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#do i make a fic outta this? dunno…

abbyshands · 1 month

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🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | click before you fic ♡ | m. list | join my tag list!

fix you by coldplay makes me think about ex gf!abby anderson criminally speeding down a highway. it’s raining, it’s freezing, and she shouldn’t be doing this, but she is. you were seconds away from saving what you had with her, but too late, it was over, she didn’t want you. then she went home, approached her door, and she saw you. saw the times she picked you up in her muscular arms, kissed you like you’d fade if she didn’t as she dragged you inside. she saw you on her couch when she got into her living room, sprawled across her lap as you rambled to her. tried to sleep it off in her bed, but she didn’t see you this time, she felt you, cuddled up in her arms as she kissed you to sleep. and then she cried, she bawled, because she had lost you. she had been an idiot, because how could she have let you go? then she left the house, got into her car, and fucking sped. rain falling down all around her, battling to get to you as fast as she could. like someone, someone wiser, who would never let you go, would get to you before she could. and she couldn’t allow it, she wouldn’t. you didn’t open the door at first when you heard her knock. you were numb, exhausted, sick. you couldn’t speak to a soul, not when you were like this. not when you had lost the only person who could make you feel what you did for abby. and who could even be here at this hour? but her knocking is deafening, goddamn incessant, and you can’t ignore it. you get up from bed, walk to the door, and your heart drops. it’s her. and your eyes are red. your heart is frigid, vacant. you can’t feel a thing but the cold, rainy wind on your cheeks as soon as you open the door. and abby’s there. blonde braid soaked, face red. she’s been out here for a while, obviously. but she couldn’t leave, not when you were at stake. “abby?” you’d mumble, and she wouldn’t even answer. she cups your face in her hands, pulls you close, kisses you. and when she pulls back? “baby,” she whispers, and it’s sweet, and it’s endearing, and it’s sorrowful, but it’s home. her kiss says sorry. what she calls you only yells it. and when she pulls you into her arms, embracing you like she’ll never let you go again, because she won’t? she doesn’t need words to explain it. “i promise you i will learn from my mistakes.” because she would never make the same one again.

and just to add in this lyric: “tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace” abby anderson could never replace what was irreplaceable. you were everything to her. you were perfect. all that she wanted. all that she craved, come hell or high water, no matter what happened. and she’d be damned if she ever let you slip from her fingers again.

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sanguineterrain · 4 months

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restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks.

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years.

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you.

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily.

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress.

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor.

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs.

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper.

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover.

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails.

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.”

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse.

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet.

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask.

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers.

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry.

“I got dumped,” you say.

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling.

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach.

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles.

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand.

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face.

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you.

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.”

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit.

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you.

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper.

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes.

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in.

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu.

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd reader insert

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ickadori · 12 days

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Im back, but listen hdhskkssk ITS NOT FAIRRRRRRRR especially bc when i first re found ur blog, i was suuuuper into ur yuuji stuff, i personally cant do poly bc im possessive AS FUCK so even tho i know ur suku x ura poly was extremely popular i never read it, and i think i rmb one thing u wrote with him and bloody knuckles getting head but LISTEN, kuna was never on my radar like that but this!!!!! What did u do to meeeeeee. I really loved the yuuji x mean reader where she was a sadist kinda and then yuuji would like tlk down to her and i loved ur 'kuna taking over yuuji' fics but this new one......you made it too unfair like yuuji is just a boy but kuna is all MAN omgggg and i try to steer clear of romance routes in this bc sukuna is a SLUT but (head in hands) he would help yuuji choose a promise ring for reader and the night she comes over and yuuji gives it to her, sukuna is there in the kitchen or smth when she goes for water and reader is like 🙄 outta the way, but sukuna slides over a box with a ring in it- so tasteful and elegant, clearly fuckin expensive, and it makes the tacky little thing yuuji gave you look pathetic in comparison STOP MEEEEE SOMEONE TAKE MY PHONE AWAYYYY PLS AND HE WOULD LOOK SO SERIOUS WHEN HE GIVES IT TO YOU AHHH HE ACTS LIKE ITS JUST SEX BUT HE CANT STOP THINKING ABT U 24.7

OK OK IM DONE I NEED TO STOP THIS MADNESS NOW

choso bbg anon (gaslighting myself)

YEAHHHHHHHHHH SUKUNA FKRS RISE not you switching sides bc he talked a little mean 🤭 hehe poor choso 😭

[cws] infidelity. fem reader.

“Are you sure you like it?”

“I love it, Yuji!” You grin, stretching up to plant a sticky kiss on his cheek as you say it. “I do, really. It’s so cute.” And it is! You hold your hand out, admiring the ring encircling your finger, and an excited shriek leaves you as you give him another kiss, this one landing on his lips instead.

He kisses you back instantly, arms locking around your waist as he gently sways the two of you back and forth. You break the kiss to smile at him, and he mirrors it easily, a faint pink hue settling in his cheeks.

“I’m glad you like it - I’ve been looking at rings for the past month! I wanted to make sure it was perfect for you.” Your stomach fills with butterflies at the soft look in his eyes. “Perfect ring for my perfect girl.”

“You’re such a cornball.” You tease, hands moving to rest against his biceps. They flex underneath your touch before relaxing. “Did your last girlfriend like that corny act?”

“Dunno, I don’t bother remembering any other girls but you.”

“Great answer.”

“Yeah? Great enough for another kiss?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to ponder it, lips quirking up into an amused smile when his eyes zero in on your mouth. “I guess so…it wouldn’t be nice after you’ve gotten me this ring and took me to such a nice restaurant, after all.” His hands slip from your waist down to your ass, and a soft gasp leaves your mouth when he grips it and hauls you up against him.

“Mm,” he hums and then his mouth is on yours. You playfully nip at his bottom lip, getting a grin and a breathy chuckle in return, and he nips you back in retaliation. You let out a dramatic ‘ow’, making a show of frowning your eyebrows up, and he bumps his nose against yours. “Sorry, baby, lemme kiss it better.” He pecks at your bottom lip once, twice, and then he’s pulling it into his mouth.

Your lower back meets the kitchen counter, and just as Yuji is moving to heft you up onto it, the sound of the front door being pushed open breaks the two of you out of your spell.

Yuji sighs, lips parting from yours with a sad pop, and you laugh under your breath at his dejected look. Sukuna rounds the corner to the kitchen a second later, and his gaze moves to Yuji first before sliding over to you. You immediately avert your gaze and turn your head, cheek nestling against Yuji’s chest as you give him a gentle nudge, signaling that you’re ready to retreat back to his room.

But, of course, Sukuna has to open his mouth and halt that process.

“You two going somewhere?”

“To bed.” You quip.

“Oh, your favorite pastime.”

Your head whips around to face him, eyes narrowed and lips turned down, and he smirks as he heads to the fridge. “You’re a real asshole, Sukuna. You know that?”

“Hey.” Yuji intervenes, and you huff before pulling out of his embrace, arms moving to cross over your chest. Sukuna eyes flicker down, beer now in hand, and snag on the ring on your finger.

“You gave it to her.”

“Just today.” Yuji grins, moving behind you to loop his arms around your shoulders, his chin resting atop your head. “Gave it to her at dinner - and she does like it, you dick. I knew she would.” He loudly kisses your cheek, and Sukuna keeps his gaze on you as he raises the can of beer to his mouth and takes a slow sip. He starts at your feet, at the strappy sandals that you decided to wear today, and then he moves up your legs, the skin bare due to the skirt you wear. He looks over your shirt, the way it cuts down low into your cleavage, and you shift on your feet as goosebumps blossom on your skin.

He finally settles on your eyes, and you swallow hard, body pushing back into Yuji as he pushes into you, a telltale sign of his arousal hot and hard against your lower back.

“Looks good.” Sukuna rumbles, eyes still on yours, and you flush under his attention, skin turning hot. Yuji kisses behind your ear and your skin burns hotter. “Real good.” He breaks the gaze to look at his brother, who’s currently too engrossed in trailing kisses across your skin to pay attention to what’s being said, and then he’s gone down the hall and into his room.

You finish rubbing in the last bit of your facial moisturizer and blow out a breath, your hands reaching above your head as you stretch. There’s an ache in your lower back, courtesy of your boyfriend, and you go to rub the spot as you pull open the bathroom door, intending to go back to his bedroom.

“Oh!” You jump at the sight of Sukuna on the other side, and he crowds you back in, hands on your waist as he pushes the door closed with his foot. “Ryomen, what’re you doing?” You hiss.

“Saying hey.” He murmurs, and then he’s swooping down to smack his lips against yours. The kiss is rough and fast, and you fight to keep up as he licks into your mouth, one of his hands sliding underneath his brother’s shirt and cupping you between your thighs.

“You come?” He pulls back from the kiss, teeth biting into the fat of your cheek, and your hands move to grab his wrist.

“Yeah.”

“You wanna come again?”

“Ye—no. Ryo, stop, he’s still awake.” He kisses at his teeth, palm mashing up into your panty covered cunt, and you moan into his ear. “Ryomen.” He lets out a grunt, and with another hard kiss he’s moving his hand from between your legs and into his pocket.

“I got you something.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet.” You take a step back, not trusting either of you to keep your hands to yourself, and you tug on the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, eyes taking in the way the muscles in Sukuna’s arms flex in his muscle tee.

His hand comes out of his pocket with a little black box, and your eyebrows shoot up when you recognize the brand as the same one that Yuji had just purchased your promise ring from. “I don’t want that.”

“Don’t give a fuck, you’re taking it.”

“No.”

He stalks towards you, and you smack at his hands as he moves to grab you. “No, I don’t want it. Do you know how disrespectful that is?”

“More disrespectful than me cumming in your ass?”

You gape.

He snags ahold of your hand, and you blink as he slides a ring on your finger, placing it right above Yuji’s. You don’t want to look at it, but you do, and you gape again, a soft call of his name leaving your mouth as you raise your hand to get a better look at it.

“…it’s…” Beautiful. And it is, and it makes you feel incredibly guilty, because Yuji’s ring is cute and pretty and you do like it, but this… “I really hate you.”

“Yeah?” He grins. “You must like it then.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t, asshole.” You go to storm past him only for him to grab your bicep and tug you back. “Ryo—”

This kiss is softer, gentler, one he’s never given you, and it leaves you breathless and warm in the face when he pushes you toward the door. “Night.” He says, and you barely react when his palm makes contact with your ass. “Don’t stay up late - you’ve got an exam in the morning.”

“Huh? Oh. Okay. Goodnight.” You stand there dumbly, still stuck on the kiss along with the ring.

“Get out.” He pushes you again. “Dumbass.”

You snap out of it, giving him a nasty look as you do. “You’re the dumbass, dumbass.”

#sukuna x reader

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majimasleftasscheek · 1 year

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Hi, im very sorry if this has already been answered or established somewhere else but im curious, with your Kazumaji stuff, around what time did they start dating (i.e. after the events of Yakuza 0 and all that) and how?

tbh, I dunno!

I don't really have an established date for that cuz sometimes I'm like man they'd be really cute during y0 and then other times I set it between post y0 and the beginning of y1. The latest they would start me thinks is some months after the events of y1 but in general it sorta depends on how I'm feeling and what silly scenarios play in my head

ideas under the cut tho 👀

if we're talking y0: I like to think Kiryu has to go to Sotenbori for some reason, be it business or he's there with Nishiki for some partying. he sees Majima at the Grand being depressed and is like "damn girl those bags under your eyes makes my dick go *boing sound effect*" and asks him out 🥺 Kiryu gets rejected immediately cuz Majima's in this cycle of 'I deserve nothing but pain and suffering' but Kiryu can't read the room so he is persistently showing up at the Grand despite Majima very obviously wanting to kick his ass. eventually he relents and goes on cute™ dates with Kiryu and realizes oof maybe human intimacy be kinda gucci

if between y0 and y1: Majima's fresh in his mad dog era starting shit with people just to be annoying and Kiryu's one of his targets mainly due to the events of y0. he's kinda like "lol this goober really did some important plot stuff, huh?" and his curiosity gets the better of him because Kiryu is an enigma who eats bugs and Majima cannot suppress his need to get some sense of understanding on this weirdo. in this timeline, it's more one-sided affection from Majima that comes in the form of stabbing while Kiryu is desperately trying to fight the gay allegations and failing. eventually he caves but it's a sorta unofficial, on and off thing that Kiryu doesn't really know how to evaluate for himself. Majima doesn't really care what they are since he's high on life atm and has a cute dude with big boobs on his arm

if during y1: literally just everything Majima Everywhere. Goromi. GOROMI 😩💦 Kiryu is all: I LIKE PUSSY but everyone's like okay big man then why's Majima pole dancing for you huh. the two braincells he has start to click and he realizes maybe Majima wants to hold hands or something unthinkable like that. ngl I like to think Kiryu's thing for Yumi is like a demisexual bi thing where he's like, I do love her but she don't zap my brain quite like the bowlcut freak who knows how to punch me real good and it becomes sorta his personal introspective journey during this time. Majima is also floating in the space of am I doing this for his benefit cuz "training" or am I falling for this dork. he's pretty sad about it cuz of the Saejima reminder vibes but eventually Kiryu falls into his own person that Majima really meshes with and the two of them struggle to actually voice how they feel all the while their pants are down in some dirty alley

if after y1: (going to insert shit from a fic I'm working on) Kiryu's absolutely devastated with what happened in the Millennium Tower + now having to take care of Haruka that he's shut himself off from everyone and everything other than doing the bare minimum to live. in comes Majima being a menace like yo you can't like, let a child parent herself you gotta get outta this slump and Kiryu's all fuck you stop breaking into my house. so it's a long pain in the ass process to help Kiryu deal with his grief while Majima keeps unintentionally making googoo eyes at him and both of them are like boy I sure hope this doesn't awaken anything within me. there's also a lotta dadjima stuff going on and Kiryu's like wowie zowie so you do have a heart and Majima's like no way loser while being just 😳👉👈

#apologies for the way I write sometimes I like to put out total garble because it makes my heart go thumpa thump #god I love them I LOVE THEM #THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER ON A LEVEL BEYOND THAT OF FLESH AND BLOOD AND IT HURTS KNOWING THEY DO #THAT THEY BOTH SUFFER AND THEY FEEL THAT IT'S BEST TO BE ALONE RATHER THAN BRING SOMEONE ELSE ON THE RIDE #BUT THAT RIDE BRINGS THEM BOTH TO THE SAME DESTINATION THAT THEY ARE BOTH BROKEN MEN HAUNTED BY THINGS THEY DID—THINGS THEY COULD HAVE DONE #BUT MAYBE THERE'S HOPE IN HAVING SOMEONE TO LIVE FOR—SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS THE STRUGGLE OF REDEMPTION DESPITE ONE'S NATURE #TO LIFT EACH OTHER FROM THE DEPTHS OF SELF LOATHING BECAUSE THEY CAN DO BETTER #then I'm tranquilized and shoved back into my cage for relocation #kazumaji #kiryu kazuma #majima goro #my hcs

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xxavengingangelxx · 8 months

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Long Way from Home 1/?

