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poweringthroughthis · 2 months

Text

cabin chronicles | zhong chenle

nsfw(no explicit smut), mature content, minors DNI!

ship: zhong chenle x male reader

desc:(name)is chilling with the dreamies, but maybe he should keep in mind that his boyfriend is a jealous little bean.

**(requested)!

Chenle was ANNOYED.

To be fair, it didn't take much for the man to lose his cool. Nonetheless, he tried to keep calm for as long as he could.

But his friends should know that his boyfriend is off limits.

The dreamies are on a weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods, currently sitting around a bonfire in the backyard.

Jaemin and Jeno are looking at each other wish disgusting heart eyes, Jisung is on his phone texting god knows who and Renjun is staring into Chenle's soul with a blank expression.

Donghyuck of course, is clinging onto Mark for dear life, telling him about how today is their 50th anniversary or something. And (name), for reasons unknown to the Chinese, is sitting giggling and leaning into the subgroup of Jaemin, Jeno and Jisung.

Yeah, that's precisely why Chenle is annoyed. While he's always ecstatic to see how well his boyfriend gets along with his closest friends, sometimes they get a little too comfortable for Chenle's liking.

"You know you're boring holes into their heads, right?" Renjun asks the male in Chinese. Chenle does not dignify him with a response, except for a deadly side-eye.

Just as Chenle was about to explain his reasons, a chorus of laughter erupted again, making him turn his head towards the source for the umpteenth time tonight. (name) had just toppled over laughing, towards another man's lap. Surely, no joke could be THAT funny. Chenle was fuming now. That damned brat Jaemin.

"(name)! "Chenle called out, his boyfriend finally glancing at him after what felt like an infinity and a half.

"bǎobèi", he called him over to where he was sitting. (name) noticed Chenle's eyes. They might look heartbroken and neglected, but hiding behind them was the glint of dominance that would jump out if (name) didn't immediately settle into his rightful spot in Chenle's embrace.

As (name) made his way to the Chinese, the boys could all but gawk at him. "Did you see the way Chenle looked at (name)?" Donghyuck whispered to the group. "It was scary" Jaemin shuddered. "I think the real reason I didn't ask (name) out is because of that".

"Do you guys think I did something wrong? "Jeno asked, confused. "You're an angel Jeno. If anything, this is about your best friend's jealousy" Renjun rolled his eyes.

"Are you alright, bǎobèi?" Chenle asked as (name) snuggled closer to his chest. (name) looked up at him with big doe eyes, "of course, Lele. Are you okay, you look tense?".

"I'm okay as long as you're here".

Chenle pressed a chaste kiss to the younger's lips, leaving him blushing, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What was that all about, though? "

Mark questioned, the dreamies trying to make sense of the scene they just witnessed.

"I'm still trying to figure that out".

Jaemin replies.

"If you really must know, I'm tired of sharing him"

Chenle said, making everyone raise a brow, the younger being too embarrassed to even speak.

"What do you mean?"

"I MEAN, that you are all stealing my baby away from me! You're always touching him and talking to him and I just want to spend some time with him"

"But we're his friends, Lele!"

Jisung says, Chenle huffing.

"You can be a little possessive, you know" Haechan remarks.

"Says the boy who was literally clinging onto his boyfriend 10 minutes ago"

"Oh, shut up, I'm a cuddly person. It's not my fault if you can't handle it".

"So, you admit that you can't handle (name)?"

"Yes, I can! What kind of question is that? I can totally handle him."

"Well, you sure seem jealous of us, Lele."

"I'm not jealous. I can definitely handle my own boyfriend."

"Okay, then."

"Whatever".

With that, Chenle gets up and brings (name) inside with him, going upstairs to the room the couple was staying in.

"He so is jealous!"

"Definitely."

The dreamies say, shaking their heads, the only thing on their minds being: "How is Chenle murderous towards us yet always sickly sweet towards (name)?"

Now inside, Chenle had (name) pinned to the wall.

"You know I only belong to you, right, Lele?"

"I know, baby. You're my precious little treasure."

Chenle presses a bruising kiss to (name)'s lips.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me. I'll never let anyone hurt you."

"I know."

Chenle lifts the boy, (name) wrapping his legs around the other's waist, the Chinese carrying him towards the bed, setting him down on the edge and climbing on top.

Chenle was getting carried away, his mind clouded with possessiveness and jealousy, his kisses getting rougher by the minute, (name) doing nothing but accepting all the attention.

"Lele… wait… I can't breathe…"

"I'm sorry baby, you're just so perfect and I want to have you all to myself."

Chenle continues to kiss down (name)'s neck, sucking and biting harshly, the younger whining at the pain.

"Lele, no marks!"

