"Okay good." We were quiet for a bit before I spoke up again. "Hey do you want to hangout in my room instead? I'm getting kinda sick of watching Travis dry hump that girl."

"Yeah I get that. Let's go."

"We're cuddling. That's a threat." I said unlocking my door making him laugh.

"Alright."

"I'm touchy. It's worse with alcohol."

"You and Travis are exactly the same that way. You both need to touch someone all the time." I pulled him down into my bed.

"Yeah well touch me already Nol."

"Sounds like you're asking for something totally different."

"I wouldn't complain."

"Oh really?" He asked leaning to hover over me.

"I mean as long as it's clear we're just friends and I only have feelings for Trav, then why not?"

"That's clear. We're just two friends helping each other out. I don't have any feelings towards you either."

"Okay then fucking comere and touch me." I pulled him down and attached my lips to his. He moaned into it and rested some of his weight on top of me. I was trying to get our clothes off as quick as possible.

"Someone's eager." He mumbled into my neck.

"I haven't been this sexually frustrated since I was a teenager, I just need you to get in me already."

"Whatever you want (y/n)."

Soon enough our clothes were off and he was 3 fingers deep in me. His thrusts alternated between sharp and fast to rubbing along the inside walls of me and it was torture.

"Fuck Nols, your fingers feel amazing but I need more. Please?"

"Yeah. Yeah sorry do you have a condom?"

"Drawer." I said pulling him back in for a kiss. He blindly fumbled around but pulled back with a victorious smile on his face which made me roll my eyes and laugh. He quickly put it on and was hovering over me.

"Are you sure (y/n)?"

"Yes I'm sure. Make me forget about Travis for a few minutes yeah?"

"I'll be the only thing you're thinking about in a second." He said in my ear as he kissed my neck.

He guided himself into me and groaned loudly as he inched his way in. I was silent as I threw my head back trying to get adjusted to the intrusion.

"You okay?" He asked, kissing along my chest and collarbones.

"Yeah sorry, it's been a while. Like 6 months a while. I'm good though, you can move."

"Thank God. You're so tight, I'm not going to last as long as I want to."

"Fuck..you feel so good Nolan holy shit."

He built up a steady rhythm that had me moaning loudly underneath him. The only other sound you could hear from this room was skin on skin slapping as his thrusts picked up speed.

"How are you so wet that it doesn't even feel like I have a condom on fuck." I couldn't answer. I was a whining mess at this point. He chuckled and started rubbing my clit. "I can feel you getting close (y/n). You gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes, fuck Nolan, yes right there! Shit!"

"I'm close too. Want to get you there first though."

It didn't take long until I was finishing and screaming. The orgasm lasted long enough for Nolan to finish too and then some. He was fucking relentless on my clit. He collapsed on top of me out of breath and we were just quiet together for a minute.

"Not bad." I said making him snort.

"Yeah you weren't so bad either."

"Nice."

"Did I make you forget about Travis?"

"Yeah for a bit."

"He's gonna be so lucky once he fucking clues in that you like him."

"Yeah well we'll see if that ever happens."

"Come on we should get back out there. Who knows what kind of mayhem is happening out there."

"Yeah sure."

We went back out and couldn't find Travis anywhere. Nolan and I split up to try and ask around to find him. I ended up at Claude and he told me that he had gone to his room alone. The alone part shocked me but sure enough I saw that blonde from earlier hanging off of Nolan now. I laughed and winked at him before going off to find my boy. I knocked on the door and got no answer so I just unlocked it with my spare key. I got into the room and locked the door behind me.

"Tk?" I called out into the dark room.

"Hmph." I heard from the corner behind his bed.

"Trav, honey, what are you doing on the floor?" I asked crouching in front of him.

"Don't call me that I'm mad at you."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Hmph." He said again getting up.

"Travis talk to me why are you mad?"

"You fucked Nolan! You fucked my best friend!"

"Trav, what are you talking about?"

"I heard you! In your room. 'Fuck Nolan. You feel so good Nolan'." He imitated my voice and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't sound like that."

"Yes you did! Why did you do that?"

"Travis-"

"Why? Why fuck him when I've been right here the whole time? Your whole life pretty much? Why Nolan?"

"Travis listen-"

"No! No, I'm the one who loves you not him! I'm the one who wants to hold you and take care of you! I want to get to see your body not him! He's not better than me."

"He isn't Travis, no one is."

"Then why would you fuck my best friend (y/n)? When I want you so much why would you?"

"Travis I didn't know that. Nolan is my best friend too. There wasn't any feelings involved at all."

"So what you're just being a puck bunny now? Why would you do that? You're too good for that." He asked getting more upset than angry.

"Travis, love, I think you need to go to bed. We can talk about this later, alright? Promise."

"Okay fine. Will you sing me to sleep please?"

"Of course Trav." I sat on the bed next to him and started singing brushing hair off his face trying to relax him to sleep. Eventually it worked and I left the room to help clear out people and clean up after them.

"How's the baby?" Nolan asked.

"Not great. He's sleeping but he's upset with me."

"Why?"

"He heard us.."

"You mean?"

"Yeah he heard it all. He's like mad at me Nols."

"I'm sure it'll be okay. Travis holds grudges but I don't think he could ever hold one seriously against you."

"I hope you're right."

The rest of the night was spent quiet until everyone went home. I tried to sleep, I really did, but I was so upset that Travis was mad at me that I just stayed up all night crying. I eventually gave up and went to the living room to do some school work. I had a couple essays due in a couple weeks and if I didn't have to worry about them anymore that would be ideal. I didn't notice how late in the morning it was getting until Travis came stumbling through to the kitchen.

I started gathering up my things to go back into my room. I got everything in my arms and tried to quickly leave the room, almost crashing into him in the process.

"Shit sorry.."

"Watch where you're going." He said in a snarky tone.

"Sorry I just- sorry." I sighed looking down and left. I closed the door and cried again. I got my essays done and handed in by noon. I knew Travis was probably just sitting around but I didn't necessarily want to bother him so I stayed in my room. I cleaned for a while but I mostly just laid there quietly, confused. Until he barged in of course.

"You planning on ever leaving this room?"

"Nope."

"It's dinner time come on let's order something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Bull, you haven't eaten all day."

"I just don't really have an appetite today I'm sorry."

"Stop with this shit and pick what you want to eat." He said getting snarky again.

"I don't want to Travis."

"Well you have to."

"Maybe I shouldn't. I better start watching my weight if I'm just some fucking puck bunny now right?" I said with an edge in my voice.

"What are you talking about? You're not a puck bunny, who told you that?"

"You did. Last night."

"Last night..? Are you sure I said that to you?" I shot him a look and he raised his hands in surrender. "Okay dumb question sorry."

"You don't remember saying that to me? So you don't remember saying anything else to me either then?"

"I remember most of last night. I just can't believe that I'd say something like that to you. You know that's not what I think of you right?" I just shrugged and he came to sit beside me on the bed. "I have never thought that about you. I think too highly of you for that."

"You did tell me last night I was too good for that."

"I meant that part."

"Okay."

"I also remember you putting me to bed promising we would talk later about you fucking my best friend." He spit out the last few words. "I can't believe you would do that."