Ok, so here is chapter one of I don't know how many. I have 25 pages of this. My goal is to immerse the reader in this world and put them into the OC's shoes as she questions her sanity and breaks down. I don't know how it's going to end yet.

Same intro: 141's translator isn't able to escape after Graves's betrayal. He takes her, thinking she has information. Things go horribly. Stockholm Syndrome eventually sets in and our OC feels her 141 identity being ripped to shreds while a new one, possibly loyal to Shadow Company takes hold.

Idk how this is going to do because it's a darker fic. War Criminal Graves for sure. Really insecure about this one :/

READ: Trigger warnings (for the whole fic): Kidnapping, eventual dub-con, threatened rape, torture, mind fucking games, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

TAGS: Dub-con, violence, torture, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

Graves.

You looked up at him as your vision became clearer. Your head was pounding. You realized you were lying in the street. Did someone hit you over the head? You couldn’t recall. Graves started shooting and everyone ran for cover or tried shooting back. You shot back maybe once or twice. Truth was you were terrified of Graves’s Shadows and wanted to get the hell away from them.

You were able to camouflage into the woods and managed to make it to the streets on your way to the agreed upon rendezvous point, which was planned in case just an event happened.

The coldness, hardness, and wetness of that same street took your attention away from the sharp pains seemingly crushing your skull. Raindrops made your vision blurry every now and then as they landed in your eyes.

But that didn’t stop you from glaring at Graves. If looks could kill the man would’ve dropped dead on the spot. After all the missions, all the teamwork, and especially all the nights spent with him…you felt disgusted.

But you still felt small, vulnerable, like prey, even with all your gear on. You were flat on your back surrounded by Shadows (demons)…and Graves. You were beginning to worry. Sure, you’d received the training required to tag along with the 141 but definitely not quite all of it. How the hell were you going to put up with being tortured for information or being held captive if it came to that?

“141’s translator.” Graves smirked. “Good to see ya again, Valdez. Been better though, yeah?”

You said nothing. The firefight had stopped although you didn’t know how much time had passed between the end of the fight and now. You only hoped Soap, Ghost, and Alejandro were okay. You didn’t know what all had happened. All you remembered is that gunshots rang out and everyone ran.

You apparently didn’t run fast enough.

“Where are your friends?” Graves commanded, looking down on you with his hands clutching his vest.

Arrogant bastard.

“141?”

“Duh.”

“I dunno,” you answered simply. “You kinda fucked everything up when you started shooting.”

He laughed. He sounded cruel.

“Where are they?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Don’t act. You had to have a rendezvous point.”

You remained silent.

Graves paused before saying, “Actually you know what? Let’s get outta this rain.”

Rough and careless hands grabbed your arms and pulled you into a sitting position, soaking the rest of your clothes.

“Watch it,” you snapped. “Cabron. No me vuelvas a tocar,” you added in your native tongue, demanding he not touch you again.

You heard Graves scoff from the inside of a dilapidated building. He then said, “Cuff ‘er and bring ‘er to me.”

You felt those same rough hands placed thick plastic zip ties around your wrists after pulling your arms behind your back and he pull them tight, almost painfully so. You were then pulled to stand in the same coarse manner before being led into a building that looked like it was barely standing. It had been gutted inside and out. The same Shadow shoved you and you fell onto your knees and shin hard in front of Graves. You felt your knees scrape and bleed.

“Forgot how good you look on your knees,” he smirked. He reached towards you and you almost bit him. He ripped your radio off, also taking your earpiece with it and cutting your ear. He gave it to one of his men, telling them to get rid of it.

You ignored what Graves had said because how could he fucking forget when you’d just seen him last night? You instead decided to temporarily focus your anger on the Shadow that had roughed you up earlier. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you snapped at the faceless man. “Tu mama no te enseño que los hombres no les pegan a las mujeres?” You then shot back, asking him if his mother never taught him that men don’t hit women.

“Now you need to knock that Spanish shit off,” Graves mentioned. “You’re in the presence of Americans so speak English.”

You said nothing, only scowled at him even though he was currently towering over you.

He laughed. “Still got that mouth on you I see. Good for telling others off, translating, and…other things, too, huh?”

You felt your cheeks blush but out of anger. Your ears felt hot despite the cool rainy night. Apparently Graves liked to kiss and tell. The fact that the last time you’d slept with him was right before this mission left you feeling absolutely disgusted. You felt like he’d raped you in a way as he didn’t tell you who he really was.

“Where’s 141?” He asked again, standing before you and again reaching up to grasp his vest. You saw that lines or scratches and scars lined his forearms.

“I told you I don’t know.” You paused before adding, “Si te lo digo en español lo entenderás mejor? No se.” You asked if you telling him in Spanish might help him understand better.

“You really need to start cooperating here,” He walked about you in a circle and you felt like he was a wolf circling injured prey.

“I don’t know, man!” You snapped. “We all had to run for cover when you and your goons started shooting.” You paused before adding, “Heard they knocked a few of your Shadows off.”

One of the Shadows from behind you kicked you and your vest roughly, almost making you fall sideways. You gave a scowl in that general direction before focusing back on Graves. “You’ve been planning this shit for awhile haven’t you?”

“Look at you, so perceptive,” Graves cooed. It was creepy. “All I did was told them I was in charge and they didn’t like it.”

“So you betrayed them?”

“No, no,” he stopped dead in front of you again and knelt so you were both at eye level. His eyes were cold, icy, like the arctic. You smelled blood and gunpowder and you wondered if it was his blood or some of your teammates’. You silently prayed they were okay. His eyes had never looked like that before. “They betrayed me.”

You laughed callously. “Bullshit,” You tried to stop yourself from saying the next thing but it was said before you even knew it. “You’re a traitor, Graves. And a fucking war criminal.”

With that he smacked you across the face. Hard. You cried out, tasting blood. You shook your hair from your face and turned back in his direction.

“So you hit women, too now?” You gasped, spitting blood in between his boots as he kneeled in front of you. “At the very least you have treason and usurpation.”

“It doesn’t need to be this way. I need to know where they are.”

“Why, to kill them?”

“Nah, I wanna keep ‘em,” he added threateningly. “Some brainwashing and they’d make a good team for me.”

“Go to hell, fuckin’ traitor.”

He reached out, grasping your hair so tightly you yelped. He tilted your head up to make sure you made eye contact with him.

“If you use that word again I will kill your friends when I find them. Not before I kill you in front of them first, though.” He didn’t break eye contact, almost expecting a reply from you. “Are we really gonna have to do this the hard way?”

You didn’t speak.

“Fine,” he responded. He stood up, his height allowing him to tower over you again. He drew his sidearm and pulled the hammer back, placing a bullet in the chamber.

So this is how you were going to die. On bloodied knees in front of what you now considered an enemy combatant. He placed the gun to your head and you felt the cold barrel through your thin, wet hair.

“Call them,” Graves demanded.

“No,”

You weren’t expecting it when he hit you with his sidearm across the side of your face. You screamed in pain, falling flat on the floor. You vision was blurry and the sounds around you were going in and out. You saw him step closer is you flinched, mumbling, “Don’t!” When you thought he was about to kick you. Graves grabbed your vest and hauled you back to your knees.

“Call them,” Graves commanded again, his voice louder in volume and deeper in tone.

“I can’t,” you gasped, your head throbbing. You shut your eyes, wanting to be anywhere else but here. You opened them and you were still there, effectively being tortured.

Graves stepped out in front of you. It was dead silent, the only sounds being the crickets and the rain. You met his eyes trying to muster any sympathy. You were likely concussed at least two times over and you were in pain. His eyes didn’t soften and his men didn’t even flinch. Were they seriously okay with this?!

He raised the gun at your chest.

And he fired.

The force of the bullet forced you onto your back and you felt ribs possibly break underneath your vest. You yelled in pain as you found yourself glancing up at the ceiling of the gutted building you were in. Your vest had stopped the bullet from penetrating but it still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Get ‘er back up and take her vest off,” you heard Graves tell one of his men.

Your body protested as you were again hauled up on your knees. The Velcro of your vest easily gave way to the strong arms ripping it open. It was tossed aside. You wanted to ask them to at least have some respect for the American flag on your vest but your energy was sapped. It was focused on staying quiet and surviving.

He was kneeling in front of you again and you wondered if he was going to shoot you point blank because he wanted to look in your eyes as you died. Pulling at your zip ties was useless.

Graves reached into his vest and pulled a large, black knife.

“You’re torturing a captive!”

“There’s the military and me,” Graves stated simply. “I’m not as bound by the rules.” He then leaned forward and sliced through your uniform shirt. Underneath all you had on was a pink tank top. He signaled to one of his men who then knelt directly behind you and pulled you up off your shins and onto solely your knees. He grasped your chin from behind and pulled up, forcing your line of sight up and away from Graves. Graves was completely out of view and you had no fucking idea what he was going to do.

“What’re you doing?!” you voice broke as you began panicking.

“I’m about to scar that pretty body if you don’t talk or call your friends.”

“I don’t know! I don’t!” you yelled out desperately. “You know I can’t do that to them,” you sniffled.

The first cut was deep but not deep enough to cause vital injuries. It went from your collarbone to just over your heart. At this point you just sputtered and cried.

“Either tell me where they are or call them.”

“I can’t!”

“No, you’re choosing not to.”

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!” Your breath came out in hurried, panicked gasps.

“Sounds like a rehearsed response to me,” The second cut Graves inflicted mirrored your first except it was on the opposite side of your chest. You couldn’t help it. You screamed.

“Graves what the fuck!” Your words echoed Soap’s from not too long ago. You believed you heard him sheathe his knife, presumably without cleaning it, almost as if he wanted your blood to adorn his vest.

“Let her go,”

The Shadow behind you released his grasp and you immediately fell onto your knees and shins, Doubling over in pain. Your once-pink tank top was covered in blood and the cuts on your chest would need stitches at the minimum.

“Hmm, they must not care about ya anymore,” Graves taunted. “Maybe you should come work for me.”

“Never, fuck you,”

“There’s that attitude again,” he laughed callously. “But you have to admit that would be a neat trick.” His voice was sickly sweet as he added, “Imagine that. You at my beck and call before I sicced you on 141.”

“Never,” you repeated.

“We could really, really use you,” Graves stood back up. “You speak Spanish, have experience with surveillance, countersurveillance, know the culture…”

“You wish,” you sighed.

“Well if this isn’t working and asking nicely isn’t working, we can try something else.”

You were past trying to hold back tears. Luckily your dark hair hid your face. You started at the ground, not daring to meet his gaze. With what he had said earlier you were scared another look at him would brainwash you. We circled you again and you couldn’t help but flinch when he got close.

“You and I had a pretty good working relationship, didn’t we?”

You didn’t answer.

“Answer me, soldier,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you snapped. “Not anymore.”

“You’re right not anymore. Maybe soon though.” He paused, scoffing before adding, “Didn’t we also agree to have certain friends with benefits activities?”

“Fuck you,” you half sobbed.

“Yeah you actually did,” there was that cold laugh again. He continued walking around you in a circle as you watched blood drip onto your dark pants.

This was humiliating.

“Man you worked wonders with that little mouth of yours,”

“Argh!” the yell came from your lips loudly. You were frustrated, concussed, in pain, had been betrayed, and now you were finding out that man you were starting to have feelings for was betraying not only but everyone. “You’re so fucking disgusting!” You shouted, raising your gaze to glare at him.

