#okay that should be enough words that these tags will be Hidden at first glance

[plusultraetc]

423 spoilers in the tags <3

[aquagirl1978]

OMG !!! requests are open (and idk what's the right way to request but imma try :3) ahem, miss aqua may i please have william (ikevil) + wearing his clothes?

I added my own prompt, is that okay? :]

Hellooooo Inky! Thank you for this request - I had fun with this one. Maybe too much fun. I had so many different ideas as to where I could go with this, maybe one day I'll write some of those alternate scenes. Hope you enjoy this 😊

This Kiss

A/N: Part of my Naughty or Nice event. Pairing: William Rex x Reader (William's POV) Prompt: wearing his clothes Word Count: 1017 Tags: fluff

I was on my way back to the castle when I heard the most beautifully sweet music drifting through the gardens. Recognizing the melody, I smiled and hurried my pace; my robin was playing for me and I mustn’t make her wait.

I stood at the doorway, silently observing you, savoring every second you played. When we first met, you couldn’t play a single note. But look at you now – no longer my student, you’re now a master of the music you make. So determined to learn, you practiced at a dizzying pace until you were able to play even complex pieces on your own. Watching you grow as a musician, I grew prouder every day, even after that day when you were able to play without me by your side.

I knew as soon as I sat down next to you that you were up to something; why else would you lure me in with the first piece of music I taught you to play? The small glances you stole – quick, sneaky, happy glances – did not go unnoticed by me. And when your gaze drifted from my eyes, from my face, and lingered elsewhere, that was all the confirmation I needed.

I sat quietly after you finished playing;  you led me here, you were in charge.

“I thought we’d play a game today,” you said, your voice quiet as if you were suddenly a bit shy. Maybe rethinking your idea. 

Sing louder, my shy, sweet robin. I’m dying to indulge you and play your game.

“Oh?” I replied with a small hint of a smile. I didn’t need to tell you how excited I was; you knew me well enough by now to know how I was feeling.

“We’ve been together for a while now….” Yes, far longer than I’ve ever let anyone in. “and we’ve shared a few kisses. Or…” Oh, you’re getting nervous. You’re so adorable when you get shy and flustered. But please keep going. For me. “...a lot of kisses.” I like where this is going. “But earlier today, I thought, there has to be somewhere or someway we haven’t kissed yet.” 

I am going to love this game.

“When do we start?” I asked. I didn’t care that I looked like a lovestruck fool as I gazed into your eyes. When I was with you, I had no need to wear any masks and hide away my feelings.

I smiled as you tipped your face closer to mine, the anticipation of the kiss almost sweeter than the kiss itself. Your lips brushed against mine gently. Soft and quick. The kind of kiss that said hello or good morning, the kind of kiss a couple might exchange every day. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that, my dear, sweet robin,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. “How many times have I rewarded you with kisses when you were learning to play the piano? How many kisses did you steal while I was teaching you?”

I opened my eyes and was greeted with your adorable face that I love so much. I should reward you with a kiss for putting up with my teasing. But I won’t. Not yet.

You rose from the piano and walked around the side, retrieving a small bowl you must have hidden there earlier. I was curious as to what was in the bowl, but didn’t have to wait long to find out what was hiding in there. 

I watched you place the strawberry slice on the tip of your tongue. Tempting me with my favorite food was an evil trick, my naughty robin. How many times have I kissed you, my lips – or yours – still sweet with the taste of fresh berries? I still remember the time you wanted my berry so badly, you stole it right from between my teeth. I gladly let you have it then; I was enamored by how you so boldly took what you wanted. Even my precious strawberry.

I went after you this time. My mouth chasing yours, I wasn't satisfied until my lips were pressed firmly against yours, my tongue seeking the sinfully sweet taste of yours. 

That didn’t make this kiss any less sweet. But, it still was not a new kiss. 

And you knew that.

“Tell me what you want, my darling robin.” My lips hovered over yours; I was in no rush to end your game, but I was so very eager to witness that moment when you finally reached out and grabbed what you sought.

“How did you know….” you muttered, your lips still so close to mine I felt your warm breath.

Your eyes sparkled like a shining star dancing across the night sky. My gaze tracked yours, and before the words spilled from your parted lips, I already knew what you wanted.

“Give me this,” you finally said, your fingers curling around the checkerboard fabric of my cloak.  

Yes, my darling, I like where this is going. Demand, don’t ask; I will give you everything you want and more.

I did a poor job controlling my excitement as I undid the clasp on my cloak. You gave me a look; it's not going there, your eyes told me. 

Yet.

I removed the fabric from around my shoulders and wrapped you in it. With my hands still on your shoulders, you immediately smiled; I hoped it felt like you were being wrapped in me. 

“Now kiss me.”

It would be my pleasure. 

This kiss. This kiss was everything. As you pressed your hand upon my chest, I could feel you breathe your everything into me, filling me with every bit of your love. I covered your hand with mine, our fingers linked together over my heart. 

I leaned in, close enough to kiss you again, and whispered softly, “Red really is your color.”

With my head empty and my heart full, I was prepared to spend the rest of the day like this. With you, my darling robin. Wishing we could kiss like this everyday until that day when we meet our beautiful destiny together.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza

@xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777

@silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @sh0jun @chandeliermichel

[cosmic-crybaby]

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 1

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returned from France, he came back a completely different man.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, tommy before the war (Lowkey OOC) 

She's known Tommy almost all her life. They met one day at the cut when he was ten, trading cigarettes with the other kids, and she was eight, tagging along with her older cousin. It was merely a passing glance, maybe an introduction of names, but she hadn't seen him until years later. At the ripe age of twelve and fourteen, when he defended her when the older boys pulled at her hair and pushed her around. She was forever grateful to him after witnessing him take in three in a fight, punching the daylights out of one, shoving another's head into the mud, and threatening the third. 'If you ever come near her again, I'll fuckin' take your eyes!'. That was enough to scare them off. The two were almost inseparable ever since. Years of growing up together the two would often get into mischief together and cause trouble in the smoky streets of Small Heath. As [name] got a little older, the more she started to fall for the future gangster, and the more time passed, the more she started to change.

And of course, Thomas began to notice.

By the time they were seventeen and fifteen, the two delinquent teenagers seemed to be more than friends. The way Thomas would hold her hand as they run up the grassy hills, the way [name] would stare into his eyes as they lay on the grass under the shaded tree.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Tommy Shelby..." She spoke softly, her voice was like heaven to him. "I can't picture myself beside anyone else," She admitted. Thomas just stared into her eyes, his soft hands rising to brush his knuckles against her cheek, tucking away the pieces of hair that came undone from her clip.

"You don't have to...because I'm going to make a promise to you [name]," He suddenly sat up, causing her to sit up as well and gaze at him in confusion.

"What kind of promise?" She asked, curiously. He opens his mouth to speak then quickly closes it before thinking for a moment. Collecting his words carefully. Clearing his throat so his voice wouldn't crack, because he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from her if that happened.

"That one day, when I have me own money and me own house, we will get married," He finished confidently. She sat there, her lips slightly agape.

"Stop joking around!" She laughed, swatting at his arm, causing him to laugh as well and to catch her hand before she should hit him again. This time both of his hands enveloped hers as he stared at her with a content smile.

"I'm being serious, trust me when I say I want to marry you one day [Name] [Lastname]!" He said, laughter hidden within his words. She thought for a moment then nodded once, reaching for his hand. She kissed the back of his hand, her soft lips were warm upon his skin.

"Okay, promise," She smiled lovingly as he returned the kiss on her hand before bringing her close to kiss her forehead.

"Promise,"

In the years that followed that day, she was by his side, even when he was starting to work at the betting shop with his family. At first, she was just there for moral support, but right when she finished high school Polly saw her potential and how educated she was, and on the spot, she was hired. Checking the maths and records in each book, making sure everything was in its place.

It was a dream being with Tommy at nearly every waking hour. Of course nothing would go beyond holding hands, gently touches, and friendly affection . But even when those were at a minimum, she was falling in love with him.

Her love for him only grew since they first met. It was unconditional love and ever since he made that promise to her, she only fell harder. It almost felt like she was already married to him. With the way he kissed her forehead or cheek, the way he was so kind to her and checked in on her work whenever he needed an escape, and how he would tell her he loved her. Every night after work when he walked her home. He would kiss her knuckles, her cheek, and her lips before saying.

"Goodnight [name], I'll pick you up in the morning, I love you,"

It wasn’t until she began to notice his slow distance from her. At first, she thought nothing of it as he wouldn’t give her as much affection as he normally did. Her hands grew cold as they were empty from his. His touch was slowly detaching from her own. The emotional distance was noticed quickly, but the physical distance made her heart cold. He went from seeing her every day to nearly every other day, now...she was lucky to even catch him at the betting shop.  As much as she wanted to convince herself that it was nothing, she couldn’t help the emptiness she suddenly felt. She had wondered what he was so busy with and deep down she had hoped he hadn’t gotten in any more trouble than he already was getting himself into.

The weeks and months went by, her resentment for Tommy only grew. On the days he went to the shop, she tried to make her presence known, nothing but a simple "Hi [name],"would be his response. Sometimes not even making eye contact with her.

One day, in 1914, he approached her in her office. She was too busy organizing files and writing down and calculating the records to make sure they were accurate. She didn't even notice his presence at first. He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he stared at her, waiting for her to pay him any mind. 

“I’m busy,” She simply mumbled, seeing him in the peripheral vision of her eyes. He scoffs before stepping in further and closing the door behind him. 

“So that’s how you treat me now, eh?” He asked, sitting across from her in a chair. He was met with silence as she kept her eyes glued to the page. “[Name]” He called. 

Again, silence. 

Tommy suddenly slammed the book shut and grabbed the pen that was in her hand.

“Hey! I'm trying to work, you just made me lose my spot!” She shouts, quickly standing up as the chair behind her scrapped against the wood floor loudly.

Tommy just smirks. She stomp towards him to retrieve the pen back, but the older boy just held it above her head as he extended his arm up, barely just out of her reach. 

“Thomas, this isn’t funny!” She pleads. He just laughs. 

“There you are, finally acknowledging me,”  

She sighed in defeat and set herself back on her feet, holding his gaze with a glare.

“What do you want now? Go on with it, Polly needs these by the end of the day and she’ll have my neck if I don’t have em ready,” She crossed her arms over her chest. Tommy let his arm down, setting the pen on the desk. 

“What makes you think I want something?” He asked. Her eyes widened slightly. 

“I don’t see you for months and you barely even talk to me let alone look at me whenever you’re here, so this sudden change in behavior is quite a shocking one,” She explained, her tone still stern. She was met with his eyes, a guilty look on his face. 

“I know...I know and I do apologize-” 

“You were supposed to be my closest friend, Thomas...” She interrupted him. Her voice was calm, almost meek. 

“I am your closest friend, never forget that [name],” He held her slumping shoulders. She takes an exhale through her nose. 

“Listen to me...I’m sorry, I had some prior engagements that needed my attention,” He said quietly as he tried to get her to look into his eyes. 

“I know but I just wished you had just talked to me...I felt so alone,” 

Thomas held his breath and clenched his jaw. He couldn’t tell her now...Not yet at least. 

“When you’re with me, you’ll never really be alone,” He told her, holding her close. She knew there was some truth to his words but pushed herself away from him. 

“I have to get back to work,” She said. He rolls his eyes at her sudden coldness.

“I’m not leaving until I get a smile out of you...and maybe an ‘I love you’,” He smirked, still holding her, his hands on her shoulder blades. She scoffs, giving him a small, ingenuine smile. 

“Happy?” She asked. He shook his head. His hands slowly crept to her sides, going unnoticed by her. 

“Tommy...” He gave her that look. That look of mischief. “Don’t you dare-” But her warning came too late. His fingers began digging into her sides, it didn’t take long before she began giggling profusely. 

“Tommy stop! I can’t- I can’t breath!” She squealed in between fits of laughter as she tried to push his hands away. He was too strong. 

“Tell me you love me [name]!” He laughed. 

“N-No! Never!” She laughed, the tears in her eyes started to seep down her cheeks. 

“Say it [name] and I’ll stop!,” 

“Fine! I love you Thomas Shelby!” She gave in. The tickling had stopped, yet she barely caught her breath when Tommy pulled her close and picked her up from the ground and kissed her cheeks. 

“I love you too, [name] [lastname],” He said quietly. Looking into his eyes made her even forget why she was upset with him. He looked at her with perfect love in his eyes and a small smile on his lips as he quickly kissed her hand before leaving her to continue your work. 

 A week later, Tommy had told her the secret he had been keeping from her. Finally letting it out. 

“No...Tell me it’s a lie...” She was in denial. Shaking her head as the tears welled up her eyes. 

“[Name]-”

“No...”

“[Name] please...listen to me,” He approached. 

“Please don’t do this you don’t have to do this!” She cried. 

“We have to go, [name]...it’s the only choice,” He calmly stated. 

“To put your lives on the line? To leave your family behind to leave me behind?” 

The silence was daunting. She sniffled and turned away from him. 

“I understand the sacrifice you’re making, but I can’t bare the thought of my life without you...Arthur, John, you...You three have been in me life every day since I was a child, if you were to never come back I don’t know what I would do without you,” She shook her head as she choked up once again. 

“Don’t think of it that way, love...We will come back once it’s over...and when it’s over I will come back to you,” 

“Tommy...” She felt his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her.

“You will be the one I am living for...who I am looking forward to come home to...” He steps in front of her, grabbing her cheeks in the palm of his hands as they locks eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” She whispered. He pressed his forehead to hers. Closing her eyes tightly to stop the tears.

“You won’t...I promise,” 

She has always known for Tommy to keep his promises. But deep own she wasn't sure if this was within his control. And it scared her. Shattered her heart and soul to know he was leaving in just a few weeks. Every day after that he spent every moment with her as if it were his last, even though it felt like it to her. 

The day the three Shelby brothers left, Polly, Ada, and Martha were in shambles. [Name] tried to stay strong but the second she approached the train station she began to tear up. 

She had said your goodbyes to John and Arthur first as she held off her departure from Tommy. She stood in front of him, he seemed to put on a brave face for his family and for her but she could read right through him. He was just as scared as she was. She embraced him tightly. 

“I will write to you every day...and pray for you three while you’re gone,” [name] told him. He nods quietly, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small, simple, ring to held it to her.  

“Remember that promise we made when we were kids?” He asked. 

“That we’d get married one day?” She nods.  

“I am giving this to you, so that when I do return we will get married...That way I will come home with a purpose...to marry you,” He said. She gasped a bit as he slipped the golden band on her ring finger. 

“Just promise me you’ll never take it off, for as long as I live and love you,” 

“I promise,” She smiled at him. He gave [name] a quick kiss. The train whistle blows. 

“Come home to us soon...please,” She begs. He nods again before Arthur and John pulled him away to board the train. 

Watching the men wave off their families as the train took off was heartbreaking. The four women of Small Heath held onto each other, comforting each other when they watched the three men in their lives leave on a train. [Name] rested her head on Polly’s shoulder as she rubbed the young girls back, quietly sobbing beside her.

[Name] went home that day, sitting alone as she twirled the ring on her finger, counting the days until his first letter came. 

[misscellophane-ao3]

Title: kill them with cuteness

Summary: Wei Ying accidentally forgot to change his address before ordering something, now he has to go over to his old place and ask for it back. It's a good thing a-yuan is cute, because they will surely give it to him without fuss if he looked sad enough, right?

Pairing: WangXian

Fandom: MDZS/CQL

Rating: G

Words: 2,395

Tags: Modern AU, Different First Meeting, Fluff, Very Light Angst, Kid A-yuan, No Courtesy Names

---

Story -

“Okay A-yuan,” Wei Ying says, kneeling down to pat the seven-year old on the shoulder,“–just how we practiced, okay?”

A-yuan nodded, then pulled a sad face, peering up at Wei Ying with wobbly lips and teary eyes.

“Make your eyes just a little wider.” Wei Ying instructed, A-yuan did just that, “Yes! There we go, whoever answers the door will definitely give us what we want!” Wei Ying cheered, A-yuan beamed back at him.

Their moment was interrupted by a soft but noticeable clearing of a throat, Wei Ying jumped up and turned to the person behind him.

Or should he say, the absolute god behind him? This man was gorgeous, his soft sweater did nothing to hide his biceps that weren't even straining as he held a huge bag of hay in one arm and at least five different, reusable!, grocery bags in the other.

His eyes were golden and shone brilliantly in the florescent light of the apartment hallway but he bet they were even prettier in the sun.

When the man spoke, Wei Ying was astonished to find he was still able to stand after hearing that deep baritone.

“May I help you?” He glances briefly at A-yuan, his expression softening a little before focusing an intense stare right back on him.

“Ahah,” Wei Ying scratched his nose, “No, no! That's alright. We were just going to play a little prank on our friend who lives here.” Wei Ying waved him off awkwardly, embarrassed at being caught idling in front of someone's door.

“We are not friends.”

“Huh?”

The man raised one elegant eyebrow and simply replied, ”I live here.”

Oh. Oh no. Well this was super embarrassing. Even more so than before.

“Really?” He squeaked out, it took him a second to think through his options as he really didn't want to get the police involved, and settle on straightening his shoulders and saying confidently with a cheeky smile, “Prove it then.”

The man stared at him for long enough that Wei Ying was sure his face was as red as a ripe tomato before he stepped up to the door and held up a keyring, it must have been hidden by the grocery bag. Wei Ying stepped out of his way and watched as he calmly unlocked the door.

“Ah.” Was all Wei Ying could say as the man set his groceries down in the hallway beyond the door before turning back to the man and child standing in front of his apartment.

“May I help you?” The man repeated his previous question, just as firmly as before.