"Travis it didn't mean anything."

"It meant something to me."

"Travis I'm sorry okay?"

"It isn't okay."

"Well it should be. I'm an adult and you're not my dad. Plus I have to watch you like twice a week get drunk and fuck whoever will let you! That means something to me too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't want you to fuck all those girls. Last night you asked me why I fucked Nolan when you've always been right here for my whole life. What was that supposed to mean?"

"I don't want to answer that question."

"For fuck sake Trav why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"God you know why I've never chosen you my whole life?"

"No and I don't think I want to."

"Too bad."

"Rude."

"I never chose you growing up because you never made yourself an option! You were always too scared and you spent years making me look stupid pining after you. Even now when I'm pretty much confessing 13 years of built up feelings for you you still can't give me any answers. I never picked you because you never grew a pair and made yourself an option for me to pick. Because if you had I would've picked you over and over and over again. I pretty much did anyway."

"I didn't know you felt like that."

"How could you not have known all this time? Everyone knows."

"Well no one told me."

"That's bull. My brother teased us both about it so much."

"Yeah but I just thought he was being an idiot."

We were quiet for a minute both just sitting there not really looking at each other. I had just confessed almost everything to him and he still wasn't saying a single thing back.

"Look Trav, I'm sorry I slept with Nolan. I was fucking frustrated."

"Whatever, don't worry about it." He said getting up and going to the door.

"Travis wait!" I called to him, my voice cracking with tears. He turned around and frowned at me. "Did you really not mean anything you said last night?"

He didn't answer. Just shrugged and left my room. I wanted to cry again but the tears had run dry and I wanted answers. I got up and found him by the front door slipping his shoes on.

"I'll be back whenever, I'm going out." He reached to open the door but I reached past and slammed it. "What the fuck?"

"You're not going anywhere until I get some fucking answers, you fuckhole."

"I have no answers."

"Then we're gonna be here a long damn time huh?"

"You're fucking insane." He rolled his eyes and tried to leave but I boxed him in against the door. This shouldn't have worked at all. He was much bigger and stronger than me but he just stayed put. Well for the most part. He kept wiggling around so I pushed forward so most of my body was pressed up against his, my knee between his legs.

"Fucking talk to me you coward."

"What do you want me to say (y/n)? I'm fucking mad at you. I don't want to talk."

"We have to talk because if we don't you're going to be super mad at me forever and I'm not having that shit. We're not allowed to be ruined by me sleeping with someone."

"It was my best friend."

"I know Trav."

"You should've at least asked me, talked to me about it or something."

"You want me to ask permission to get fucked?"

"At least by Nolan yeah." He said shrugging.

"You're fucking delusional teeks."

"Why? Why is it too much to ask for you to let me know if you're going to be with someone?"

"Why are you acting so jealous?"

"M'not jealous." He said quickly making me laugh.

"You are fucking so! You can't just sit on the ground last night whining about 'why isn't it me? Why won't you fuck me instead?' then be all pushy today about it and expect me to believe that you're not jealous. You're so jealous. Why?"

"You shouldn't have slept with him."

"Love, we're well past that. I'm sorry." I said exasperated, bringing my hands down around his waist to hug him. "I'm sorry."

"Would you do it again?"

"Honest answer, if I got as frustrated and desperate as I was last night again and he offered I would."

"Goddamn woman, what had you so fucking horny that you decided that was the move?" He asked, rolling his eyes.

I decided to push the boundaries a little. Just to see what would happen. I couldn't make it any worse. I shifted my weight making my thigh run against Travis' dick making him gasp. I put my hands on his hips and pulled him closer to me.

"You did."

"Me?" He looked genuinely shocked by that answer.

"Yes you. Always you. How could you not gather that?"

"I don't know.."

"You always talk such a big game about how you can tell what a girl wants but can't figure out that I fucking want you?" I asked brushing my thigh against him again. I could feel him getting hard and it made my mind race. He wasn't stopping me, he wasn't disgusted by me.

"I thought you were always too annoyed with me to want me in any way."

"No Trav."

"I always thought I was too much."

"Travis you're not too much for me. You never have been. You never will be." I pressed against him again making him groan.

"Fuck.." he whispered before lifting me up, making me squeal. He carried me into his room and threw me on the bed before crawling over me. I instinctively put my hands on his hips and he held my face and half my neck in one of his hands.

"Trav.."

"Did you really mean everything you said?" He asked looking desperate and vulnerable. Not something I was used to from my boy but I did love that he felt that he could be that way in front of me.

"Of course Travis. Every word." 

"So you really don't think I'm too much?"

"Of course not."

"And you'd really choose me if it was an option?" He asked not looking at me anymore. I reached my hands up to either side of his face to make him look at me.

"Over and over and over again. I would choose you so fast, love."

And suddenly his lips were on mine in a soft but desperate kiss. It was years of hidden feelings being poured into it and it was a little overwhelming, not gonna lie. He pulled back and had the biggest smile on his face which made me smile too of course. The boys smile was contagious always.

"I really want you to choose me."

"Are you finally giving me the chance to?"

"Yes. Please (y/n)?"

"Yes Travis, I'm choosing to be with you. You're mine."

"You're mine." He said nipping at my bottom lip.

"Yours." I said pulling him down on top of me kissing him again. It was way more heated this time as he pushed himself against me making me moan quietly.

"Come on, you can be louder than that." He teased rolling his eyes.

"So make me be louder than that Tk."

"Oh I fucking plan to babygirl." He sat up to take his clothes off and I did the same, really just wanting to feel Travis on my skin finally. "You're always so loud in your room alone."

"Maybe I wanted you to hear me."

"Well I did." He was holding his dick and stroking it lazily. "I've touched myself like this to your sounds so often. That seems creepy to say, sorry."

"Don't be. I touch myself to the sounds of you too. When you're fucking some random girl I do and imagine it's me you're pounding into the bed."

"No more imagining. You're going to be pounded into this bed today."

"Please Travis? Want it so bad. Feel how wet I am for you babe." I took his hand and brought it down to me. He slipped two fingers in and we both moaned.

"This pussy is fucking water babe. I did that to you?"

"Every fucking day you do this to me Travis."

"And it took you 4 months to crack and fuck someone? Babygirl how did you not go crazy?"

"I did." I said shrugging.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good. Better than Nolan."

"Babes it's not a competition."

"Sure." He said waving it off. "I'm not gonna prep you anymore. You're probably still good from last night yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Get in please?"

"How can I say no to that?" He leaned down to kiss me quick. "You want a condom?"

"Are you clean?"

"Yeah I always use condoms and the team check us every couple months."

"If you always use them why are you asking me?"

"Because you're special (y/n). I trust you and I just kinda really want to feel you. If that's okay."

"Yeah it's okay. Fuck me raw Trav. I love that shit."

"Did Nolan fuck raw?"

"No he didn't." I said making him smile.

"Then I'm special too." He said slowly thrusting into me. My mouth dropped open and I just nodded. "Feel good baby?"

"Fuck Travis. Move. Please fuck me?"

