it’s happening again how did it end?

poe dameron x f!reader wc : 318 tw : angst , blood ☕ • ao3

“Welcome back, Red One.” Poe’s soothing voice permeates the suffocating confines of the cockpit. Promptly, it loosens the vice around your chest, gently pries the tight grip of your hands from the control stick. “You got me worried for a minute there, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “They said you went offline.” “Y-Yeah,” you let out a quivering breath, careful not to tear at the seams. “Bit of a uh — bit of a hiccup.” There is a weighted pause, before Poe switches frequency. “You OK, baby?” His tone lowers, laced with trepidation. “Mm-hmm,” you press buttons to shut down the engine, and peel back the canopy. “Uh — Black Leader?” “Yes, Red Leader?” His words reach you all jagged. You look up, and see him already running across the hangar to you. “Don’t freak out, OK?” You barely manage. “What do you mean?” You can see his heavy brows crease; even from afar, even through your tears. You wrench your helmet off and close your eyes, taking another deep breath. You look down at your lap — your orange flightsuit soaked through with deeper red at the crotch; a gleaming reminder of what you lost, smeared upon the leather seat. When your gaze pulls up again, you note the panic stretching across Poe’s wide eyes. You click your tongue, and throw a hard punch on his chest. “Dammit, Poe — I told you not to freak out!” Your voice comes out squeakier than you intended, smaller. It’s all a blur after that. Poe hauls you against him all the way to the med bay, your face wedged into his stubbled neck. His throat bobs with his frantic yells, but you don’t hear a single word. When you feel the sick, wet sensation between your legs again, knowing it’s seeped into his linen shirt — you fall apart, sobbing uncontrollably. “Shh-shh-shhh —” Poe’s lips press tender solace next to your ear. “It’s alright — we’ll try again.”

//

jake lockley x reader (mentions of marc x reader and steven x reader)

word count: 2.7k+

excerpt: “he knows what’s next, he’s watched you on your knees for marc and steven both, committing your face to memory so he can recall it when he’s by himself with his hand wrapped around-”

warnings: smut smut smut, jake losing his virginity. oral, male receiving. p in v sex. reader calls him papi once. 

Jake’s kissing you. His lips are chapped and somehow, he tastes different from Marc or Steven. He tastes like cinnamon, like spice and something else you can’t quite place but it’s just so Jake. So entirely Jake.

His hands are on your hips, fingers tight, nails leaving little crescent shaped indents like the ones Marc wears on his chest. You know you’ll have bruises in their place when you wake in the morning and examine yourself in the bathroom mirror, you know that Steven will fret and Marc will take Jake’s marks as a challenge.

He’s so sure in the way that he kisses, so confident in the way that he lets his hands slide up your body until he has your waist trapped between his hands. His grip isn’t any tighter, not really, but you feel more secure this way and Jake has more control over the way you move against him. He lays down, his back flush against the mattress and lips never leaving yours as you settle against his chest and become even more lost in him.