“How ‘bout a repeat?”

Your glare lost its edge for one of surprise and fear. Was he talking about…

“I’ll go first and they,” he signaled around to his men, adding, “Then they’ll go next. And if you keep pretending not to know we can make things…invasive. How’s that sound?”

“Jesus Christ, Graves,” you whispered, “you’re talking about torturing and raping a captive.” Your voice sounded weak, fearful.

“It’s up to you,” Graves shrugged. “You can stop this anytime you want. Or if you really wanna get laid without admitting it you can keep not talking.”

You whimpered.

“I mean, think about it,” Graves knelt in front of you again, keeping that sadistic blue gaze locked onto your darker one. “It’d happen right here when anyone can see what a fuckin’ slut you are. No one would help, either. They’d just watch it happen.”

You cried because what the hell else could you do? You weren’t used to this. You translated for fuck’s sake. You wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be captured. Not in your worst nightmares. That was something for the movies, for fiction books.

“Keep up the charade and you’re going to suffer. I promise.” He glared at you with those blue-grey emotionless eyes. “I mean hell when I get sick of ya they’ll pass you around however the fuck they want to. I’m sure they’d love to have a shot at a 141 bitch.”

“Fuck yeah,” a Shadow said from behind you. “She’s a cute little thing. Love to see her cry some more.”

You were floored. How was this happening?

“Graves—” you started.

“Commander Graves to you from now on.”

“Commander Graves. I don’t know. Even if I did, they’ve moved on. They’re mobile,” you tried to reason. “I’m of no use to you.”

You saw his jaw muscle clench. “No, you’re gonna be useful, trust me.”

Your hopes that he would just untie you and send you back to 141 bloodied, beaten, and tortured to send a message fell to zero.

“Pick her up and bring her with us,”

“Fuck no, man,” you shook your head. You knew that you under no circumstances could you allow them to take you to a second location. It dropped your chances of survival to almost zero.

You were pulled to your feet roughly and you suddenly felt a wave of nausea. You were definitely concussed.

“Take her vest. Leave her name tag.” Graves wanted to send a message: she’s alive…come get her before I rip her to shreds.

The Shadow who pulled you up whispered hot and heavy in your ear through his mask. He had to lower himself to your level he was so tall. “Cry some more for me.”

He was so close to you, so close to your face you tried to bite him. “Try me, asshole.”

Graves, further again, laughed. A few other Shadows chuckled. Not because it was funny but because they were probably thinking: awe, how cute…she thinks she can take us.

You pulled and struggled and screamed and cursed. They easily kept control of you. They were too tall and too strong. They tossed you in the backseat of a black Tahoe and your cursed inwardly when you failed to get the plate.

Graves got in on the other side of the backseat. He easily reached over you, grabbing your seatbelt.

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking touch me!” you yelled.

The doors slammed shut and two more of his team got up front.

The van took off and you heard your seatbelt click into place.

You glanced in his direction. Your glare was gone. You were about to resort to pleading when you thought of one more idea. The windows were so dark you couldn’t see anything but you had to try.

You quickly leaned sideways towards Graves. The quick movement threw him off and he didn’t react immediately. It put you in a position to where you could kick the window. One, two, three kicks before Graves grabbed your hair, pulling you upright.

“You need to stop,” he warned darkly. “You almost broke my window.”

The cracked glass might be of some use and so you screamed. Screamed for help. You didn’t mention names but you just screamed for anyone to help.

“If she doesn’t shut up we’re gonna get pulled over,” someone said from the front. “There’s a few non-corrupt cops out here ya know.”

You felt a gloved hand tangle itself further in your hair and the other gloved hand place itself over your mouth.

“Hand me that,” you heard Graves say.

You tried biting but the gloves were too thick.

Graves untangled his hand from your hair and produced a roll of duct tape. “You need to stop biting,” he said darkly. You decided you would keep biting and scratching and kicking.

Using no gentleness at all, he wrapped the thick, suffocating tape over your mouth and around your head, effectively silencing you completely.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

And with that you gave up. You were going to die. You only hoped the US would at least get your body. Things quieted down. Graves worked on a laptop while the other two Shadows up front chatted about nothing in particular. It seemed like hours passed and your head injury wasn’t letting you keep track of the twists and turns.

Exhaustion and your concussion got the best of you and you surrendered to the darkness.

#phillip graves #alejandro cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #mw2 141 #shadow company #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #konig mw2

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curatoroffiction · 2 years

Note

Can i get a comfort fic of MC who's on their monthly and is having a really hard time, and Mammon cares for MC throughout? Im in need of some comfort T^T

Thankieww - artist anon♡

Absolutely! I hope that your time of the month gets a little easier. I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope it's every bit as fun for you to read!

Warnings:

AFAB MC

Detailed and graphic descriptions of menstrual cycle experiences

Gender-Neutral MC

Slightly dramatic beginning, because ✨I live for the drama.✨

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You pause in your step, feeling a very familiar clawing in your gut. You reach out and grasp around, catching Mammon's worried forearm as he realizes you're lagging behind by more than a few steps. His blue-gold eyes look to you with concern as he sees your brow furrow. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?? What's goin' on??" He asks, stopping everything for you.

"A demon is trying to claw its way out of my uterus and it's trying to use my spine as a set of double doors" You gasp the vivid imagery to him and he's instantly concerned. He checks your back, but he's not seeing anything. He reaches to touch it, nervous, and when he does, you can feel the way his fingers gently massage into your lower back. Your shoulders relax to his touch.

"Issit a curse?? Are you dying?? I don't feel anythin' back here." The grip you have on his forearm relaxes as you get used to the cramping. It came on so suddenly. You thought you'd be fine for school, but obviously this just isn't going to work.

".. I need to go back home. Help me..?"

"Don't hafta ask me twice!" He goes to hoist you up and you groan, causing him to realize he needs to be more delicate with your midsection. He instead moves to gently ease you into his arms, your back against his right arm, your knees slung over his left. Your face is resting against his chest as he carries you, more worried for you than anything.

The shame is, today, you guys were the first to actually leave the house. You were going to be on-track to beat even Lucifer to school, but things didn't pan out in your favor.

Which also means, as he's carrying you back, the brothers each spot you two, and you end up collecting a worried entourage as Mammon gets you home.

"Why can't they walk?" Satan is more than a little worried, considering how much he's read on human ailments.

You groan. "Pain."

"Why are they in pain??" Asmodeus pouts, sad that you're having to deal with something so unpleasant.

"Dunno." Mammon doesn't care what the cause is - You asked him to take you home, so that's what he's going to do.

"Are you gonna be okay, ___?" Beelzebub is visibly concerned for you, Belphegor quietly following after the group as he takes note of every answer.

"Yeah. I think. Just. Can't do school. Not today."

Lucifer steps out of the house, locking up, only to turn to see a commotion at the gate. His brothers, not going to school, crowding around you, crumpled in Mammon's arms. ". . ."

Mammon calls out to him "Open the damn door! They gotta get inside!"

Lucifer opens the door, but he does take the lead of the brothers following after Mammon so he can get to the bottom of this problem.

Mammon sets you down on the couch in the main area and you miss the comforting security of his arms as he pulls away- But being able to curl up on your side is making you feel significantly better.

"Was something wrong with breakfast? What's happening?"

"It's my monthly." You tiredly hiss as you soothe yourself, hugging a pillow to your chest.

A few lightbulbs go off in the heads of the demons around you. Some, however, stay dim.

"Monthly what? Monthly bitch? Monthly pest? Monthly pain in the ass that's gonna get fucked up??" Mammon's pretty much ready to fight anything. "You said a demon was tryin'a claw its way outta yer spine, where are they?!"

Satan puts a hand on his shoulder. "Mammon. They're shedding their uterine lining. It's a painful process, but they'll ultimately be okay."

"Is it gonna be this painful the whole time?!" He looks to you, worried.

You've finally gotten a handle on the pain. You slump against the couch, shaking your head tiredly. "No.. But I'm not fit for school.." You look up to Mammon, his concern flooding through you as he worries about you.

"I'll have Levi set you up for distanced learning." Lucifer is already working on contingencies. "Is there anything we can get you to make the day easier?"

".. Can someone stay with me..?" You're shy as you ask. You can take care of yourself, but, it'd really make you feel loved if someone else could help you instead. "… I just.. don't want to be alone.. … And my needs might change throughout the day."

Lucifer can't even give his input when Mammon declares himself as your protector and caretaker for the day. "I'm the one you put in charge of 'em, ain't I?!" He almost looks like he's ready to fight Lucifer if he's about to say anything in protest. Lucifer exhales with a soft smile. He loves seeing how soft you've made his family.

"Alright. Everyone else; To school. Mammon will take care of ___ from here."

"Take care~" Asmodeus leans over the back of the couch, tugging you into a hug, giving you a gentle squeeze. "Mammon's lucky, getting to share all day with you ~"

Satan yoinks Asmodeus away from you, handing you your D.D.D, which fell earlier. "Don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it."

"Or to use the HoL Akuzon account to get yourself the things you need for your monthly." Lucifer adds, giving you a nod of his approval.

Belphegor scowls at Mammon. "Do you even know how to take care of a human on their period?"

"I know how to kick yer ass, how's that?"

Mammon shoots him a scowl in return and Belphegor motions to his D.D.D as he looks past Mammon to you. "Seriously, don't hesitate to ask for help. Don't cover for this dumbass if he fucks something up."

You gently grasp the back of Mammon's shirt, preventing him from getting angry at Belphegor as he softens to your touch. "I'll be okay. Mammon's a good caretaker."

Mammon's face heats up as he looks away from you at his brothers. "That's right!! ___'s number one! No one's gonna be a better caretaker!"

You chuckle softly, which causes his heart to pitter away in his chest. When his brothers have left, he kneels beside your couch, holding your hand. He softly grips your hand, giving it a squeeze, flustered. You speak softly; "Thank you for helping me. Can you get a bath run for me? A hot bath always makes my cramps better. 100°-105° fahrenheit." You always have to specify specific temperatures, otherwise most of the demon brothers will accidentally almost boil you alive.

Mammon nods, gently caressing your head with his free hand. He was so worried earlier. Seeing you crumple against him made him glad he was able to be there for you, but it didn't make it any less scary.. He catches himself looking to you tenderly and gets flustered, quickly escaping to the nearest bathroom to prepare it for you.

He's no Barbatos or Asmodeus when it comes to setting up baths, but he does bring you a robe and a towel when he comes to get you. As you walk together, he explains what he did. "I stole some of Asmo's bath salts - There was a basket in his room with yer name on it, I just assumed it was stuff he set aside for ya'. Also I took a bubble bath from that basket too. I didn't wanna overwhelm ya' in case scents nausiate ya', so I didn't go addin' any of those bath melts or bath bombs?? But I put some on the counter if y'want them. There's also a bucket beside the bathtub if y'need to hurl."

"Scents nausiating me? Needing to hurl?" You're confused. What does he think you're going through?

"Yeah, don't humans on their monthly get super sensitive to foods and cravings, and have pain and sometimes puke?"

".. While there is some overlap, I think you're mistaking this for pregnancy. I'm not pregnant, Mammon."

"…" Mammon digests this new information. "What exactly's gonna happen to you?"

"Well, I'm going to have cravings, I sometimes get some intense emotions, and I experience pain. I get bloating, my body feels gross, everything's going to feel gross, and I'm going to be knocked on my ass with fatigue. That's all pretty normal considering I have an open internal wound right now."

"WAIT WHAT" Mammon's shocked. That's what a monthly is? An open wound internally every month?!

You can't help but laugh a little. "Yeah, my body has an organ that just rips its own inner lining out once a month. It's kind of like if your colon shed its inner skin once a month."

"WHAT THE FUCK" Mammon's visibly upset at the sheer idea, and his asshole clenches at the thought. He couldn't imagine that kind of pain, let alone every single month. He will not be getting over this any time soon.

You're looking around as he's grappling with the mortifying ordeal of having a uterus, and you ask "Mammon, did you bring any tampons for this bath? Or a menstrual cup or something?"

"Huh?"

"To soak up or catch the blood"

"WHAT"

"Yeah, the blood comes out. I don't want to be soaking in it in the bath."

Mammon shakes his head. Okay, so there's a lot more to this than he realized - But that doesn't mean you have to hold his hand through this. He's going to be the best protector/caretaker you ever had. "Okay, where do I find 'em?"

"I keep a drawer of them in my bathroom upstairs. The tampons are these little insertion type things in plastic wrapping, and the cup is in a box labeled appropriately."

"Got it."

He rushes upstairs and comes down to bring you the entire damn drawer and its contents. When you laugh, he feels embarrassed, but in a good way. It made you smile. You shoo him out of the bathroom so you can take a long soak and get the muscles in your lower back to stop spasming.

As you do, Mammon asks from outside the door "Hey, is there anythin' you're craving right now?"

"Oh man, that super greasy food from Hell's Burger sounds amazing.. but the sweetbread from Madame Scream's sounds really good too.. And Godevil Chocolatier's fudge? Mmm.. Oh, and that thing you made for dinner last week was amazing, but I don't think we have anymore leftovers.." You list off all the foods that sound good to you, that you can feel your body craving. "Mmm.. I can't choose. Anything I've listed would be awesome."