“Uhm, well, you see,” Wei Ying looked away, scratching at his nose again, “I, uh, uhm.”

“Gege sent a box here!” A-yuan chimed in, “He needs it back!”

“A-yuan!” Wei Ying chided before turning back with a sheepish smile, “Okay, yeah. He's right. Uhm, you see, I used to live here and I forgot to change my address on the website I used to order a gift for a very important thing that's happening tomorrow and if I don't get it, I'll probably die! Seriously, my brother threatened to break my legs! And you don't want that on your conscience do you? The death of a poor, but very handsome, smart and charming, man who made a simple mistake that anyone could have made! Do you, gege?”

Wei Ying clasped his hands together and looked at the man with a sad expression.

“Please, pretty-gege?” A-yuan quickly followed his lead and put on the puppy dog face that they had practiced earlier specifically for this moment.

“Ah.” The man gave a nod of his head, “You must be Wei Ying then. I am Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan. What a beautiful name for a beautiful man.

“How did you-”

“It was on the package. I was going to send it back to the post office tomorrow morning but since you are here to receive it, I will go grab it. One moment.”

“Wait!” Wei Ying stopped him before he could turn into the apartment, “You're just going to believe me like that? No asking to see my id? Or if I know where the package is from?"

Lan Zhan shook his head, “I see no reason to ask for the contents of the package.” He paused a second and then added, “Also, I would not need your id to be able to describe you to the police if needed.”

Wei Ying couldn't help it, he laughed.

“Gege, you're so funny! Please, go get the box, I truly do need it before tomorrow.” Still laughing a little, Wei Ying waved towards the darkness beyond the doorway.

"Mn."

Lan Zhan left to retrieve the mis-addressed mail, grabbing his groceries along the way. Wei Ying watched as he slipped into the room he knew to be the kitchen, leaving a few moments later without any grocery bags, but the hay still tucked under one arm. He then headed further down the hall, out of Wei Ying's eye sight.

He returned a few minutes later, no hay but a medium sized box now in his hands, there was a slight furrow to his brow as he held it out. Near the bottom of the box was a small hole, as if something had nibbled on it.

“I apologize, it seems I did not put it high enough to completely avoid my bunnies while they were out yesterday.”

Oh my God, he had bunnies.

“You have bunnies!?” A-yuan let out an unholy shriek of excitement, “Can I see? Can I see? Please, please, please?” He used his powerful puppy eyes on both of them, “I promise to be gentle! Please Wei-gege, pretty-gege??”

Wei Ying, who had grabbed the box and was about to comment that a little nibble was fine as long as the object inside was intact, jumped and fumbled with the box at the sudden noise. Lan Zhan grabbed it, and by default his hands, to help him stabilize it.

“Ah, thank you.” Wei Ying said flustered, his hands were so smooth yet callused (he wondered what Lan Zhan does for work), then turned to A-yuan, “I'm sorry, Baobei, we only care for the box, we don't want to bother Lan-gege more than necessary, hmm?”

“It is alright.” Lan Zhan said, “They have just gotten up from their nap, I am sure they would love to play, if that is alright with your father.” He added, locking eyes with Wei Ying.

Wei Ying was so captive by that gaze he almost didn't register what Lan Zhan called him.

“What? Oh, no! I'm not his father, more like an honorary uncle! I'm friends with his cousins and I watch him when they are busy with work or school! Since I'm single and work from home, it's a pretty regular thing.”

He hoped he wasn't misinterpreting the way Lan Zhan seemed to relax a little after he said the word single.

A-yuan tugged at his shirt, “Auntie said that I have to tell people gege is in denial whenever you say that.”

Wei Ying nearly dropped the box again, “What? When did she say that!?”

“When she came back from that party with her friends at the hospital.” A-yuan told him.

Ah, he meant the party that was hosted by the hospital she worked at a few days ago, she had gotten pretty drunk. It took both Wei Ying and Wen Ning to get her into bed. Obviously she ran into A-yuan while Wei Ying wasn't looking.

“She said you just needed to work out your family issues.” He adds innocently, looking slightly confused, “Is there something wrong with our family, gege?”

“Ok! Who wants to see some bunnies!? Huh, A-yuan, let's go follow Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying pushed them all through the door, so not ready for that conversation right now.

Lan Zhan merely shot him a look before easily guiding them through the apartment to the guest bedroom door after they took off their shoes in the front hallway.

“They are beyond this door, remember to keep your voice low and stay calm, bunnies are very sensitive creatures.”

A-yuan nodded seriously, “I have tons of books on them! I wanted one as a pet for forever but auntie always said we didn't have enough time or space for them.”

Wei Ying set a hand on his little shoulder, “One day, Baobei. Let's go see Lan Zhan’s bunnies for now.”

A-yuan nearly ran into the room immediately but he managed to collect himself at the last moment, walking quietly and slowly into the room as if he was in a spy movie. It was absolutely adorable to see his eyes brighten and hear the little gasp he let out as soon as he locked his gaze on the two buns lounging near a massive white bunny hutch.

It took up nearly the whole room, separated from the door with a little indoor picket fence with its own tiny gate entrance.

There was a clear space between the hutch and the fence where toys lay spread out, there were a few blankets and pillows off to the side and a couple of water bottles strung around the area so the buns never got thirsty.

It was both over the top and clearly well thought out. Lan Zhan obviously loved his bunnies and went all out for them.

Wei Ying smiled as he watched Lan Zhan teach A-yuan how to pet and hold the bunnies, unconsciously pulling out his phone to take photos, he only stopped when Lan Zhan glanced his way a few minutes later.

“Ah, sorry. It was too cute.”

“Mn. It's fine.”

Lan Zhan watched carefully as A-yuan grabbed a toy and started to play with the bunnies, Wei Ying stepped over the fence to sit next to him.

“What are their names?” He asked, softly.

Was it just Wei Ying or did Lan Zhan’s ear redden up a little?

“Bǎo and Pídàn.”

Steamed bun and thousand-year egg?

“That is so cute.” Wei Ying informed him, “I'm guessing Pídàn is the black one jumping around with A-yuan?” He said, the white one was laying calmly in a little hammock, watching the two run around.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan's face was soft, “He is very excitable. Bǎo is more calm.”

“When'd you get them?”

“Last year. They were rescued from a breeder as babies. They were the only two left, I did not want to seperate them.”

“Aw. You are so sweet, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn.”

Okay, Lan Zhan definitely blushes through his ears. That is so cute. Wei Ying wanted to know more about this man but he wasn't sure how. Could you just ask someone you met five minutes ago for his number?

“Uhm,” He caught Lan Zhan's gaze again, “I really am thankful you hadn't thrown the box out or sent it back already.”

“No need.”

“I know! It's just,” Wei Ying turned back to watch Pídàn jump onto Bǎo on the hammock, it swung a little before slowing to a stop, A-yuan sat down next to them and started petting them, speaking quietly with a little smile on his face, “–It’s a gift for my sister. I haven't seen her in almost two years.” he found himself revealing.

Lan Zhan focused on him completely and Wei Ying felt a surge of warmth settling in his bones, he continued on, knowing Lan Zhan was listening.

“I was adopted, you see, but I didn't get along very well with my adoptive mother. She never wanted to adopt me. Her husband was friends with my parents. When he heard about what happened, he took me in without letting her know.” Wei Ying breathed in, “She believes uncle was in love with my mother and that's why he took me in. Nothing anyone says, even uncle can change her mind. She all but kicked me out a few years back.”

“That is unkind of her.” Lan Zhan said, expression gentle, a hint of anger at the blatant disrespect in his gaze.

“Yeah. Well, long story short, I missed my sister's wedding and the birth of her son because I didn't want to cause any problems with her mom. But she invited me to his first birthday and insisted I had to come or she'll drag me there herself. She said,” Wei Ying paused, still in slight disbelief of the information, “She said she banned her mother from the party. That if she couldn't get over her grudge on a dead woman or stop blaming a literal child, then she has no place in her grandson's life. Her words, not mine.”

Wei Ying huffed a laugh, “I can just imagine Madam Yu’s expression! She must have been furious. Even Jiang Cheng, my brother, threatened her not to bother me! Jiang Cheng! He adores his mother! I don't–” Wei Ying choked, and was mortified to find he was crying, “I don't know how to react. Wen Qing says they were finally being the siblings they should have been. But I don't blame them for never going against their mother.”

“They love you.” Lan Zhan said, “I am glad Wei Ying gets to see his nephew.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying wiped at his eyes, “Me too “

“Wei-gege okay?” A-yuan asked worriedly as he looked over, fingers frozen in soft fur.

“Yeah, Gege is okay! Just overwhelmed by how cute you look next to the buns!” Wei Ying covered, taking a few more photos, “We should probably be leaving soon though, Wen Ning has a doctor's appointment at 3 and we need to stop by the store as well on the way home.”

A-yuan nodded, obviously sad at leaving so soon but being the great kid he is, started saying his goodbyes to the bunnies. Lan Zhan said nothing as he walked them to the door, only when they were getting their shoes back on did he call for Wei Ying’s attention again.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan said, holding his phone out, “Please send me the pictures you took. And call whenever you want. I enjoyed our conversation.”

Wei Ying smiled widely as he took the phone and added his number, sending himself a bunny emoji to save the number, added his name in the contact info.

“Yeah, I did too. Talk to you later, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn. See you later, Wei Ying, A-yuan.”

[violetswritingg]

Canary Cry

Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson) x OFC!

Description: Her violence was silent. Until it wasn't.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is just another word for drowning."

Rating T-M (mentions of blood, child abuse, mental health, cannon situations of violence and the like. Loss of parents, hard of hearing/deaf character, poorly written fight scenes lol)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

0

STAR CITY

1996

July 14, 01:13 PDT

It seemed like it was the hottest day of the year. The cloudless day plagued with sweltering rays of sun and little wind from the ocean, a rare occurrence. The heat persisting into the night, even as the sun sank below the horizon and gave the tired citizens a break from the blistering brightness of the day.

It had been a busy day for Star City General, the ER staff was on their last legs after too many patients and not enough sleep. All but one nurse, who seemed to be invigorated by her job and it's brutal double shifts. Older, her dark hair greying maturely and complimenting the kind warmth to her coffee eyes and smile lines. You could tell from looking at her she had lived a happy life full of joy and laughter.

"Charlotte" Her name tag read, Nurse Practitioner, she'd insist you call her Lottie.

Her ears perked up at a cry heard from what seemed far away yet much closer than you'd think. Following the faint sound through the waiting room of the ER, watching the ambulances come and go as she stepped outside. Hearing the cry again. This time louder and holding a piercing kind of note that rung out and echoed by it's on volition. Begging to be heard. To be found.

Hidden in the bushes, the cry could be found. Lottie pushing aside the harsh leaves and taking the beautiful baby girl. Tears rolling down her little cheeks from a big set of silvery blue eyes, no more than a few hours old and swinging her fists as another powerful cry left her lungs.

"Oh, oh, oh, it's okay sweet thing. It's okay. You're safe now. Who left you here huh?" Lottie gently cradled the still blood covered infant, the blanket she was wrapped in that of high quality and caused confusion in the nurse. But she pushed it down to focus on the little girl in her arms. The babe calmed almost instantly as soon as the nurse started to bounce her, Lottie walking back to the ER doors with subtle glances around the area. The list of tests and phone calls she'd have to make already compiling in her head.

A head of blonde hair, covered by a black hood, whipped around the stone collem not even twenty feet away. The teenager's face youthful, clammy, and pale. She couldn't be older than seventeen. Exhausted but relieved, her cerulean blue eyes fluttered shut as a heavy breath pushed past her chapped lips. A siren from an ambulance startled her, the blonde rushing away as soon as she saw her daughter be carried inside by the nurse.

The baby girl, affectionately nicknamed Janie Doe, spent the first three months of her life in that hospital.

"They still haven't given her a name?" A nurse, younger than Lottie but just as kind asked, interjecting a smile between her words as she let her wandering eyes bounce between the ER nurse who had been a frequent flyer in the nursery and the infant she carried. Lottie bouncing Janie Doe and cooing down at her, the infant acting as a surrogate for her long forgotten dreams of having children of her own.

"No, not yet. There's a family lined up to adopt. They came to see her yesterday; it's looking like a real solid placement." As Lottie spoke, her voice seemed to forget it was conveying good news. Her bouncing slowly coming to a stop, her smile turning somber pulling soft gurgles from little Janie Doe. The infant only months old but not liking the turn of the older woman's eyes.

"It's for the best Lottie." The younger nurse walked over and placed a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. Janie Doe squirming in Lottie's arms, her little face scrunching up as her small hand came up to hit her ear.

"I know it is. I should have known better." Lottie missing the signs of tragedy about to strike as she looked over her shoulder to meet the reassuring, sympathetic gaze of her work friend. The two nurses being broken out of their moment when Janie Doe let out a cry, both of the nurses clocking the flushed look to her pudgy cheeks.

The younger nurse didn't need any further evidence to go over and grab a thermometer, placing it against the infant's forehead and getting a worrying number in response. Janie Doe's condition came on quickly, an ear infection, and raged on for days even with anti-biotics. But by then the damage had been done.

"What do you mean?" Lottie asked, hair frizzy and unkempt with dark circles under her eyes. Her casual clothes letting the staff know she had come in on her day off and that was never good. Hospitals, as much as they are there to help and save, usually when someone comes in it's never for a good reason.

"The ear infection caused some hearing loss, we aren't sure how diminished her hearing is, and we most likely won't until she's older. But she is still reacting to moderate levels of noise, so that's good." Doctor Andrews, Janie Doe's acting primary care physician and long time friend of Lottie patiently explained again to the infants emergency contact.

"What about the adoption?" The paperwork was, to her knowledge, supposed to go through that day. Lottie looked around the hallway, trying to see the nice young couple she had introduced herself to days prior, "They should be here."

"I called to let them know about Janie's condition and..." Doctor Andrews didn't need to finish his sentence. Lottie feeling a spike of rage run through her blood, taking a deep breath and nodding to herself.

"How is she?"

"Good, better. Her fever is down, the anti-biotics are finally starting to kick in." Lottie nodded once again, "There will be other-"

Lottie just gave the man a look, both of them knowing what he was about to say would be a lie. People looking to adopt, like the young couple that had been about to adopt Janie, wanted babies. Even more, they wanted babies without disabilities or issues that could grow into one. Janie Doe fit both of those criteria until just two days ago and Lottie was angry. At herself.

She was a nurse, had been for almost thirty years, she should have caught it sooner. Maybe then Janie Doe would still be able to hear fully. Maybe then Janie Doe would still have a chance at living a good life. Lottie being a foster kid herself knew how hard it could be, she knew she was lucky in her semi-decent experience within the system. But there where ten to her one with horror stories of abuse and neglect and it broke Lottie's heart.

It broke her heart that she possibly subjected this poor, poor child to that. Because of her own negligence. Taking her in herself wasn't an option, not with her hours, lack of spouse, and older age. She had the energy to keep up with the infant but she wouldn't live past the time she made it out of high school. If she was lucky Lottie might live to see her graduate college. But that was pushing it, just like how she was pushing retirement.

The doctor sighed and pat Lottie's shoulder as he past her, having other patients to see and check in on. Lottie standing in the middle of the hallway, just outside the nursery, kicking herself for not paying more attention.

Thick soled sneaker covered feet carrying her to the viewing window, where her eyes fell upon the small bundle of innocence. Her skin clear and rosy with dying fever, her eyes shut as she slept. Looking incredibly too pure for this world. Looking incredibly too pure and innocent to deserve what life has dealt her already.

Katherine. Katherine Elaine. Is what Charlotte wrote on the documents when she got her hands on them. Scratching out Jane Doe and hesitating and the box titled 'last name'. The tip of the cheap pen sitting stationary, tapping once, twice, three times before gliding across the paper and spelling out the name James.

Charlotte James stood, taking in what she had just done but felt no regret. A smile pulled at her lips and reveled her slightly crooked teeth, knowing that even if she went into the system Katherine would always have a home with her.

Katherine spent the first three and, if you asked her, best months of her life in that hospital. Once she got better, she was put in the first group home of many and was started on the path that Charlotte was afraid of. 

Driving at ninety with a cut break line. Surviving the only way she knew how. 

~~*~~

A/N: Not all heroes wear capes

[nessinborderland]

Devil Beside You (01)

Pairing: Gwinam x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, soft!dark

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You have some secrets you want to keep hidden and Gwinam happens to want a slave that is willing to obey his every command. You both so happen to live in the same home.

Warnings⚠️ Porn With Plot, Step-siblings, Manipulation, Horny Teenagers, Dubious Consent, step-siblings that hate each other, step-siblings that fuck, Toxic Relationship, they're young and they're dumb, Rough Kissing, Neck Kissing, Dry Humping, Blackmail, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Notes: Here it is, my second Gwinam fic to date and my 41th fic posted in this blog lol. This will be a mini-series of - at least - 3 parts. Might be more tho, I have a lot planned for this even tho I have no idea what the ending will be lol. Hope you enjoy! <3

Yoon Gwinam knew exactly how to rile you up without you being able to do anything about it. It was always small comments – usually in earshot of your parents – that started a fight between both of you and ended up with you being grounded because of it.

Like right now his eyes were locked on you on the other side of the dinner table, the malicious glint in them making you gulp before you rushed to fill your mouth with another spoonful of rice.

He was about to do it again.

“Hey, Dad,” his expression was casual curiosity as he addressed the man at the head of the table, “did any of you leave the house at about one in the morning?”

You hated him. Of course he knew.

Fuck you, you hoped your eyes transmitted the message as you threw daggers at him. You had made sure everyone was asleep before leaving the house, but that obviously didn’t matter when you had a personal demon that was set on fucking you over.

“No, we were both in bed at that time,” his dad said and your mother nodded in agreement from her seat beside you.