"So fucking needy." He chirped before starting up a steady rhythm. It wasn't fast at all like I thought it would be. He was fucking me like he had all day to do so, which I mean technically he did but it was again overwhelming. His thrusts were powerful but still lazy at the same time. He had me moaning and writhing on the bed underneath him. He left kisses up and down my neck, shoulders, chest, anywhere he could reach really. It lasted a long time and I was really savoring every moment with him. I finished a couple times in the time he was fucking me, touching me, and loving on me. He had already finished once too but he just kept fucking through it. His pace started picking up again.

"You close again baby?" I asked, brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah. Fuck. You feel so fucking good. Look amazing finally wrapped around my dick like I've wanted you for so long."

"I've wanted you just as long baby. Cum for me, love." I said kissing kis neck and scratching down his back.

"Shit.. fuck okay." His speed increased a lot and all you could hear was skin slapping together, me whining, and travis grunting. Arguably he was the hottest sound in the room. He was really pounding into me hard and I finished again all over his dick as he came inside me. He collapsed on top of me breathing heavy. We were quiet for a while just trying to calm down. He grabbed a tshirt off the ground and wiped us both down. He got back in bed and laid on top of me. We laid there for a while longer quietly just me running my fingers through his hair and him tracing patterns on my bare skin.

"You can leave if you want now."

"What?" I asked him confused as he rolled off me.

"You can go. Now that you got what you want, you don't have to stay here."

"Travis I- what? What on earth are you talking about?"

"You fucked me like you always wanted to, you can go. I'll be around next time you want to."

"Travis Konecny you're a fucking idiot."

"Um okay ouch? Why?" I rolled my eyes and threw my leg around him holding him close to me. 

"Is that really all you got out of everything I said today? That I just wanted to fuck you?"

"Well you did didn't you?"

"Of course I did. But I meant everything else I said too. I'll choose you everytime and not just for sex. I choose you for everything. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. I thought I made that clear."

"You didn't." He let out a sigh of what I guess was relief and hugged me closer.

"Maybe you're just dense, love."

"I could be." He said with a smirk.

"Well just to make everything crystal clear, I want you to be my boyfriend Teeks. I always have."

"Really?!" He yelled in my ear.

"Ow you fucker, yes."

"Oops."

"I'll fucking oops you." I said kissing his jaw.

"I was really expecting you to just want a friends with benefits kind of thing. I was ready to settle for that."

"Travis you never have to settle for anything. You never have in any aspect of your life and never will. I want this with you."

"You really want to be with me? Even though you know how I am? What if you get sick of me?"

"It's been 16 years and I'm not sick of you yet. I want to be with you Travis. All of you. Angry Travis, happy Travis, sad Travis, stressed Travis, overexcited Travis. All of it."

"Really?"

"Yes really. Now stop trying to push me away and just date me already."

"Okay deal. You're mine now. Get fucked Nolan."

"Oh my God." I said rolling my eyes.

"Was I at least better than him in bed?"

"Trav-"

"No tell me, I wanna know."

"You were better but his dick was bigger. Do with that what you will. As long as you know that I'm never ever going to sleep with Nolan or anyone else for that matter until you get sick of me and dump me."

"Never going to happen babygirl." He kissed my forehead, making me blush. "So just me and you now? Exclusively us?"

"Yeah unless you don't want that?"

"Oh no I absolutely want that. I'm not sharing you with anyone."

"Me neither."

"I'd never hurt you like that."

"You better not or I'll tell your mom."

[fizzingwizard]

Episode 28~ Well, I heard this season’s supposedly got 60 episodes total (don’t quote me, that may be wrong) so we’re almost at the halfway point... I’m gonna wait till episode 30 to talk about that though.

This episode I actually rather liked, even though absolutely NOTHING happens other than the important things at the very beginning and the very end. That’s becoming a pattern this season - lots of nothing sandwiched in between hints of big dramatic things to come. Eh. But yeah, I liked it anyway :P for a few reasons that are probably not that objective. It’s not the kind of episode that’s gonna make you want to rewatch though.

Cap of the week!

Look we all know Jou is exactly the kind of 12 year old who folds his clothes neatly even when lost in a mysterious parallel world. Also he brought more textbooks (social studies and Japanese). Aka more ammo for Mimi

More below:

Last week we ended with Patamon evolving to Angemon in what was a pretty anticlimactic moment, despite a big villain being there and a cliffhanger ending. Seemed like a waste after all we went through just to get him.

However, I do think the beginning of episode 28 makes up for it somewhat. Angemon gets to show off how Very Very Cool he is, but it’s also made clear that he’s not up to full strength. Seeing him throw all his effort into the battle to save them even though it’s clear he won’t win was actually pretty great.

More typhoon winds throwing everyone back XD they must have so many bruises

Poor Takeru gets thrown back all by his lonesome

So last episode, I said I thought Darknightmon was gonna go for Hikari and was surprised and somewhat relieved when he stayed interested in Takeru/Angemon. Um... I guess that was a red herring x’D he’s after Hikari after all.

He literally says “I have no use for you” to Angemon LOL sick burn my dude

Hikari: “There is a new cutest child.”

Takeru: “Um, actually the phrase is ‘smallest child’.“

Hikari: “No. Cutest child. Do not interrupt my moment, impertinent one.”

Grogu: “Did someone say ‘cutest child’?”

Angemon’s peeved that Hikari stole the spotlight so he immediately jumps into the way and prevents Darknightmon from grabbing her.

Angemon: “No one treats ME like some washed up has-been!”

But as hard as he tries, Angemon just hasn’t recovered enough. It probably took all the energy Patamon had stored up just to evolve. His wings lengthen and release into millions of shining feathers, and both he and Darknightmon de-evolve.

I really did kind of enjoy this battle! Seeing Takeru be all strong and heroic, and the desperation with which Angemon tries to protect him... me likey.

Next it’s a nod to 99 series! D-D-Digimon!

Yamato screams like he’s at the dentist’s.

There’s lots of freaky black lightning that rains down seeming to give dark energy and empower random Digimon who get hit by it. Just to ensure our heroes don’t get to waste time on any more “breaks”

A single feather floats down where Taichi lands and dissolves. I am not sure what happened to it, if it did anything or if it was what protected them until this point...

Taichi and Hikari wake up and discover they are alone. So last week I thought they’d get swept off into pairs... I didn’t even consider that they’d each wind up alone. Mixed feelings! On the one hand, seeing each kid interact with their partner and their partner only was one of the good things about this episode (except it wasn’t always true, which I’ll get to in a minute). On the other hand, my fears last week were that whoever ended up with Taichi would be overshadowed by him. Turns out, if no one’s with him but Hikari, that means all the plot stuff is with them and the others have nothing in particular to do. -_-; At least not this week. My hope is that it’s coming (and there were a few promising hints this episode so), but next week’s trailer looks pretty Taichi-centric too..

Taichi: “Can I help it if I’m so charming cool awesome and dare I say it adorable”

The impact of everyone being “alone” is cut short by the fact that they can all still communicate via digivice. I would be fine with that, except for what I said earlier - they wind up spending too much time talking to each other instead of their partners. Particularly the ones who like to Plan Things. Eh.

