You Know What The Problem In The Fandom Is? You Know, And You Do Know Already.

Productivity Log #1

I actually did something productive today 😁😁. I cleaned my room. It’[s not much, since I dint make my bed or anything but i swept my room and my bathroom, scrubbed my shower, toilet and sink and mopped the floors. It took a lot longer than I thought it would, since its been a while since I’ve cleaned anything really. 

It felt good to do something other than watch youtube videos and listen to music. I’m gonna see if i can keep this going and start on my school work tomorrow, Theres a lot to catch up on before lectures resume, and I actually want to do well this year. 

I think getting things off my chest has allowed me to start to move on.

I can't tell you how many fic drafts i have that are character sheets and then 2 scenes

a writer's nightmare is having the vision for one specific scene for a fic and having to come up with The Rest

The Dreadful Need in the Devotee Masterlist - Completed

Summary - During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together.

Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion has decided you need a sworn sword.

I’ve messed with canon and aged everyone up, so we start our story off with y/n being fifteen and Jon being sixteen, then go from there!

Ch 1: The Little Lion Ch 2: The Bastard Son Ch 3: Cyvassse Ch 4: Greensight Ch 5: The Tourney of the Hand Ch 6: The Chamber of the Little Lion Ch 7: Within Lannister Grasp Ch 8: Secrets Revealed Ch 9: Enter Stage Left: House Tyrell🔥 Ch 10: Aftermath Ch 11: Roseroad Ch 12: Weirwood Ch 13: The Queen's Nameday Ch 14: The Son of the Morning Ch 15: Duality of a Lioness Ch 16: The Young Wolf Ch 17: Northern War Camp Ch 18: The Fall of the Lannisters Ch 19: Post War Revelry Ch 20: The Lion and the Star🔥 Ch 21: As Time Unfurls🔥

Shoulders are built for sinking your teeth into

Sugar on the Rim vol. II

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

part one

warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader

You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.

You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.

You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all. 

You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety. 

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it. 

Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.

He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.

He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.

You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.

The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.

He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.    

One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”

You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.

He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”

You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”

You nod, easing your posture.

He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”

You hum, nodding again.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.

You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.

Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.

You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions. 

“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment. 

You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him? 

He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?

You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more. 

You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.

Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist. 

He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.” 

He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”

“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”

His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.

“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale. 

“But you like it?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”

You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.  

He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.

He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.

His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.

He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.

He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.

When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.

He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.

His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”

As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.

He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.

After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes. 

He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”

Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.

He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”

You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”

The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”

He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.

Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.

He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.

He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”

You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”

You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.

He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling. 

He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.

“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”

That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions. 

“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up. 

He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you. 

He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.

By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.

He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.

It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.

Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip. 

You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.

He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.

You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”

He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”

You sigh out, “Bruce, please.” 

He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. 

He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.

He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”

You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.

The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.

He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation. 

He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.  

He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.

You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind. 

He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.

He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed. 

He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons. 

“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”

You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come. 

You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.

So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.

He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed. 

You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.

He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his. 

He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”

You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.

You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.

“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”

As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.

He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.

Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.

He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.

You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.

But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips. 

It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”

He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.

Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.

He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”

Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now. 

He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.

It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.

He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever  convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”

He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate. 

“Yeah?”

He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.

He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.

You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.

His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.

He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.

He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop. 

You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.

You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.

You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.

You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.

You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm. 

His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action. 

“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.

You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.

Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.

You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.

He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”

“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”

He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.

“Lay down.”

You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.

He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.

Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.

Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back. 

The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.

You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲

someone, reading my writing: wow great story!

me, sticking my hands in the plotholes: thanks it has pockets :)

i died

Young One

Din Djarin x Poe Dameron

read on ao3

Masterlist : Star Wars Masterlist

My Ko-fi

Summary: Poe, a young spice runner is trying to figure out his place in this world when a mysterious helmeted man approaches him at a bar.

Warnings and content: Age gap (22 and mid 50's), Poe is not a virgin but not much more experienced. Poe had one (1) sexual experience with a man before that did not feel good and was painful, the helmet stays on, not an innocent kink situation as Din isn't neccecarily turned on by Poe being inexperienced (in and out of bed), but he does find Poe funny and likes guiding him. Anal sex, lots of fingers in mouths, praise.