"Let them know who you belong to", he replies with a blank stare.

"Lele!"

Chenle pulls back to stare at the love of his life, his hair ruffled, lips swollen and red and a few hickeys already forming on his neck.

"Why don't you just marry me, bǎobèi?"

(name) blushed, Chenle chuckling at his reaction.

"I love you so much!"

Chenle kisses his lips softly, holding his face gently and stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"I love you more, Lele."

Chenle moves them to the center of the bed, (name) laying under him as the Chinese hovers above him with a smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"Now, let me remind you who you belong to."

And he dives in.

Outside the cabin, the dreamies are groaning, Renjun covering his ears to shut out the moans coming from above them.

"Look at what you did! Now we have to sit here and listen to Chenle doing it with his boyfriend" he cried.

"Hey, you guys are the ones who teased him!"

Donghyuck said.

"Whatever, I'm just happy that I'm not Chenle's boyfriend"

Jeno says.

"And I'm happy that I'm not his boyfriend's best friend"

Mark replies, the dreamies looking over at Jaemin, the male looking at the ground in shame.

"This is so awkward"

Jaemin mumbles, the others snickering, as they went back to their conversations, trying to ignore the noises coming from the upstairs bedroom.

#kpop male idol #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #nct x male reader #male idol x male reader #nct x male reader smut #chenle x male reader #nct dream x male reader smut #nct dream x male reader

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crimsonvictory · 1 year

Text

Release

MINORS DNI

word count: 3.6k

tags: the mandalorian, the mandalorian smut, the mandalorian x reader, din djarin x reader

warnings: overstimulation, sub!din, dom!reader, touch-starved!din, p-in-v sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!din

notes: i love touch-starved!din. he just needs some release. 😩

I haven’t written anything in SO long please forgive me.

Updated it a little bit because I wasn’t happy with the first results.

prompt(s):

"Tell me what you like.”

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

————————————————————

Since boarding the Crest a little over a year ago, the increasing amount of frustration that was filling the air was concerning you. The tension was so crisp, you could cut it with a knife.

Being within close proximity with someone else gave you plenty of practice on reading unspoken body language. The Mandalorian thought he could hide how he was feeling from you, but you could pick up on his little tells. The way his modulator would pick up his change of breath, it could mean many things, agitation, a slight laugh at your jokes, or sometimes a sign that he was tired and needed a break. His shoulders held so much emotion too. He carried the galaxy on his shoulders and almost never seemed to relax, unless he was asleep.

You mourned the way he never allowed himself to rest. He slept only a couple hours at a time, always on alert, never fully comfortable.

A couple of weeks ago, you noticed that he was getting agitated over every little thing that happened within the ship. The hot water fluctuating (not your fault), the GPS being off by a few parsecs (most definitely not your fault) you (possibly your fault?).

It seemed lately that nearly every day he was almost always taking his anger out on you. Whether it be a snide comment on the work you were doing on the ship or stony silence. But either way, you were getting tired of it. This last dispute really crawling under your skin.

It had all started because you had ordered the wrong part for the GPS system (okay so it was your fault), causing it to overshoot by a few parsecs. It was an honest mistake, and you owned up to it right away. But he did not take your apology well.

It took you almost a better part of the day to explain it to him. You made your way up to the cockpit, hands sweaty on the metal rungs. You danced your way around the room, not able to sit still, the guilt just eating at you.

You went over and over in your head how you were going to tell him, but he beat you to the point.

“What did you do wrong?” he asks, not turning around to face you.

How did he know? Was he as good at reading body language as you?

You cleared you throat, beginning to explain what had happened. Your voice shook as you told him.

“You know better. You better pray to the Maker that we can make it to a shop that has a competent mechanic.” he seethed whipping around to look at you.

You glared at him, face heating up from embarrassment.

“It was an honest mistake, Mando.” you explained.

“You think you know everything but you don’t. You’re adequate at best. How hard is it to order a GPS component?!” he continued.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock, tears brimming your eyes. You were angry.

“I said it was a mistake! Why don’t you lay off of me? I’ll fix it when we get to the next planet, okay? I’m sorry.”

He stood up, walking over and getting down in your face. “I don’t need your help.” he bit out, huffing as he turned and stomped back over to the pilot’s chair.

He spun around quickly, huffing loudly and putting in the next coordinates. You stood there in shock, shaking from anger. Taking a deep breath, you composed your thoughts, trying your best not to be emotional about the situation.

He was still seething. You could feel the anger radiating off of him. The tension in the room so thick you could barely breathe. You took shallow breaths through your nose and out of your mouth, willing yourself to calm down.

“I don’t appreciate being talked to like that,” you stated, leaning against the co-pilots seat and crossing your arms.

He stayed facing away from you, stony and silent.