"Gotcha." Mammon heads off, leaving you to soak in your tub in peace.

Beside the tub, you see your favorite cold drink that Mammon forgot to tell you he grabbed for you. Popping it open, you rest back against the back of the tub, letting your body soak in the heat and the comfort. Mammon's very good at complimenting scents - He wears enough colognes and body products to know how to use products that compliment each other and don't overwhelm the person. Even as he was scrambling to figure everything out on the fly, he was focused enough to get the important details right.

You had a good choice of bath additives, and you were able to add whatever you wanted to the bath which made it comfy and soothing, but also fun and an experience. You almost forget about your situation as you get out of the tub and apply your moisturizers, then don your robe, putting on some slippers. The robe is fluffy and comfy and fits you perfectly. Asmodeus got it for you because it reminded him of when you were in your sheep form. You're hungry, so when you step out of the bathroom and smell some amazing food down the hall, you almost miss the pjs and underwear he left sitting, neatly folded on a small stepstool in the hall for you. You grab them, put them on, and then meander into the kitchen to find Mammon cooking the food he made last week for dinner. …. Surrounded by bags from various restaurants and stores of every other thing you rattled off the top of your head.

Mammon grins to you as you enter. "Eat up! You can have whatever you like! An' anything you don't wanna eat now, we can save for later. An' if you don't want it later, we'll let Beelzebub eat it."

You're a little overwhelmed at his generosity and kindness, shyly unwrapping some of the greasier food as he cooks and you sit at the kitchen island. "… thank you." Your voice is quiet. Mammon grins even bigger as he sets another of your favorite drinks that he knows goes well with the food you're eating in front of you.

"You'll never want for a thing while I'm around. You got that?"

You nod, smiling warmly to him as you rest against the counter. The way you look at him so warmly gets him flustered, so he turns away.

"… I was, uh, readin' up on these monthly things. I read massages are good for them?"

"Yeah, they can be. My body's feeling okay right now, I just wanna lay down and be cuddled for a while though.."

"Well I can do that too!" He quickly adds, as though you were going to go upstairs and ask Levi to snuggle with you instead or something. When he's done cooking, you grab a plate of the food he cooked, some fries from Hell's Burger, some chocolates, and two of your favorite drinks, and you head into the living room with him. Here, you find that he has a whole collection of blankets and pillows for you, which you quickly make a nest in with Mammon as the center. He hugs you as you rest atop him, the both of you laying on the couch as you watch tv and you snack on anything you crave in the moment.

Any moment that you shift to get up, or you want something, Mammon's quick to take it on his shoulders if he can instead, each moment just loving on you through his attentive service. But, you don't end up needing much because he's already met every need. His hands massage into your back as he holds you, and you hug him close, your head resting on his chest. You're buried in a mound of comfy blankets in the cool HoL air. It's warm, and Mammon's your key source of heat, enveloping you in comfort as he wouldn't let you go for anything.

It's easy for you to fall asleep in his arms like this.

You wake up a few hours later, and he's still awake, just gently caressing your back, affectionately looking to you. When he realizes you're awake again though, he quickly looks away in embarrassment. ".. mornin'."

".. Mornin'." You smile against him, stretching out against him, and then hugging him close. ".. thank you. I feel a lot better than I did this morning."

"Well of course y'do. Yer first and best man ain't about to let you down."

"I knew you wouldn't." You can feel the way his skin warms against yours with your praise. He hugs you close. The way you trust in him, and the way you come to him when you need someone, it never fails to make him feel proud of himself.

You never fail to make him feel on top of the world. He wonders if you realize just how wonderful you are to him, and how much you mean to him. Looking at you like this, he almost wants to say something and tell you exactly how he feels, but the sound of Levi entering the room causes him to chicken out. Levi brings in a laptop set up for you to do distanced learning, so you can catch up on the classes you missed today, as well as attend the remaining ones on your roster. Mammon almost sighs at just how bad Levi's timing is as you start to sit up.

Maybe for now, this moment here is good enough with you.

After all, it means the absolute world to him.

Even as you do your learning, Mammon hugs you from behind, resting his head anywhere from the top of your head to your shoulder, depending on how much you sink down.

He's here beside you every step of the way, until you tell him otherwise.

You did, after all, choose him to ask for help. And Mammon will never let you down if he can help it.

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Text

Boxing Badass

Poe Dameron x fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Poe Dameron, an Air Force Reserves fighter pilot, owns and operates a boxing ring on the side. You’re Y/N “Starfire”, his very best fighter in the ring. Although, there seems to be something between you two that neither of you will admit-- until you make a bad decision against his wishes that will cost him money and some of his ego. Now he’s gonna show you your place-- and he’s gonna do it right on the floor of the ring.

A/N: Ok, so, I came across the picture in the far left moodboard, and I just. Dude. I fucking lost any worries I had about writing smut because hot damn that is my favorite picture now. Good lord. And I admit to shamelessly stealing lines from his Beirut reading because good fucking lords and ladies the living fanfiction-- you won’t believe it till you hear the words come outta his mouth. (I’d also like to mention that I know nothing about boxing...) This is my very first smutty fic, so...

Anyone who was tagged doesn't have to read this, and I'm sorry if you didn't want to be! :P

Notes: I’d like to thank both @foxilayde for some much-needed advice on writing smut, and my bro, @poeticsorcery, for helping me when I got stuck, giving me scenarios and phrases-- thanks, Gadget! And also? Because this is Modern!Poe? He’s bilingual (he speaks Spanish duh), for plot purposes.

Warnings: Oh boy. *heaves dictionary of smut onto table* This story is 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS DO NOT READ, DO NOT INTERACT. Violence, language, light angst, fluff. Shameless smut, reader has a praise kink, breeding kink, use of the word “sir,” fingering, oral (f receiving), light bondage, glove-play, thigh riding, bratty sub!reader, unprotected PiV, edging, orgasm denial, foul language, spanking, overstimulation, plot what plot, porn without plot, okay maybe a little bit of a plot

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Ok, so you like him.

You like him a lot.

Captain Poe Dameron of the United States Air Force Reserves is a fucking badass. He flies an F-16 jet he absolutely adores, his formal uniform is covered in medals, and he’s like a Guatemalan/Cuban Maverick-- oh he’s a total Top Gun fan, but he’ll also point out what is and isn’t regulation and boast about what he has and hasn’t done if you were to watch it with him.

Not to mention he’s fucking gorgeous. His golden-tan skin is somehow nearly unblemished. On his right cheek, under his eye, is a small scar, and on his left are two little pockmarks, giving him a rough edge. His strong nose and stubbled jawline, his toned, lean-muscled chest, his inky black curls that sometimes spring free over his forehead, his deep brown eyes-- everything about this man is just ugh. So fine.

He has everybody he knows swooning over him. Women, men, and it doesn’t help that he has a reputation as a sex god. The rumors that fly about Poe Damneron are obscene, filthy, and unbelievable. A supposed-ex-boyfriend even complimented him by saying he could last all night, and then some. A couple one-night stand girls talked about how he doesn’t even have to actually touch you to make you come. With how cocky he is and how he carries himself with that-- I dunno big dick energy-- you believe every word of it.

But it’s kinda hard to hear all that about somebody you consider to be your best friend.

He’s in the reserves, so a second job is a good thing to have, for the mind as well as the pocket. Poe-- along with his friend Finn, also in the reserves as part of the maintenance crew-- owns and operates a boxing gym. Fight nights win him a lot of money if his fighters can best another’s, not to mention he bets. Heavily. And he always fucking wins.

That’s how you met him.

You’re an up-and-coming female boxer that had went by the name of “Foxtrot.” You had a few gigs, here and there, but nobody really wanted to keep working with you-- either a female in their ring undermined their authority or they were simply tired of hearing the snide comments. Until you got to Yavin 4 Boxing Club, where you met Poe Dameron, your new boss. He immediately took you to the ring, where he showed you some trick moves, and then to test you, pitted you up against a boxer that very night.

You won. For the first time.

Poe Dameron set up your career. He gave you a new name, “Starfire,” and in three years of working with him you’d become his best fighter in the ring. Anybody who questioned the presence of a female fighter was quickly shut down. Unbeatable, unquestioned, you guys were a power-duo. You made thousands of dollars a week from just the Friday Fight Nights, and even though you maybe wanted to add Saturdays, too, Poe absolutely forbade it. “I don’t want my best fighter getting hurt, babygirl,” He’d always tell you, giving you that damn pursed-lips-clenched-jaw kinda look and shaking his head. “One day a week. That’s it. We’re doing good, we don’t need any more money.”

But you were more than just his best fighter. Somehow he started integrating you into his friends, introducing you to Finn, Rey, Rose, Ben, and even his Labrador, Beebs. You started hanging out. Soon... soon you became friends. Maybe even best friends. And you hated it, because you’d fallen for him far harder than you’d ever thought possible.

It was his fucking smile.

You didn’t notice it at first. You just thought you were growing to love him as a friend, but then you realized that at the mere thought of seeing him, your heart started pounding. Your face would flush. Butterflies would erupt in your stomach. But then one day you’d been getting ready to practice for an upcoming fight. Poe had been standing nearby and watching, ready to give tips like he always did, and you made a joke about wrapping your knuckles. Hell, you don’t even remember what you said. Whatever it was, it had made Poe laugh-- and at the sight of that beaming grin that makes the corners of his warm dark eyes crinkle up, you were a goner.

You were in love with him.

And despite the fact that you can take direct hits without batting an eye, the thought of rejection and ruining your friendship if you asked him out on a date he isn’t interested in has you terrified. But you keep up flirty banter with him. You try to test the waters, see if he is interested; he can’t take his eyes off you when you practice, so that has to be a good sign, right?

But he’s also ridiculously bossy, which has you always acting the part of the rebel. You don’t know why-- maybe you like the way that muscle in his cheek twitches when you refuse to do something he tells you to, especially in front of other people. Maybe you like the sparks that ignite in his eyes as he turns to give you a glare from under his thick brows. Maybe you just enjoy getting such a strong reaction from him. All you know is you really like pushing his buttons.

Today is a prime example of that.

“What do you mean, no?” You scoff, in utter disbelief at the man across the desk from you. Poe lounges in his leather chair with a brow raised and his lips pursed a little as he regards you. He’s wearing those stupid navy-blue dress pants that show off his thighs and, yes, you’ve checked him out on numerous occasions, his great ass. He’s wearing that stupid matching blazer that squeezes his arms in all the right places, and he’s wearing that stupid white shirt, not to mention his signature chain necklace where his mother’s ring hangs. His curls are messy from where he’s run his hand through them, and despite the fact that you know he probably shaved this morning, he’s got fine stubble accentuating his damn right-angle jawline, framing his full lips. Damn you want to kiss him. You wonder what those lips would feel like on yours...

Miraculously, it only makes you want to defy him more.

Tonight’s Friday Fight Night. Coming all the way from Samoa to this little Californian city is a hulking 7-foot goliath of a man called “Chewbacca.” All week posters had been put up around town: Starfire vs Chewbacca, One Night Only. This was your night. If you could bring down Chewbacca, all the boxers in a 500-mile radius would come to test your mettle, and you’re more than positive that you could bring any one of them down. The money you’d get from this night alone would set you up even better than you already are.

And Poe’s suddenly telling you no.

“You heard me, sweetheart,” He says, leaning back to swing his ankles up onto the table-- those fucking. Untied. Combat boots. How the fuck does somebody wear combat boots with something that’s almost a damn suit?! Your eyes reluctantly trail up his picturesque body to meet his eyes, which are fixated on you like a predator: you know that look. It’s the look that tells you that you’d better damn well listen to what he’s telling you to do. “Finn’s going into the ring tonight.”

“Finn?!” You exclaim, because, well. Finn might be muscular enough to lift missiles and other payloads onto the underbelly of an F-16, and sure he’s been trained, but he’s not a boxer. He’s the co-owner. He doesn’t even have a boxing name.

“Yeah. Finn. Why’re you repeating everything I say? Something wrong with your ears, princesa?” He reaches forward and casually plucks one of his F-16 models off of his desk, turning in over and over in his hands. Usually his little nicknames are endearing to you. Always he’s calling you something other than your name, whether in Spanish or English. In fact, aside from repeating it when you first introduced yourself, you’re pretty positive he’s never said it otherwise. But right now, it’s just fucking annoying. You know he doesn’t mean it that way, but they sound mocking, almost, and you wanna throw yourself across the table and beat the shit out of him.

Or fuck the shit out of him.

You can’t tell. You’re gonna go with the former.

Although from the way your eyes are trained on his hands, admiring how fluid his movements are as he flips the airplane, you’re seriously fucking thinking about it. He’s just sitting there, sitting like that, all stretched out and leaning back playing with that jet with his deep brown eyes on you and a smolder on his face?! Good god.

You drag your gaze off his hands and cast a glare around the room, at his decorations and awards that clearly show off that he’s a fighter pilot. At the very reason for his cocky, arrogant self. Though you’re pretty sure he’s always been arrogant. He was born arrogant and cocky. He probably winked at his goddamn wet-nurse when he was born.

Sweet lord do you want him.

But you want so much more than... him.