Yamato tells Taichi to protect Hikari, doesn’t even mention that he’s sadly separated from Takeru at this point ;_; He knows Takeru’s okay though because Takeru is also communicating by digivice.

Sora: “Hello yes, it’s in my contract that I get to be awesome X number of times per episode, and I have doubts that you are making your quota.”

I love how Tentomon’s job is basically Koushirou’s secretary x’D “Put my calls on speakerphone Margaret” “Yes Mr Izumi”

The partners really are suited to each other... Koushirou gets a secretary, Jou gets a mom, Mimi gets a gal pal, Yamato gets a therapist, Sora gets a sister, Taichi gets a... preschool child who eats paste... -.-’

takeru and hikari don’t count because they’re Special and their main attribute is Cute

All the kids have ended up alone except for super-charged monsters who want to eat them. Palmon hoists Mimi up a very sheer rock trying to escape Golemon who is not great at climbing but doesn’t seem to know that

Meanwhile Jou... is like “Ohh yeah, you guys have it so rough, I’m trying my hardest too, keep fighting the good fight y’all”

He’s relaxing in the hot springs and freaking studying.

Gomamon’s unusually fine with it though. Because he gets to swim. He says “Let’s invite the others here.” They’re both like YEAH THIS IS WHAT I CALL A VACATION

It’s all fun and games until the hairy guy with the tattoos and veiny arms sharing your hot spring starts staring at your ding-a-ling. Uhhhhhhh.

he does make the “Nanimono?” joke so all is well lol

No matter what form he takes, Patamon is always an Angel 👼

Takeru is alone but he has Patamon... but Patamon is...

... ADORABLE... and conked out. Takeru’s so proud of him though, look at that smile *sniff*

Taichi remembers to ask Koushirou how conditions are back at home. This kid is too organized.

Koushirou: “News and variety shows continue as normal even though the world’s ending.”

I’m not going to get into everything he says but it’s pretty much more of the same regarding the power influx from the human world to the digital world and the way the Zurumon’s attacks are wreaking havoc with electronics...

Taichi almost says “You’re so sugoi!” Almost. He’s grateful anyway. *chews on those Taishiro breadcrumbs till they’re broken down to atoms*

Then... Hikari’s acting strange!

Agumon: “What are you looking at?”

Hikari: “I don’t know.”

Taichi: “You don’t know but you’re looking at it?”

Hikari: “It kind of looks like Steve Buscemi... it’s hard to tell”

Taichi’s not too wigged out by freaky Hikari because he’s lived with her all his life, and she’s always been a freak.

Baby Hikari: “Shteeve... bushemiii....”

Agumon: “Your sister’s weird.”

Taichi: “Yeah but she’s MY weird sister.”

Yamato is fighting, of course. He stops for a moment to be impressed by how well Takeru’s handling himself. Garurumon points it out. I suppose it’s simply time to accept that this season Yamato is just not the disaster boy he was in 99 x’D

Now have some gratuitous adorable Patabutt images.

Patabutt patabutt pata pata butt butt

Um... is it just me or is Patamon kinda... oversized all of a sudden lol...

Takeru: “Did you eat all of my candy stash again?”

Patamon: “I just can’t seem to quit”

Takeru: “That’s it we’re getting you into rehab”

Patamon tries to fly but just can’t ;____; poor baby is totally wiped out. Takeru takes a long time to catch on to that. I REALLY HOPE THIS GOES SOMEWHERE, like Takeru has to protect Patamon instead of the reverse etc... pleeeeease don’t just leave this where it is writers!! The potential for cute is endlessssss

On the matter of Things That Are Not Cute... -.-;

Jou: “Please stop looking at my junk”

Nanimon: “Stop looking at mine”

Jou: “YOU DONT HAVE ANY wait do you wAIT I DONT WANT TO LOOK”

Mimi is much more useful! She discovers a shiny rock!

Theory!

This rock... could be the raw material for their Crests!!! Squeee~!! I mean, it’s about time something about that came up, assuming it’s still a thing. (Since they already seem to have their Crests loaded in their Digivices and got to Perfect level without any talk of values and personal strengths, I don’t know how much of the old Crest legacy remains in this season.) I, uh, did the same thing in my fanfic so I guess I’m just biased... These could totally be Evil Rubies Of Darkness and Terror but I’d rather have Crests :p Of course I would have expected Mimi to find green stones in that case sooo... maybe not.

Anyway she and Palmon are suitably distracted from running from Golemon and go mining instead. I’m sure that will not cause any problems.

We swing back to Taichi and Hikari, who are being approached by a big scary monster...

Taichi: “Watch my Tarzan impression.”

Hikari: “Nooo! I don’t want to be Jane!”

Fortunately Agumon evolves just to catch them in midair x’D Now is not the time for impressions, Taichi, seriously.

They are attacked by Volcdramon, which is a dumbass name.

Voldramon: “I AM VOLCRADMON, THE VOLCANO DIGIMON”

Taichi: “Velcromon the Velcro Digimon?”

Voldramon: “what NO i am Volcdramon-”

Hikari: “Voltronmon? Voldemortmon?”

Voldramon: *sniveling* “why does this happen EVERY time i JUST want to be one of the cool guys youre all such BULLIES”

MetalGreymon and Volcdramon face off, but something’s not right! Much like... the Digimon in the last episode whose name I already forgot *cough*, Volcdramon seems able to absorb other Digimon’s power. This presents a problem because last time it took all of them shooting into its mouth together to overload it so they could win. MetalGreymon is having a hard time on his own as Volcdramon just absorbs all his attacks.

Hikari prays to Jesus to save them. Digimon is approved for Christian families 👼👼👼

ugggghhh I love them

Taichi promises Hikari everything will be okay. His back-and-forth with MetalGreymon here is kind of cool. Every time MetalGreymon takes a hit, Taichi’s encouragement and coaching?? I guess keeps frustration at bay.

Buuut eventually they’re both feeling pretty desperate :P It was hard for me to take this battle seriously since, after all we’ve seen MetalGreymon capable of, it seems weird that he should be struggling this much. But obviously they don’t just want to make him invincible. And this problem makes sense: the ability of Digimon to absorb attacks and turn them into energy is definitely a new problem.

The question is, how do we solve it?

Apparently it helps if you have a little sister who’s some kind of super battery.

Taichi: “Nothing shocks me anymore with Hikari. She could announce she’s been Beyonce this whole time and I would believe it”

WarGreymon appears (again) as his goldeny vision self, defeats Volcdramon, then promptly de-evolves back to Agumon.

So the question is, why is this happening... From earlier episodes we know Agumon & co are some group of legendary warriors who have had their memories tampered with (??) to some extent (because they do still know each other, or at least Agumon and Gabumon remember knowing each other). Omegamon’s a given for that of course so I suppose that’s why. Hikari seems to be the key to unlocking the legendary warriors, maybe with Takeru. That’s my guess. Of course, Tailmon’s probably already in the bad guys’ clutches, much like Patamon was. I hope she’s still working for them. I want more double agent fun times. Also ANGST

Hikari: “Thank you, Agumon-” *disappears*

Taichi: “GEEZ I can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even breathe without something bad happening anymore, like excuse me for BLINKING”

Yeah so... Skullknightmon appears and abducts Hikari like it’s nothing xD

Skullknightmon: “What’s under arm number two? Iiiiit’s your sister!”