“Mando,” you pressed. “You can’t talk to me like that. I am human and I’m going to make mistakes. But at least I own up to them and offer to fix them-“

“You shouldn’t be making mistakes-“ he spits.

“If you don’t want mistakes then hire a kriffing droid,” you spit back, fire under your tongue.

He whirls around at that, chest heaving.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but you don’t need to take it out on me,” you tell him, glaring at his unwavering visor.

He sighs heavily, and you can already feel him putting up a wall again.

You roll your eyes. “You always do this! You always put up a wall when I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to help, Mando. That’s what I’m here for. I’ve been here for nearly a year and I know nothing about you.”

“It’s best it stays that way,” he grunts out. “Like I said, I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance a bit. He leans back in his chair, watching you warily as you come closer.

“But what if I want to help?” you offer softly, completely flipping the situation.

You’re surprised at your words, not knowing where they came from. He freezes at your words, unable to speak. His shoulders tense, a fist forming by his side. You walk closer to him, slowly inching the space closed. His visor follows your movements, watching you closely.

“You need to relax,” you whisper, warily placing a hand on his pauldron.

You hear his breath catch and small smile tugs at your lips.

“Let me help, Mando.”

You watch him, he’s completely still, almost not even breathing, not used to another’s’ touch. After a terse moment, he slowly nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, modulator catching the hesitation in his voice.

You smile at his words, sliding your hand up to rest at his cowl. You’re slow with your moments, not wanting to spook him. You gently stroke the exposed skin at his nape, feeling goosebumps erupt at your touch.

His breath expels shakily through the modulator.

“Breathe,” you remind him. “If it‘s too much, let me know, okay?”

Mando nods again, relaxing a bit after a few deep breaths. You slowly slide your hands down his chest, taking mind of his armor. You gently caress his arms, working from his wrists up to his biceps and back down again, watching his body language for any signs of discomfort.

“This okay?” you question. He nods and clears his throat.

You can tell he wants to say something, but it’s catching in his throat. He eventually tells you after a silent moment.

“You can, uh, take the armor off if you want,” he murmurs.

The request takes you by surprise.

“Are you sure?” you ask, appalled that he would suggest even a thing.

He nods, confirming your questioning.

You go slowly, starting at his shoulder pauldrons and working your way down. His hands guide yours, helping you on the places that you struggle.

It’s the most careful he’s been with you. Your hands tremble with excitement and you feel your heart begin to race. Your cheeks warm, feeling so vulnerable in this small space.

You continue to unfasten the buckles, setting his armor down gently on the floor beside you. Working your way down to his breast plate, you glide your fingers under the beskar, lifting it up over his head. His vambrances come next, and finally the thigh and shin guards.

Your breath catches at the mere size of him. He was big without the armor. Just pure muscle, but still soft, especially the way he’s relaxing under your touch. He’s left in his thermals, and your imagination begins running wild. You’ve always imagined what he looked like.

You always thought of him having dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharp, aquiline nose. You’ve never taken a peak, but sometimes you dream of him. You would never confess that. Not to anyone. You turn your focus back to the man in front of you. He seems to shy away from your eyes, turning his head away from you.

You guess that he’s blushing under his helmet. If only you could see him. You just know he’s beautiful. You make a soft noise, appreciating the opportunity unfolding before you. You wrap your fingers around his bicep, squeezing gently.

“Tell me what you like,” you coo.

His visor snaps back to you and he lets out a choked noise. You’ve taken him by surprise.

“I-I-,” he stutters as you trail your fingers down his arm, removing his gloves and placing them down next to his armor.

You finally get a glance at his skin. He’s sun-kissed, nearly golden under all of that armor. You wonder if he ever misses the feeling of sun on his skin. You lace your fingers together, gently squeezing his against your own.

He hums his approval, it crackles through the vocoder.

“Mando.” you say, catching his attention. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I- uh,” he clears his throat again. “I’ve never really-“, he mumbles, looking away again.

Your mind reels at his confession. The Mandalorian, a virgin? It couldn’t be.

“Never?” you question softly, no judgement in your voice.

He answers with another shake of his head.

“This is the Way.”

You hum, considering your options. You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you want to make him feel good. Sliding your hand down to his thigh and squeezing gently.

“Would you let me take care of you?” you ask again. He looks up at you from the pilots seat, in a daze, and takes. a moment before nodding again.

“Use your words, Mando.”

“Y-Yes,” he finally gets out.

You give his thigh another squeeze before straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You can feel how hard he’s becoming underneath you, and it makes your stomach flutter.