AN: I've never written for Din! RARELY wrote for Poe, both facts would surprise anyone who knows me IRL. Usually in fics, Din is more inexperienced with reader, while Poe fics Poe is a slut (its canon). I wanted to play around with the idea of switching it due to age (and no reader)

An hour or something before I posted this, I saw @ivystoryweaver posted a Poe x reader, so i thought i'd share it here!

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU! (and with your spirit)

3.3k words

Divider by @dreamland-gallery

Being a spice runner was not as glamorous as he thought.

Don’t get him wrong, Poe Dameron was no idiot. He didn’t think it would be easy living by any means; it was illegal, after all. He knew there would be feast or famine. Still, he thought there’d be a little more feast… Stories of Han Solo, ones unable to be separated by fact or rumor due to the New Republic trying to clean up his image, lead him to believe there would a lot more fun, a lot more food, and frankly, a lot more sex.

Poe wasn’t a virgin, by any means, but he hadn’t exactly been around, either. Growing up, Poe didn’t get into much trouble. Zorii said she could tell he was raised by a grandparent, that he had that air about him, which Poe took a bit of offense to, if he was being honest. He hoped she’d fuck him, at least, but alas.

His stomach growled. Thinking to his credits, he should have enough money for some soup and still pay for the hotel in the morning. If not, he supposed he could just skip out. It was a seedy motel, the kind of place that didn’t want galactic authorities involved. 

Half a bowl of soup later, Poe at least didn’t feel lightheaded, but his senses were not about him enough to notice the stranger eyeing him until the helmeted man sat down at the bartop next to him. Poe raised a curious eyebrow, but given he had a mouthful of soup it was the man that spoke first.

“They let you eat on the job?” His voice was altered by the helmet, but there didn’t seem to be a voice modulated in use. It wasn’t particularly deep, but definitely male.

“I’m off the clock?” Why does this guy care if he eats?

“Then you might want to remove that bandana from your pocket, young one.”

This did not help matters for Poe, only adding to the confusion. Still, he reaches back, feeling the forest green bandana he used to keep sweat off his forehead hanging out his pocket. “What? Why? Oh gods, is this a gang thing? I swear, just a spice runner, I’m not a part of-”

But the man just chuckled, cutting Poe off. “Gods, how young are you? And when was the last time you ate real food?”

Feeling just a little indignant, Poe only answered half. “22, and I don’t think-”

Again, he was cut off by the man flagging down the bartender. “Get the boy a sandwich, a side of ahrisa and something to drink, on my tab. Put the soup on there too.”

“I don’t-”

“I can see your ribcage under your shirt, take the food. And, if I may, some words of advice.”

Sitting back against his chair, Poe picked up his cup of soup and lipped it to his mouth to sip before answering. He hoped he looked cool. This guy? This guy was cool. “Seems like you’re going to give it anyway.”

Another small chuckle through the helmet. It was shiny, as was his uniform. Beskar, if he were to guess. “First, don’t go around announcing to every stranger your age. You look like you could pass for 25, and aging yourself younger will make things worse. People worse than me are more than ready to take advantage. Also, don’t go telling everyone you run spice. I think that’s supposed to be day one of training. I could have been a cop. Don’t talk to cops. Lastly.” He grabs the headband out of Poe’s pocket, leaning in intimately close but not pulling away once the objective was achieved. He holds it up to Poe’s face. “Don’t let handkerchiefs hang out of your pocket. You're flagging.”

Although he was certain it was making him sound more naive than he wanted to in front of the mysterious stranger, he asked, mouthful of soup again. Fuck he was hungry. “Flagging?”

He swore he heard a smile in the man’s voice. “Green handkerchief means your open for males to approach you for paid sex.”

Poe choked on his last bite and he had to pound his chest to cough up the bantha bite. “S-sex?!”

“Is it the paid part that scares you so bad, or the fact you’re attracting males?”

A blush crept up Poe’s neck and he hoped his upturned collar hid it, but it was doubtful. Poe had been around a time or two, one of those round trips being a less than stellar fumble with someone who also didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t mean badly, and they’d remained friends, but the memory hadn’t exactly made Poe gung-ho to  get anything put up inside him. Poe’s food came, and despite his embarrassment he couldn’t exactly say no to a nutrient dense meal right now.

“That’s why you approached me, isn’t it?”

“Smart boy.”

More blushing. “And… that’s why you bought me food?”