Taichi: “Aw damn, I wanted the sports car”

Taichi quickly gives chase. I assume Agumon’s pretty exhausted after that and probably can’t evolve now. Bad timing. Oooor maybe this is all how Skullknightmon planned it...

Then... the unthinkable! Hikari looks at her brother rushing desperately to save her... and turns away!

Taichi is SHOCKED! Le GASP!

Taichi: “But but but I’m the MAIN CHARACTER”

Hikari: “Not anymore bitch it’s my show now”

Yeah okay jokes aside! This bit was AWESOME. Like, I’m sure it’s obvious that she can tell the voice that “called” her to the digital world is with Skullnightmon. Or at least, her heart’s telling her she has to go with him in order to meet that person (Tailmon, duh). I’ll be surprised if that’s not what’s going on. But... to so coldly just turn her back on her brother... I mean, maybe she also thinks she’s protecting him... but SHE JUST GOT HERE... holy crap...

To think we spent so long theorizing that Takeru would be the one abducted but no it’s Hikari... In retrospect should have been obvious. She’s 1) a girl and therefore a damsel, and 2) the one who was abducted in 99 xP

But I really like her semi-willingly going off with Skullnightmon. Much better than just screaming as she’s whisked away King Kong-style. In 99 she also got abducted voluntarily (I mean, it was coercion, so... that’s not voluntary, but you know what I mean). So they kept that in this season and I like it.

That’s it for this week’s episode! So the bits that I liked were the individual moments with the kids and their partners, of which we had more than usual but still not nearly enough. Nowhere near. In the end it was still a Taichi episode.

As a Taichi fan... it’s not like I’m ever sad that he gets more focus. But I love ALL the kids and they’re NOT getting development. We do keep getting hints about them but it’s so, so, so slow. To be fair, it’s not like we know THAT much about Taichi either. He gets so much focus because he’s always fighting. This season doesn’t seem concerned with personality and character bits like the 99 one, and I am gonna compare them for that. Because I think that was the heart of the 99 show. Without it, it’s missing something. I keep hoping it’ll come back, we keep getting those hints and special moments here and there, but the plot is such a distraction... if it was like a really good plot maybe I’d care less but...

Next week...  as far as I can see, it’s another Taichi episode xP But I do think they’ll do the same as this episode and intersperse Taichi’s battle with what’s going on with the others too. If that’s how they do it, I won’t mind. It might even be better. Fine, Taichi can fight, as long as the others are showing us more about themselves and getting other things done in the meantime. Mimi and Jou both look promising. Takeru too. Sora and Yamato, not sure..

Koushirou better not just sit at his computer the whole time -___-

Le owch.

Taichi: “Look being the main character’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I have three concussions and six broken bones. Also I can’t feel my toes anymore”

hang in there bud im cheering for ya

[bubblyani]

The Flannel Giant

(Flip Zimmerman x Black!Female Reader)

A Flip Zimmerman One Shot

Rating: Mature

Request: flip zimmerman x black! female reader ?? it could be literally anything im just so desperate 😞💕 thank you if you do and even if you dont thanks for writing ! - @pastelhybristophiliac​

Author’s Note: This man is a literal thirst quencher. So this fic did not take long to form. I did take some time to write it cause I wanted it to be as perfect as it possibly could be. Plus, my very first Black! Female Reader fic. Hope y’all enjoy!

Colorado Springs Police Department.

The sign just said it all.

Exhaling deeply, you began to walk towards the building. Your steps were slow, as if you were doubting yourself. And you could not help remembering the phone conversation you had with your friend Patrice an hour earlier.

“But Patrice! Why do I have to be the one to do it ?” You asked.

“Because you’re the one who saw it happen...” She said, “We can’t just let this go...” persuasion was strong in her voice.

“I know ...but-“

“Do you not want to go to the police Y/N?”

You paused. For she caught you there. “Maybe...” You began, as you twisted the phone chord “Can’t trust those pigs”

 “Not all of them are...” Patrice said, “Ron isn’t a pig. And even his coworkers are nice”

You scoffed. “Maybe that’s cause they all know you through Ron”

“Just go will you” Sighing, you nodded to thin air. “Fine”

Unwilling to break the promise, there you were, walking towards the building. With another deep breath, you entered with a cause.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

A man in uniform inquired upon seeing you in the hallway. Directed towards the Intelligence Division, you stood there confused in the hallway. You noticed his name tag: Sgt Trapp.

“Uh yes Sergeant...” you said softly, entering the room he gestured you into, “I’m here to see Ron Stallworth”

“Oh, I’m sorry but he’s not in today” Sergeant Trapp replied.

As you glanced upon the empty desk next to you, you realized he was right. Embarrassingly, you sighed heavily. But that realization came at a cost when there was a room full of men at work, possible detectives typing away reports in their typewriters. Yet now, they were all looking at you.

Except one particular person, who kept  busy with his files.

All this staring made you quite uncomfortable. But being a black woman, this was nothing new.

“It’s just that...” you began “I was told to give a statement...” you continued, “... about the attacks that ...that happened last Friday” taking a deep breath, You added , “...during the Black Student Union meeting”

Suddenly, the sound of scribbles were stopped, and the occupied man looked up from his files. As you only saw his back, you could only notice the full head of raven locks that was filled with.

“Flip...” a grey haired man addressed the raven haired man, “...aren’t you working on that case too?” Standing up, Flip finally turned to face you.

“Yeah. Why don’t I-“ He paused, a few seconds upon seeing you, “...take...your statement” He said softly, his eyes never leaving your sight.

It had been a while since a man had left you with quite an impression. You thought you were so hard to please.

Until that very moment.

He was taller than the others in the room, almost gigantic. His dark blue flannel shirt along with the leather holsters complimented his wide shoulders perfectly. With his raven long hair elongating his face, you swore you were breathless.

And surprisingly, you weren’t intimidated by the room anymore. 

“Flip Zimmerman...” he said in his deep, soothing voice, “Please. Take a seat” ushering you to Ron’s seat as the sergeant pulled it out for you.

“Thanks...” you replied, “Y/N Y/L/N”

Like a spell wearing off, the others quickly resumed working as Detective Flip Zimmerman took your statement.

His pace was comforting, you felt calm. You answered all questions with confidence and detail. But at the same time, you wondered how you were able to maintain that whenever he looked at you. You could tell he listened to you with intent. And whenever he was not jotting down notes, his eyes were always on you. 

“...and just like that...they just ran off from there” you said, crossing your legs.

Reaching out to one of his files, Flip took out a photograph. “Did they happen to look like this?” He asked, showing it to you. In the effort to being polite, you merely leaned forward to look. Your eyes widened.

“Yeah! They’re the ones!” You replied with enthusiasm.

Snapping his fingers, Flip nodded. “Knew it!” He said, looking at his partner, “Jimmy, Ron was right...” he muttered softly.

Jimmy looked at you. “Okay...” he said, “Thank you Ma’am for coming in...I think we got all that we need”

“We did?”