Reaching up and placing your hand on the exposed part of his neck, you tilt it to the side, giving you access to the skin closest to you. His breathing quickens, nervousness- and you stroke the side of his neck gently before leaning down and placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. There’s a hint of scruff and you slip your fingers up near his jaw to memorize his face. You’re careful not to move his helmet too much, keeping the Creed in mind. He hums his appreciation at your courtesy.

Hints of mahogany and black vanilla filled your space and you dart your tongue out, tasting his skin. He keens, tilting his head back against the headrest, giving you as much space as he could. His cock twitches against you, and you hum, feeling his arousal grow.

You mouth along his neck, dipping down a few times to kiss his collarbones. Goosebumps follow your kisses, and you can feel the intimacy buzzing under his skin. His energy is electrifying.

Mando shifts his weight underneath you, hips bumping up against your own and it catches you by surprise. You grab onto his arm, steadying yourself.

“Sorry-“ he apologizes as quickly as possible.

“No need to apologize,” you murmur against his skin, dropping your weight down and grinding once, twice, against him.

A moan crackles through his helmet.

Oh.

You wish you could hear him unfiltered. His voice would sound like molten honey. You watch his chest rise and fall, a blush peaking just above his collar.

“Doing okay?” you whisper, checking to make sure your boundaries aren’t overstepped.

He nods, trying to meet the downward grind of your hips. His hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place. You gladly let him use you.

You feel yourself getting aroused, a warm feeling building in your stomach. The way his length is rubbing against your clit feels otherworldly. You bite your lip to keep quiet. He strokes your hip with his thumb, visor watching you. A warmth spreads over your cheeks, the roles reversed.

You take control again, slowing your movements and wrapping your fingers around his neck, pulling him close as you grind against his lap. You watch as he slowly starts to come apart, the pleasure becoming too much. Your kids grow heavy and you watch his chest rise and fall, little gasps falling from his mouth. He sounds fucking angelic.

You wish you could listen to them on repeat. He’s trying his best to keep his hands at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s fighting to relax but slowly giving in when the pleasure builds up and up and up.

“You can touch me, y’know,” you pant, watching his visor. “You’re not going to hurt me. It’s not a bad thing to give in to your pleasure,” you remind.

He’s hesitant, you can practically see the battle in his mind. He slips his hand around your hip, stroking circles into your skin. You hum, praising him.

You begin to slow down your movements, taking the time to gather the strength to climb off of him and position yourself in between his legs. He spreads them wide, placing one foot up on the edge of the seat before tilting his helmet down and looking at you.

Maker- the angle of him above you, chest flushed with arousal- makes you squirm. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, anxious of your next move. His arm is resting on his knee, fingers splayed, relaxed. He looks like a fucking god. You imagine his lids heavy, mouth parted open as he breathes. You nearly come apart at the sight.

“Like the view?” he jokes, and you nod, unable to congregate a sentence. His voice has dropped an octave. You could fucking die happy right here.

You get to work, unbuckling his belt, then having him shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

The outline of his cock is straining against the material. You almost drool, looking up at him through your lashes, you ask, “May I?”

He nods, motioning with his hand to go ahead. You lean forward, placing both hands on his upper thighs and lean down to mouth at his length.

Oh.

He’s fucking huge.

You place soft kisses against the fabric before licking a stripe up to the tip. He whines, hips bucking upwards.

“Please-“ he whines. “Don’t tease.”

His hand grips the side of the pilots chair, fingers wrapping around it tightly, restraining himself.

You bring one hand closer, slipping your hand inside and wrapping your fingers around his length. He’s soft, like velvet - and he twitches in your hand. You bring out his cock through his boxers, adoring the sight of him.

“Maker-“ you whisper in shock. You give him a test stroke, curling your fingers over the tip before sliding them back down to the base. “You’re fucking huge.”

A gasp leaves his lips and he tenses up at your touch. You repeat the pattern, watching his resolve come undone under your finger tips.

He slumps back in the pilots chair, hips bucking upwards to meet your strokes. He’s covered your fingers in precome, easing the way your strokes go up and down.

You tighten your grip on his cock, slowing your strokes down and leaning over to place your lips around his tip.

“Oh, fuck-“ he curses, hips stuttering.

You hum, slowly taking him into your mouth while stroking what you can’t fit at the moment. You suck, swirling your tongue around his tip and bobbing your head up and down his length. You nearly gag due to his size. You cannot believe the situation right now. Maker, you are in heaven.

A heavy hand threads its fingers through your hair, tugging as you absolutely devour him. You can’t get enough. He tastes so fucking good. You lean into his touch, encouraging him to continue.

Your eyes roll in your head as you take him deeper. The sheer size of him makes you so fucking wet. A moan slips from your mouth and you look up at him from your eyelashes.