To his surprise, the man shook his head, voice a little softer, despite the shining helmet. “No.” It was firm, clear. He wanted to be understood. “I bought you food because I’ve been in the same position, young and hungry. Anything that happens is what you want to do.”

There was a beat while Poe processed the words, ashamed to say he was deepthroating the sandwich as he considered them. Thank god there was a band playing, otherwise the man might have heard a bread-muffled whimper, moan, or whatever he could call the noise that left his throat.

After he chewed a rather large bite (a process that took well over a minute, Poe and him making what he presumed to be straight-on eye contact through the black of the mask), Poe swolled, hard. “Anything that happens?”

He held out his hand. “Din Djarin. And what’s your name, young one?”

*

His mouth tasted of leather; a glove covered him, covering the sounds trying to escape his mouth as Din’s other hand palmed his fully erect hard-on.

“Impressive.” He complimented what Poe could only assume was his size, but he was too hazy to think too hard on it. He wanted to kiss him, to take off his helmet and taste him, but Din wouldn’t let him. “I got one rule, the helmet stays on. Understood?”

“Y-yeah” He didn’t care, as long as he got to cum. He was so hard, it was painful, much more so  than the hunger pains that bit at him earlier today. He definitely wasn’t sleeping with the mysterious older man because he bought him food, but the act had made him feel safe enough to engage with.

A tight squeeze through his pants, Din pressing his body against Poe’s so he could feel his hardness. The helmet felt cool against his burning cheek; foreign and enticing all at once. He clutched for the metal and the fabric between the plates, desperate for something to hold onto as he quickly began falling apart at the seems.

“And you?”

“Huh?”

Din buried the front of the helmet in Poe’s neck, and he swore he heard him smell him. Could he smell through the helmet? He’d heard of some sects of Mandolorians that wouldn’t remove their helmets, and now the pieces were coming together.

“Things you don’t do or don’t want. Like that.” Despite still being grovely, Din’s voice was encouraging.

Poe swallowed, trying not to cum in his pants right away and embarrass himself, but it was getting harder. “I uh- ohfuck, I don’t know?”

The movements still, and Din removed his hand from his cock, giving Poe a moment of reprieve and clarity of thought. He lifts his helmet to look at him. Both men aren’t too tall, Poe at 5’8 and and Din a few inches above, but Din has an authority to him, an air of power and confidence that makes him seem so much more as he angles his face down at the younger man.

Poe laments the loss of contact when Din’s body is off his, but as Din pulls off his glove  a finger at a time, drool builds in excitement for what’s to come. Hopefully. If Din decides he doesn’t want a scrawny inexperienced loser, he thinks he might simply die. Or his dick might explode. Either one. 

“Have you ever been touched, young one?”

Poe began to stammer. “I- Well, yes, it’s just, well a lot has been happening and, you know, my grandma kept a sharp eye-”

Thick fingers nudge at Poe’s lips, and he opens willingly. “Don’t talk about your grandma when I just had my hands on your cock, Poe.”

Unable to speak, Poe just nods and begins sucking on Din’s fingers.

“Now, I’m going to ask you yes or no questions. Just nod, or shake. Can your pretty head handle that?”

Poe starts to talk, but Din slides his two fingers in deeper, making Poe gag.

“I said, shake your head. Or nod. Or is that too complicated for you?”

Poe shakes his head, and another gloveless hand runs it’s fingers through Poe’s curls. “Good boy. Now. Have you been inside someone?”

Poe nods and sucks.

“Good. Now, has anyone been inside you.”

Despite being lulled by Din’s dominance, Poe winces a bit. He nods.

If Din noticed the wince, he didn’t say, but he did pause.

“And do you want me inside you.”

NODDING NODDING NODDING!

Din chuckles, then removes his hands from his mouth to begin undoing Poe’s buttons. “Now, you are going to tell me if there’s something you don’t like, or if you want to stop. I only want what you want, understand?”

Poe nods, and Din chuckles lowly again.

“You may speak, young one.”

His voice was sticky, dripping with his need and desire. “I understand.”

The last button undone, Din slides the shirt off him, letting it fall to the ground in disregard. He looks at his lover's body. 

“Beautiful.”

*

When Din had approached the young boy, he initially thought he was a hooker, just… a really bad one. Maybe that’s why he was so goddamn skinny, not getting any clients, and Johns certainly don’t pay a flat rate. He figured he’d feed him some good food, they both have a good time, he gets a warm bed to sleep in. Din had more than enough to buy him for the night, give them both a reprieve. He didn’t love sleeping with the helmet, but it was worth it for some skin to skin contact, a body to hold at night.