“You did?”

Realizing you and Flip both inquired Jimmy in unison, you could not help but stifle a chuckle. And you hide it well. Clearing his throat, Flip began as he looked back at you.

“Yeah...we did” he said, standing up, “Thank you...Miss Y/L/N?”

Smiling warmly, you stood up in kind. “Yeah ...Miss Y/L/N...” You said, as you exited the room.

Smiles were abundant on your face as you walked out of the precinct, which was quite the contradiction compared to a few minutes before. Quite the interesting interaction it turned out to be. And you weren’t the only one to agree.

“Man...” Jimmy began, watching you walk out, “She is a beaut, huh?” “Mmm...”

Flip merely acknowledged as he sat down. Looking at his partner, Jimmy was no fool to not notice.

“Well well...look who’s getting chummy now?” he said, inciting a chuckle out of Flip.

“Fuck you, Jimmy” he said while laughing, trying to hide his subtle blush.

“No really Flip...“ Jimmy teased, “I’ve never seen you like this...”

“Fuuuck Youuu!” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Days went by. And all was just as it should be. You carried on with everything.

Except, there was a new distraction in your head.

Detective Flip Zimmerman. The Flannel Giant.

The mere thought of him made you smile to yourself every single time. So much that sometimes you’d get in trouble when others asked you what was wrong.

“Y’all! she found herself a brother to love. All good!”

You’d smile shyly and cleverly move on to another conversation. You did not know how everyone would feel about you having a soft spot for a white man. Let alone a white police detective. But it wasn’t for you to choose. You couldn’t steer the heart. The heart steered you. And you did not mind. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The soapy bubbles covered your hand like a glove as you washed the dishes over the sink. The radio softly played in the living room on a Thursday afternoon.

The ring of the doorbell forced  you to finish the washing with haste. You wondered if it was Patrice, needing a textbook for class. Wiping your hands with your apron, you opened the door, only to find yourself lose your breath.

For it was Flip Zimmerman standing there.

“Ms. Y/L/N” he said softly, giving a soft smile. You involuntarily smiled back.

“Hey” you breathed, “Wait! How did you know where I live?”

“You gave it to us...” Flip said, “When you came to the precinct”

“Oh...of course”you chuckled embarrassingly at your own carelessness, “Please...come in...”

You found it surprising how you just let him in without even asking the purpose. He was just that easygoing.

“I’m sorry about this I was Uh...washing dishes...” you said embarrassingly as you invited him to sit on the sofa.

“Yeah Hehe...I can tell...” Nodding, Flip chuckled, watching you toss away the apron and sit on the armchair across from him.

The detective had come bringing forth good news. The two perpetrators behind the attacks were indeed members of the organization. Thanks to your valuable information they were arrested and will be tried. A huge wave of relief washed over you upon hearing the news. You couldn’t help but clasp your hands together with happiness. 

“Oh, Detective Zimmerman, this is just wonderful”

“Flip...” he corrected in an instant, “you can call me Flip”

“Okay...” you nodded, “Flip” you added with the sincerest form of affection.

With lips parted slightly, Flip nodded back. As if he was in mid contemplation.

“Anyways, Thank You very much for your cooperation Ms. Y/L/N”

Your heart sank upon hearing those words, when he stood up to leave.

“I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t even offer you a beverage” you said, standing up“You came all this way-” “Oh no no...” shaking his head, the flannel giant responded, “I was in the neighborhood”

Unwillingly yet enslaved to politeness, you made your way towards the door.

With your grip on the handle, you knew this could be the last time you’ll ever see him again. The case was closed, faster than you imagined.

“Thanks do much for coming, Flip” you said, halfway opening the door. “My pleasure, Ms. Y/L/N”

“It’s Y/N...”  this time you took the opportunity to correct him. “Y/N...”

His voice, you never heard it softer than you did just then. Standing merely inches away, he stood so tall before you. As your heartbeat began to quicken, as your cheeks started to burn, you knew the effect this man had on you was no joke. You did not want this to be the last time.

With the blink of an eye, his face seemed to appear centimeters away ,only to glue his lips on yours. And that was when you knew he felt the same.

The kiss was gentle. It was sweet and innocent. His facial hair sent shivers down your spine. But that just the first taste.

Lips were met once again for more experimentation, signaling your hand to push the door back and lock it tight.

The silent attraction that was developed between both parties from the first meeting seemed quite evident now.

Flip’s masculine hands made themselves home on your waist, moving behind to grab onto your buttocks. The way his hands felt you, made the white cotton of your short dress seem nonexistent when he pulled you closer to him.

Jumping into his arms felt effortless as he held you with ease. With your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, you were comfortable as expected, body lines fitting with his like puzzle pieces.

The sounds of heavy breathing and kisses began to infuse with the soft sounds of the radio. Making himself comfortable on the couch, Flip was hospitable with you straddling him.

The kisses grew heated as his tongue caressed your own, deepening its connection and weakening you by the knees. Your moans echoed within him, urging you to hold him tightly by the collar. Indulging in pleasure, your body was naturally inclined to roll your hips against him.

But, all plans seemed to fly out the window when the telephone rang loudly, forcing both of you to pull away with surprise. Stretching out, you clumsily grabbed the phone.

“H-hello?”

“Y/N? It’s Patrice”

“Oh hey!” You greeted her breathlessly, keeping your balance as you held on to Flip.

There was a slight pause.

“You alright?” Patrice sounded serious as she inquired , “You sound weird”

“Yeah yeah I was just uh....dancing”

Covering the bottom half of the phone, you playfully slapped Flip on the shoulder in order to stop him from breaking into loud laughter.

“Oh...anyways, you coming tonight for the party-”

“I’m busy...” you cut her off, “Sorry Pat. Busy night tonight”

Finally hanging up, you blushed deeply upon seeing Flip‘s eyes that burned with desire. For there you were, with lips so swollen, straddling a man you barely knew oh so casually. Shyly, you allowed yourself to fall back on the couch next to him.

“Well...” Flip began, panting “this was-”

“....unexpected?-“ you guessed, panting alongside him.

“...Great...” clearing his throat, he revealed his final answer ”...this was really great”

Giggles erupted out of you in response , only to stop when he leaned towards you. Fully meaning well of what he just expressed, his lips greedily captured yours, enabling you to catch his scent easily while doing so.

“Bet your partner is wondering what’s taking ya so long to get back” you breathed into his lips, as he pulled away once again “Do you think he knows something’s up?”

“Maybe..” he said, staring at the wall ahead of him in thought. “Or maybe...with the case successfully solved, you invited me out for a drink....” Flip added, looking back at you, fueling inspiration, “...only if you wanted to-”

“I want to...” Your answer, it was so quick, so certain. And hearing his response was simply worth answering.

“Good...”