You maybe want to wake up next to him. Maybe want to give him a kiss before he goes off to work. Maybe want to stay up late joking about corny old horror movies. Maybe you want to be his. But if Poe wanted you, he’d ask for you, wouldn’t he? Because he’s Poe Dameron, and he’s not afraid of anything, not even the prospect of rejection.

And it’s so fucking painful to be so close, yet so far. You’ve fallen hard for a man you’ll never have, and your heart is this close to breaking every goddamn day. Which is why you’ve bagged another job, in another town, far away from this place, far away from Poe, so that maybe you can recuperate from unrequited love. You told Poe just earlier today-- that you’d gotten a job, have a new apartment waiting for you, that it’s too far away, really, for rational visits, and that you’re already completely packed to move out of your roommate Jess’s place. You’ve known Poe for three years now, and you’ve never seen him go so... cold. At first you saw something like disappointment, but then his expression shifted. Guarded, cool, calm, he’d nodded and said, “Best of luck then, Y/L/N.” The use of your last name hurt-- it was so formal. Like you were strangers, when you aren’t. Really, you should be glad that he’s using nicknames for you now.

But it only makes it more painful. Once you move away... a writhing ball of grief has been clawing at your heart for weeks now. Leaving his presence will only make you feel worse for awhile, you know this, but eventually, you’ll recover. You’ll learn to deal with the fact that you fell in love with Poe Dameron, but he never loved you, not the way you wanted him to.

Honestly, you wonder if him being pissed has anything to do with him denying you to fight tonight. “You can’t tell me no. This is a golden opportunity for me.”

“A golden opportunity to get your head knocked off,” Poe quips, eyes flicking to you briefly. He sets the plane down, shifting his position so that he’s leaning on the desk and facing you. “I’ve met Chewbacca before. This guy...” He searches for the right word for a second, licking his lips. “This guy is massive.” He decides that’s the appropriate term, nodding to emphasize his point. “I’ve seen him fuck up guys that give you a hard time in thirty seconds flat. There are rumors going around that he ripped somebody’s arm off in New Zealand, I dunno if that’s...true, or not, but...” His hand comes up to scratch the back of his head for a second before slamming back into the table, his intense gaze meeting yours as he tries to get across the gravity of what he’s telling you. “I don’t want you getting hurt, princesa. I... You’re...”

I need you. You’re my best fighter. It’s what he always says. Sometimes it’s all you wonder if you’re good for to him. Nothing but a paycheck that does the dirty work for him. You stand from your chair abruptly. “Fuck you, Poe.” You’ve said it to him before, but on much lighter, not-serious terms, in a joking fashion. But this time you’re truly pissed. You let him know it; you storm out of there and slam the door behind you even though it’s never closed.

Last I checked, I’m still on the roster, Poe.

You should know by now that you can’t tell me what to do.

~~~

When you arrive at the Yavin 4 Boxing Club that night, ten minutes before the fight’s about to start, the street is packed with so many people anticipating the match that you have to park a block away and hightail it to the club before you miss your window. Fighting through the thick crowds isn’t so difficult. They recognize you at once and start chanting “Starfire,” which you can only hope Poe doesn’t hear, because that would give away your presence here.

It must not, because you make it to the locker room without any trouble, just in time to see a shirtless Finn wrapping his knuckles. “Yo, buddy,” You say, to which he turns and smiles when he sees you.

“Hey, Y/N! What’re you doing here?”

“What are you doing here, princesa?” Poe’s voice comes from behind you, and you heave a sigh. You’d really been hoping not to run into him tonight-- at least, not until you beat the living daylights out of Chewbacca.

You turn to find him glowering at you with his hands on his hips. He’s got the muscle tick and the sparks in his eyes, so you know this is probably the worst you’ve done so far. “The people came here to see Starfire fight Chewbacca,” You say with mock-cheerfulness, only making him clench his jaw. His anger only fuels your frustration. “So they’re gonna see Starfire fight Chewbacca.”

“I’ve got two grand on my fighter,” Poe points out, voice low and dangerous. His implication makes you so furious your fists tighten enough for your nails to cut into your skin. He thinks you can’t beat Chewbacca. It’s all about the dollar signs. This has nothing to do with you.

The words flow out of your mouth before you can stop them, and now you and Poe are nearly chest-to-chest and fuming like bulls seeing a red cape. “That all you care about? Money? That all you ever care about?”

“Guys--” Finn tries, but Poe talks over him in order to say firmly to you, “Finn is bigger, broader, he can take the hits.”

“You think I can’t?”

His blunt honesty surprises you. “No, I don’t. I think you’re gonna get your ass creamed in that fucking ring, and I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need protection, Poe!”

You two are kind of circling each other now, and your shouts have escalated into a yelling match. “I’ve got money, reputation, and your safety riding on this--”

“Oh, my safety’s last on your fucking list, isn’t it?” The built-up frustration of the last several months of being near him but not with him is flowing more fury behind your words, and you’re ready to get Poe on the floor and--.... well, you’re not sure what, but he’s not gonna like whatever it is you’re gonna do. “I’m gonna fuck you up, Poe Dameron!”

He’s undeterred, of course, and shouts right back at you. “You wanna fuck me, huh?! Go right ahead! I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to fucking walk!”

“Guys!” Finn puts himself between you two.

Which is good, because you have no fucking idea how Poe got “I’m gonna fuck you” out of an angry “I’m gonna fuck you up” and why for some reason, he thought you’d said that in anger, as a threat. Not to mention he’d “threatened” to fuck you back, to the point of not walking? The images he just put in your head... Despite the fact that you’re both frustrated with each other, you both pause, brows furrowed, for a distinct what the fuck moment.

Finn shares in your what the fuck moment, looking between you two with disbelief. “Wait, what? That what this is about? You guys have some deep sexual tension you need to work out? I need to step outta the room? You wanna head somewhere else maybe?”

“Shut up, Finn,” Poe snaps, and pushes past him so that you and him are face-to-face again. Behind him, Finn throws his hands up in exasperation before addressing the ceiling.

“I tried, God. Really, I did.”

Poe’s hands are on his hips again as he glares at you. “...Don’t go out there.”

You turn on your heel without a word and plop your bag down, stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes so that you’re only in sweats and a tank top-- it’s how you usually fight. You wrap your knuckles, blatantly ignoring Poe’s presence. Even as he comes up behind you, so close he’s nearly flush against your back. He doesn’t touch you, but he doesn’t have to. His voice is all but a husky growl in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, babygirl.”

A shudder wracks your body, a shudder which he most definitely notices. When you turn to look over your shoulder at him, he has a look in his eyes that outdoes his usual spark. It’s more of a fire, one that makes your stomach flip in all the right ways. His face is inches from yours, and you half consider pulling him in for a kiss--

--but if he wanted it, he’d have done it himself. You frown as the giddiness is replaced by frustration. Anger. Toward yourself, of course, for not being good enough for Poe to want to be yours just as badly as you wish you were his. You turn your back on him and leave the locker room, going straight for the ring.

As soon as you exit, you’re greeted by a swarm of cheering audience, half-drunk already. Bets are being passed around, and you angrily remember Poe pointedly telling you that he has two grand on this fight. Oh, that pisses you off. You’re gonna beat Chewbacca solely based on your anger toward Poe.

People part before you like reeds under the prow of a boat, so you’re easily able to reach the ring. You grab hold of the ropes and haul yourself up into the arena, your ears ringing with the reverberations of the cheering crowd, bouncing off the walls and pounding into your skull.

You’re eager to get into the arena. You want to beat the shit out of this Chewbacca.

Almost immediately upon entering that ring, you regret your decision.

You feel the blood drain from your face at the sight of your massive, massive opponent. He really is over seven feet tall, isn’t he? This guy is ridiculously enormous. Even Finn, at 6′ 2″, would have been absolutely dwarfed against him. Rippling with corded muscle underneath of dark caramel-brown skin, he must be nearly eight feet tall. Thick, long hair, brown-and-black, falls from his head, tumbling far down his back. He’s a literal giant. Yes, you’re strong, but you’re still much smaller and much more frail than this guy. Finn lifts missiles onto jets for a living. He might have been able to get a few hits in, might have been able to wrestle this guy to the ground and keep him there. You... you’ll be lucky if you get a single hit in. You’re beginning to understand why Poe didn’t want you in this fight.

“Oh fuck...” You breathe, but there’s no backing out now.

“Ready?” The announcer calls out, and you barely have time to raise your fists before Chewbacca rushes you. He swings high, aiming for your head with a guttural roar that sounds more animal than human. You dodge, intending to go low, but this guy clearly knows more about boxing than you do. Maybe his entire life has been about boxing.

His knee comes up and cracks you hard in the face. Your nose isn’t broken, but blood pours freely from it and you see stars from the impact. You’ve bitten your tongue (not badly enough to bite it off, but it only adds to your injury), and with the sudden silence of the crowd you can hear your ears ringing from the blow. In a daze, you stand there for a second, unsure of what exactly is happening, even when Chewbacca picks you up and throws you across the ring.

You roll up against the rope barriers and come to a stop, unable to move enough to even make a show of struggling. You’ve been K-O’d in 10 seconds flat, when Finn might’ve maybe lasted 30. You’re suddenly fully aware of Poe’s position: it wasn’t if anybody could win, he probably had a bet on how long his fighter could last against Chewbacca. Why risk his best fighter that brings in all his money? If you’re not out for a couple weeks, you’ll be surprised— wait, what are you talking about? Weren’t you planning on moving on Monday? Fuck, you can’t even think straight. You don’t know that you’ve been named the loser until you’re being carried toward an ambulance against a familiar chest that smells of jet fuel and iron. Poe is carrying you.

You’re placed on a stretcher, and you wonder if the crowds are disappointed that they came from who-knows-where to witness Chewbacca floor you in 10 seconds.

~~~

So, you’ve suffered a concussion.

Not a bad one, but a concussion.

Moving will have to be put off till next week, so you’ve made plans to wait until next Monday. For three days, you’re in the hospital under watch for any signs of anything worse than your concussion, or complications due to— you get a visit from Chewbacca, who humbly apologizes for knocking you so hard. In fact, he’s a pretty nice guy. Besides him, Jess comes to see you, make sure you’re alright; Finn, Rey, and even grumpy old Ben visits you.

But not Poe.

“He was here with you while you were out of it,” Rey tells you when you dare to ask, “He was out of his mind with worry— still is. But because you’re out...” she sighs, regrettably, “He had to go back to the club. Sort things out before he risks losing the fame he’s built up.”

Ah. Because of you, in a sense. If you’d just listened to him, he wouldn’t be in this position. No wonder Poe doesn’t want to be with you. You’re nothing but trouble.

So you text him with a simple, I’m sorry, Poe.

But he doesn’t respond. The idiot still has his read receipts on, so you know he got it. Fine, he can be that way for all you care. Which you do, very much, but you have to try not to.

You hear nothing from Poe while in the hospital, not your first couple days home. It’s almost been a week until you hear from him again. You’re sitting on your shared couch, while Jess sits in the nearby chair eating popcorn— you’re not sure what you guys are watching, you’re too concerned with Poe. Which you shouldn’t be. But you are.

Bloop. Your phone goes off. Somebody texted you. You’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t pounding with the hope that it’s Poe, and then if you said it didn’t soar with a combination of relief and anxiety when you see his name on the bar of the text.

Get to the club. Now.

A vague and mildly-exciting order. But despite your earlier disobedience costing him two grand, reputation, and quite nearly his club, you feel the need to text back— albeit immediately— with:

You don’t text me for a week and now you want me at the club? Why?

There’s brief hesitation. Then you see bubbles, and with a zoom sound effect, Poe responds with a firm, simple answer.

I said NOW.

Fine. Be an asshole then, don’t tell me, you think as you slam your phone down. You briefly, briefly, consider not going. But his adamancy has you concerned. He doesn’t text you for a week and then is telling you to get to the club ASAP? The why is so powerful you barely question the when.

So you tell Jess you’re going out, and toss on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. When you get to the club, you’re surprised to only see Poe’s pitch black corvette sitting out front. Nobody else is here, and the club is, to outsiders, closed.

“What the fuck, Poe?” You mutter to yourself in your car, extremely confused. You force yourself not to run to the building. You need to act nonchalant about this. Like maybe you’re not as worried as you really are.

You have to knock, because for some reason, the doors are locked. When he doesn’t answer the first time, you try to knock a little more carefully, trying not to seem like you’re ready to kick the door down yourself and call 911.

But he answers. He’s wearing that spotless, gunmetal gray blazer with the sleeves rolled up, the white shirt that has a cover over the buttons, and a pair of black jeans with those stupid untied combat boots. That fire you seen in his eyes last you set eyes on him is blazing in his coffee irises. His curls are disheveled, and his jaw clenches at the sight of you. Suddenly you’re aware that the last thing he said to you before he texted was that he’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk.

“You came,” He comments dryly.

“You told me to,” You state the obvious.

Poe scoffs, eyes casting around the parking lot in disbelief. “Since when have you decided to do what I say?”

“Look--” You sigh, heavily, because despite you leaving in a few days, you don’t want to part from him on bad terms. You want to see him smile one more time before you go, keep it emblazoned in your memory. “Can we talk inside? Or you wanna do this out in the cold, rainy night for aesthetic?”