But after talking to him, realizing he wasn’t a hooker, just stupid, he still felt that same mix of pity and attraction he did when he saw him walk in the doors of the bar. He wasn’t joking, the button of his ribs showed.

Din’s fingers traced down the sides of his lover’s body, sat with Poe’s legs on either side  Both had gotten almost naked, Din’s helmet stayed on, and now Din wanted to assess what he was working with.

He felts the bones underneath his skin, fingertips tracing over the ridges and bumps. He really should eat more. Was the spice business really doing this poorly under the New Republic? Or had he joined a bad team? He’d probably do better as a hooker, the way he was blessed by the force with a perfect face, dark curls and soulful eyes. Could get any gender he wanted, could even be high class on Canto Bite… and yet, Poe was here with him, those eyes blown out with lust, cock absolutly dripping precum onto his thin stomach, just for him.

“Now tell me, Poe, when you were taken, was it unpleasant?” Din had seen the look on his face when he had recalled it, and wanted to know what he was working with. If it had been traumatic, Din wouldn’t deny the desperate boy if he truly wanted him. He was old enough to know what he wanted, even with an old man like him. He just needed to know how careful to be.

He looked like he was considering lying again, so Din encouraged him to tell the truth.

“It hurt.”

Something stirred in Din, something dangerously strong for a hookup. He wanted to protect him, to go back and harm whomever had harmed him. “They hurt you?”

“He didn’t mean to! Neither of us knew what we were doing. It was just…” Poe hesitated. “Awkward. Didn’t feel very good… then sometimes it did,but, I mean, putting something there I guess that’s normal.”

Din could not wait to show him how good it could be. He raised his hand to him again, loving the way he was so receptive, so willing and ready to listen. “Get it nice and wet.” Poe wrapped two hands around his wrist, holding him there as he licked and sucked and slobbered all over the hand for him. He bet his tongue would feel good on his cock, but that was for another day. Or not. He’d likely never see him again after this.

“Good boy.” He praised, then, scooting back and sliding a hand between his ss cheeks, Din slowly put two fingers inside him, watching the way Poe’s eyes rolled back. “It’s not supposed to hurt.” He assured. “A stretch, not pain. You will tell me if there’s pain, understood?”

He could only nod, turned into a mess in his bed. Din worked him over, opening his tight hole, scissoring him open. He would do this right, he would show the boy how good it was supposed to feel. He would not make it hurt. Poe’s fingers desperately gripped at the bedsheet, moaning and writhing all sprawled out before his eyes. Sweat was beginning to stick his curls to his scalp, but one long lock fell to his forehead. 

All the must of the cheap tavern couldn’t compare to the sweet smell of a man’s sweat, a man’s desperation; none of the clamor or noises outside could compare to the sounds Poe made now. All of that existed after him, elevating him, drawing Din’s senses not away, but to the treasure in front of him. His cock throbbed, begging Din to put it in to slam into his ass until he filled him with so much cum it would leak out of his for days as a reminder of what they shared, but it wasn’t until the third finger fit comfortably inside him, splaying the fingers open, that Din decided he was ready.

His uncut member nudged at Poe, Din’s hand sliding the foreskin back and forth as he touched himself. “It hurts, you tell me. Even if I’m about to cum, you want to stop, you will tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a suggestion. It was decided.

Poe's fingers were tight on the bed sheets, not in pain but pleasure. “Yes sir.”

He looked at his hands. “You’ll pull off the sheets” Din stated, with a ‘as a matter of fact’ tone. The sheets being pulled off didn’t really matter, but Din leaned over to take the white-knuckled grasp, threading their fingers together. He placed his other hand flat on Poe’s sternum, wanting to feel the skin on his, to feel his stomach move as he swallowed and lungs breath as he gasped. To feel human, to feel real.

He pushed inside, and Poe’s hands clutched his for stability, for comfort as his eyes rolled back in his head.

This is how it should feel, young one. Din thought to himself. It’s supposed to feel this good. Could be better. If I got to know you, helped you explore, learned what you like… You deserve someone that good to you.

But they had tonight, and he would make this count. He’d lay him so right that from now on, Poe would consider Din his first, not whoever it was that hurt him, accident or not. Being someone’s first is sacred, and Din did not take the task of repairing what was done lightly.