The sight above you was painted by the Maker himself. You wished so badly again that you could see his face. You imagine his brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth pouting open in the prettiest of ways. You know his lips were angry and pink from his teeth biting into them. He was trying so hard to be quiet and was failing miserably.

You wanted him to let go, relax and enjoy this feeling. Because you didn’t know how long it would be until he needed this again. He wasn’t a man to ask for help. But when he did, you were more than happy to deliver.

The quiet gasps filtering their way through the modulator was music to your ears. He sounded so fucking desperate.

You stroke him a couple more times, coming off of his length with a pop. He groans, mourning the loss of your mouth. You make your way up to his lap again, pulling your underwear to the side and straddling his waist again.

You tilt his chin up, making him make eye contact with you.

“Mando, do you want me to stop?”

He grabs onto your arm, squeezing tightly.

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

You moan at his words, an ultimate confession of wanted pleasure. You both were shaking with anticipation, getting used to each other's bodies. Lining yourself up, you take his hand and guide it down to your pussy.

“Do you feel that? You did that, Mando,” you coo, feeling his thick fingers glide through your folds.

He groans, bringing his fingers up and underneath his helmet, like a man dying of thirst.

“Fuck, you taste fucking good.” he moans, returning his fingers to your folds for another taste.

You keen at his praise, holding on to his shoulder as he dips his fingers back again and again. He’s hooked on your taste and cannot get enough.

Mando wraps his fingers around your hips, guiding you over to his cock. His other hand cuffs around your neck as he pulls you close, voicing another confession.

“Please, fucking wreck me.”

He trembling at this point and you cannot deny him any longer. You guide the tip of his length to your entrance and slowly guide yourself down. It takes a while, as you’re not used to his length. By the time you bottom out, you’re both shaking with exertion.

“Holy fuck-“ you choke out, appalled by the sheer size of him.

“If you don’t fucking move right now-“ he gasps, trembling with pleasure.

You obey, slowly move back up before guiding yourself back down. You feel so full, not knowing if you can take all of him. It’s overwhelming, but in such a good way. You clench around his length, grabbing his attention.

“O-Oh my god-“ he gasps, squeezing your hip. “Again,” he praises.

You oblige, loving the pleasure it gives you both. A thin sheen of sweat forms on your skin and your thighs start to tremble. It’s fucking worth it.

You know he’s not going to last long, you can tell from his breathing. You’re not either, by doing all of the work. But you’re so blissed out on pleasure you don’t even care. He fills you up in just the right way, the tip catching at the deepest part of your cervix and creating a delicious burn in your stomach.

He grabs onto your shoulder, leaving one hand on your hip as he takes control for a moment, speeding his thrusts up to meet yours. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the cockpit, tension resolved and disappearing.

All that lingers now is the smell of sex and arousal. Warmth from both of your bodies filling the air. It’s comfortable and you don’t want to leave.

“Fuck- Mando, you’re doing such a good job,” you gasp out between thrusts. “Look how well I’m taking you.”

He moans at your praise, hips stuttering. His visor tilts down, watching where your bodies separate and then meet again. His fingers brush over your clit and you gasp.

“If you keep talking like that I’m not going to last-“ he warns.

“Good,” you laugh, high off of pleasure. “I want you to let go, come for me.”

“Oh Maker,” he chokes out, thrusting, once, twice, thrice before seizing up, pleasure overcoming his body.

You watch as his body tenses and then slump as the pleasure slowly makes its way through his body. He’s breathing heavily, gently rubbing circles on your hip. He laughs, a musical thing. You wish you could have this moment on repeat.

Your pleasure is still building, burning it your stomach. He glides his hands down to your clit, thumb brushing along your little bundle of nerves. He’s unexperienced, but a quick learner. You show him how to build your pleasure and he repeats your motions, making it burn in your belly.

You slump forward on him, grabbing his bicep for support. His fingers are slow and calulating, but adding the perfect amount of pressure that has you seeing stars.

He does something unexpected, wrapping his fingers around your throat and giving a soft squeeze. You clench around him, body going taught as you reach your orgasm. He coaxes your body through it, guiding you up, up up, and carrying you gently back down.

The pleasure is so intense you start to cry. It’s been so long since you’ve had any intimacy and you cannot handle it. He strokes circles onto your side as you calm down.

“Thank you,” you both say at the same time, causing a chuckle from you both.

“Don’t wait so long to ask me for help next time,” you joke, leaning against his chest and giving him a hug.

“I won’t,” he says.

You believe him.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader

738 notes · View notes

misspearly1 · 2 years

Text

Day Eighteen: Accidental Stimulation - Din D'jarin

Kinktober22 List

WC: 4.4k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Talk of Dehydration. Mutual Pining. Accidental Stimulation. Female Masturbation + Getting caught. Unprotected PIV sex. Desperate Sex. Fluff. AN: Oof, this took me a solid minute to write my loves. Kinktober is taking its toll out on me but thankfully I only have eleven more to write after this. I hope you enjoy.