With a snort of amusement, Poe backs up, allowing you to slide past him into the small foyer. Behind you, he all but slams the door before he locks it-- the action makes you shudder, because now you’re thinking thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking. It doesn’t help that he’s fucking smirking, like the asshole somehow knows about the twist he just caused in your stomach.

You try to push away the flood of unwanted emotions that will just complicate things. You never understood the whole yearning thing, until you met Poe, and now, you get it. You wish he’d ask you out, and even now you’d probably scream yes as if he just asked you to marry him, putting off moving indefinitely. You’re sure-- more than positive-- that he knows what he’s doing to you. A combination of wanting to be able to call yourself his girl, and, right now, a whole lot of sexual frustration. Slamming and locking a door shouldn’t turn you on, but it did, and now you have to get rid of that little emotion, too.

You’re by the ring before either of you say anything. “What do you want, Poe?” You turn to face him with your arms crossed, but your whole nonchalant persona crumbles to bit when you see his face.

Poe’s irises are blown black, and he’s watching you like a wolf ready to devour its prey. His jaw is clenched and his hands are on his hips, and he looks like its taking every ounce of his being to hold back from doing whatever it is he wants to do to you. His neck is visibly straining with effort, although aside from being flushed, his face shows no other emotion but irritation.

At this point, you’d gladly let him do whatever he wants.

You think him locking the door turned you on? That’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling now. There’s a rush of warmth between your legs, and you shift slightly, trying to fight the ache in your core-- and you really really hope he can’t tell.

“What do I want?” Poe echoes softly. He doesn’t move his hands from his hips as he steps toward you, and he doesn’t have to. For every step he takes, you back up, until you’re up against the ring’s raised floor. You act as if he has an arm on either side of you, but you’re not threatened. He gets up so that he’s inches from you, just inches, and dear god if he doesn’t close the distance--

“I want you to get on your knees. Crawl. And beg me to fuck you.”

Oh god.

He’s entirely unfazed by the effect his words have on you-- you can’t control it. You let out a sound that’s somewhere close to a moan, but more of a gasp. Physically, you pinch your arm to make sure you’re not dreaming. Nope, it’s fucking real alright. Poe just said that to you, and he’s entirely serious. You want to be angry that that’s all he seems to want from you... but now there’s a wetness between your legs you can’t ignore, and you desperately want him to take care of it.

Hungrily, you think, his eyes flick up-and-down your body, but he doesn’t move. “But we can’t all have what we want.”

Damn him to hell, he’s doing it on purpose. He knows what he does to you, what he’s doing to you. What, is it some kind of punishment? “You can,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “You could get anything you wanted.”

“Can I?” He arches a brow, his tone mocking. “Even you?”

All rhyme or reason has left your head. All you can think about is him touching you, and you know if you walk out now and leave you’ll never forget the time you could have been railed by Poe Dameron. Even if he never loves you, you can at least know that for one night... he was all yours.

But your voice fails you. You try to speak but you can’t form the words, so you nod. There’s a flash of emotion across Poe’s face, but it’s gone so quickly you can’t read it. He takes another step closer, nodding for emphasis. “Oh yeah? You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?”

“Y-yes.” You have your back against the wall now, and Poe only comes closer, shaking his head.

“I don’t know about that, sweetheart. Last time I told you to do something, you ignored me. I think, before I do anything, I’m gonna have to teach you how to behave.”

“That’s how we’re gonna play this?” You breathe, trying to speak around your dry mouth.

“Turn around,” He orders, jerking a vague nod to your question while also indicating the rope fence above you. “Grab the ropes.” You do what he says, immediately, desperate for his hands on you--

--but nothing happens. You expect a laugh and a joke about how horny you are for him, and you’re ready to whip around and punch him squarely in the face. But... then you hear something... unexpected. “...Y/N,” Poe says softly, almost a whisper. There’s no trace of his bravado, only warmth. And it’s the first time he’s said your name since he met you. He comes to stand beside you-- the fire is gone. He looks almost anxious, maybe a little hopeful, and definitely softer than he’s been with you. “Color system. Green is we’re good, yellow we need to slow down, red’s a full stop. If you don’t want to do this... tell me now.”

Maybe you’re overthinking things, but you swear he’s just as desperate as you are right now. But not for sex. Maybe for something else. Something more. You let go of the rope so that you can face him, tentatively putting your hands on his chest. He inhales abruptly, closing his eyes for a second. His hands shoot to your waist as if to steady himself and convince himself that you’re really there at once. “Poe...” You want to ask him if he feels the same way you do, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

You’ve hardly started moving your lips against his in response when his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Eagerly, you open your mouth to him, and he tilts his head to get a better angle; briefly his tongue fights yours, and he pulls your body flush against him almost possessively as he takes control, licking deep into your mouth. Poe hungrily kisses you, thoroughly exploring you in the most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced in your life that seems to last only a few moments-- you break away for air far too soon, breathing heavily.

Poe gives a breathless chuckle, lips red and swollen. “I take it you are okay with this, then.” A hand leaves your hip to retrieve something from his pocket, and he lifts a pair of handcuffs and gloves between you. You have no idea what he plans on using them for, but you trust him, especially since the first thing he asks is, “Color?”

“Green,” You pant, and turn to grab the ropes again. Poe reaches up alongside you and carefully cuffs you to the rope, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he moves to stand behind you.

You hear the exaggerated snap of him pulling on the gloves seconds before he pulls your hips back a little, kicking your ankles apart. Internally, you curse yourself for not wearing lacy panties or anything impressive: just a sports bra and a pair of boxer briefs. Not that it matters anyway, because Poe doesn’t even care what you’re wearing: in one swift move, he yanks your pants and briefs down to the floor. You hear him let out an appreciative exhale at the sight of you, and his hands find your hips again. “Eres hermosa, princesa,” He breathes.

“That better have been a compli--” You’re cut short, words trailing to a moan, as he grinds into your soaking core, interrupting any hope for a complete sentence you may have had.

“I’m gonna show you what happens when you don’t listen to me, sweet thing,” He whispers as he rocks into you, not that you can even comprehend what he’s telling you when he’s humping you. “You want me to fuck you? Show me you’re paying attention. Count for me.”

Poe’s hips stop moving as he backs up, but you don’t have time to ask count what? His gloved hand comes down hard on your ass, and the sound echoes in the emptiness of the ring, obscenely loud and mingled with your yelp of alarm. Did he just--

It feels like a hundred bees have decided inexplicably to sting your ass at once. It burns, and your cheeks throb; he does it again at the height of the pain, and you can’t deny that despite the fact that tears are jumping to your eyes and it hurts, his actions are only adding to the wetness between your legs. “I gave you an order,” Poe snaps, punctuating his sentence with another smack. “What did I say?”

Your foggy mind struggles to understand his words, and when you do, it takes you an agonizingly long time to remember what he did tell you. “T... To count,” You choke out.

“Good. Now I’m gonna have to start over.” Oh lord. “You gonna count this time?”

“Y-yes...”

“Yes what?”

At first you’re not sure what he means, but then you realize he wants you to call him something-- he’s an officer, what else are you going to call him? “Sir. Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” He tells you, and you can’t help it; you moan at the praise. He picks up on it immediately, his tone almost teasing as he leans over you from behind. “You like that, huh? Like it when I call you a good girl?” You can only whimper in response; he has a forearm around your waist to steady you, and his touch is like hot fire even when you can’t feel his skin. You want to tear his clothes off and wrestle him to the ground-- maybe it wasn’t a good idea for you to let him cuff you, because if you don’t go insane from his lack of touch, you’ll be missing your guess. “You gonna count for me?”

“Yes sir,” You manage, and Poe chuckles-- at your agony, at how badly you want him, you can’t tell, and you decide you don’t care when he slaps your ass so hard you’re surprised you don’t see stars. Barely, you manage to choke out one. Then two. The hard smack of his hand sheathed in a thin but painful layer of rubber stings twiceover with every slap he delivers, and your knees start to shake with the strain of keeping you standing. You get to six before you falter, missing one.

“Naughty, naughty, babygirl,” Poe says, running his hand down your cheeks to try and soothe them, “I told you to count. Use your words, sweet thing, or I’m gonna have to start over again.”

“F-five,” You wheeze, not intending to go through twice what he’s intending for you.

“...It’s six,” Poe corrects softly. “You learn your lesson yet, or you think you need more? You gonna listen to what I say?”

Finally. The respite has your ass so sore and stinging that you can’t imagine sitting for awhile-- he’s making good on his promise to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week. He massages your cheeks, leaning over you from behind. “...You okay?”

The cuffs are all that’s keeping you standing at this point, your legs are shaking so badly. Tears streak down your cheeks. Poe shifts from leaving his hands on you to helping hold you up. “Too far?” You manage to shake your head, because even though it stings, you liked it. And you want more from him. Whatever else he had in mind for you.

“Color?”

“Yellow,” You breathe, because you do need a minute to recover. Immediately Poe reaches up, uncuffing you from the ropes; you fall, limp as a ragdoll, but he catches you effortlessly. With one swift movement, he sweeps you up against his chest bridal style and carries you up into the ring. By the time you’re up there, the initial shock has left you-- and you want more. You pat his chest as he goes to set you down. “Poe. Green.”

He smiles, kissing your forehead. “Cuffs still good for you?”

“Yeah.”

Poe steadies you as he sets you on your feet, waiting to see if you can stand on your own. Once he’s sure you can, he hooks his fingers under the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up over your head along with your bra. Carelessly, he tosses them to the side without taking his eyes off your naked form. “...You’re beautiful, cariño.” He backs you up against the ropes, which hold your weight just as well as the wall for now. “Why did we wait...?” He breathes, and at first you barely catch what he said because you’re too focused on him cuffing your arms over a rope and behind your back, supporting your form even if your legs were to give out. He doesn’t give you time to answer, though, because his mouth is on yours, kissing you breathless. His hands trail up your body, coming to squeeze your breasts-- he hasn’t taken the gloves off.

He smiles into the kiss as you arch against him with a groan. Pulling away from your lips, he leaves a hot trail of wet kisses down your neck, biting and sucking and licking until your knees give. A hand leaves your breast to hold you up, wrapping around your back until you’re prone like one of those ridiculous movie posters from the sixties in a vampire’s arms. As if sensing your thoughts, he bites down on your collarbone hard, actually growling when you cry out. He soothes the mark with gentle licks, trailing lower, and lower.

Seemingly of its own accord, your head throws back when he takes your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking hard enough to hurt, until you’re sure he must have a hold of your whole breast and is going to rip it clean off your body. The other he squeezes hard, pinching and twisting and you’re sure he’s going to make you orgasm just from this alone. The pressure builds in your lower abdomen, and builds, and you’re on the cusp of cumming right there--

--and then he stops. He pulls back with a pop, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve and licking his lips. “I don’t think so, baby. Not yet, not until I tell you. Understand?” Your hips buck and you whimper, desperate for that release, but he only holds your hips still as he catches his breath against your chest. It’s gone too soon, and only when you’ll need to be built up again does Poe do anything: he licks a thick stripe up your abused breast, pausing only to lap at the sore nipple before continuing up to your neck. “Good girl,” He whispers in your ear, low and husky.

Poe takes a step back, putting a hand on his hip and bringing the other up to your mouth. “Open up.” He slips his fingers in and you do what he wants: you start sucking, gauging his reaction as you swirl your tongue around his digits. You must be doing something right, because his lust-blown eyes are trained on you as he nods in confirmation, biting his lip. “That’s it. Get ‘em real wet, babygirl.” He has you suck until you’re drooling down your chin, and then he starts to pull his fingers out; you catch the glove with your teeth, trying to pull it off. Poe freezes, pursing his lips. “You really wanna try that, cosa dulce? I need to punish you again?” Reluctantly, you release the glove. “That’s what I thought.”

His fingers trail down your neck, down between your breasts and abdomen. Your hips buck as he gets closer to where you want him, and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “I don’t think so, chica bonita. You want me to take care of you? Let’s see if you can stop moving.”

You grin, growing bold. “Let’s see you get off as well as you will with me if I shout red.” Pointedly, you glance down to the obvious tent in his pants, and he frowns. “Stop teasing me, Poe. Take the gloves off.”

He starts nodding, eyebrows arching cockily. His eyes gleam with an idea, one you’re certain both takes care of the problem but also avoids it for as long as possible. “You want me to take the gloves off?” He gives you a smug smirk. “Alright then; I’ll take the gloves off.” Poe steadies you by your hips and slots his thigh between your legs, pressing it up toward your core. You can’t help yourself: you whine, rocking your hips against his leg desperately. His hands now free, he starts taking off his gloves, painfully slowly, gently tugging at the fingertips. “You wanna cum before I can touch you, sweetheart? You’re gonna do it right here.”

Oh hell.

He knows you’d much rather have his fingers buried deep inside you rather than humping his thigh, knows you’re gonna have to try and resist the urge to rock your hips even though every fiber of your body is telling you to move, to get that friction at any cost. But you don’t. You grind once, twice, then groan in frustration through your teeth and force yourself to sit still. The bastard knows you’re not gonna call red, not when you need him so badly. Not when you so desperately want him to fuck you into oblivion. It takes every ounce of willpower you have, and then some, as he watches you struggle with a smug-ass grin. He starts pushing his thigh up into you, moving back-and-forth and flexing his quads as he tries to prompt you to move, creating just enough friction to be agonizingly out of reach. You wonder what kind of sex-school he went to in order to learn this, vaguely in your puddle of a brain.