“Why do you ask, dear?” she asked.

You acted like you didn’t notice the suspicious glance she sent in your direction, focusing on your food like it was the most interesting thing for you to do at the moment.

Gwinam made a show of confusion, hand covering his mouth to hide a smile as he hummed with a pensive expression.

“Just wondering…” he shrugged, glancing at you for a second before focusing again on your mom. “Was studying until late last night when I heard footsteps and the front door closing. Thought for a moment that someone was taking Cookie for a walk, but he slept in my room all night.”

What a bunch of bullshit. You knew for a fact that the dog had been sleeping in the hallway. You had tripped over him on your way out.

“That is odd…” your mother said. Everyone’s eyes were on you now. “Y/N, do you know anything about that?”

You tried to think of a good enough answer, knowing that no one would believe you if you flat out said no. This was not the first time – and surely wouldn’t be the last – that Gwinam snitched about something you had done that was against your mother’s rules.

“I got a call from a friend last night.” That was the truth. “She was upset and wanted to talk, so we sat down at the park for a few minutes.” That was a half-truth, more lie than anything. “I know I shouldn’t have left so late on a weeknight, but she really needed me, mom.”

You hoped that the regretful expression you were trying to put on was enough to spare you from at least having your phone taken from you. You knew his dad wouldn’t really intervene besides a disappointed look, but your mom was always so strict when it came to you it could be suffocating at times. She did want the best for you, but her rules were in no way aligning with what you wanted to do. You were eighteen now; dating, partying, and drinking with friends sounded much more appealing than studying.

“Okay… it was nice of you to help a friend in need,” she started in a stern tone, “but remember that you have exams coming up. You should be studying and sleeping well, not staying up until late.”

“I know, sorry, mom,” you said in your meekest tone, hoping that she would leave it at that. She usually would, but that was only when Gwinam wasn’t interested in adding more fuel to the fire.

A glance in his direction told you that he was definitely thinking about it, so you controlled the will to childishly stick your tongue out at him before asking for permission to leave the table, offering to do the dishes as an appeasing gesture towards your mom.

You could feel his eyes on your back as you went around tidying up the kitchen, but every time you looked at him on the sofa his eyes were down on his phone. It made you wonder how much more he knew, if at all; it wasn’t the first time he kept something to himself in the hopes of making your life hell in the near future. For your sake, you hoped that he knew nothing.

You brushed your teeth with more strength than necessary, replaying the dinner conversation in your head over and over. Why did the sadistic asshole always had to act like that? It was like he lived to screw you over, always finding a reason or a way to put you in situations where you would be reprimanded. Your anxiety and irritation only grew the more you thought about it, fearing the consequences if he ever talked.

Cursed was the day your mother married his father. Three years had gone by since then, but living with Yoon Gwinam felt more like three decades in hell. You knew he didn’t like you from the beginning, but you thought you could at least have a somewhat civil relationship since you were so close in age; you dropped that thought quite early in your relationship as step-siblings. He didn’t start with being mean, acting more cold and distant as time went by, eventually evolving into mean pranks and teasing jokes that you threw right back at him. In school, you just acted like you didn’t know each other, even avoiding going home at the same time so you wouldn’t have to be in the same vicinity for longer than necessary.

Then one day – for some reason you never quite understood why – the dynamics changed. The mean pranks turned into actually manipulative situations where he made you act as his maid in exchange for his silence. The avoidance at school turned into bumping in the hallways and light bullying from him and his friends, and it was now normal for him to walk with you home while constantly teasing you and pulling your hair like an unruly child. It was beyond annoying, and the day where either of you finally moved out couldn’t come soon enough.

Speaking of the devil, you thought to yourself as you saw him lean against the door frame from the corner of your eye. You chose to ignore him as you finished your night routine, knowing that he could only be here to taunt you some more.

You kept your eyes in the mirror as he nonchalantly approached the sink before grabbing his own toothbrush, also acting like you weren’t there as he started brushing his teeth beside you.

“Does your mom know about your older boyfriend that you totally didn’t meet last night?” he abruptly said, words muffled from the toothbrush in his mouth.

You froze, your mouth filled with water and toothpaste before you spit it out, cleaned your mouth, and rushed to close the bathroom door as silently as possible.

“What do you think you’re talking about?” you asked in a breathy whisper as you slapped his shoulder. If your mom heard about this you would be as good as dead.

His smirk turned into a mean grin as he finished brushing his teeth and cleaning his mouth, and you knew then that he was about to use what he knew to manipulate you into oblivion. You would never say it to him, but you would rather be his maid for a year than face your mother’s wrath if she ever found out about your secret affair.

“You’re so dumb,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, “I can see the park from your window, and I’m pretty sure that what I saw weren’t you and your friend talking.”

“You were in my bedroom?!”

“What would your mother say if she knew you were practically fucking some random dude in a public park?” His mocking tone made you squeeze your fists at your side. “And before you say I’m lying…” he pulled out his phone, and your first thought was ‘oh, no’ “isn’t this you sitting on a guy’s lap while sucking off each other’s faces?”

Your eyes went wide and your stomach dropped. The photo on his phone was dark and taken from a distance, but you could clearly recognize yourself sitting on someone’s lap on a park bench, your pink shirt a fast indicator that it was you. If anyone saw that picture, you would be done for.

Gwinam, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself.

“So…” he said as he put his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie, “should I go show this to your mom?”

God helped you, did you want to punch that smug smirk off his face.

“What. Do you. Want?” you forced the words out of your mouth as you tried not to do something that would throw you in jail.

You knew he wanted something; he always did, the greedy little bastard. You started to prepare yourself for the inevitable list of chores that he expected you to do for him, from making his bed, to giving him a foot massage, to carrying his backpack. Whatever it was, you had done it all before.

But you never expected what he demanded next.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you repeated, now as a question. He could ask for anything, and he wanted a kiss? From you? “Are you crazy?! I-I’m gonna tell your dad,” you mumbled as you turned around to leave.

Who the hell did he think he was? You didn’t want to cheat on your boyfriend, and you definitely didn’t want to kiss him, of all people. Your hand was already around the doorknob when he pulled you by the wrist and pushed you against the door, making you gasp as he trapped you with his body.

“Why?” he asked like his request was even remotely acceptable. He leaned closer to you, eyes on yours in a challenging look. “You don’t think you can do it, hmm? Would you rather I tell everyone how much of a slut you are?”

You gulped and averted your eyes to the side as you gave it a thought; it was only a kiss. Something that meant nothing and it would end fast. You would demand he deleted the picture after you did what he asked. Things would be back to how they were, except for the part where you would be a thousand times more careful when acting against your mom’s rules.

“If I do it you’ll delete it, right?” you asked, eyes back to focusing on him. He nodded, smile growing wider, and you sighed as you made your decision. “Fine.”

You tried not to think too much about it as you grabbed his collar, rose yourself on your tiptoes, and pressed a quick peck to his lips. It ended as soon as it started, and you turned around to finally open the door and run to your bedroom when he grabbed both your wrists and pressed them against the door.

“I asked for a fucking kiss, not a smooch from my grandma,” he grumbled before he tilted your head up by the chin and crashed his lips on yours.

This one felt like it lasted an eternity. His hold on you was strong even when you tried to break it off, so you let him move your head and kiss you as he wanted to, mouth moving against yours in an urgency that surprised you. You closed your eyes and thought about that picture on his phone while you tried to match his enthusiasm, kissing him back as your hands grasped his hoodie, hoping that being submissive like this would be enough for him. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear anything else.

“Hmm, not bad,” he whispered in an approving tone as you felt his hands sliding down your body to give your ass a tight squeeze. “Fine ass too.”

You hummed against his mouth and tried to slap his hands away, but he only smiled in the kiss as he ignored your protests, slightly nibbling your bottom lip until you felt his tongue forcing its way in. His tongue was wet and warm as it touched yours, and you barely thought about it before sucking on it, the grunts you got in response only encouraging you further.

A moan left your lips as he suddenly broke the kiss to latch onto your neck, sucking that spot on your skin that made you throw your head back and squeeze your thighs together. It felt so good that you barely remembered you were in your bathroom, with your parents in the house, making out hot and heavy with your insufferable step-brother.

“You’re horny, right now, aren’t you?” he whispered before nibbling that spot where your neck met your shoulder, making you whine like you were in agreement. “Bet I could touch your pussy and find it soaking wet. Wanna be a good girl and let me try that?”

That made you escape whatever spell you were under, and you pushed him back as strongly as you could, heart racing and panting while your body felt hot all over. You were glad for the first time in your life for Gwinam’s ability to say the wrong thing – usually at the wrong time – now at the right.

You were confused and scared by what had just happened; he was supposed to hate you, but here he was kissing the breath out of you and making you horny while doing it. You could feel the hot wetness in between your legs as well as you could see the clear hard-on in his pajama pants. This wasn’t supposed to happen, you thought as a sense of disgust flooded over you at the realization of what you had done. This was a secret you were taking with you to the grave, there was no doubt about it.

“I-I did it,” you whispered before gulping and repeating it louder, “I did it. Now delete it.”

“Delete what, exactly?” The mischievous glint in his eyes was the first sign that something was wrong. The second was when he took out his phone and asked, “Want me to delete this pic… or this pic?”

The motherfucking snake.

You just stared at his phone screen, mouth agape and eyes wide as you felt like the rug had been pulled from under your feet. The photo had been taken in selfie mode and – while shaky – showed you two very clearly kissing, your arms around his neck as he sucked on your bottom lip.

Tears stung your eyes as you took a step towards him, legs shaking as you felt yourself panicking even more than before. If anyone saw that photo, especially both of your parents, you would never hear the end of it. You didn’t even want to imagine how things would be at school if someone found out that you had kissed your step-brother. He really was set on ruining your life, and you had no idea why.

“Why did you-” you shook your head, saying the next words in a whisper, “If anyone finds out…”

“I know.” He looked so unbothered by it that for a moment you just stared at him, trying to understand. “Now you get to choose one thing to delete and I get to have something on you. You just have to choose.”

“Choose, I- can’t you delete both?”

“Well, I could, but- shit, don’t you fucking cry, they’ll hear,” he said in a rough whisper as he cradled your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “C’mon, I’m giving you a choice, just choose one.”

You nodded as you considered what choice to make. You wanted neither of those photos to be shown to anyone, no doubt that if they were ever leaked all the people in it would suffer consequences; but only one of them involved someone you liked. It was not like you couldn’t delete the other yourself, one way or another. You would find a way.

“Delete the park one,” you said without hesitating, forcing him to show you the phone as he pressed the delete button.

“There, see?” he said while showing you the rest of his camera roll. “Done.”

The chance of him having taken more than one photo was high, but you knew that if you pressed him on that he would deny it, either way, so you let it be a problem for future you to worry about.

You said nothing as you sent him one last angry look before storming out and closing yourself in your room on the other side of the hallway. You let out a long sigh, glad that your parents hadn’t noticed a thing going on, if your stepfather’s snores and your mother’s commentary as she watched her favorite drama was anything to go by.

Gwinam’s steps as he made his way to his own room next to yours made you listen attentively as he closed the door before the muffled sound of rap music reached your ears.

You remembered his words earlier when he mentioned getting in your room, and you wondered for a moment if he had done anything else than just staring out of your window. A quick look around told you you had nothing to worry about, but you also knew he was way too smart to not leave things exactly as he found them. You cursed the rule that forbade you from locking your own room; you had never expected him to invade your privacy like that, but of course he would.

You threw yourself on the bed, grunting as you stretched your back, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. You noticed it was almost ten in the evening as you unlocked your phone to check for new messages from your boyfriend. Well, Jihoon wasn’t exactly your boyfriend – at least in the traditional sense of the word – but you liked him enough to consider him as such. It only made you feel more guilty for what you had done with Gwinam.

Your lips were still swollen from his kiss, and you knew that if you looked in the mirror there would be a hickey forming on your neck. His words about you being horny just from his kisses were true too, even if you hated to admit it. The cold wetness sticking to your panties didn’t lie, nor did the frustrated state you were in now. Had you actually enjoyed it, though? You did, you begrudgingly told yourself. You loved it and you hated yourself for it. Gwinam was attractive – even with his constant asshole behavior – and he clearly knew what he was doing, so how could you not?

Because I hate his guts, that’s why.

As if hearing your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message, and you hurriedly unlocked it just to get disappointed as you noticed it was Gwinam. You sighed and threw your phone beside you on the mattress without even reading the text; you didn’t care what he had to say, and it was probably something stupid anyway.

You let out a frustrated sound before deciding to turn off the light and put yourself under the covers, taking out your pajama pants in the process. That uncomfortable feeling in between your legs felt like a hitch you couldn’t scratch. Well, it wasn’t that you couldn’t, but more like you didn’t want to; because actually touching yourself meant that he won, and you couldn’t let that happen.

The phone beside you rang this time, followed by a knock on the other side of your wall. You rolled your eyes as you reached for your phone, pressing the answering button and putting it against your ear without even checking the caller.

“What do you want?”

“Just letting you know that you’re in charge of taking my and Myeonghwan backpacks to school.”

“And why in the hell should I carry your dumb friend’s bag?”

You knew it was a stupid thing to say the moment you said it, and he knew it too.

“Because I have something that could ruin your life,” his smile was clear even through the phone, “as simple as that.”

“It could ruin your life too…”

“Yeah, but I’m the one controlling the narrative here.” He was right and you hated it. “I can blur my face or I can use that photo to say that we did way more than kissing… it’s all up to me. You should keep that in mind.”

“I hate you.”

“You say that but your pretty moans tell a different story,” he said. His tone was huskier now, and it made a chill run down your spine. “I’m sure you’re still wet and horny as fuck. I know I am.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words; he was right and you couldn’t even deny it to yourself as you pulsed around nothing, crossing your legs to find some relief. You should have hanged up as soon as he started acting like a pig, but you found yourself unable to; you wanted to hear more.

“Fuck,” the low moan said right in your ear made you gasp and squeeze your legs tighter, “I swear to all the gods, if our parents weren’t home I would have fucked you against the sink and you would’ve let me.”

“I-I wouldn’t.”

Your pathetic little denial couldn’t even convince you.

“Yes, you would.” You heard him laugh on the phone and in the other room, a low and raspy sound that made you wonder if he was doing what you thought he was doing. “I could’ve stripped you down and fuck you and all you would scream would be my name and for me to fuck you harder.”

His panting breaths were now clearly audible on the phone, and you gasped as you felt how only hearing that affected you. You barely noticed how your hand had gone down your body to rest on top of your clothed mound, fingers lightly pressing against your clit over the fabric.

“Are you touching yourself right now?” he asked.

The question was followed by a sharp intake of breath, and you closed your eyes as you finally put your hand inside your panties, surprising yourself by how wet and warm you were.

“N-No,” you lied, hips slightly thrusting into the air as your fingers went up and down your slit.

“Liar,” he chuckled, and you weren’t even mad you couldn’t lie to him. That didn’t matter when your body was begging to be pleasured. You wanted to hear his voice more, and he was sure to oblige. “I know you want something thick to fill you up, someone to fuck you like the horny slut you are.”

You moaned in response, followed by one of his throaty moans as you heard his breathing get deeper. You tried not to, but it was impossible not to imagine him sprawled in bed much like yourself, underwear down as he jerked himself off while thinking of you. It filled you with pride, knowing that you could make someone feel like that, even if that someone was him.

“Wanna know what I would do right now if I could?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Take you to my bedroom and fuck you on all fours on my bed until you’re crying and begging me to stop. Then I’ll just keep fucking you until you’re covered in my cum.” He let out a mix of a moan and a laugh. “F-Fuck…w-would you like that, to be my personal cum bucket?”

His vulgar words made your cheeks so hot you felt like you were on fire, but it didn’t stop you from touching yourself, fingers massaging your clit in circles as you heard him masturbate together with you. Your horny mind almost told him to do exactly that and possess you like he wanted to, but you bit your lip instead as the logical part of your brain reminded you of the circumstances.

Hearing him come was probably the most erotic thing you had ever heard, the way he moaned and said your name only making you closer to your own orgasm.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” His next words were said in between panting breaths, but that was what sent you over the edge. “Such a good girl, saving that pretty pussy just for me.”

You had never come with so much intensity before. The way it shook you from your head to the tip of your toes, mind going blank as white flashed behind your eyelids, your core pulsing with burning pleasure… it was better than anything you had ever achieved on your own. It left you feeling boneless but satisfied as you caught your breath, phone dropped on the pillow beside you.

You held it only to notice that the call had been disconnected, so you tried to listen to any sounds that could be coming from his bedroom. There were none, but you did hear steps as someone stopped in front of your door before your mother’s head peaked inside, the light from the hallway illuminating your room.

“Is everything okay? I heard a loud noise.”

You tried not to let embarrassment show on your face, glad for the dim light as you thanked for the fact that you were under the covers, pussy still pulsing from your orgasm. You weren’t usually this noisy when touching yourself.

“N-No, mom, I didn’t hear a thing,” you mumbled as you tried to control your breathing.

You sighed in relief when she wished you goodnight and finally left. What had you done? She had been so close to finding out, and you weren’t sure she wasn’t suspecting something. You heard her go into Gwinam’s room, no doubt to ask him the same thing. I didn’t hear a thing, you had told her.

I heard nothing because nothing happened, you repeated as you finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2 ->

[spilledkauffie]

Bingo

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2.0k T/W: pure, stupid, fluff  A/N: you meet Bucky at a Bingo night ft. Yori ❤︎

it’s a little dorky, but I thought it was cute!