You look at Mando incredulously, fearing that all hope is lost, or fear that he has completely lost the plot with heat stroke, as he points to a sad and pathetic looking speeder bike sitting at the bottom of a small canyon in the desert.

Two hours ago, a devious bounty managed to lure you and the Mandalorian out into the desert where he then tricked you to abandon your healthy, fully functioning, speeder bike to give chase on foot instead. Mando was so close to capturing him too, he was literally just an arm’s reach away before the target hopped onto the speeder and took off, leaving you both to the dust.

You raised your gun ready to shoot at the time, but Mando stopped you and you were understanding as to why, but now you wish you didn’t listen and just pulled the trigger. Your aim isn’t great at all, but you might have been able to hit the target, regardless of the fact he is wanted alive, and you’d have the speeder bike to travel back to the ship where the water supply is.

Now after two hours have passed since then, you can see that Mando regrets not shooting the target himself. It’s a mistake and you don’t blame him for the judgement call in the heat of the moment considering the bounty is worth ten thousand credits, however the man is currently pointing to another speeder bike like it’s a miracle and you really do think that heat exhaustion is clouding his mind.

“It probably doesn’t even work, Mando.” You shake your head with a huff, “And we shouldn’t waste our energy checking it out.” You explain, hoping that he could see common sense, but of course, just like Mando does all the time, he insists. “Worth a try.”

You’ve been working with him for the last year, and you know there’s no use trying to protest when he gets determined. Watching the back of his cape swish side to side with each step he takes down the steep slope, you sigh frustratedly and wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Getting down into the canyon isn’t your biggest worry, it’s coming back out, but you follow his steps and make your way down regardless of the worry. There’s no way you’re letting him go alone.

Climbing down ledge from ledge then sliding down the slippery slopes and, in some areas, even sliding down on your ass until you reached the bottom, you immediately felt some relief from the big star in the sky when standing inside the shade. You damn bear wanted to moan from the relief it felt that good. Your clothes were damp, clinging onto your skin with sweat and your exposed skin would surely be sunburnt by now, but the dehydration is most worrisome. You can feel it starting to take effect. Your mouth is dry, lips too, and you have an insatiable thirst.

“Here,” Mando gestures as he walks towards you, holding his canteen. “Finish this off, cyar’ika. It’ll keep you hydrated til we get back to the ship.” Apparently taking notice of your relief in the shade and seeing that you're clearly dehydrated, he couldn’t not offer up the last of the water supply for you to finish off. “But Mando, what about yo-” You tried to protest, but the man cut you off with his hand held out and a curt shake of his head. “Drink.” He says flatly, no ifs or buts - adamant as always.

You reluctantly lift the canteen and take two sips, watching him pull off his cape and lay the item of clothing over his arm instead. It was harrowing to watch, painful even. No matter how hot you are right now, Mando is a thousand times worse inside all of that armour and you can’t drink all of this water for yourself. It would be wrong. You can’t do that to him, can’t allow him to suffer so you will be okay.

“Mando, please.” You plead with him. Even reaching out for his gloved hands, you place the canteen in his palm then squeeze his fingers around the object reassuringly. “We both know that you need this more than I do. I will be okay, I had a drink, but you finish it off.” Nodding once, you walk away from him quickly before he could try to argue about it and now that your back is turned, you hope that he will use this moment of privacy to lift his helmet and finish off the water. You hope that he gets the message that you, too, can insist and be adamant. No ifs or buts.

You care for Mando, and he cares for you too; this is just one of the many examples that show how you both have each other's backs, although sometimes you can argue when there is a disagreement, you both mean well and only have the best interest in mind. While he hydrates, you approach the speeder bike and hold back a groan from the sun beating down on your exposed once again as you look the vehicle over. I’ll gladly take the cold over the heat any day, you thought.

Luckily, there are no loose parts laying around on the ground so that’s a good sign, but you still have no hope simply because it was left out here at the bottom of a canyon. No one would leave a working speeder bike. It’s just absurd…. Or is it? You ask yourself while looking it over. Nothing at first glance looks seriously wrong with it, the power cell is intact and it’s showing half full on the gauge. The outriggers are a little rusty and one of the back thrust flaps is cracked but held together with tape. She isn’t perfect, but she’s all you’ve got.

You wait for Mando to join you again before trying the ignition switch, not wanting to turn around to break the trust you have built with the man thus far in case he still has his helmet off. There wasn’t a whole lot you knew about Mandalorian's to begin with before meeting him, but one thing that pretty much the whole galaxy knows is that he mustn't ever reveal his identity, therefore you’ll do everything in your power to uphold that.