You’re a whining, panting mess by the time he gets the first glove off, and now you’re regretting making him take them off. Poe removes his thigh from between your legs, and you whimper at the loss of pressure. “You want me to touch you? I told you earlier to beg. Maybe if you be good and do what I told you, I’ll go a little faster.”

You have, in this moment, zero willpower to resist anymore. You need him. “P-please Poe, please--”

“Please what?” It’s the taunting I can’t hear you, and you growl in frustration. The bastard actually chuckles.

“Sir, please sir--”

He tears the glove off and slips his hand between your legs-- you let out the most obscene moan possibly ever uttered on the face of the planet when he swipes his fingers up through your folds, teasing your clit with his thumb. “Soaking already, babygirl? How long you wanted this from me, huh?” You can’t speak, unleashing some kind of whimpering squeal that makes him smirk. “Speak up, sweetheart.”

“L...Long... T-time...” Your stuttering sentence trails off as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect sweet spot-- how he found it so quickly is beyond you, literally, because you don’t care. All you care about at the moment is reaching that ecstasy just out of reach, rocking against his hand as he fingers you to the brink of shattering oblivion before pulling back, easing his ministrations so that you can’t reach your release. He gets you so close and then takes it away, repeatedly, so many times you’re beginning to wonder if you’ll even be able to reach an orgasm after this.

Poe pulls back, and you’re breathing and whining like you just ran a three-day marathon without breaks. The ache in your core is almost painful, throbbing and pulling at you from deep inside, needing to release itself, and you’re sure if he doesn’t let you cum, you’ll actually explode from the pressure. You buck your hips toward him as you let out a whimper, seeing him lick his fingers clean of your juices. When he’s done torturing you with that image, his hands find your hips. “Color?”

“Poe-- the color is green, if you ask me one more fucking time and don’t actually do something, I swear--”

Poe smirks to himself, and in one swift move has shrugged his blazer off. He rolls up his sleeves, and your heart stutters as he jerks his chin at you. “Greedy girl. My fingers not good enough for you?” Before you can so much as blink, he’s on his knees, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and shooting you a cocky grin. “Good thing you taste so good, hermosa.”

That’s all the warning you get before he’s diving into your heat, dragging his tongue up your sex. You yelp, trying to rock against him, but even though you’re half-standing, he somehow has you pinned. You can’t move more than an inch in any direction, left only to be a moaning mess as he laps at you relentlessly, messily, his stubble chafing your inner thighs and scratching at your folds in a sinfully blissful way. His nose brushes against your clit, giving you that extra bit of friction as he dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls.

Never in your life have you yowled like a cat in heat, crying out probably loudly enough for the people on the street to hear you as he pleasures you. “Come on, baby,” He groans into you, “Let go, I’ve got you.” You actually scream when you cum, and it trails off into a moan as he eagerly eats you out like he’s a man with his last meal, savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue, circling your entrance and lapping at your heat, easing you through the shuddering waves of your powerful high.

“You good?” He whispers as he pulled away, licking his lips. You wish you could feel embarrassed about the way your release glistens all over his face, but... it’s kinda hot...

You nod breathlessly, and he immediately stands up, reaching behind you to undo the handcuffs. “You’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart.” He eases you to the floor, getting you on your hands and knees. You know what’s coming next, so you obey, biting your lip when you hear him undoing his belt. “Beg me to stuff your pussy, pretty baby.”

“Please, please--”

Apparently that’s all he needed. He gets down on his knees behind you and spreads your legs apart, and you hear a smile in his voice when he says, “Mírate, cosita bonita. ¿Todo para mí?”

“Huh?” You choke out.

“You’re gorgeous, you sweet girl,” Poe replies, but you’re not entirely sure he answered your question. You don’t have time to think, though, because Poe is sliding his length into you, taking it slow so you can grow used to his sheer size-- he didn’t give you warning, didn’t give you a chance to see him so that you’re prepared-- even only his tip seems too much for you. You don’t have to tell him yellow, he knows to slow down for you, taking a moment of pause for you. He reaches up to tuck strands of your sweaty hair behind your ear, silently asking if you’re alright; he only continues when you nod, giving him unspoken permission. You cry out as he keeps going, stretching you well past your limit, doubling over you, grinding his forehead into your spine and eliciting a feral growl. “Oh, baby,” He moans into your back. His hands are gripping your hips tightly enough to leave bruises. “You’re so fucking tight...”

Your whole body feels hyper-aware of every minute touch to your skin. His calloused fingers sliding up and down your sides as he freezes once he’s up to the hilt, giving you another pause. His ragged heavy breath on your spine, and his necklace hanging low enough to rest on your back. The cool metal makes you shiver against him, especially as he wraps an arm around your middle, his other steadying himself on the floor of the ring. Most of your focus, though, is between your legs, where he’s stretched you farther than anyone ever has before, reaching much deeper than you thought was possible. “You good, babygirl?” He breathes, “Should I stop?”

“Um, no,” You whisper in a strained hiss, making him chuckle against your skin. “Did you just plan on staying like this, or are you gonna move?” He kisses your shoulder and pulls back a few inches before thrusting back in, slowly at first, until you urge him to go faster, harder, giving him permission to let himself go into that wild frenzy you see in his eyes. He’s pounding into you fast enough and hard enough to take your breath away. When you reach your climax your vision goes white, your ears ringing with both your screams and his. But he’s still hard and you’re still wanting, so neither of you can stop there; he pulls you up so that you’re flush against his chest, holding you by your neck and jaw with one hand, his arm a barrier across your chest as he holds your shoulder.

You keep going. He whispers sweet praises alongside dirty promises of filling you up again, and again, and again, until you’re so full of him that you’ll never be able to move again without feeling him inside you. His passionate, gentle kisses are stark contrasts to how violently he ruts into you, and if you didn’t know any better, desperately.

There comes a point where you can’t take it anymore. Where no matter how much you love this, how he’s fucking you so intensely you’re seeing stars and can’t breathe, you feel like if he keeps going you’re going to crack in half. He makes a fist in your hair and pulls your head back to deliver sloppy, passionate kisses to your mouth, still thrusting into you, albeit more gently. “Poe...”

“I know, baby, I know,” He breathes, and he’s flipping you over to lay you down on your back. “One more, sweet thing. Can you give me one more?”

You nod, breathless. Because you have to. You don’t want this to end, because you’re terrified of what will come after. Will he regret it? Will he do what you fear most, and only view you as a one-time fling? You can only hope not. But it seems you might not have to worry after all.

Poe guides your legs to wrap around his wide hips. His hands find yours and he entwines your fingers together. As he thrusts slow enough to keep from hurting you (but still plenty firm enough), his lips are on yours, tongues battling for dominance in a mess of heated breaths and moans. “Y/N, Y/N...” Poe’s breathing your name like a mantra with each rock of his hips into yours. His kisses trail to your neck as his thrusts increase their pace, losing their rhythm. “Cum with me, you perfect girl,” He whispers in your ear, and that does it for you-- with a soft, strained cry, your walls clench around him as he spills himself inside you, leaving you both breathless and boneless when the waves of your shared ecstasy fade.

You both collapse right where you are, dazed and covered in a sheen of sweat that’s chilling you to your core in the cool air of the ring. You’re shivering like a withered leaf, and Poe immediately takes action. He pulls out of you, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you whine from the sudden emptiness-- and, if you’re honest, your pitiful sound was partly inspired by how absentminded he is all of a sudden. He leaves the ring completely, and you’re left laying naked in the ring, unable to move and freezing; Poe doesn’t leave you wondering. He returns-- having clearly washed up-- with your clothes and a couple of rags. Gentle as ever, he cleans you up, careful of your sensitive flesh, and even helps you dress. He drapes he blazer over your shoulder and does one button so that it stays on you. He carries you out of the ring and into his much warmer office, where he keeps you in his lap when he sits in his leather chair. You curl up against him, nestling your head up under his chin.

“...Don’t go,” He whispers softly. Confused, you lift your head to be able to look at him. He closes his eyes, pressing a series of gentle kisses to your temple. “I’ll give you fight nights on Saturday, too. The whole damn week if you want. Just... don’t move away. Please.”

You drop your forehead onto his collarbone, sighing through your nose. “That... wasn’t why I was moving, Poe.”

“Ok, was is the keyword here,” He mumbles, and you can hear faint amusement in his voice. “I’m taking note of that. Just letting you know.” When you start stifling laughter, Poe chuckles and shifts so that he’s hugging you against him, resting his chin on your head. “Go on.”

“I was moving because of you.”

“Ouch.”

“Not like that.” Absentmindedly, you trace the wrinkles of his shirt. The words still don’t come very easily, but considering what’s just happened between the two of you, it’s fairly easier. “I... Really, really like you, Poe. I have for awhile. But you’ve never seemed interested, and you’re you, so if you were I knew you’d ask, and it was painful to be so near to you, so I figured moving away would be better, but it was painful and I didn’t want to and now with what happened with Chewbacca I was sure you hated me—“

Your jumbled slew of chopped sentences and slurred words that don’t even begin to scratch the surface of your emotions is put to a stop when Poe slowly reaches up to playfully cover your mouth. His deep chuckles reverberate through your head as he says, “Ok, I’m gonna respond to you in the order of which you said it.” His hand moves from your mouth to cradle your head. “First of all: if you weren’t able to tell, I like you too, but... it’s a bit stronger than that.” Your heart jumps. “I’ve never been able to say anything because you’re different— I didn’t want a fling or a casual hook-up. That’s easy. What’s really difficult is letting someone you really care for know it. I know we’ve known each other for years now, but I wanted to ask you out, to date you— though now I guess we’ve skipped most of those bases.”

You snort with amusement, making him smile as he buries his face in your hair. “...Then you said you were moving away. I figured if you were going that far without a problem, you didn’t want anything to do with me. Figured I’d blown all my chances. So I... I decided I better make a move. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but... I’m hoping it worked.”

“...What about what I did? I—“

“We’re good, sweetheart. Chewbacca’s signed on with us, so now we’ve got two of the best fighters in our ring.” He kisses your temple. “...I didn’t want you going in there because I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

“I know that now,” You say, tilting your head so that you’re eye-to-eye. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Worry? I was fucking terrified,” He corrects, though it’s lighthearted. He nudges your nose with his. “So... you’re not moving anymore, right?”

How could you? You had no reason to anymore. Poe wanted to be with you, and that’s all you’d wanted. Just a chance. “Nope,” You reply with a smile. “Though now I’ve gotta unpack all my stuff, cancel that new lease, tell the club I’d signed up to... It might be easier just to move anyway.” You’re teasing, of course, and he knows it. He shakes his head with amusement.

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll even help you unpack, but I’ve got a suggestion. It might be stupid, but I’ve gotta ask.” When you nod, he pulls a little back from you so that he can give you his serious talking-business face. “What if— again, this might be stupid— now we’ve known each other for three years, right? We practically live together anyway. How many times have we stayed over at each other’s places for a day or two just for the hell of it? I’m just saying: I mean, we’d be pretty good roommates.” Slowly, a smile creeps across your face as he continues. “The food’s good. Can’t complain about room service. There’s a one-animal petting zoo. The sex is amazing— you’ll be bunking with the greatest fighter pilot in the galaxy, after all. At-home dates. Plenty of room, too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Poe?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t need to advertise. You could just ask.”

He swallows hard, almost nervous. “...Ok then. How about you move in with me?”

You pretend to think about it, then give him a peck on the cheek. “Sounds great.”

Poe’s face lights up in a beaming grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You embrace him tightly, which he eagerly returns. “...How about we start tonight? Wanna go cuddle on your ridiculously soft bed?”

“Ah-ah,” He laughs, standing with you in his arms. “Our ridiculously soft bed.”

“Ours,” You agree. It wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured it— not a heart-wrenching declaration of love that involved flowers, maybe some rain... but it was probably better, honestly. It was finally happening between the two of you, and you couldn’t fathom anything else having lead to it now.

It was completely, fully, a very Poe way of doing things; and you couldn’t be happier.

Even if he had made good on his promise to make sure you couldn’t walk.

______________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

I'm sorry if you didn't want to be tagged here, or if I forgot anyone-- I used my Banks of the Nile taglist like I'd said I would. You don't have to read it though! <3

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#i'm so sorry this sucky smut is on my masterlist #thank you for enduring it to this point #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #oscar isaac

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nerves-nebula · 8 months

Note

Hello 👋 I love ur TMNT AU 💕 which is saying something because I usually avoid angst like the plegue. Especially with such heavy topics. I usually find that most AUs like this are just angst for the sake of angst with no other purpose except for shock value. But this AU is very well written, thoroughly thought out, and is very realistic in the interpretation of how abuse and violence effects children growing up. Other types of "angst" AUs and fics usually have me unreasonably angry and annoyed with how they practically glamorize abuse. While ur stuff has me feeling sick and disgusted (a positive thing really! Those are the feelings ur supposed to have when reading stuff like this.) because of how absolutely RAW everything is. Abuse is messed up and leaves its mark on u that'll effect u the rest of ur life. It fucks u up mentally, emotionally, socially, as well as physically. It is an ugly part of life that you quite elegantly bring to light with ur wonderful storytelling and art! Wonderful job! 💕

i mean you probably like it because it's not really an angst AU, if i'm honest. The point isn't that everything sucks or that people are in pain, that's just kind of a part of it? i dunno if that makes sense. I really appreciate that you like it, but I'm also kind of weary to put down other AU's.