Setting the tables with the rectangle cards, you smiled, straightening them out. Despite what your friends thought, you actually enjoyed volunteering with the local senior Bingo games on the weekends when you could. Feeling like they were often better company and far more entertaining than going to a club. It wasn’t a very big meeting hall, but that’s what made it feel so cozy to you. Hugging yourself when you finished the tables, you stroked the outside of your arms, feeling the softness of the cardigan you wore over your tank top. Sighing happily, you made your way to the announcing host, passing a few comments, as you waited for people to find their way in.

“Hey! Hey, look!” You heard a familiar voice; turning you found Yori and his usual group making their way to their table, with one exception. Smiling you made your way to him, arms still crossed, “no, I want you to meet her,” you heard him say to his friend, making you smile.

“Hey, Yori,” you said, coming to hug him, “brought more friends?”

“I- I’m Bucky,” he reached his hand to shake yours, to which you responded, taking his hand in yours.

“Barnes,” Yori added, reaching to slap a name tag on Bucky's chest.

Bucky took a deep breath, keeping his patience, as he looked down to the tag where Yori had written ‘single’ in parentheses, “yep. . .that’s me.” 

“This- this is the one I told you about,” Yori nudged you on the elbow pointing to Bucky, only making him more nervous as he immediately looked down to Yori with a questioning look.

“Ohh,” you nodded slowly, squinting your eyes at Bucky who met your gaze again, “you mean the anti-social grumpy one who’s scared to come because he’ll lose? That one?”

“Yes! That one,” Yori bobbed on his heels happily with a smile.

“What -I’m not-”

“Well,” you tilted your head, “I hope you have a good time and perhaps win something,” Bucky smiled, “but I think you’re going to need your hand back for that.”

Jaw dropping, he looked down to find your hand still in his, “right,” he laughed nervously, letting go, “sorry, of course.” 

You laughed quietly, biting in your lip watching him look anywhere but to you, mainly keeping his head down.

“Yori, you need anything you know where I am,” you softly placed a hand to his shoulder, “Bucky,” he looked up with a half forced smile, but you waited a moment, “it was nice to meet you, I’m glad you came.”

As you turned to walk away you could hear Yori whisper, “I think she liked you.” 

Followed by a quick change of subject from his friend, “I think you should find our table.” 

And lastly, “I know where our table is, and if you can keep your eyes off her, you’d see it too.”

With a giggle to yourself, you walked up to the foldable table that had been set up for you to sit at as usual. You were alone, but you were in charge of any assistance and you kept the first, second, and third prizes hidden. It was harder than one thought to keep curious seniors from nosing around for them. 

While the night was long and you stayed quiet, you were very grateful to have a little more entertainment tonight. It seemed Yori and his friends got their own entertainment out of teasing and poking fun at Bucky, who was a true sport through it all.

“Absolutely not,” you heard Bucky say. Looking up you saw him holding his card to his chest, with Yori trying to convince him to let him take a peek at his numbers, “are those the rules of Bingo?” Bucky shook his head, but another one of Yori’s friends tried to peek from his opposite side, “Oh,” Bucky dropped his jaw, leaning even farther back in his chair to keep the card hidden against him, “a double front attack? Really guys?”

Unable to hide your smile, you kept an eye on the table, specifically Bucky. Who after giving the group a few amusements, looked over to you. Blinking softly, happy that he noticed you, you lifted your hand to wave subtly. With another half smile, that was genuine this time, he raised his hand to wave, but forgot just how far back he was leaning in his chair. Soon, you watched him vanish from sight and he found himself flat against the floor, with a wince. 

“That’s whatcha get, you punk,” Yori told him through a laugh and an assertive nod.

It wasn’t long before there was a soft murmur of quiet laughs spreading throughout the hall, as Bucky reset his chair and sat properly in it this time. He pressed his lips together tightly and avoided everyone’s eye line, but yours. Hand over your mouth, you looked mildly worried, raising your half furrowed eyebrows at him, he could tell you were asking if he was okay. To that he carefully nodded, before turning to someone else who was addressing him at the table. 

The half way break came up shortly after, and you had to help a few people. When you looked back up from your table you saw Bucky, hands in his pockets and bouncing on his heels about three people away down the small line. Leaning your head to the side to see him, it took him a moment, but when he saw you, he gave a quick smile, before being spoken to by the elderly lady in front of him.

“You’re a very handsome young man, so nice of you to come play,” she said, to which he gave a shy thank you, as she asked you for a new marker, “he’s a very handsome young man, you know,” she whispered loudly, before glancing back at him, “and she’s single you know.” 

Ducking your head, you gave a monotone, “thank you, Mrs. Kasey,” putting your hands over your face, hiding the embarrassment, you composed yourself and straightened up, “hey, what can I help with?”

“Word is you got the prizes?” Bucky perked an eyebrow and gave the most obvious wink.

Half smiling, half jaw dropping, you looked around his hip to see Yori, who was keeping a curiously careful eye on his friend, shaking your head you looked up to Bucky, “so. . .they sent you? I don’t break that easily.” You crossed your arms over your chest, playfully, keeping eye contact. 

“Well,” he shrugged, “to be honest I’d like to know what we’re playing for too, I mean what’s our motivation here? I don’t know,” you covered your mouth, hiding the smile accompanying your soft giggles, “Why are you laughing? This is serious. What is the purpose of playing Bingo if you don’t know the prizes?”

With a real laugh at how hard he was trying to convince you, “okay, alright,” you reached under the table bringing up the prize in your hand, elbow against the table as you held it up, he looked down.

“A jar of jelly beans,” Bucky nodded, bobbing his head back and forth before a confident, “okay, seems fair, what about second place?”

You held up a jar in the other hand. 

Bucky looked between you and it, “that’s- that’s just a smaller jar of jelly beans,” he lifted his shoulders as if asking ‘why?’

“These people really like their jelly beans,” you admitted, “I figure you can guess what third place is.” 

“Seriously?” he dropped his shoulders, disappointed.

“Was there something you were hoping to get instead, Mr. Barnes?” You set the jars down, resting your chin on top of your laced hands as you looked up through your eyelashes at him.

He swallowed, deciding if he wanted to say anything, he winced as if he was going to regret what he was going to say- luckily for him the announcer called everyone back to the tables. He sighed, and you leaned back in your seat as you parted ways again. The evening remained entertaining with Yori occasionally reminding everyone at the table that if Bucky wins he’d share the prize.

Towards the end of the event, Bucky was the only one at the table still in the final rounds, meaning the entire table squeezed around him, glancing at his card and intensely listening. When the last number was being called, they all had a hand on Bucky, clinging to him like it was the olympics and he was their champion. 

“Seventeen” was announced and you noticed a sudden shift in Bucky’s demeanor, even though everyone around him was ecstatic, he looked like his mind was suddenly somewhere else, until he shook his head like shaking off a bad memory and he lifted his card. He didn’t have to say it, his group was already exclaiming Bingo enough for him. He came up casually with the other two, and you handed each of them a jar of jelly beans.

Bucky gave a ‘thank you,’ and took his back, but it was gone before he could even offer it to anyone.

“What’s the joke?” Yori held out the jar back to Bucky swiftly, “I can’t open it.” 

Smiling, Bucky popped open the jar in no time and immediately it was out of his hands again. 

“Congratulations,” you said behind him, making him turn around, he saw you had your jacket in your arms and purse over your shoulder, “I hope I’ll see you next month?” “Next month?” He tilted his head, “I thought it was weekly?”

“Volunteer rotations shift,” you explained, gesturing your hand in a circle, “I won’t be back until next month since we’ve got new volunteers.”

“Oh,” he nodded and there was silence.

“Anyway, I hope I’ll see you around,” you waved to him and to Yori as you left, pushing in the door’s brace open.

As it shut, Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, with a sigh, still watching the door.

“Go,” Yori said next to him and waved him away, “you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Bucky took a moment to consider it, “take the bus okay? I don’t want you guys-”

“Yes, yes, we will,” Yori said, already turning back to his friends.

Smiling towards them, he started a jog for the door, exiting, he looked to find you. Already on the sidewalk, he met up with you. Obviously causing you to stop in your tracks and wait when you heard him.

“Hey, um-” he looked around, “can I walk you home?”

“Sure,” you nodded, smiling.

There wasn’t a terrible amount of conversation, but you liked his company and didn’t want him to feel like he had to talk.

“I think it’s really sweet what you’re doing, what you did tonight” you said, looking straight ahead, even though you knew he was looking at you, “there hasn’t been that much laughter in a very long time,” you exhaled sadly, “most of them spent five years alone, or missing out on seeing their grandkids grow up. I was so happy to see their smiles.”

“And what about you?”

You finally turned to him, “I was here, alone” looking down, you laughed, “then again I was alone before, so. . .” you bit in your lower lip, wincing “that sounded so pathetic.” 

This time he laughed with you, “no,” he shook his head, “I know how alone feels.”

Stopping on the sidewalk, you exchanged glances, “well, this is me,” you pointed up to your apartment building.

“Right, okay,” he breathed nervously.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you said, walking towards the steps.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “hey, do you- would you want to get dinner?”

“Finally,” you giggled, before turning back to him, “it took you four blocks to ask!” He gave a shocked expression, only making you smile bigger, “I’m free Sunday, meet you right here at six?”

“Okay,” he said happily, “it’s a date then.”

“Perfect,” you squeezed your arms, hugging yourself.

He swallowed harshly, before taking a step closer and leaning in to kiss you on the cheek, sweetly. When he pulled back, he looked slightly nervous, as if that was the wrong thing to do.

“You missed,” you batted your eyelashes, with a soft smile.

Bucky took a second, unsure if you were serious, either way he took his chances and met your lips with his. Somehow this one took you by more surprise, causing you to move your hands against his chest, holding on to his jacket, until he pulled back.

“Bingo,” you whispered.

[eloquent-vowel]

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

[daisiesandshakes]

Hi can I request jealousy headcanon for Isaac,Arthur,Mozart,comte please

Hi dear nonny! Thank you so much for your request 💖

Sorry it took so long, night shifts were exhausting...

Here you go, I hope you like it! 💝

(@ashavazesa , I'm tagging you, maybe you like it!)

Jealousy headcanons

for Isaac, Arthur, Mozart &

le Comte

Isaac

The shy, poor boy doesn't know what hits him, he wasn't prepared... It is the first time he's really in love and it is his first time being jealous.

He wouldn't talk about his feelings in the beginning, because he feels a bit ashamed about them. Additional he's not used to talk about feelings anyway, so he bottles up.

You recognize his strange behavior like avoiding your glare, his abrupt short answers (especially towards the male who causes the jealousy), but at first you can't figure out where it comes from. He would also act more possessive than usual, suddenly kiss you firmly in front of others or pulling you close.

Though he knows you love him truly, he's unsettled deep inside and needs your reassurance. You'll have to push him slightly to open up, to tell you what's on his mind. When he does...oh boy.

With glowing eyes and fervent words he'll beg you to SHOW him your love, pushing you onto the bed. Needy for your touch and your words of love, nothing remains from his shyness. He won't let you go the next hours, making sure you're really his.

"Isaac, please tell me what concerns you... did I something wrong?"

You're sitting next to him in his room on the edge of the bed.

"N- no... It's not that."

His behavior was oddly brusque today and you are really concerned.

With a sigh you overthink what happened all day and then something klicked. You spent a lot of time with Napoleon while he teached the kids. Could it be?  "Isaac, are you jealous?"

The vampire flinches and draws his gaze away from yours, a blush appears on his handsome face.

You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. Gazing deep into his beautiful cherryblossom eyes you ask "Isaac, you know that I love you, that my heart belongs only to you, don't you?"

"Y- yes. My head knows it, but..." suddenly he pushes you down.

"Show it to me." He whispers, his voice husky and deep, his eyes dark with passion before his lips captures yours in a fiery kiss, his fingers ripping your blouse open.

Mozart

Mozart is probably the worst with jealousy (besides Theo). He even can't stand the thought of another male being too close to you. It doesn't matter if it is another resident or a complete stranger, he is very possessive and you only belong to him. No other has the right to touch you.

If someone touches you by accident, his possession drives him to get rid of the foreign scent on you immediatly.

When it's a strange male (talking to him would be enough to drive him crazy), he would be broiling jealous, unable to express himself. Normally Mozart is very straight forward, but not when it comes to express his feelings for you. Blaming you for being too trustful, he would even start an argument.

But Mozart loves you so much, you're so precious to him, he'll regret his harsh spoken words soon and searches for a way to talk.

Admitting his jealousy, he shows you that there is only one way to calm him down. Claiming your body and mind he would train you to who you belong until the sun rises and your voice is hoarse.

"M- Mozart, what-" you gasp as he pulls you behind the thick curtains, sealing your lips with his. "You spent enough time with the other residents." He breathes hard as he pulls away. "Especially with Leonardo. I don't like his cigarello scent on you." Your eyes grow wide. "Wolf, are you jealous?"

A faint rose appears on his cheeks. "I don't want to be...But yes I am."

"But... You don't have to be jealous. I love you so much, Wolf. There is no room in my heart for another man."

"I know, meine Liebe. But it seems that my heart doesn't accept this truth fully." His radiant violet eyes pierces into your soul.

"What can I do to make you feel better, Wolf?"

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he leans forward. "Await me in the thermae. I'll make sure the only scent that remains on your body is mine, and obviously I'll have to remind you the next hours to who you belong." fervent spoken words next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Arthur

He never felt jealousy before. Being a rotten flirt, Arthur is used to be the reason for that emotion, he never thought it could happen to him.

Trying to hide his feelings he'd cover them with playful words and actions. But when a male approaches you and gets too close, he won't think twice to make clear you are HIS girlfriend, holding you at your waist, whisking you away.

Deep inside Arthur has the feeling he doesn't deserve you, so he is afraid to loose you and gets easily jealous. He wouldn't like to admit it to you , worried he could scare you off.

But you are not able to overlook the pout and scowl on his handsome face or to overhear the truth hidden behind his joking words, irrelevant how much he tries to mask his feelings.

Arthur has a deep longing for your reassurance in words and body language, he needs your touch so bad, be prepared for exhausting, delightful hours between the sheets after he got jealous.

You are sitting on the couch in Arthur's room, rambling about your day with Vincent. Lately he gives you advices in painting techniques and you enjoy them, happy to make progress in your hobby. Arthur looks up from the papers with a smile, sitting at his desk.

"Darling, you sound really happy. I know you enjoy painting with Vincent, but are you sure you didn't decide secretly to leave your filthy boyfriend for this pure angel, Luv?" Arthur chuckles. For a split second a hurt expression appears in his loving gaze and his voice didn't sound as lighthearted as it should. You set your cup of coffee down with a surprised look on your face. "Are you jealous?"

A slight rose tints his cheeks as he pulls his gaze away.

You hurry over to him cupping his face and locking eyes. "Arthur, you are the only one for me. You are the love of my life, you know that, don't you?" Your thumbs caress his cheeks.

Arthur's big blue eyes waver at your words and he inhales deeply.

"You have no right to be this adorable" he whispers with a husky voice as he pulls you on his lap. Kissing your lips ardently his fingers already unbutton your blouse. "Say that again, luv" he smiles at your lips. "And then I'll make sure you won't ever forget that you are MY adorable girlfriend" he breathes at your skin as his lips travel from your jaw to the neck.

Le Comte

Comte seems to be always so calm and thoughtful, but when it comes up to you all this is nothing but dust in the wind. He waited for you and your love for centuries, now that you are his he's confronted with the deepest fear of loosing you.

Also he is insecure inside, thinking he doesn't deserve someone so precious like you (are you surprised?). This uncertainty is more fuel to the fire of the jealousy that rages in his heart.

Despite his always graceful and sublime conduct le Comte is very passionate and possessive. He can't bear another man touching you, even it is only your hair. On the other side he wants you to live freely, interacting with the other residents as usual. So he would get jealous real quick, but:

Wearing a mask of gentlemanly behavior and used to lock up his feelings you wouldn't notice his jealousy until it's "too late". Maybe it was only you and Leonardo in the library, sticking heads together and giggling about something. Maybe it was a stranger at the market, picking up an apple for you that dropped to the floor, holding your delicate hand while putting the apple into it.

When he corners you after that in his room, there'll be no escape. Le Comte will make sure that you're his, taking possession of your body and mind until there is nothing left but thinking of him and moaning his name. He will only stop when you pass out due to the overwhelming passion.

Le Comte cocks slightly an eyebrow due to the sight that is presented to him in the library. Arthur stands in front of the bookshelfs, carrying you bridal-style. "What happened?" he asks with honest concern. "Oh, our pretty dove wanted to spread her wings. I catched her as she fell from the ladder" Arthur replies lighthearted. "Luv, if you want my touch so bad, all you have to do is ask. You don't have to risk your health to get it" smirking he looks deep in your eyes. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you hit him at his shoulder. "Put me down, Arthur!" With a wry chuckle he lets you go, giving le Comte an amused sideways glance. "Okay, my performance as a hero is over, back to work then." With these words Arthur leaves the library and you exhale, looking concerned over to the pureblood. "You know that it was only an accident? I feel a bit embarrassed and.." Le Comte cuts you off, smiling gently.

"Ma cherie, don't worry. I understand what happened, everything is fine."

With a relieved smile you pick up the dropped books "I should have known, that something stupid like this doesn't concern you..."

You hear a sharp inhale and look up. His expression is serious, his eyes burn like melting gold in a furnace. Approaching you with slow, predatory steps he asks softly "When did I say I don't care?"

With a fluid move he pins you against the bookshelf, kissing you senseless. You both pant for air as he breaks the kiss. "I await you in my room. Now. Your chores are done for today." Comte leaves you with trembling legs.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it 💝

[mostly-marvel-musings]

hi can u write a bucky femxreader where they hate each other and have a really loud yelling and fighting session and then it turns into a heated passionate makeout sesh and it goes from there (enemies to lovers hate sex!!!!)