Din thrust inside him, feeling his cock swallowed to the hilt by his fluttering hole, watching Poe’s mouth fall open and that ringlet of a curl on his forehead bounce intime to his cock slapping on his stomach.

“Need you to breathe.” Din reminded him. “In when I squeeze your hand, out when I let go.” 

Poe nodded, and did what he said, breathing in and out until he relaxed, the tension leaving his body, his hole loosening and Poe was left with nothing but the feeling of being full.

“S-so good…” He moans, fucked-out face lost in lust, a haze around him as he grew closer and closer to his orgasm.

“Do I make you feel good, Poe?”  He slowly pulled out, them rammed his cock deep inside. And again. And again.

“So! Gorram! Good!”

Din wrapped his fist around Poe’s dick, jerking him off. He wanted to cum, to claim him in a primal way. “You will scream my name when you cum, young one” Fast, fast, his cock slicked with pre-cum and sweat. “Let them all know who-”

“DIN!!” Poe came in a leg shaking, bed rocking orgasm that overtook his whole body. The sweetest moan escaping from between those lips Din wanted to bite so bad. The lips he wanted to fuck. The lips he wanted all over his body…

His orgasm hit him like a speeder, and Din gripped Poe’s thighs so hard he worried he might bruise him, but Poe just moaned harder as his orgasm finished out, spilling rope after rope on his stomach and Din’s hand.

Din wanted to lick the white seed off his happy trail.

*

“Good” Poe responded when Din asked how he felt as he cleaned the boy’s mess. Good didn’t even begin to describe it, but he was so exhausted, he hoped his sleepy smile told the full story.

The wet rag whipped at his stomach. Poe had never made such a mess taking care of himself, it was like Din’s hands and cock were magic. He couldn’t imagine going back to masturbating after that, he didn’t want to. He was waiting for Din to say ‘okay, get the hell out of my room’ instead, it was,

“Do you want to stay tonight?” which surprised him. He never had someone bed him and ask him to stay.

“Oh, yeah but… i have a room, and my stuff is-”

Again, firmer. That tone Din uses when he wants Poe to be direct and clear. “Yes or no. Do you want to stay the night?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” He couldn’t imagine getting out of bed right now. Not when he was sooooooo cozy.

“Good. I’ll have your room canceled and refunded and gather your things.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, but I will. Now rest, sleep. Shower or bathe if you’d like, but don’t drink the tap water, it’s disgusting. Here.” Din handed him a bottle. “Drink this.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ll be back.”

*

When Din returned, Poe’s items packed neatly in his bag, he looked at the young boy sleeping on his bed. It’d been a long time since he’d bedded someone so handsome, but that attractiveness wasn’t all that was stirring something in him. He’d lived long enough to know what. Dressing down into night clothes, Din went to the bathroom to get some time without the helmet, to brush his teeth and wash up before returning to his lover, helmeted.

Crawling into bed, skin to skin again, Din pulled Poe close. The young man curled up in his arms, seemingly asleep until he muttered, “You’ll be here in the morning, Din?”

“Yes, now get some sleep, young one.”

“M’kay…” He mumbled. “Thank you.”

Din took a strong whiff of him, dizzy with the smell of sex and the musk of the hotel. “Goodnight, Poe.”

“Goodnight, Din.”

Listen. I already have ideas for more. Im obsessed with these two. If this part does well enough, i may write more after i kept up on some other series LIKE FUCKING FINISHING IYWBW

I'm not posting it here but 3 years ago i started writting this series for Han X OC, it was my first fic ever. got 27 chapters in before i got distracted by moon knight. Now im posting it on ao3. now that im doing these overnights and I can write more after school ends I plan on finishing it ;-; something like 10 chapters left? It han x oc, but there will be some poe x oc and kylo ren x oc

Also, I want to write dark!kylo ren x poe and poe x reader x han solo, so, stay tuned. we're returning to my star wars roots.

tagging those who asked and my usual peeps and one or two i thought might be interested. if its not for you, ignore! i wont be offended.

@avastrasposts @for-a-longlongtime (mel said to tag you lol ignore if its not for you!!!) @marshmallow--3 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missdictatorme @clawdee @campingwiththecharmings @alfiestreacle @miraclesabound

blink and miss it but someone pointed out bucky’s shamelessly checking sam’s ass out here