I get where you're coming from with not really vibing with angst AU's, I don't really get into them much myself. they can seem gratitous nad pointless if you don't find them interesting on their own. But I think they're going for something a bit different than i am.

I think there's value in both creating and seeking out unrelenting trauma and horror and torture and pain in your fiction. Some of them can feel a bit stale or tropey at times but if those are the tropes you like then hey, you're probably have a great time!

I don't get bent outta shape about it cuz at the end of the day, it's just something some people do in their free time for fun and to express themselves. I like expressing myself with lame comedy about dark situations and bitter comics about not being allowed to die, haha. but if some ppl wanna draw gore and suffering then like, more power to them i guess!

THAT BEING SAID, I do genuinely find this flattering, that you like something that deals with dark themes even when you usually don't. it's like, AWWWW!! little old me?? and I don't want you to think I'm lecturing you or anything, I'm just giving a response I think is relevant. you're frustration makes total sense if you keep hoping or expecting one thing and getting another and it's just NOT what you wanted haha.

So yeah, thank you <3

#nnstuff #ask #asks are sweethearts

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suicidalgamergirl · 4 months

Text

So just saw this clip. I dunno if it makes sense, but it turns up Astarion’s emotions up to 11 as an Ascended vampire.

Yes, he’s possessive and power hunger. Though, it seems he’s worried about the player leaving him, more than calling it like obsession with them.

He’s not gonna treat them the same way Cazador treated him.

It’s kinda bittersweet if you bring Astarion to do the ritual and let him become a powerful vampire from it. He wants to give his love anything they desire. He hadn’t had anyone protected his ass and he always felt used for his vampiric powers when he was a spawn.

Now he’s all powerful, nothing can stop him from protecting his uncontrolled emotions.

It’s tragic and sad that I want him to be happy. He’s also has some sassy fashion tastes during the epilogue party.

It’s beautiful trauma.

Started following @askascendedastarion for comic ideas. Too shy to actually ask them for anything and can’t give them funds for doing a fic idea cause the Cash app is not available in Canada.

Why do I like characters with tragic backstories? I am gonna cuddle the shit outta my Astarion plush when I get him next weekend.

Also need to play OverWatch 2. These are my ramblings.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #ascended astarion #larian studios #it came from YouTube #youtube shorts

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 5 months

Note

be brave for me, love

- Lucian x Peter Vincent

❤️

I really hope this is one I haven't used for this ship yet, haha.

Warning: Uhhh... I dunno, probably for my vampire Peter au, since that's the one I keep writing for, panic attack for Peter

On with the fic!

People talk about deja vu in all sorts of media, and even in real life. Peter really couldn't say he ever gave it much thought, since often he just associated his confusion of being somewhere but not being sure due to his drinking and drug use, but right now, he was overwhelmed with the sense that this seemed very, very familiar.

Trapped in a dirt-filled basement, with holes dug around in the walls, too many vampire minions coming too close to him, and his fucking gun jamming...

He shouldn't be scared, why the fuck should he be scared? He was, against his will, a vampire as well! They're not going to eat another vampire, they couldn't turn him into another kind, right?

But... but what if they could? What if a vampire like this could change another vampire into one of their own?

And in doing so, they bit Peter, and changed him from his somewhat-tolerable vampire self into... into...

Too many teeth, black eyes, looking like a corpse with too long claws and smelling of dirt and death, and working for J-

Peter shouted as he was shoved too the ground, pinned by two women and a man was now sitting painfully on his chest, all their teeth too long and too much like one of those fugly deep sea fishes.

It was less of a swarm than last time, but Peter was still panicking. He couldn't reach for his weapons, he couldn't even grab for anything except loose dirt. His mind was screaming to turn into a bat, to escape, but his mind was also screaming that they'd catch him, they'd eat him, tear him apart.

Where was Lucian?

Upstairs, he went after something up there while Peter went downstairs.

Peter tried to scream, to make a high pitched noise that Lucian was sure to hear with his super hearing, he was aware of Peter's bat noises, but a hand slapped over his mouth. A filthy hand that smelled like rot and old blood. Peter was going to throw up.

"Doesn't smell human." One of the girls said.

"Don't matter, we can use 'em. Or... maybe get a snack outta this guy. He smells like he had a meal before coming here." The guy said, still keeping his hand on Peter's mouth.

Uhg! That's disgust- Peter screamed behind the hand when he saw the guy's mouth open too wide and a nasty tongue thrashed about.

Then the man was thrown off, flying into a wall.

Peter gasped, trying to get his bearings, as the girls released him, pouncing on the large, black, fur-covered beast that was quick to throw them too. He was aware that Lucian was here, in his lycan form, but Peter was having a hard time trying to come down from nearly being eaten by a vampire that look a bit too much like Jerry for his taste.

There was screaming and noises and Peter swore he smelled an ashy scent in the air, he faintly remembered the smell and even the taste, when the vampire control left his body. A horrible taste, reminded him of when he was tiny and accidentally looking into a family member's urn and got some ashes up his nose cause a cousin pushed his face into it.

What a fucking horrible taste, what a horrible, horrible-

He felt hands on him and Peter reacted with a screech, thrashing about before finding himself smaller, squeakier, and shaking like a damn leaf. The hands on him cupped around his tiny, fuzzy body, and he felt a finger gently rubbing his back, cooing gently to calm him down.

"It's alright, Peter. I think they're okay, I killed the master, the minions should be human again."

That was Lucian's voice, Peter thought distantly. The hands that held him were familiar, warm and covered in scars from years of battle and weapon making. The smell of his boyfriend, and distantly their cats, was strong, and Peter was starting to calm down, his shaking not so violent now.

"Be brave for me, love, it's alright." Lucian said, holding him up a bit more at face level. Peter looked at that human face, those still-pale moon eyes, those familiar fangs. Still not quite human, but it was Lucian, and that was a comfort.

"Do you wish to stay as a bat for now, Peter?" The vampire nodded in response. "Alright, you can do that. We should get going before the minions wake up, I don't want to explain anything and neither do you, I assume."

Peter just nodded again, closing his eyes and snuggling into the warm hold.

Felt like doing a little bit of comfort with this one.

Also, Lucian being so gentle with a tiny bat version of his boyfriend is just *chef's kiss* never get tired of writing that. <3

#good omens extended universe #lucian x peter vincent #john's drabbles

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senkaithegriffin · 6 months

Text

Welcome To The Cabin.

Hey there, dunno why you're here but if you'd like to stick around you'd find that the cabin holds many tales and I happen to be the author of most of them. I'll share my stories, OC's, and a bunch of absolutely stupid stuff here because I happen to be oh so incredibly stupid.

You can call me Kai, Senkai, or whatever flutters your wings I guess, I enjoy writing and so I am deciding to share the things I write. It won't be on this blog but maybe if this one catches on enough I have some darker stories I'd like to share too so we'll see how the first cabin does but even now my stories aren't exactly family adventures.

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In the Future, you'll find a List of all of my fic's and links to the full chapter of said stories. I'm considering separating it based on Fandom and having a long list with it being labeled.

The list (No link yet)

A couple of Fandoms you might find me writing for are: Mortal Kombat, Jujutsu Kaisen, Demon Slayer, Cyberpunk, Dragon Ball, MHA, Warframe, and so much more do note that some of the stories change so much that they're almost unrecognizable.

Before you decide to dive further like I mentioned, for now my stories will start off pretty light but they typically don't stay that way, when I see fit or people express interest the lore type of content I'll post will get darker they'll still be light-hearted stuff on here however. There will be warnings in chapters but here's also a heads-up in case you read this!

Also, some fics simply never get an ending, I do my best to find suitable stories but I know myself, and more than likely if you're looking for an ending it may not be there.

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This is my only blog, it features a little of everything unless I ever see it fit to make another Blog then I'll link it here but for now.

I'll add a Link to my A03 here: Link (Not active yet)

Here you'll find the full chapters of the teasers and snippets I drop here, but Tumblr also gets benefits as I'll explain things, answer questions, and such here. I'll even drop unrelated pieces of lore here occasionally for my stories.

Also since you're here, check out my writing partner @rennsdeaddoves would never be posting any of this let alone writing it without them.

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A few fun Facts I suppose: I go my He/Him

I'm based outta the U.S

I'm beyond the age of consent

You can never really predict what i'm gonna put out because when I watch something new I subconciously make an Oc in my head and it would be wasteful not to put them to work so that's resulted in me making some pretty outlandish stories but it's all in good fun.

My Current focus? I would say My DS Story but it's one of those stories of mine that are super detached, oh and maybe Spiderman, I've been playing the new game so much it's amazing

I turned on questions and some other stuff so go for it, Don't know how to use the block button on here yet but I'll figure it out so don't be a dick.

#introduction post #intro post #gaming #manga #my fic #oc #jjk #Senkai

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creepy-feathers · 2 years

Text

Just a lil' scenario I couldn't get outta my head!~

Pairing: Lee! Eyeless Jack x Ler! Reader (female)

Fic type: Romantic

Warnings: FLUFF

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"Hey, Jack?" you asked sweetly, looping an arm around his shoulders from behind and looking down at the book rested on his crossed legs.

"Hm?" he acknowledged, posture tilted as he read the words written across the pages; mainly medical-based stuff, so you couldn't even begin to decipher what they meant. Luckily, you didn't care.

"Are you ticklish?"

You expected him to react some way to the abrupt question, maybe stiffen a little bit, but he did nothing of the sort, his voice remaining quiet and unfazed. "Dunno. Am I?"

You grinned. "Are you...?"

"Am I?"

"Are you?" To emphasize the inquiry, you skittered your fingers gently against the back of his ribs, and he flinched, barely able to contain the small laugh that almost fell from his lips.

"I—I guess that answers your question then, huh?" His tone was playful yet calm, and he didn't peel his impaired vision away from the textbook laying on his lap.

"Ohhh, I dunno," you beamed, slowly dragging your index finger along his left side and taking great amusement in the way he tensed up. "That was a pretty subtle reaction. I think I wanna keep going 'til I get something better..."

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by his own string of giggles when your digits pressed into the area just below his armpit, and he instinctively leaned the other way, clamping his arm against his side. "O-okahay, okay," he said, rotating his head to shoot you a look. "Y-you dohon't need to do that."

"Aw, why not?" You lightly prodded his back, your smile growing wider. "Does it tickle?"

"Of course it dohoes!" He tried to evade your touch with as little effort as it required, abandoning the book to focus on the offending hands. You merely chuckled, planting an affectionate kiss to the back of his neck while fingers wormed their way under his arm. This elicited a messy gasp and he must have decided he had enough, because he twisted around and tackled you to the floor with little struggle, pinning you beneath him. "You can stop now."

This was one of the rare times that his mask wasn't concealing his features, giving you a nice view of the spirited grin on his cheeks. You bit your lip and returned the look, reaching up and squeezing his side. "Don't wanna."

He released a breathy chortle, recoiling from your touch and shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What if I kissed you instead?" You stopped your light-hearted attack, glancing away to consider his offer.

"Well...I guess I can make an exception just once..."

He lowered himself and briefly rubbed the tip of his nose against your own before connecting your lips together, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

The contact lasted a few seconds, and when you separated, you stared into the darkened sockets in his head without a single strike of fear. He tenderly bumped his forehead against yours, muttering, "Don't think I won't remember what you've been doing later."

"Is that a threat?" you challenged, matching his pitch a narrowing your eyes. He laughed.

"Maybe."

#eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta tickle #eyeless jack tickle #ticklish eyeless jack #ticklepasta #lee jack #ler reader #scenario #creepypasta scenario #tickle scenario #t-word #tickle #tickle fic

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therealesino · 11 months

Note

sorry if it comes outta nowhere but i haven't checked into your ao3 account in months and when i did today it showed me that all your works are gone??? i dunno if this is a bug and if not, i probably must have missed an announcement saying you don't wanna post anymore (which is totally fine btw!! you are allowed to do whatever you want with your own works and that includes not sharing them with the public) but i just wanted to tell you your writings really made my days so much better girl 😭 will forever miss each and every one you made (you got me into kross goddammit no one does it like you do boss 🥲 figured i'd say this here since twitter really isn't my thing and i still have literal quotes memorized from how many times i reread your fics like a thirsty mf seriously you're too darn good)

if you rebranded/changed fandoms tho i (and many others i'm guessing) would love to hear what you're now into still! don't forget you are loved no matter what 'content' you provide♡

awwww you're incredibly sweet, thank you!!!!

Unfortunately, for several reasons, I've actually put my account on private, I didn't want to, but it is unfortunately the decision I had to make for myself. So all of my stories are still there, you just need an account to see them now :(

If you are still interested in reading, I would suggest creating an A03 account, here's the queue link -> https://archiveofourown.org/invite_requests

I think the wait list is about 2 1/2 weeks or so.

I hope to come off private again, but for now, this is unfortunately how it will be <3

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