Even when you hear his boots dragging across the sand towards you, you still don’t turn around to face him. Admittedly, sometimes you worry too much about stumbling across the man without his helmet, though you can never be too safe, right? You relax a little when hearing his modulated sigh from over your shoulder, knowing that his helmet is definitely back on now, however when he approaches, your body becomes stiff from the delicate touch of his gloved hand on your lower back, burning through your clothes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault we’re in this mess.” He apologises sincerely, then promises. “I’ll make it up to you one day, somehow.” You still remain shocked and confused, stiffer than a nail from his harmless comforting gesture. His words fall on deaf ears as all you can think about is how good his hand feels. You couldn’t tell whether or not you were burning up from the sun or burning up from his touch. Choosing the latter when he pulls away, you miss his touch and yearn to feel it again, which is really quite bizarre that you even miss his touch to begin with.

Mando isn’t a physical touch kind of guy, he’s never really touched you like this. Sure, there have been little accidents before where he bumps into you, but to actually reach out and hold you in some way, reassuringly, is new for him and new for you to feel. And now that you have felt it, you want more. It makes your legs squeeze together with the dirty minded thoughts racing around your head then makes your cheeks blush with shame for even thinking about him in that manner.

Miraculously, you even begin to feel the desire flooding your core. You’re dehydrated, you didn’t even think you’d be able to feel wet when dehydrated, let alone feel wet in the first place by the simple act of feeling a hand on your back. Stars! I need to get laid. You reprimand yourself, blaming the fact that you’ve gone too many months without intimacy for the sudden surge of arousal. That has to be the only reason for your sexual confusion right now; has to be the reason why you yearn to feel Mando’s gloved hands between your legs.

Focus! You snap with your inner voice, directing your attention back to the task at hand and not your thoughts. The speeder bike. That’s more important right now, you can deal with whatever you were just thinking about later. “Ready to see if she’s alive or not?” You ask Mando in a small voice, still feeling the effects of your own dirty imagination.

The man only nods in return and with that, you lean over for the ignition switch. She backfires loudly three times, rattling and clattering thunderously that makes you and Mando take a step back, fearing that she’s about to blow. After a few moments, she calms down and settles to an excessively loud hum, though still shaking violently. Always too good to be true. No one would leave a perfectly good working speeder back. You agree with your thoughts.

It didn’t sound promising, so you kneeled to the floor and looked over the engine while Mando walked around the bike, no doubt to check if there were any problems on that side. One of your many skills is knowing a thing or two in mechanics. You know enough to get by, but any major problems are lost on you. A nasty smell was flooding your nostrils and the catalytic converter looked damaged - that’s your problem.

“Hey, do you smell that?!” You yell to Mando over the loud racket coming from the engine, but when there is no answer, you look up for him. “Shit!” You gasp, not expecting him to be so close. He was leaning over the bike, the T shape of his visor directly above your face giving you a fight, but his proximity to you was most tantalising, even a little intimidating. And if you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was smirking inside the helmet simply from the way he was tilting his head to the side, as if amused from your reaction.

He jerks his chin outwards, a wordless way of asking you to repeat what you said, but you gulped as your eyes roamed the broad expanse of his shoulders and wide chest towering over you in this position. It made you think of him laying over your naked body instead. “Um, I think it’s going to be okay,” You rise from the floor, explaining loud enough for him to hear this time. “She’s spewing fumes, that’s what the noise and smell is, but she’ll get us back to the ship if we take it easy and don’t overpower the engine.”

“Okay, mesh’la.” Mando yells back over the noise, nodding, “Let's go back home.” He swings a leg over the bike and moves up the seat as much as he could for you to sit on the back, but you froze with surprise, thinking about the fact he has just called the razor crest home. You feel a concoction of different thoughts whirling around your brain, even though the ship is where you both reside day and night on your travels through the galaxy, he’s never called it home before. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“What’s wrong?” He tilts his head to ask, worried. You snap out of it then, shaking off your emotions while replying. “N-nothing just… Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Upon looking at the backseat and seeing only one set of foot pegs, you ask. “Where do you want me to put my legs, speeders aren’t made for two carriers?”

Jerking his head to the side, another wordless gesture telling you to just hop on, you reach out and hold his shoulder, then sigh breathily when feeling his brute strength under your fingertips. Has he always been this big and strong under his clothes? You ask, wishing to explore his bare skin without the clothing barrier in the way.

You swing your leg over and sit down, now gripping his shoulder with the urge to moan out from the vibrations below caused by the engine. You clenched around nothing, feeling your clit pulse from the contact of the seat against your core. It was buzzing so loud and strong, that you already knew this journey back to the ship was going to be euphoric.