——————————————————

[gooferdusted]

hypothetically, if I were to write a fix-it/rewrite au fic, (thinking of starting at s5 but debating starting earlier) what are some storylines you’d take out/change, characters you’d save/kill, and specifically changes to sam’s character/arcs you’d like bc i need ideas

ok. ok. I'm gonna try to not go completely off the fucking rails while I write this up but I gotchu (also these r all just my own hot n spicy takes so like. pick what u like, it's all goodie goodie)

• no time passing differently in hell. literally four months is ~Enough!~ a year is enougghh!!!!!! like I get that they wanted to make hell this horrible unreachable thing but u can still like... get that across without having it be this unfathomable chunk of time out of a persons life. like sam was down there with TWO very pissed off angel's for 180 years??? how can he still speak english??? how does dean remember ANYTHING about his old life when mentally more than half of it was spent being endlessly tortured until he finally cracked??? its just.... Too Much...

• ON that note, I feel like later on they never rlly had sam and dean bond over the fact that like... they are genuinely the ONLY two people on earth who have survived actual hell. I mean we got that one off line from dean at some point but??

• no chuck as god. just a greasy greasy rat man getting insane stories projected into his brain. and on the topic of that.... I dont like the reflection of the real life fanbase in the spn universe??? they're pulp fiction novels, it should be all like 50 year old + ladies who picked them up at the local bargain bin, not b*cky r*sen

• I like... WANNA say smth abt s4..... bc I think the way that they handled things were a little out of character BUT I also think that was lind of the point??? like the angels and demons were manipulating them to say/do things they would normally never say/do to eachother to drive a big enough wedge between then that they would eventually say yes to being the vessels. like it hurts to watch sooo much but it did drive the plot forward in a very particular way that probably couldnt have happened otherwise. that being said, when the levee breaks makes me sad, and I dont want to see sam crying for his dead mother alone in a basement! cest la vie.

• sam and dean.... are Friends...,, why did we all forget that..... watch hell house and maybe I'll calm down.....

• PSYCHIC SAM!!!!!! you all know me. you know how I feel about psychic sam... robbed. s4 finale rlly had sam like "drinking that much demon blood has truly changed me forever..... theres no going back now...... 😔😔" like ok. ok. where are your superpowers. where are they.

• I wish some of the other special children had made it out :(( I really liked andy and ava (also sam finding other friend who are like him??? queer allegory??? spare queer allegory?????)

• I also dont think the roadhouse shouldve burned down!!! that shouldve been a Staple Location like Bobby's house. same w Missouri's, literally why did we only visit her once.

• ur sending an ask to my blog so I assume this is just a given for u but!!! we're takin away the misogyny. we're takin away the fetishization! anything that would be given the greenlight by joss whedon we are putting straight in the trash. <3

• this is mostly a thing in later seasons like. idk 9-15, but no ppl knowing who the winchesters are. they are NOBODIES. they pop up like little meerkats and fuck everything up beyond repair.

• also no fancy tech. no iphone 76z or whatever the fuck. sam has an ipod 1. the wheel is so stuck he can barely press play anymore. remember when he literally just tore off the top casing off his laptop and threw it away? more of that.

• no nice clothes. NO nice clothes we fuckin hate that. everything sam and dean own was purchased pre 1995 and dean is an expert at removing blood stains and sewing up jackets. dean will walk into a laundromat with a tide pen and just start goin for it like that scene in deadpool.

• tbh.... I feel like the issues in later seasons are really this massive horrible domino effect. like I could say heres how to fix s7-10 but the fact is if shit hadnt gone down lile it had in s7 s10 would be a different story entirely.

• I am gonna do it tho bc I suck <3

• s6: soulless sam was funney but did that really go anywhere? no. tbh I dont remember what happened w cas and I'm just not going to look it up. it's just not in the cards for tonight. dean w lisa.... ehh.... I've discussed this at wayy too much length w mushroom and we both agreed that dean would probably keep hunting to keep his mind off things and to try and honor sams sacrifice. I guess theres an argument to be made for the fact that it kind of was Sam's dying wish that dean just go fin her and live a normal life but... idk. purgatory was. . indeed a Concept..... that could have maybe gone somewhere if it didnt rapidly spiral into....

• s7!!! I mean. jesus christ. I know some people like this one but jesus christ. the way they literally couldnt commit to having sam have genuine mental health problems after centuries in hell or to just magically wipe them away..... bobby dying halfway thru.... charlie was a bright spot I suppose, but her intro is not my fave episode w her.... idk what the fuck happened w cas, I guess he was god. the leviathan designs were kinda neat but like oh my fucking god it wasnt worth it.

• s8: uh. rough start. idk why the turn tables so suddenly and dean's like "why didnt u look for me >:((" bc??? yall agreed not to???? at the VERY least they couldve had sam been like "I legitimately had no reason to think u werent dead and in heaven and tha wouldve been a little rude of me to pull u out of that." but we went for ~drama~ to make it spicy I guess. ouygh. bunkers there!!! that was cool!!! MoL is a cool concept!!! altho... it doesn kinda contradict the whole sam and dean are nobodies thing... idk. trials of hell was like... cool in theory but bad in practice unless they were planning on ending the show for realskies. and they did not.

• s9: uhh... hated gadreel! hated that shit! wish they had spun that whole storyline to be more "hey sam I noticed u were s*icidal should we maybe address that??" or even like.... I mean dean probably couldve just TOLD sam abt his plan, he had already convinced him to stay alive by that point??? there was no reason to lie!!! plus the betrayal of gadreel not being who he said he was wouldve been like. literally enough drama, we didnt need to fracture the team again. and cas was??? where exactly??? be was human for at least half of that season but hey didnt know what to do w him so they chucked him in a convenience store??? good lord.

• s10: got no suggestions for that one, just toss it

• s11: ok... shes cute.... we can forgive her.... the lore is shaky at best but the episodes SLAP and the characterization is *chefs kiss*. it's been a hot minute since I've seen it so if smth sucked I dont remember and I plan to keep it that way!!!!

• s12: n.. no. no mary. no mary unless we're doing it right. and I promise u doing it right was not poorly ripping off kingsman. couldve brought back bobby!!! if they desperately wanted some drama couldve brought back john!!! actually fuck that, no way

• s13-15: no thoughts, only jack kline <3

[trying-my-best]

Scp 035 x reader part 10

You let out a depressed sigh, it's been about 27 hours since you last slept. You expected this to happen eventually. Back when you worked as a thief for hire you'd have 38 to 52 hour days.

You guessed the reason that you could sleep at the facility before was that they'd give you more to do. Although it wasn't at tiring as breaking and entering, it was as the only guess you had.

Bach was probably coming to wake you up soon. Giving up on sleep you got dressed and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. You remembered how Bach liked his black with a little sugar.

You heard the cell door slide open and heavy footsteps enter the cell. Bach walks past the kitchen and towards the bedroom. You follow behind him as he opens the bedroom door.

"Alright woman, time to get up." Bach shakes the bed, fully expecting you to rise up and yell at him for shaking the bed. You lean against the door frame casually and waited for him to notice you.

Five minutes pass and he's still yelling at the bed where he thinks you are. Getting bored, you sneak up behind him and give his shoulder a little tap. He jumps and turns around fast, gets startled, and falls down.

"(Y/N)! What are you doing awake?" Bach yells as you help him to his feet.