Sparring

A/N: Okay here we have some angry sex with Mr Barnes, let me know if I nailed it!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, angry sex.

Word count: 1.4+

Requests & Challenges

Bucky Barnes Taglist - @marvelgirl7

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Taglists are open folks! Send me an ask or DM to be included in any of these ;))

“Again!”

Your arch nemesis yelled as you landed on the rubber mat with a huff, back hurting from being repeatedly thrown around during the sparring session. It wasn’t your day apparently and you kept missing punches and ended up on the floor more than you should have. Your sparring partner was a trainee which added insult to injury and given that you were being judged and yelled at by James Buchanan Barnes was just another blow to your ego.

It was no secret that you two didn’t get along. Years ago when he was the Winter Soldier, you had been sent by Shield to track him down in Bucharest which had gone south very quickly. You had almost lost your life and if weren’t for Natasha coming to your rescue, you wouldn’t have been here to hate him. The permanent scar on your abdomen thanks to his metal arm and the fact he’d choked you until you’d passed out – the now invisible finger marks around your throat were enough to remind you of all the hatred you felt towards him even years after he’d joined the good side.

“Are you snoozing over there (Y/L/N)? We’re not done just yet, let’s try it again.” Bucky’s harsh voice snapped you out of it as your opponent helped you stand up. You glanced at the man who had a look of disapproval on his face.

Channeling your rage was easy, you managed to get a few good kicks in and knocked your partner Jake down a couple of times, eyes flitting towards Bucky to make sure he was looking at your progress, but he didn’t seem fazed. Rolling your eyes, you went over to grab water from your gym bag to take a breather when Bucky stopped you.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Taking a little break. Don’t I get five minutes?”

“You’ll get a break when I say you can.”

“Hey I think we’ve had enough, we can call it a day.” Your partner offered, trying to diffuse the tension that was building.

He dismissed Jake but asked you to get back on the mats with him instead, you knew this was coming. You went for the water anyway while Jake got his things and left sending a sympathetic look your way as you wiped some sweat off with a towel.

Bucky flexed his arms till you joined back, just a little show off that you didn’t care about before you prepared yourself, guards up. You had to ignore his critical look at your stance otherwise you were sure to have punched him in the face right there and then.

You were quick to attack first but it was almost as if he was expecting the move, he dodged it with minimum effort and held you in a headlock, the metal arm around your neck while the other held your head making it slightly difficult for you to breathe.

“That was sloppy.”

His voice was low and breathy against your ear while you made futile attempts to free yourself. He did you a favour and let go, only to land a kick against your sides which you thankfully blocked just in time.

The sparring session went on for a while with you taking blow after blow, blocking a mere handful but adding to Bucky’s annoyance and your own rage. A final move had you pinned underneath him, his face inches from your own, the dog tags he always wore clinking against each other as they fell out of his training shirt. Bucky’s eyes shamelessly roamed over your heaving chest as the sweat made your skin glisten, the strands of hair that escaped your ponytail and clung to your forehead, your eyes that bore into his, defeat hidden beneath the simmering fire.

“I thought you were one of the good ones (Y/N). You disappoint me.”

“It’s funny how I thought the exact same thing about you Barnes.” You seethed before you pushed him off, stood up and went towards the bench where your bag was.

“We’re not done h—”

“Yes we are! I think I’ve had enough humiliation to last me a decade from you today. I don’t care if what you say, I’m done.” You turned around heatedly as you yelled, your voice echoing in the empty gym, stopping Bucky in his tracks as he watched angry tears gather in your eyes.

“You let emotions get in the way (Y/L/N) that never makes for a good agent which I had my doubts if you were, now it’s pretty clear.”

“Oh I’m sorry not all of us were brainwashed to be cold-hearted assassins Barnes.”

That was a step too far, you knew it, he knew it, but you were practically fuming at this point and it just slipped out.  

Bucky took slow, deliberate steps towards you, making you back away until your back hit the wall, as he stopped right at the point where your chests were almost touching. His human arm slid along your sides before he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“I can be cold-hearted when it comes to others things too little girl.” He whispered dangerously, the grip tightening just a little, enough to elicit a whimper from your lips.

“Don’t call me a little g—”

Before you could finish, his mouth slanted over yours in a bruising kiss that took you by surprise at first but soon you found yourself kissing him back with equal if not greater fervour. Wedging his knee to push your legs apart, his hand left your throat to pull the straps of your sports bra down to expose your breasts. Bucky’s tongue mingled against yours in an assault while he kneaded your breasts before tracing a pattern down your neck to the valley between your breasts where he sucked possessively. A groan fell from your lips when he grazed his teeth over your pert nipples.

Your hands desperately grabbed his shirt before pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere in the back. He picked you up by the back of your knees before taking you over to a bench and carefully laying you on it, all while attacking your mouth with his ruthless kisses. Your eyes remained shut as you felt trapped in a heady mix of the need you felt for this man and the desire to have him in you right here in the compound gym and you were sure he felt the same as your leggings slid down your legs along with your panties to join the heap of clothes on the floor.

“You’re soaked baby girl… is that for me?”

Bucky’s fingers toyed with your glistening folds before sliding a finger inside as you gasped at the intrusion. Your eyes flew open just enough to watch him close his lips over your bundle of nerves while he added another finger, stroking your walls and stretching you out. Just as you were about to cum, Bucky pulled his fingers out causing you to whine out loud.

“Cold-hearted assassin was it?”

Previous anger came flooding back as you sat up only to push Bucky on the floor as he stared back at you, equal parts surprised and impressed. Undoing his pants in a hurry, you freed his erection and pumped his cock a few times, swiping your thumb across the tip to collect the precum. He watched you in awe as you worked him up, doing absolutely nothing to stop you as you straddled his hips before sinking down on his length.

“Oh fuck…”

“Where was all this aggression?” Bucky growled, grabbing your hair roughly to pull you down for a kiss as you began rolling your hips. Your eyes mapped every plain and dip of his chiselled torso all while your mind thought of ways to make him shut up.

Your nails scratched marks on his shoulders as you picked up the pace gradually, your sensitive nub brushing against his pubic bone every time but you wanted more. You drew tight circles with your own hand chasing your release before Bucky slapped it away only to replace it with his own deft fingers.

He began thrusting up faster, jaw clenched to suppress his moans, filling the room with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mewls as your walls fluttered around his cock deliciously, your orgasm consuming you whole, clouding your thoughts and triggering his release as his cock twitched before filling you with thick ropes of cum.

You collapsed against his sweat-lined chest and lay there for a bit, slowly floating back to the land of the living.

“Why do you hate me?” Bucky asked after you parted to put your clothes back on.

“Why do you?” You countered.

“You’re an obstinate incorrigible woman.”

“And you’re an arrogant piece of shit.”

The glares you gave each other melted away as smiles began appearing in place of them as you head out of the gym together, the after effects of your activities showing.

“You want to grab a bite to eat later?”

“No. I still don’t like you Barnes.”

[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.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

what a nightmare

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

request by @marvel-diaries: Hi wifey❤️ So I came across this image and I’ve been cry laughing for like 5 minutes😂So for 2K I wanted to request something kind of based on this image😂 You’re on your period and Bucky takes care of you for the day! Makes you feel comfortable and goes to the store for you to buy what you need. He ends up calling you on FaceTime because the whole pad/tampon section is just so confusing so he needs your help! At the end of the day you and him are cuddled up on the couch together eating your favorite snacks! Please and thank you❤️

word count: 1k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Once Bucky found you wrapped in your favorite cozy blanket lying on the sofa and with pouty lips, he knew that month your period hit you really hard. You could barely move without feeling cramps all around your lower belly, grunting and curling in a ball with your arms surrounding your abdomen. He left your house without saying a word about where he was going, just placing a soft kiss on your forehead and asking you to not move, to rest. Bucky drove to the closest store, decided to pamper you the whole day or until you felt better. That was the only thing he wanted, to make you smile again and make disappear any pain that you were suffering.

His first stop was the snack sections. Your boyfriend brought you all kinds of junk food —your favorite chocolate bars, chips, candies, peanut butter. Anything he had seen you eating other months, even two bottles of ice cream because one wasn't enough. Bucky bought you one of those stuffed animals with cherry pits inside to put it in the microwave and use it to alleviate the cramps. He took a raccoon. It didn't need an explanation why, it was pretty obvious. He toured the whole supermarket, adding some pizzas to the cart for dinner.

Everything was going okay. Your boyfriend was more than happy to help you and to contribute to your well-being. But that happiness fell into pieces when he reached the pad and tampons sections. “What the hell?” He thought confused like never in his life. If he believed that war was to go to Germany and fight the Nazis was because in his time there weren't too damn many kinds of pad and tampons. They were divided by size, fabrics, brands, smells, colors (...). He didn't know which one you used and he thought about asking somebody working there but each person was a world.

Much to his regret, fucking up the surprise, Bucky took his phone from a pocket and called you via facetime. His heart broke as soon as he saw you on his screen with teary eyes, sniffing in pain.

“Hey, sorry”. He mumbled honeyedly. “Listen, I, uh… came to the store and… what the… hell is all of this? I just wanted to buy you pads or tampons or whatever the hell you use and… honestly, this 's a nightmare”.

You couldn't help but laugh in tears, cleaning them with the back of your hand, just by imagining the situation by the look on his face. He was literally begging for help.

“They're called Tampax Pearl”. You chuckled.

“Yeah, okay… Lemme… Lemme… Just gimme a second”. Bucky was freaking out, touring with his gaze the whole damn hallway.

“They're the color of your eyes”.

“Doll, listen… I ain' playing games, I just wanna go home and never come back”.

Your laughter made you stir because of the lash of pain straight to your ovaries, curling up your legs to your chest.

“Blue and green”.

“My eyes aren't gre— To who the hell are you looking at, uh?”

“You should watch them under the sun, you punk…”

“Your passive-aggressive romanticism overwhel— OH, finally, goddammit”.

You watched the triumphant grimace appearing on his face while adding three packets to the card, trying to glance at what else he had bought with not much success.

“Okay, good… 'M gonna pay, run away and never come back to this place. See you in a minute, doll”.

“Buck”. You called his name when he was about to hang up, not being able to hold back another giggle when you saw his expression turning into pure horror, hoping you didn't ask him for anything else from there. “I love you…”

“I love you too. More than anything. 'M gonna take care of you today, 'kay? Don't you worry, your soldier's comen'”.

You lied down on the sofa after finishing dinner and Bucky cleaned the kitchen, to cuddle, lacing your legs and arms together under your blanket. You felt much better than that morning. You took a warm bath, your pills, a long nap, and filled your stomach with all the things he bought for you —yet having your hot raccoon under your shirt, well pressed to your abdomen. You felt better than in heaven, receiving tender kisses from your boyfriend to any part of your body he had access to, putting more effort and love whenever he could reach your lips from behind.

Bucky was swept off his feet for you, it was something undeniable. You were his anchor, keeping him afloat twenty-four seven. And taking care of you as part of his nature, always feeling that necessity, that urgency for making you feel happy, loved, satisfied in any kind of way. You were his whole life. So, when it came to you, anything was insufficient for him.

Turning around under his firm, warm and fond embrace, you brought your lips to his. It was an ephemeral touch that caused him to close his eyes and sigh completely in love, feeling his heart racing from one second to another under your palm rested on his chest. Your left made his way to the back of his head as soon as Bucky parted your mouth in such a slow-motion to slide his tongue, looking for yours, gently caressing it. Your boyfriend pressed you a little more closely, as if it was possible, letting you almost lie on top of him. There weren't any sexual intentions hidden behind that kiss, just wanting to show him how much you appreciate any effort he did for you.

Both of you ended up breathing through your nostrils, not wanting to pause your session of makeout in the gloomy of your living room. He lived for those long, long kisses, only worrying about tasting your saliva, biting your lips, and playing with your tongue. And, God, Bucky was an expert, causing you soft goosebumps whenever he caressed your back or arms so lovingly that melted your heart completely.

“Thank you”. You whispered as you could, stroking his weak spot beneath his ear with your thumb.

He couldn't help but purr delighted on your mouth, feeling a smile curving up to his lips as he got comfier under your weight after positioning you between his legs, using you as his favorite personal blanket.

“I love you, Buck… So much I can't explain���.

“Try it, darlin'. You have a whole life to bear me”.

“What a nightmare”. You giggled, placing a smooch on top of his nose.

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I’ll Take X-pecting for 200, Alex

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid plays a trivia game at the request of his wife, Y/N, but he’s in for more than some heaving hitting questions. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife Reader 

Word Count: 1.5k 

Author’s Note: I really don’t think that this summary does this justice

I’ll Take X-pecting for 200, Alex 

Shuffling the cards with a shake in her hand, Y/N tells herself to just breathe. This is something that Spencer and her have been looking forward to, dreamed about, and constantly discussed. Regardless of how much she knows Spencer loves her, there’s a lingering seed of doubt that only grows with the sound of Spencer walking into their house. 

“Y/N!, I’m home, darlin’,” Spencer calls from the hallway, dropping the “g” because he knows that Y/N finds it endearing. 

“Baby,” Y/N yells from the table. “I’m in the dining room. I made us a trivia game! Come play with me, I need your brains,” she finishes, smiling at her husband, who has been away for nearly two weeks.

“You know do I love trivia, Y/N,” Spencer says. He takes a seat next to his wife, but before he can kiss her, she pushes him out of his chair and motions for him to take the seat opposite of her.

“Before we start, how was the case? Everyone make it home in one piece?” Y/N asks concerned over the wellbeing of some of her closest friends. 

“Everyone’s fine, Y/N. The unsub ended up being a team. Two women hellbent on getting revenge for their children’s murders. One of them got away,” Spencer explains, solemnly. 

“Oof,” Y/N says, letting out a sigh. “It’s at times like these that I’m glad I don’t have your job. I’m kinda glad she got away, between you and me.” 

“It’s hard, sometimes we don’t really know who we’re bringing justice too. But, I’d do anything to protect my future children, and you. Anything I needed to do to keep you safe,” Spencer tells her, leaning across the table and kissing Y/N’s hand. She gives him a sheepish smile, but inside her mind is eager to get this trivia game started. 

“You’re a charmer, Dr. Reid,” Y/N flirts. 

“Just for you, Y/N. Now you mentioned something about trivia,” Spencer says, clapping his hands together excitedly. 

“I just thought you’d like to rest your brain after a case but shifting though all those facts you got stored up there. And I always said you should try out for Jeopardy,” Y/N says as she collects the cards with the clues. 

She spreads out the categories, Child Psychology, Children’s Books, Labor & Delivery, Nursery Rhymes, X-Epecting, on the table. They were all handwritten on different colorful pieces of cardstock and decorated with baby animals and block letters. Y/N read the categories aloud to her husband, allowing herself to steal a glance at his face while he concentrated on the categories, as if he already could answer the questions. 

“All right, Spencer, you pick first,” Y/N says, in her best Alex Trebek impression. 

“I’ll take Child Psychology for $200,” Spencer chooses, looking up to smile at Y/N. 

“This is the substitute mother that baby monkeys formed an attachment to in Harlow’s psychological experiment,” Y/N asks.

“Terry-Cloth,” Spencer interjects. 

“Not uh, Spence, you need to answer correctly,” Y/N teases. She looks up at him expectantly to choose the next clue. He rolls his eyes at her, but secretly he enjoys the playful banter they still share even after all these years. 

“Um, Children’s Books $200,” 

“This is the story of the clever spider that can weave words in her web,” 

“What is Charlotte’s Web?” 

“Correct, pick again please,” Y/N says, as she tries to maintain a stoic composure. 

“This is the average of days that newborns keep up their sleepless parents,” Y/N asks, sure that this question would stump her genius husband. But to no avail, Spencer answers the question correctly. 

“Okay! Next time try-outs are around, I’m forcing you to take the test,” Y/N says running over to kiss Spencer on the cheek. 

“You know judges are supposed to remain impartial, Y/N” Spencer tells her, putting his arm around her waist as if he’s signally her to sit in his lap. 

“I can’t help it, how about you win kisses every time you get a question right, Spence,” Y/N proposes. 

“I guess it’s worth more than fake money,” Spencer teases.

“You offend me, baby!” Y/N pretends to be hurt by Spencer’s words, but urges him to continue the game. 

“You only got a couple more left, Spence,” 

“Okay, how about X-Expecting for $200,” Spencer chooses. 

“This chromosome is linked to the baby’s mother,” Y/N quizzes, finding it difficult to keep her smiles and secrets at bay when Spencer’s arm tugs around her waist tightly and his fingers draw patterns under her shirt. 

“What is X-Chromosome,” Spencer answers before Y/N can even finish the clue. 

“You know that you’re supposed to wait until the clue is read, Spence. I should redact kisses,” Y/N fake threats. 

“No! Y/N I’ll die without your kisses, please!” Spencer cries out in pretend disain. Much to his amusement his goofy behavior leads Y/N to plant small pecks on his forehead. 

“There, that should hold you over,” 

“I doubt it, Y/N. I miss you already,” Spencer mutters into her shoulder, as if he’s trying to get closer to his wife more than he could already be with her sitting on his lap. 

“Two more clues till Final Jeopardy,” Y/N announces, ignoring the fact that she’s bypassing the rest of the clues and totally disregarding Double Jeopardy. 

“Hmm, let’s go to Nursery Rhymes for kissing for the rest of my life,” Spencer picks, peppering Y/N’s shoulder with kisses. 

“Huh! Look at that, Spencer, you got the Daily Double, so whatcha going to wager?” Y/N asks, knowing she’s pulling this Daily Double straight out of the air, but Spencer’s affection for only one lifetime is not nearly enough for her. 

“I’ll make a true Daily Double, darling. That means double the amount of kisses,” Spencer tells her, ticking the sides of Y/N waist. 

“Here’s your clue, Jack is urged to be nimble & quick, helping him do this,” Y/N reads from the card. 

“What is to jump over the candlestick?” Spencer guesses, closing his eyes to be assaulted by Y/N’s eager lips. 

“Yay! Double kisses!” Y/N yells happily as she pecks Spencer’s eyelids and nose, causing him to laugh at her light affection. 

“Next question, it’s the last one so you don’t get a choice, but I have so much confidence in you, my genius husband. These are the names of the 3 stages of labor?” Y/N questions, looking over her shoulder to get a glimpse of Spencer’s mind at work. 

“What are dilation, expulsion, and afterbirth,” Spencer answers, once again perfectly. 

“Okay, Dr. Reid you’ve accumulated a total of double kisses for the rest of our lives. Your Final Jeopardy category is, Ready For It…” Y/N announces. 

“Last one,” Spencer says, and Y/N wonders if Spencer’s figured it out by now. She hands Spencer the small cardboard box. He looks at it curiously and Y/N can feel her heart in her stomach. He must know by now, she thinks. He’s brilliant, but sometimes he can be a little clueless when it comes to things like that. Y/N thinks back to how they danced around each other for years before Derek practically had to force them out on a date. He must know. 

“You’re clue is inside the box, Spence,” Y/N tells him, her voice shaky and unsure. 

Spencer carefully opens the cardboard box and reaches in to pull out the small pregnancy test that lay hidden inside. He looks it over, reading the test twice, three times, maybe even four times. He honestly can’t remember taking longer to read something. Spencer looks up at a terrified Y/N. 

“You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?” Spencer asks, desperately wanting to believe what he holds in his hand. 

“You’re gonna be a daddy, Spence,” Y/N tells him, her smile struggling to conceal itself in between the bouts of happiness and joy that courses through her veins. 

“A baby! Oh Y/N. A baby!” Spencer shouts rushing over to where his wife stands in between the entrance from their kitchen to their dining room. 

“You’re happy, right Spence. You want this with me-” Y/N starts, a sudden rush of fear lodging itself in her heart. 

“Of course I’m happy, Y/N. I’m so happy to be a dad. You’re going to be a mom! You’ll be the best mom, Y/N. I love you, Y/N,” Spencer says, crouching down to rub his hands on Y/N’s belly. 

“Hi sweet baby,” Y/N says softly, looking down at her belly and covering her hand over Spencer’s. “I want you to meet your daddy. He’s going to take care of you so well, he might talk a lot but you get used to it” 

“Hey, baby. It’s your dad,” Spencer murmurs quietly into Y/N’s belly. “I’m so glad that mommy told me about you. You gotta do some growing in there before you can meet us, but we love you so much, baby,”

“I really love you so much Y/N,” Spencer says as he sits up to kiss his wife. 

All his life Spencer’s loved science. He loves discovering the undiscovered. Memorizing all those theories and facts and methods could never prepare him for the awe that sat before him. He realizes that he’s looked at science all wrong. There's a beauty in science- a natural, unadulterated beauty that’s so rare to find. But he’s found it and he’s never letting go.

Thank You for Reading!

Taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ 

If anyone wants to be tagged in new posts, feel free to comment and I’ll be thrilled to tag you <3

[tlcwrites]

Consequence

A birthday gift for @paper-n-ashes

Summary: When you steal the Supreme Leader's sweater, there are... repercussions.

Word Count: 3483

Tags/Warnings: Kylo Ren x Fem Reader. NSFW, 18+. MINORS DNI; PIV sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, heavy dom/sub dynamic, praise kink, breath play, I'm probably forgetting other kinks but I finished this at 3AM last night and I'm not even sure that I used real words let alone remember what I wrote so if I missed any let me know and I'll update the tags, smuuuuuuut for daaaays, canon what's canon The Rise of Skywalker can go fuck itself mostly except for that beautiful white set of rooms on the Steadfast.

Author’s Note: It's my hetero lifemate @paper-n-ashes' birthday today (at least in my timezone for a few more hours so IT COUNTS sorry Sarah at least you got to read it yesterday) and she has been waiting SO patiently for me to finish this damn fic. I started writing it back in like November? Maybe even October? and have struggled so fucking hard with finding the mojo to finish it. Then out of the blue this week, said mojo came back and I figured Sarah's birthday was the perfect deadline. So, voila. And don't forget to go tell her how awesome she is.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SISTER IN THIRST AND SHAMELESS HOEING. I couldn't actually get you Kylo so I got you this instead. #throne room hair is the best hair forever the end

You’re perched on the sofa, open book on your lap, when the comm chimes. You can’t help your soft smile; it’s finally that time of the day cycle.

You don’t bother answering the comm, since it’s an alert, not a call. Closing your book, you rise and return it to the bookcase set into the wall of the lounge. With a gentle press, the hatch closes, and the bookcase disappears into the stark white expanse of the rest of the room, precious cargo hidden. Books are an expensive indulgence, even for the Supreme Leader.

Or whomever he choses to share them with.

You cross to the base of the stairs that lead to the chamber’s entrance and open a small compartment, also a part of the structure of the room. You toe off your slippers, setting them carefully inside the cubby. Your soft leggings pants are next, folded carefully. You start to remove your sweater as well, but hesitate. It is chilly. For all of the technology the First Order has amassed, you’d think they’d have figured out how to keep their Destroyers at a comfortable temperature.

You leave the sweater. He’ll definitely have an… opinion about it.

Now bare but for the sweater and your bra, so scant it hardly deserves the term, you take your place at the base of the stairs. The hem of the sweater brushes your thighs. Standing tall, feet together, hands clasped loosely behind you, you wait. You keep your eyes on the blast doors.

When the doors finally open, you smile softly. “Good evening, Supreme Leader.”

His cape billows behind him as he descends the stairs (he’s clearly inherited his family's flair for dramatics). As he reaches the bottom, you respectfully drop your gaze. His boots stop in front of you, your bare feet looking so small compared to his. But then again, everything looks small compared to him.

He raises a gloved hand and strokes the back of a finger down the collar of your sweater. “What’s this?” His voice is throaty and deep. As usual, it sends a thrill through you.

You keep your eyes downcast. “A sweater, Supreme Leader.”

“Clearly.” His finger continues down from the collar of the garment, caressing the soft rise of your breasts. “Perhaps I should rephrase my question.” His finger catches your nipple, and you can’t help but gasp. “What is my sweater doing on your body, when your body doesn’t have permission to be wearing anything?”

You finally risk a glance up. His face is impassive, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He’s amused.

You raise your chin. He loves when you’re confident. “It was cold.”

“Cold.” The finger continues to tease your nipple through the fibers. “In space.” The tease turns into a flick, and you barely smother your gasp. His lips twitch. “Imagine that.”

He’s in a good mood. You decide to toy with him. “Perhaps I simply need something substantial to keep me warm, Supreme Leader.”

One eyebrow raises, ever so slightly. He’s going to play along. “Do you find my care unsatisfactory?”

“Of course not, Supreme Leader.” His finger has shifted to your other nipple. You take a shuddering breath. “I would never dare to question your wisdom.”

He shifts almost imperceptibly closer to you. “And yet-” He brings that accursed finger back up your sternum, tracing up your neck and ghosting over your jaw. “-is that not exactly what you’ve done by ignoring my directive?”

Kriff.

He passes the leather-wrapped digit over your lips, stroking the soft skin. “Nothing to say, pet?”

You drop your eyes again. “My most sincere apologies, Supreme Leader.”

His hum of approval reverberates in your chest. “I imagine they will be.” He applies the barest hint of pressure to your lips. “Open.”

You comply immediately, opening your mouth enough to allow his finger entrance. The leather tastes so different from his skin. He presses the thick digit inside, and doesn’t have to say a word as you begin to suck obediently. He adds a second finger and you can’t stifle your moan.

“Good girl.”

Two words. Just two words, hummed in that honeyed voice, and you can practically feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You glance up once more.

He’s watching you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Maker, you love his eyes. You can always read him through his eyes. He tries so hard to bury his emotions, but nothing can be hidden in their cinnamon depths. And right now, his eyes say that he’s about half a standard second away from losing what’s left of his famously little control.

Hmm. Time to have a little more fun.

You deliberately graze his fingers with your teeth, the leather of his glove supple under your bite.

His cheek twitches and you know instinctively he’s chewing on it. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” he warns you.

Pulling your mouth off his fingers with a ‘pop’, you smile serenely up at him. “Whatever do you mean, Supreme Leader?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he purrs, dragging his spit-soaked fingers along the edge of your jaw, his own clenched as he tries to keep himself in check. “Careful you don’t get burned.”

Your smile becomes less teasing, and more sincere. It’s okay, you think, knowing he’ll be able to feel your emotions. You never guard yourself around him. I trust you, Master.

There’s a split second when his eyes search yours; for permission, for acceptance, for confirmation of that trust that you hold in him and that he holds in you. It’s a breath of a moment, but he leaves his raw self exposed.

He’s affection starved, your Supreme Leader, even if he’ll never admit it. Deep inside, where even his former masters couldn’t reach, is that little boy he once was; still desperate to please and be praised by those too focused elsewhere to pay attention, and terrified of disappointing those who do. It breaks your heart that he’s spent his whole life feeling so alone.

Your dynamic fills that void in a way he feels safe with. It’s on his terms. He needs your adoration; needs your worship. He craves the affirmation. No more abandonment and fear from those he should be able to trust most; no more abuse and gaslighting at the hands of those who are supposed to guide him.

Just trust, and love. Pure, unconditional love.

He presses his lips to yours.

You whimper into his kiss, pressing a hand against his massive chest to steady yourself.

In the next moment, he scoops you up, pressing you against the window and hooking your legs around his waist. You yelp at the coolness of the transparisteel against your back, even through the sweater, but he swallows your cry as he plunders your mouth.

“Kylo,” you whimper when he lets you up for air, but he ignores you, sucking a line down your neck to your collarbone.

“Get this off,” he growls, tugging at the neckline of the sweater. “Or I’ll take it off for you, and it won’t survive the removal.”

You let go of his shoulders, grasping the hem of the top and practically ripping it over your head.

His mouth is on you in an instant, those plush lips teasing one nipple at a time through your lacy scrap of a bra.

“Maker!” you gasp, flinging the sweater in the general direction of the floor and bringing both hands to grip his hair. Frantic fingers twist his dark waves. You could write sonnets to his hair. “Kylo!”

You feel the clasp of your bra come undone. He rips his lips from your breasts, and with one barely-there flick of his fingers, the undergarment is on the floor next to the sweater.

“Did you just-” It’s next to impossible to smother your giggle when you realize what he’s done. “I can’t imagine the Force is meant to be used for that.”

Kylo ignores you, although you’re positive you can detect the barest hint of a blush on his ears. But then you’re not paying attention to his ears, as he’s sucked one of your nipples back into his mouth and is grazing it with his teeth. Your moan turns into a shriek when he hooks his arms under your legs and hefts you higher against the wall, so it’s easier for him to feast on your flesh.

He shifts your weight to one of his massive arms, that paw of a hand gripping the opposite flesh of your rear as he brings his other hand back up to your mouth. “Open,” he commands once more.

You take the two still-gloved fingers as deep in your mouth as you can, gagging slightly as he presses on the back of your tongue.

His dark chuckle is breathless. “Such an eager whore,” he murmurs against your chest, your answering whimper going straight to his cock. Pulling his hand back, he nips the skin at your collarbone at the same time he drags the fingers you’ve just drenched straight through your swollen folds below.

“Do you even deserve my fingers, Pet?” He smirks as you drop your head back and moan. “Such a wanton little thing you are.” He teasingly traces a circle around your clit with just a fingertip, satisfaction growing at the sound the movement elicits from you.

“Master,” you gasp.

Without warning, he twists you away from the window, carrying you with ease to his desk. When he drops into his chair, he’s unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath as he settles you on his lap and brings your core into direct contact with his cock, hard and throbbing beneath his trousers. The contrast of your nudity with his still-clothed body is intoxicating. He guides your hips to roll against him again, your moans simultaneous as your cunt makes slick the leather stretched taut over his arousal.

Already closer to his breaking point than he'd prefer to admit, Kylo clamps his teeth down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to break the skin, the pain working as usual to allow him to refocus his energy and reclaim control of his passions. Unhinged as his reputation is, there is part of his life the Supreme Leader rules with meticulous care- you.

He knows you love him, and you’ve declared time and again it’s unconditional and without reservation. Your submission is a gift he knows he will never truly be worthy of. Maker knows he adores you with every part of his long-shrouded heart. But the fear never leaves him. Decades of distrust and broken promises means he lives in terror of the day his tenuous temper snaps, and he horrifies you or, stars forbid, truly hurts you.

That dark voice lurking at the back of his mind teases him with a possibility somehow perversely worse than fear or injury: abandonment. That you’ll inevitably see him at his most honest; broken, contemptible. Unworthy.

He loathes himself all the more, because he knows if it comes to it, he couldn’t survive letting you go. He isn’t strong enough to endure the loss of the only light he still has.

Unaware of his internal torture, you grip the front of his gambeson and try to rock your pelvis against him, whining as you’re foiled by his hands still gripping your hips. “Master, please.”

Your voice jerks him back to reality, and your begging makes his cock twice as hard. “Something you desire, Pet?” he purrs, grateful you were too wrapped in lust to notice his momentary lapse.

“You, Master.” You can’t help a frustrated whimper as you try once more to undulate against him and are again prevented from doing so. “Please, Kylo, let me please you.”

He reburies his anguish, and smirks at you. “Very well.” He releases your hips. “Please me.”

As soon as he lets go, you’re sliding off his lap and on to your knees, scrambling to unhook his belt. He obligingly helps you open his trousers. You make quick work of the placket and draw out your prize, salivating as you pump his already-leaking cock.

He hisses as your mouth engulfs him. “Yes, just like that. What a good, good girl you are.”

A lewd moan escapes around his length as he fists his hands in your hair.

He doesn’t need to say another word. You can read it in his eyes, every filthy, dark thought as you bob your head on his shaft. How good it feels when you take his cock in your throat; that he knows exactly how hot and wet it makes you when he fucks your mouth; how knowing you’re waiting in his quarters to be used as his personal whore is the only thing that gets him through the day. You moan again, and one corner of his mouth twitches.

You know him well enough to recognize it as a smirk.

“As delightful as this is, Pet,” he finally sighs, a slight waiver to his voice the only indicator of how close you already have him to release, “there’s a different part of you I desire at this moment.”

Releasing his cock with a ‘pop’, you continue to stroke him with your hand as you beam up at him. “As you wish, Master.”

Your mouth and chin are wet with precum and spit. He drags his thumb through the mess and brings it to your lips, his cock jumping in your grasp as you wrap your tongue around the digit.

“Up,” he snaps.

Rising immediately, you can’t help your squeak as he spins you to face the desk and pulls you back onto his lap, impaling you on his cock with one hard thrust. You gasp, unable to cry out as all the air is expelled from your lungs. Your arms are wrenched behind you by invisible bonds, the posture thrusting your breasts out. You hear his low chuckle as he tweaks both nipples while simultaneously bucking his hips, eliciting a shriek from you.

Thick fingers twist into your hair, pulling you back until you're flush with his chest. His breath is hot against your ear as he snarls two words that have your cunt clenching in anticipation: “Ride me.”

No further encouragement is necessary. He works your body over as you rock in his lap, reducing you to a burbling mass of arousal. Releasing his grip on your hair, his hands make their way down your body, the leather feeling so kriffing good as he caresses every inch of you.

Plush lips drag against your jaw as he leans forward, pressing his chest closer against your back. He trails his fingers up your thighs while simultaneously dragging his teeth along your earlobe. The noise that escapes you is undignified at best, and positively libidinous at worst.

The bastard’s smirk is obvious against your heated skin. “My beautiful Empress,” he murmurs, licking a stripe up your neck.

You can’t suppress your panting as he nips at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I’m not your Empress,” you manage, your voice breathy with arousal as you continue to move.

“Mmmmm.” Kylo hums as his right hand trails up your abdomen to gently cup your left breast, those elegant fingers plucky at your nipple and making you moan. “Not yet.”

“Oh.” You squeak as he latches on to your pulse point, his teeth scraping over your skin as he marks you. His other hand drops to your core, fingertips stroking your folds as deftly as a musician plays a hallikset. You cry out as he deliberately ignores your clit, but your cry becomes a gasp as he abruptly slaps the inside of your thigh. “Kylo!”

“Feel how wet you are, little whore.” He pulls his hand from your cunt and wipes your slick across your cheek. “Only the most depraved whores drip like this.” When he wraps the same hand around your throat, you sob in euphoric bliss. His chuckle is low. “Look at you, reduced to a needy slut who wants nothing more than to be filled by her Master.”

You can’t help but moan as he tightens his grip, the other hand on your breast squeezing hard.

“Speak, Pet.” His order is hissed in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Need you, Master,” you gasp, deliciously light headed from the lack of oxygen. “Need you to- oh, Maker!- need you to fill me, need you to fuck m-me oh!”

A squeal erupts as he abruptly thrusts up, hard, and proceeds to set a brutal pace. Helpless to do anything but take what he gives you, all you can do is wail and enjoy the desperation in his movements.

When he stands and surges forward, shoving you against his desk while still buried in your swollen heat, it’s just enough to send you over the edge and you crash into your climax with a scream.

Over your shoulder, you hear Kylo tsk in admonishment. “Oh, princess,” he chides, as you feel your Force bonds tighten even more, “you know better than to cum without permission.”

With that, he shoves you forward, pressing your chest flat against the thermoplastic and using his knee to spread your legs. You willingly comply, relishing in his hiss as he pumps into your wet, waiting warmth. He finally releases your throat, and the sensation of your cunt clenching as you cough is too much for him. His pace becomes blistering, each thrust sending your pelvic bone into the edge of the desk; speech is now beyond your power, incoherent babble all that remains as he obliterates your cunt.