"I couldn't sleep, I'm still kinda used to 38 to 52 hour days. You remember me telling you about my old job." You turn to leave the room. "Come on, I made us coffee. "

Bach's eyes lit up at the mention of coffee. "You made me coffee? Black with sugar?" You nodded as you entered the kitchen. When you picked up the coffee to hand it to Bach, he swiped it out of your hands, almost spilling it.

You laughed at his excitement for coffee, you were pretty sure that this has to be his fifth cup today. Bach took a sip of his coffee and sighed happily.

"Oh yeah, Dr. Yapp wanted me to tell you to go to his office later and to give you this." Bach reached into his pocket and pulled out a key card. "This will get you around the facility, it'll only open up scp 035's and 049's cells, and it'll get you from light containment to heavy containment. "

"Why 049?"

Bach shrugged. "Well, you got along with him so well the duringone of the breaches. We thought you might want to visit him every now and then"

You took the card from his hand and inspected it. "So now I can leave my room at will?"

"Yep! Also, if you use this card to help any scp escape you will be demoted back to D-class and have all your current privileges revoked. So don't be dumb." Bach used an exaggerated tone for the last sentence.

You thanked Bach before heading towards the cell door to test it out. Approaching the cell door, you held the card to the door panel. It made a loud beep and the door opened. "Nice" you said to no one in particular. "Alright Bach, go start your rounds. I'm going to get ready for the day, then I'll head down to Yapp's office. "

Bach left and closed the door behind him as you walked back to your room. You noticed the plush cat 035 gave you sitting on the bed. You need to give it a name or something, you'll think of one eventually.

You picked out a nice, cute outfit before you went to the bathroom to shower.

*035's cell*

035 had their hands folded under their head as usual. Instead of the usual comedy mask, 035's face was tragedy. Their clearly bored with the normal interview the foundation was putting them through.

They had been promised a visit with (Y/N) and as far as they could tell, they didn't know when or if that was ever going to happen. So far the foundation seemed to only be interested in pestering 035 about their plans with (Y/N) instead of seeing how things unfold.

035 themselves didn't know what they wanted with (Y/N), still stuck between wanting to have them as a companion or having the experience of possessing (Y/N).

The interview had just ended and 035 couldn't be more disinterested. The foolish scientists talking amongst themselves in the observation room.

035 was becoming more impatient and angry. They didn't like not getting what that want. 035 stood up from their chair and walked up to the glass, startling the scientis. "When am I seeing (Y/N)?" 035 demanded with an authority to their voice.

"T-today, here in a c-couple hours. Dr. Yapp just needs to talk to h-her for a bit then she'll be here." One of the scientis squeaked out.

035 glared suspiciously at the scientis, not 100% believing them. 035 walked back to the table and sat down, still glaring daggers at the scientis.

*back to your cell*

Feeling refreshed and ready for the day, you gave the plush cat a pat and headed out the cell door. You waved to some scientis as you headed towards Dr. Yapp's office.

Dr. Yapp's office was located in light containment so it took you about 15 minutes to walk there, every now and then asking people for directions.

Eventually you made it to his office. You knocked gently on the door, you could hear shuffling inside the room as Dr. Yapp rushed to the door. The door swung open revealing the Doctor covered in paint and clutching a few paint tubes in his arms. You giggled at the sight.

"Don't laugh at me! Paint is surprisingly easy to spill everywhere." The doctor yelled.

You and Dr. Yapp spent the next hour and a half cleaning up paint. When it was properly cleaned up, Dr Yapp explained that he was planning on letting you and 035 paint today but the 05 council wanted full documentation of the experiment.

He explained that the 05 had never given scp 035 this much freedom and were sceptical about giving 035 what they want so easily. You wondered if you were still going to see 035 today or if you would be held from them longer.

"But! We made a compromise. You see, today we have more than usual staff so we would have more people to watch the two of you paint. Now 035 won't try to breach again. " Dr. Yapp exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

You smiled, happy that you'd be able to paint and see 035. Did 035 miss you? Or did 035 miss trying to figure out what you were and why they couldn't possess you. You had evidence that it could be ether or, and you were the type to take chances.

You and a couple other scientis helped Dr. Yapp carry the paint supplies to 035's containment cell. The supplies consisted of two easels, normal paint colors, pencils, and some paint brushes of different sizes.

When you all got to 035's cell, the guards standing outside the cell ordered 035 to stand away from everyone so we could set up.

"Why can't we let 035 help us?" You expressed your thoughts as you sat down one of the easels. The guard on your right grabbed you by the shoulder and aggressively threw you at 035, harming your shoulder in the process.

"If you like the damn thing so much why don't you marry it." The rude guard held his gun tightly, slightly pointing it at you and 035.

035 catches you and holds you up so you could steady yourself. You rubbed the bruising area trying to sooth the ache. 035 took notice of the pain painted on your face and your hand rubbing your shoulder.

You looked up at 035, their eyes were glowing a dark and glowing purple. You whispered to them that it wasn't worth their time and that it would only get themselves in more trouble than it's worth. 035 sighed in defeat and made sure that you were properly steadied before letting you go.

"So what's all this?" 035 moved to separate you from the others in the room. 035 switched to comedy once they were sure that the guards couldn't get to you easily.

"Oh! I convinced Dr. Yapp to let us paint and he convinced the O5 to get us the materials!" The scientis had finished setting everything up and had left the room, guards following behind them.

You moved in front of one of the easels, picked up a pencil, and began sketching your design on the canvas. 035 lingered in their spot, glaring at the scientis through the glass before walking up to the other easel.

As time went on, you had a pretty good sketch down. You noticed 035 glancing at you from time to time. Were they drawing you? You desided not to ask and just let it all unfold on it's own time.

After a few more minutes you were satisfied with the sketch and started picking out paint to use. Looking back over to 035, they were still hard at work sketching whatever they were going to paint.

You thought of earlier when 035 was about to confront the guard who threw you. Did 035 really care about you and your safety? Or were they mad that someone harmed someone that 035 thought belonged to them. Maybe even both.

After you had your paint set up, the pain in your shoulder came back. 035 noticed your sudden wince. You moved your arm around a bit to try and determine the damage, only making the pain a bit sharp for a few seconds.

"Is your shoulder hurt? I new I shouldn't have let that damn guard go." 035 mumbled the last part, making it hardly audible for you.

"Yeah, I can't tell how bad tho. Let's just keep painting, I'm still having fun!" You tried to reassure 035 so they wouldn't get an interview ban for attacking a guard.

035 let out a defeated sigh and picked their pencil back up. When you were almost halfway done painting your art, one of the scientis knocked on the glass. You looked at the scientist curiously, wondering what she wanted. Then you remembered Dr. Yapp telling you that a knock meant that you were out of time.

"Awww, you have to leave me alone already? We were having so much fun in each other's company." 035 wined at you and the scientis.

"Sorry 035, I don't make the rules. I'm sure they'll let us finish soon. Besides, your host is about to start falling apart. I dont think you can paint while you're falling apart."

You would admit that you were sad to leave 035, especially since you both weren't done with your paintings. You hugged 035 goodbye, while being careful as to not touch the black ooze, and left 035's cell. You waved to them through the glass as two guards escorted you out.

-------------------------------------------------------

1860 words, I did not expect myself to ever write that much