The lewd symphony of your coupling is punctuated by his growls and your cries. You can already feel the crest rising anew and you beg for salvation. “Master, please!”

He grips the back of your neck, anchoring your head, snarling as he takes you with rapid, deep thrusts. “Do you think now you'll be able to follow instructions?”

You nod frantically, trying desperately to stave off your orgasm. “Yes, Master!”

His voice is deeper than ever, trembling slightly as he uses your body to chase his own end. “Tell me, my little slut; who owns you?”

“You, Master!” You can’t hold back the shriek that erupts from your lips as you feel that subtle tickling of his powers against your clit.

The sounds you’re making have him right on the edge. “You’re mine, all mine,” he sneers as you cry out once more. “Say it.”

“Yours, Kylo,” you gasp. “I’m yours!”

“You need to cum again, sweet little Pet?” When you frantically nod, he fists your hair and yanks your head back. “Do it,” he hisses next to your ear. “Cum for me. Now.”

You explode around him, screaming your pleasure. His echoing roar is your only warning before he slams into you a final time, ripping himself from your heat and snatching your body off the desk. You land on your knees just in time to receive his spend, splashing across your face and chest as he pumps his length.

---

It takes several moments before you can even start to become aware of your surroundings once more. In that time, Kylo has bundled you in your favorite cozy blanket, and cradles you in his lap as he smooths your hair back and murmurs sweet words of praise. His seed still decorates your body, and you preen as you feel his hands, finally ungloved, gently rub it into your skin as one more claim of his ownership.

Your contented sigh is what alerts him to your consciousness, and he can’t help his proud smile as your eyes slowly flutter open, or the chaste and caring kiss he presses to your temple. “How are you feeling, princess?”

A beaming smile is his reward. “Wonderful,” you sigh, and then giggle. “And filthy, in the best possible way.”

“As requested,” he slyly teases.

You notice that sometime during your torpor, he’s shed his gambeson and trousers, replacing them with soft lounge pants and  the stolen sweater. Hooking your fingers over the neckline, echoing his own earlier actions, you tug gently. “Thief.”

He laughs, your favorite sound in the galaxy. “The Jawa calls the Ewok short.” Your answering eye roll elicits another chuckle and another brush of his lips. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs against your forehead.

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.” Your smile is soft as you raise your face, content when he understands the overture and leans down to press his lips to yours. A/N: Alexa, play "I Want Kylo Ren To Rail Me on a Desk" by Beyoncé or someone.

Likes and reblogs feed my dirty, dirty soul. I always want to tag mutuals but then I feel like that would be super presumptuous even though I love being tagged, so IDK I guess send me an ask if you want me to tag you in new writings?

[streetlight11]

Strawberry Lattes

Summary: He always needs his morning caffeine to wake him up for his morning classes. He never knew what it feels like wanting to come back to a particular place again and again solely for one reason, until he met you. You were a full time barista and a part time university student. Despite the stress you get almost every week, your two friends have always been there to support you. What happens when your friends come to visit you at your workplace one day, only to find out that they were friends with the same boy who not only is your eye candy, but also your regular customer?

Genre: Super fluffy

Pairing: Kim Sunwoo x GN Reader

Word count: 5.5k

It was another dreadful morning after only 2 hours of sleep due to staying up all night hoping to finish at least 50% of the assignment. But this wasn’t an excuse for you to call in to work sick or unable to come for your shift. Hence, the reason why you were now forcing yourself out of bed to freshen up and get ready for work. You were a full time barista at a local café downtown just around the corner from your apartment, and also a part time student at Yonsei University.

The reason why you chose this path was because you wanted to further your studies but also earn a monthly allowance in order to pay for your school and house bills since you were living alone and didn't have the time to search for a roommate.

Despite the stress load you get every once in a while, you managed to cope and tried your best to pass each module. Today was no different, as you got ready for work and was out the door by 0730. You arrived at the café only to find your manager already preparing the coffee machines and restocking the cakes in the fridge beside the cashier. You greeted him good morning before he smiled at you.

You went into the back room to put your bag down and took your apron. Proceeding to head to the front where the cashier and coffee machines were.

“Did you get enough sleep yesterday?” Kihyun asked.

Before you could reply, a yawn left your lips as you used the back of your hand to cover your mouth slightly.

“Nope. But I’ll be fine.” You said. You could hear the heavy sigh that left his lips when he closed the fridge door and soon turned to you with a frown.

“(Y/N), you know you have to get some rest. It’s not good for your health.” Kihyun said, but you nodded.

“I know Ki, but I can’t fail this module.”

“Just… know when to take a break okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he went to the back room to settle some paperwork while you stayed by the counter, refilling the powders into the containers. After you were done, a few customers had entered to buy their morning caffeine doses. 4 orders and 5 minutes of silence later, you leaned over the counter top with one knee resting on the stool in front of you that was hidden from any customer in plain sight.

You supported your head on your palm, slowly finding yourself drifting to sleep when the doorbell chimed, catching your attention. You looked up to see a guy walking into the café looking just as tired as you were but he had more life in him.

“Dang he’s cute.” You thought to yourself as you quickly wiped the pout off your face and soon replaced it with a warm smile.

“Good morning, may I take your order?” you greeted him.

He flashed you a soft smile before glancing up at the menu boards hanging above your head.

“Do you have any recommendations? I feel like trying something new.” He finally looked back down at you, only for you to feel as though your airflow got sucked out of your lungs.

“Personally I really like the Iced Matcha Latte with soy milk if I want a non-caffeinated drink. But if I want that espresso kick to start my mornings, I really love the Strawberry Latte, with two pumps of syrup and a light dash of strawberry sprinkles. It’s not too strong and it definitely gives you a sweet tangy balance to the bitter coffee taste.” You ended your speech with a light giggle after you realized how long it was.

The male only smiled fondly at you during that whole minute explanation but it was worth it. “Great, can I get the exact order for the second one then?” He said. You looked quite surprised but nonetheless smiled as you began to key in the order

“Choice of size?”

“Regular please.”

After you were done, you took the regular size takeaway cup and a marker, looking at him to ask for his name or initials.

“Sunwoo.”

The corner of your lips tugged upwards, writing down his name before setting the cup to your left beside the coffee machine and soon charged him for his order. After he was done paying, you returned him his change and gave the receipt before telling him to wait at the collection point. You made the drink exactly how you would make it for yourself. Smiling happily upon seeing your creation being prepared for not yourself, but this time for a customer.

After you had sprinkled the strawberry powder on top of the foam surface, you took the lid and secured it close before you went to the collection point and called out softly.

“Strawberry Latte for Sunwoo.” 

He walked forwards as he took the cup, not forgetting to give you a smile. 

“Thank you-” His eyes darted towards your name tag pinned to your apron before he looked back at you. “...(Y/N)”

You bowed to him slightly as you watched him leave the café. After he left, he didn’t forget to spare a quick glance into the café, only to see your smile soon disappeared. Replacing it with a small pout when you let out a sigh. Sunwoo chuckled as he continued walking to campus that was just 2 blocks away.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about you even after he made it to his first lecture. The small smile gracing on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by his friends as Kevin began to nudge Sunwoo’s elbow the minute he came to sit beside the former.

“Aye, why are you smiling like an idiot huh?” Kevin asked.

“Maybe he just sniffed a smiling gas.” Younghoon said.

“What the hell is that?” Jacob asked.

“I was being sarcastic you nimrod.” Younghoon said, making the former one growl.

“I’ll tell you guys later.” Sunwoo said as he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. 

2 hours passed and they were now heading to the food hall in the main building, when Hyunjae slings his arm over Sunwoo’s shoulder.

“So? Why were you smiling all morning today?” He asked, causing the rest to focus their gazes on him as Sunwoo sighed knowing he couldn’t run away now.

“Ahh, it’s nothing… I went to get my morning coffee and there was this really cute barista who attended to me. That’s all.”

A series of “ooh”s were heard as the boys got noisier by the second.

“Jeez, can y’all shut up? You’re embarrassing me.” Sunwoo said as he quickened his pace, only for Younghoon to grab hold of his backpack and pulled him back.

“Oh please, you should be thankful we even gave reactions to what you say.” Younghoon said, making Sunwoo scoff. 

A few weeks later, you were just handing a customer her plate of pasta and a cappuccino at one of the tables when you heard the doorbell chime. The customer you were attending to, thanked you for bringing her orders to her, smiling and replied to her.

“Your welcome. Enjoy your food.”

With that, you began to walk back to the front counter when you saw a group of guys gathered in front of the cashier. Right when you were just about to walk past them to head behind the counter, one of them glanced towards his right only to lock eyes with you. It was Sunwoo. The same regular customer that came every morning before his classes. The same guy who you may or may not have a tiny crush on.

The moment you locked eyes, you could feel your heartbeat stop for just a millisecond later as he flashed you a soft smile. This was enough to make you blush as you smiled back to him shyly before quickly making your way behind the counter.

“Oh great, you’re back. Help me take their order will you? I have to prepare the delivery ones.” Kihyun said simply. You were about to protest but you had no choice since the other part timer was on his lunch break.

So you nodded defeatedly before you returned the tray back at the collection point before you went back to the cashier, only to see Sunwoo standing there alone.

“Hey.” Sunwoo said as his lips began to tug upwards.

“Hey. What can I get you today?” You asked with a shy smile. Your voice sounded much softer than usual. You didn’t miss the little chuckle that left his lips before he spoke up.

“There’s gonna be a bit more than one order today.”

“I can see that.” You joked.

“Can I get one regular iced mocha, two regular double chocolate frappe, one small iced americano, one regular iced vanilla latte, and my usual please.”

You keyed in his orders as he spoke, only for you to look back up at him to confirm if that was all he wanted. Sunwoo gave you a firm nod, proceeding to charge him for the orders and soon told him to have a seat, you will call out to him once the drinks are ready. Sunwoo nodded as he left, not forgetting to smile at you for the umpteenth time that day.

You soon came beside Kihyun and started to make the drinks. Sunwoo on the other hand, immediately got dragged down into his seat by Kevin when they began to make comments about you.

“You were right, they’re hella cute!” Kevin said.

“Do you think they’re attached?” Younghoon asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, they’re quite cute. It’s impossible they’re single.” Sangyeon shrugged.

“Not all good looking people are attached. Even some normal looking ones are attached. We can’t just judge from their looks.” Sunwoo said defensively, only for Changmin and Haknyeon to smirk.

“Or are you just saying that because you want them to be single?” Changmin said, causing the rest of them to agree teasingly.

“Whatever, they wouldn’t date someone like me anyway.” Sunwoo said.

Not long after he finished his sentence, your voice echoes around the café walls as you called his name.

“Drinks for Sunwoo.”

With that, Sunwoo got up and soon jogged his way to the collection point, only to find you standing behind the counter with the tray in hand. You smiled as you pushed the tray gently towards him.

“Be careful. It’s heavy.” You warned.

“Don’t worry.” Sunwoo said, couldn’t help but smile at him.

He soon came back to their table and distributed the drinks. Almost half an hour had passed, they were just talking about random topics when Sunwoo happened to glance towards the counter. Seeing you laugh at something your manager said.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until Sangyeon spoke up. “Sunwoo yah, if they make your heart flutter that much, why don’t you just go there and ask them out?”

Sunwoo whips his head to Sangyeon, almost pulling a muscle while doing that.

“What?! N-No!”

“Why not?”

“The last time I asked someone out, I got turned down harshly in front of everyone. I couldn’t sleep for days!”

“Sunwoo yah, you’re just thinking too much. Just try and ask them out. Who knows they’ll accept?” Haknyeon asked.

“I don’t wanna risk it.” Sunwoo said. Glancing back to the front counter.

“Why must I have a crush on the cutest barista working just two blocks away from campus?” Sunwoo thought to himself as he gently shook his head and went back into the conversation with the guys.

A few minutes passed, some of them were discussing their project work while some were doing their own stuff when Sunwoo saw you left the counter only to walk towards an empty table near the back of the café. Since the café was not so packed, Kihyun told you to eat at one of the tables. So as to not feel cramped in the back room.

You had a transparent cup filled with what seems to be strawberry latte and a plate of sandwich. Sunwoo was caught staring by his friends as Younghoon nudged his arm to gain his attention.

“This is your chance to talk to them.”

Sunwoo saw some of them nod in agreement as he glanced back at you who was just taking a bite of the sandwich while scrolling through your phone.

With much motivation, he finally got up and made his way towards your table. You were just looking at your Instagram feed when you saw a figure come to a stop on the opposite side of your table.

You looked up to see Sunwoo standing there with a nervous smile as he spoke up. “Do you need some company?” He asked. You giggled, locking your phone screen and soon placed it face down on the table.

“Sure, that would be great.” You said. He pulled the chair out and soon took a seat.

“You’re just having that for lunch?” He asked curiously as he looked at the plate in front of you.

“Mmm.”

“Is that enough to fill you for the rest of your shift?” He asks, genuinely concerned at how little you ate.

“Yeap! Don’t worry. I always get something heavy to eat before my night classes.”

Sunwoo paused only to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“Night classes?”

“I’m a part time student at Yonsei U. That’s why I’m a full timer here.”

“Wow… Are you able to cope with work and study at the same time?”

“It can be tiring and mentally exhausting sometimes but I persevere.”

Sunwoo was shocked at this new information but nonetheless gave you some comforting words to help cheer you on. “That’s… a lot to take in. I hope you don’t stress yourself out too much. Please get some rest and don’t overwork yourself.”

You hadn't seen this side of him before but it was very sweet of him to even say all those things to you. You ended up chatting for a bit, only for you both to find out that he was a student at Hankuk U, you were the same age, you both loved sushi and many more.

Your lunch break was ending soon but you were dreading to say goodbye. “Well, it was really nice talking to you Sunwoo, but I’m afraid my break time’s almost over.” 

You pouted sadly, only for him to chuckle.

“Do you have class tonight?”

You nodded.

“Hmm, don’t worry okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Sunwoo said, making you giggle at his disclaimer.

The both of you got up only for him to speak up.

“My friends and I are leaving soon too. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care, don’t forget to eat before you head to class!” He reminded you. Not forgetting to give him a nod.

A few days later, you had just ended your night class and you were almost burned out for the day, you could barely keep your eyes open. Only for your phone to ring. It was Eric.

“Hello?” You said into the line.

“Hey! Are you finished with class?”

“Yeah. I’m heading down now. Where are you?”

“At the parking lot. Me and Chanhee hyung decided to wait for you today.”

With that being said, you gasped lightly, unable to digest this information.

“Wha- Eric are you serious? You didn’t have to- omg.”

“No, it’s fine! Besides, me and hyung needed to discuss something anyway. Meet us at the parking lot okay?”

Before you could reply, he already hung up the call, making you sigh. You felt bad for making them wait for you since it was already half past 10 at night. But then again, they did it out of their own will. You arrived at the parking lot, only to see Chanhee and Eric leaning against the side of Chanhee’s car amongst a few other vehicles left just chatting away while waiting for you.

Just then, Eric glanced towards the entrance, only to see a very tired you dragging your feet towards them. You could barely open your eyes as you held onto your bag strap for your dear life. Right when you had just arrived in front of them, your vision blacked out, feeling your head pound against your skull. You let out a soft groan, falling forwards, just in time for Eric to catch you.

“Woah, are you okay?” He asked worriedly as Chanhee and him exchanged glances to one another.

“Mmm, y-yeah… I just blacked out for a bit.” You said, only to hear Chanhee sigh.

“How many times must we tell you not to overwork yourself and get some sleep?” Chanhee said.

“I did sleep...” You tried to defend yourself, but they knew you better than you know yourself. 

“How many hours did you sleep last night?” Eric asked as he narrowed his eyes at you questioningly. You avoided their piercing gazes by answering their question in a hushed tone. 

“An hour and a half.” 

With that, your two friends let out a heavy sigh as Eric looked disappointed in his friend. It wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was growing more and more concerned over your sleeping patterns and your health. You weren't just schooling, you were working as well so it would only be right if you maintained a healthy sleeping pattern and a balanced work/study time.

“That’s it. You’re coming home with me. I’m gonna make sure you get that sleep you so well deserved.” Chanhee said as Eric nodded in agreement.

“What? No, I’m fine. Okay, I promise I’ll sleep tonight.” You said.

“Yeah right.”

“You don’t trust me?” You asked with a pout.

“On this? No, I don’t.” With that, you scoffed as you knew you couldn’t fight back with them. So with that being said, you ended up following Chanhee to his apartment since he lived alone. Once you were back at Chanhee’s place, he told you to wash up. He let you borrow a loose shirt and sleeping shorts.

He told you to sleep in his bed and that he could take the couch. At first you rejected it, saying you could sleep on the couch but he refused. 

Chanhee purposely placed your bag in the living room so that you couldn’t sneakily stay up all night and worked on your assignment. Chanhee’s body clock was never normal to begin with but to him, your sleeping pattern was more important than his.

Hence, the reason why he was still awake at 3am, watching the live broadcast of the World Cup. He was trying so hard to keep quiet to avoid waking you up as he eagerly watched the tournament. Just then, he thought he heard soft whimpers in his head.

“What the-” He mumbled to himself as he continued watching the game.

Just then, the whimper sounded again and it was a lot more distinct this time. With that, he lowered down the volume just to see if that sound would appear again. Not long after, he heard the whimper again and it seemed to have come from his hallway.

Chanhee got up immediately as he went to his bedroom, opening the door gently.

That’s when he saw you shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. He approached you in a rush as he saw you clutching onto the blanket against your chest as you had a frown on your face.

You were mumbling something in your sleep but he couldn’t really catch what you said.

“(Y/N)? Hey wake up.” Chanhee said softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook it. It took him 3 tries to finally get you awake when you jolted forward. Your breathing was heavy as you sat there with cold sweat running down the side of your face.

“It’s okay (Y/N), you’re okay. I’m here. It’s just a nightmare.” He comforted you while grabbing a handful of his shirt.

He pulled you into a hug, feeling your body shiver. They stayed like that for a while, only for him to tuck you back in bed. He pushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you gently with a soft smile.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Chanhee.”

He was about to walk away when you grabbed his hand.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Chanhee could only smile, gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb and soon spoke up.

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” You nodded only to let go of his hand. You fell back asleep a few seconds after as he went back to the living room, only to turn off the television and went to sleep himself.

It has been 4 months since Sunwoo first came to the café and you've gotten a lot closer than before. 

However, Sunwoo still has yet to ask you out on a date.

It was a chilly Wednesday afternoon and both Chanhee and Eric promised to visit you after their lecture. The time was 35 minutes past 2 and the two guys had just entered the café, settling themselves into one of the empty tables beside the glass window after they ordered their drinks.

After making their drinks, you made your own drink and took one of the sandwiches from the fridge. Making your way to them for your lunch break.

“Hey guys, one iced mocha and one iced matcha latte for the two sweetest guys I’m lucky to have as friends.” You said, causing the two boys to smirk.

“Just friends?” Eric teased.

“Best friends.” You corrected yourself, only for Chanhee to laugh at Eric’s pained reaction.

“Ouch, never thought I’d be friend zoned this quick.”

You found yourself giggling as you spoke up to comfort your friend while you took a seat beside him.

“I love you, Eric ah.”

He couldn’t find himself being angry at you as he immediately melted and soon became a giggling mess. You were just chatting away, gossiping about the same stuck up girl in their class who keeps acting as if everyone was head over heels for when they’re actually not.

Just then, a familiar voice calls out to Chanhee and Eric from a distance behind you making your heart skip a beat.

“Hey! Hyung! Eric ah!”

Chanhee glanced past your shoulder while Eric turned to look over his own shoulder before they smiled widely and waved eagerly to whoever was behind you.

“That voice…” You whispered under your breath, only to slowly turn around. That’s when you saw Sunwoo walking up to your table along with his usual group of friends. However, you didn’t miss the look on Sunwoo’s face when he locked eyes with you. He was definitely surprised but also confused as to why you were seated with his friends.

“Oh? It’s the cute barista!” Juyeon said innocently. Flashing them a bashful smile. Just then, both Chanhee and Eric turned to look at each other simultaneously only for them to look at you and spoke up in unison.

“You’re the cute barista Sunwoo’s been talking about?!”

With that, Sunwoo gestured a punch to them signalling them to keep quiet. Only for him to look at you and ask.

“You know them?” 

You could only nod as you told him the truth.

“I’ve known them since college.”

The rest of the boys gasped at the newly profound information. They couldn’t believe you were mutual friends with Chanhee and Eric. The 12 of you ended up sitting in two separate tables side by side whilst Chanhee and Eric began to spill the tea about Sunwoo.

“I can’t believe he’s been talking about you all these while.” Eric said.

“If I had known sooner, I would have set you two up on a date.” Chanhee said, causing you to glance at Sunwoo who was sitting opposite you. You cleared your throat and glanced down at your wrist watch before you got up abruptly to avoid any more awkward conversations.

“Oh look, my break time is ending. Nice talking to you guys. Thanks for visiting me today, my babies. More cakes for you? Yes? Okay.” You said in a rush. Quickly leaving the table, earning a laugh from the guys. Thinking that your actions are cute.

“Sunwoo, you really have a good taste don’t you?” Eric teased, making Sunwoo throw a tissue paper packet to Eric’s face, catching the poor boy by surprise.

You were in the back room, having a short break when your co-worker, Mingi called for you from the door.

“(Y/N), somebody wants to talk to you. He said he’s a friend of yours?” Mingi said, making you hum in confusion but nonetheless left the back room.

Only to be met with Sunwoo standing at the collection point.

“Sunwoo?”

“Hey, umm, I was wondering… Are you… free, this weekend?” You found yourself blushing as you tried to come up with a quick response.

“Uhh yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Sunwoo didn’t expect you to say yes so quickly but it definitely made him feel slightly happy that he didn’t get rejected.

“Great. Umm, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Okay.” You smiled genuinely.

“Okay… Well, I uhh, better get going. Bye (Y/N). See you.” He said shyly, his ears starting to burn red.

“See you Sunwoo.” You said, only for him to quickly leave before his whole tomato head explodes.

Weekends finally came and it was already 30 minutes past 7 and you were struggling to find a nice outfit to wear. You didn’t know exactly where he was taking you, all he said was to wear nicely. You were nervous to say the least. You haven't been on a date in like what? 2 years?

Ever since your last date where you got stood up, you decided not to go on any more blind dates. You would rather stay single for the rest of your life than being played with and getting your heart broken again and again.

Sunwoo texted you a few minutes later saying he was downstairs so you replied by saying you’ll be down in a minute. You soon left your apartment and locked the doors before heading down the corridor towards the lift lobby. Once you were at ground level, you made your way out, only to see Sunwoo leaning against his car door.

The minute he noticed your figure walking towards him, he looked up only to give you a one over. You stopped a few feet in front of him with a shy smile as he spoke up.

“Wow, you look really stunning.”

“Thank you. You look dashing.” You giggled.

Sunwoo was wearing a dark blue button down shirt tucked into his black denim skinny jeans, a pair of black sneakers and a few stainless steel accessories. He recently dyed his hair to a deep berry colour. He soon opened the door for you. Getting in before he walked over to the driver seat. Once he was in, he buckled his seatbelt and started his car engine.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Sunwoo said with a cheeky smile as you could feel your heartstrings pull.

The drive to the destination wasn’t as long as you thought, maybe because the journey was filled with jokes and laughter every now and then. Before you knew it, he finally pulled into a parking lot at what seems to be an outdoor movie theatre.

“Sunwoo yah… This is…” You paused as you got out of the car while he reached over to the back seat to take the blanket he brought to lay it down on the grass. He came back to your side after locking his car, only for you to continue from where you left off.

“So cute. How did you even find out about this outdoor movie?”

He smiled as you both began to walk towards the open space where quite a lot of couples were already seated down on their own blankets.

“My friend told me about this when he went on a date with his girlfriend the other day. So I figured why not give it a try.” Sunwoo said, making you blush.

You managed to find an empty space so he laid down the blanket and soon sat down. While waiting for the movie, you talked about almost anything. The movie soon started as everyone was starting to get excited. Halfway through the beginning of the movie, you were sitting beside Sunwoo with your legs extended out in front of you.

The night slowly got breezy, feeling the cool air blowing on you softly. Just then, he saw you straightening your posture, rubbing your arms to keep yourself warm. He felt bad that he couldn’t give you his jacket since he didn’t wear any.

However, an idea flashed across his mind, making him turn to you to speak.

“Hey, are you cold?” He asked. You turned to him with a small smile before you answered.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. It’s just a little chilly, that’s all.” Sunwoo wasn’t convinced as he saw your teeth clattering, making him chuckle softly.

“You know, I heard from somewhere that close body contact can keep us warm.” Sunwoo suggests indirectly to you, turning your head to him to see a playful smile on his lips.

You giggled as you looked at him with your brows raised.

“Are you okay with it?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t suggest it would I?” He asked, causing you to mentally facepalm at your ridiculous self.

“Right. You have a point.”

You heard him chuckle when he pat the empty spot in between his legs, gesturing for you to come over.

“C’mere.” He said.

Once you have settled down between his legs, you feel him wrap his arms around your body, trapping your arms. Gently pressing your back against his chest. Warmth immediately engulfing you both as you snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Warm enough?” He asked, only for you to nod.

You stayed like that for the rest of the movie. Sacrificing his back if it meant keeping you warm throughout the 1 and a half hours of the movie. 

After the movie ended, you went to get supper before he sent you home. You agreed to let him walk you all the way to your door. Hence, the reason why you were now standing outside your apartment door. You unlocked the door but then turned around to face him.

“Thank you for today Sunwoo. It was a fun experience watching a movie outdoors for the first time under the starry night.” You said as he smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it…”

“I hope we can do something like this again soon.” At that being said, his ears perked up, staring at you in awe.

“A-Again? Does that mean…?” He paused, causing you to giggle.

“Yes. I’d love to go on a date with you again.” 

Sunwoo couldn’t contain his excitement as he smiled from ear to ear, his adorable toothy grin made your heart skip a few beats. He elicited a soft giggle, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

Just then, you decided to take it upon yourself by pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. Sunwoo was frozen in place as you smiled up to him endearingly before you bid him goodbye. You quickly entered your apartment to hide your flushed face when you could feel the embarrassment starting to creep up on you. You leaned against the door. Trying to steady your heartbeat.

After what felt like forever, you finally pushed yourself off the door and was about to walk deeper into your apartment when there was a knock.

You turned around to open it and you were greeted by Sunwoo again, seeming he finally came into senses.

Without any words exchanged, he took one quick step forward, reaching up to cup your face with one hand before he gently pressed his lips against yours. You melted almost immediately when you felt him smile into the kiss. Sunwoo could feel his heart get weaker, snaking one hand around your waist while pulling you closer to him.

Your hands rested on his chest as he pulled away with a soft sound, only for you to keep your gaze on his collarbone. Too shy to look at him in the eye.

Sunwoo gently took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. Tilting your head up, making you lock eyes with him.

“I’m pretty sure that just proves to you how I feel about you, but I still wanna tell you in words. I really, really like you. And I would love to take you out on more dates and be able to call you mine.”

With his cute confession, you couldn’t help but giggle. Wrapping your arms around his neck before you spoke up.

“I like you too Sunwoo. And yes, I would love to go on dates with you, and for you to call me yours.” With that being said, Sunwoo smiled in victory. Kissing you again sweetly.

The next day, you broke the news to your friends as you got happy cheers and excited screams in the group chat. Sunwoo never thought he would date anyone after being rejected multiple times but maybe he was fated to meet you and be the person who orders the same drink every time at the café you worked in. Maybe now he could finally live his love life with more cuddles and Strawberry Lattes.

[junicai]

hotel coffins.

| summary | donghyuck has a nightmare, and can’t get back to sleep. aria helps.

| word count | 1.6k

| warnings | nightmares, mentions of suffocation

| era | february 2019, the neo-city tour 

| request | requested by anon, prompt number 30.

30. "Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real."

The light in the hallway flicked on silently, illuminating the doorway's outline in an artificial glow. It was quiet outside, the night's still air a calm shadow that was ushered away by the overhead lamps.

Aria rolled over in her bed with a groan, muffling the sound into the hotel pillow that she had pushed to the side earlier that night. They were a cotton-polyester mix according to the tag on the inside of the pillow case, and it was too scratchy for her to lie comfortably on, so she has chosen to sleep on a balled up jumper instead.

Her bedroom door was gently pushed open by a tentative hand, light flooding into the darkened room without permission.

With her face still buried in the cotton, Aria waved a languid hand behind her, mumbling out, "If you're coming in, shut the door behind you. Some of us are trying to sleep."

There was a distinct lack of answer, the silence in the room growing more self-conscious each second.

She could feel herself slipping more into awareness with each passing second, and mourned the restful sleep she'd just been tugged out of.

With a deep breath, Aria sat up rubbing her eyes, watching in despair as the last vestiges of sleep slipped away from her.

She squinted in the bright light to try and make out who had broken into her room so late at night.

Donhyuck's small form came into a back-lit view, his shoulders hunched down and hands tucked into his sleeves.

"Hyuck?"

"I can't sleep." Donghyuck mumbled, dropping himself unceremoniously onto the ground beside her bed. He landed with a thump, and Aria winced slightly at the loud noise in the otherwise quiet room.

Rubbing at her eyes again, she peered at Donghyuck through half open eyes. He had closed the door before making his way over to the bed, and now the only light in the room by which she could see him was the small little drips that spilled in underneath the doorframe.

"Why? Did you have coffee or something?" Aria asked, words blurred together by sleep.

"No, I didn't- I just- I was trying, but I can't-" Donghyuck cut himself off with a huff, taking several deep breaths in to try and calm himself. His hands snaked up beside his head, twirling with his hair to tug loosely at the roots.

It was coarse beneath his fingers, courtesy of another recent round of bleaching. The sandy-blond strands sent pinpricks of pain to his scalp when he yanked on them, the pain grounding him in a dark room that left him feeling untethered. 

The darkness felt suffocating, and Donghyuck cursed himself for letting the door swing shut behind him. It had closed with a click that had felt oddly final, and had he more sense of mind, he would wonder if he was going to suffocate to death in the shadows of the room; a dark coffin constructed of a hotel room’s furniture. 

Hands unfurled his tight grip on his hair, clasping them in a tight grip instead. “Hey, no no. Don’t do that.” Aria had shifted from her bed to the ground beside him, holding his hands fast in her grip. 

Donghyuck glanced at her, sleep still hidden in the corner of her eyes, and fell into her embrace wordlessly, burying himself into the sleep shirt that she wore. 

She ran a hand over his head, soothing the aggravated scalp as she felt the first tell-tale signs of tears dripping onto her clothes, dampening the fabric. When she pressed a hand to his back, she felt bare skin beneath his rucked-up shirt, the skin sweat-soaked and warm, like he’d tossed and turned before seeking her out. 

“It’s okay.” Aria soothed, not stopping the movement of her hand on his head or his back. “It’s okay. You’re here, I’m here. Everything’s okay.” 

The room fell back into silence for a moment, only the sound of Donghyuck’s soft sniffles filling the air until he broke it with a quiet whimper. 

“It doesn’t shut up.” He whispered, emotions cloaked by the darkness that enveloped them. 

“What doesn’t?” 

“My head.” 

Aria’s arms tightened around Donghyuck’s body at that. “What happened?” 

With his face still hidden from her view, she had a hard time hearing his mumbled answer.

“Nightmare.” 

Ah. “The same one?” 

He nodded.

Perhaps she should have been expecting that one.

Aria was no stranger to the sleepless nights that seemed to follow you like a bad habit - when you were so utterly exhausted, right down to your bones, but your mind keeps spinning at a million miles an hour. 

There’s always an ache, she’s come to discover. A little hole in the back of your mind that tells you you’re not good enough, that you’ll never be good enough, that you shouldn’t be in bed, but instead sweating in an empty practice room until the mirrored-walls fogged up. 

Normally, the best way to escape that ache, was sleep.

But when sleep evades you, nightmares always find a way to take it’s place. 

Aria supposed that it was unfair to wish that Donghyuck was exempt from this thing - this ache that she knows permeates the days of most, if not all of her members - just because he didn’t deserve it. 

There’s a perpetual fear that follows them all, of never being enough, and it’s a story that runs on replay through your mind if you’re not careful enough to quieten it quickly. It’s oddly similar to a black hole, one that looms threateningly, eternally on the horizons of peace.

And even Donghyuck, the brightest of them all, can’t escape it some days.

It’s been a while since he’d come into Aria’s room in the dead of night for this reason - most of the time it was because of noisy roommates, or just simply for the company - and Aria had been foolish enough to hope that perhaps his nightmares had passed.

She thinks nothing of her own, they’d become a sort of a necessity to her routine at some point in time, but that is a different tale entirely. 

So, when Donghyuck’s tears come steadily, and his shoulders shake in silent cries, and his hands grip tightly at Aria’s for fear of what they’d claw at if they didn’t; Aria holds him twice as tightly, sat on the floor beside the bed. 

She coos lightly at him, soothing each shudder as they come, and counting the seconds in between each quiet sob to keep herself both quiet and calm in the meantime. 

“Shh. It was just a bad dream.” Aria whispered into the darkness. She could feel his body tense at the words, as if rejecting the reminder that it wasn’t the truth, that whatever hell his mind had conjured up for his own personal punishment wasn’t real.

“Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.” Aria refuted the words running through his mind without needing to hear them. 

“It feels real though.” Came Donghyuck’s whisper after a moment of quiet. His cries had petered off after a while, only small sniffles and the occasional cough filling the air.

If it weren’t for the fact that his voice was hoarse and still wet with tears, Aria would have questioned had he ever cried in the first place. But she knew Donghyuck better than anyone. And it was because she knew him so well, that she knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Stop that.” She softly chided, pulling Donghyuck away from her chest gently so she could look at his face.

He made a sound of protest at the action, only pulling back when he was guided by Aria’s hands. 

His face was pale, red blooming high on his damp cheeks, with a rosy nose. “What?” He coughed.

Aria only looked at him. “If you’re going to come in here, sit on the ground and cry in my arms for ten minutes, and then try and act all tough again, I’m going to kick you out.” 

Donghyuck let out a wet chuckle at that, and Aria could feel the tension in her shoulders loosen; just a little.

“You’re allowed cry with me. You just have to allow yourself to cry with me.” Aria poked his forehead with a finger. “Stupid.” 

With a sniffle, Donghyuck scrubbed at his face with his palm. “Sorry.”

“Stupid.” Aria hissed, pulling him back into a hug. He laughed this time - not as bright as usual, but closer, as close as she’d probably get until the sun rose to chase the shadows from the room - and Aria tightened her arms around him, Donghyuck’s own coming around her waist in return.

They sat there, for minutes. 

The room no longer felt suffocating, like the shadows had receded for the moment. They’d return, Aria knew. They never left for long, but Donghyuck had her.

Donghyuck had Aria, and if she wasn’t a dorm room down, then she was a phone call away. 

There would be no coffin made of the legs of the table, nor a veil made of the cotton-polyester pillowcase. 

Donghyuck would be alright, if Aria had anything to do with it.