“Just relax.” Mando yells, mistaking the fact that you are clearly turned on right now for discomfort as he reaches for your legs to wrap around his waist. “I’m sorry, it’s just for a little while, cyar’ika.” He justifies himself, and you immediately lean in close to reassure. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise.” It’s actually more than okay, Mando…

He nods after you get comfortable then hands his cape to you. “Keep this safe for me.” He asks, and you know how much his cape means to him, so you handle it with care. Taking it from him then putting it behind his back, you move up the seat and keep it secured between your bodies. Quickly growing tired of the yelling, you just threw him a thumbs up instead and he then returned the gesture by taking both of your hands with a firm squeeze before placing them over his chest plate. You wanted to feel that again, something so simple as holding his hands was electric.

As he accelerates, getting you both out of the canyon to make your way back home, as he newly calls it, you rest your cheek to his back and immediately close your eyes, picturing him pleasuring you instead of the vibrations from the bike. You couldn’t help it. You were just so turned on from his touch and now with the vibrations below, you were imagining it was his fingers working their magic. Although you felt so dirty and wrong for thinking about Mando in this sexual manner, you loved how good it felt to be pressed against his body like this. It felt like you were hugging him from behind, but it wasn’t a real hug. As much as you wished it to be, it wasn’t real.

Truthfully, you wished you could be sitting up front instead; up front and facing him with your legs wrapped around his waist. And that wishful thought makes you clench around nothing again, just imagining your burning heat sitting above his crotch while he rides the speeder back to the ship. There was no use trying to fight the inevitable. You were quite literally sitting on top of a vibrator and the sensations it was providing were too pleasing to ignore.

Besides, would it really be all that bad to make the most of it? To make the most of this journey and get yourself off a couple times before you reach the Razor Crest and continue your hunt for the target? Who knows when your next moment of privacy will be as you can barely pleasure yourself these days with how cramped the ship is and how busy your workload has been.

You’re always with Mando. He, as well as yourself, doesn’t have any real privacy. You’re always together, not that you mind it, but moments like this where you can release some of your pent-up sexual frustrations are sparse. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, you ponder in thought. You’re clearly having mixed emotions about your employer and that’s because you are so deprived of intimacy.

You need this release; need this sexual release so you can be able to think straight and get back to normal. After justifying your actions, you quit fighting your own needs and just relax, letting the vibrations pleasure you. Small gasps and whimpers slipped past your lips and your cheeks burned at the thought of Mando hearing you.

Hope had you thinking that the man would love it, that he’d love the fact you were quite literally getting yourself off behind him, but thinking realistically, he would probably find it weird and disrespectful. Find you weird and disrespectful. You still thought about him though. Even after you justified that feeding your sexual hunger would make you think clearly, it didn’t stop you from thinking about Mando pleasuring you instead.

You wanted him so badly and even thought about his leather gloved fingers sliding inside of you. The vibrations ramp up a notch as he speeds up the bike, thus causing you to bury your face between his shoulder blades and muffle your throaty mewls. Your head floats off into the clouds as you lose all sense of control. It’s like everything around you fades out into nothing and all you can focus on is Mando, as if holding onto him kept you tethered to reality.

Panting heavily through your release, you feel another one rising again and ride it out, basking in the magnificence of over-stimulation. Your hands unintentionally grip Mando’s chest plate, the muscles in your legs tensing up with a fiery burn and your thighs squeezing together around his hips. You thank the stars above for the speeder being so loud, otherwise he would be able to hear you literally falling apart and whining through the aftershocks.

It’s too much; too pleasurable that it’s becoming painful, but you don’t want it to stop. You want to be reduced to a quivering mess, to be soaked in your own desire as your eyes haze over with bliss. “Oh f-fuck.” You moan disgracefully, succumbing to your wants and needs; your need to tell him how you really feel about him. Even though he can’t hear it, you need to speak your truth and say the words out outloud. “Stars! I want you so bad, Mando.” You cry to yourself, “I want your fingers inside of me.”

Minutes passed by like an eternity before the bike slowed down and you no longer felt the sun beating down on your back anymore, just the coolness of the shade blessing you with a break from the heat. “We’re home, mesh’la.” You hear Mando say but could barely form a reply and just nodded into his back.

However, instead of getting off the speeder, he firmly held onto your thigh and hip, then pulled you around to the front. “M-Mando?” You gasp with surprise. You were now sitting on his crotch, gazing up into the T shape of his visor as he placed his thumb and forefinger to your chin, looking back down at you. “I heard you moaning, sweet girl,” He growls, hand on your hip squeezing the flesh hard as your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He heard you, heard you moaning therefore he must have heard what you said.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted, lowering your head in shame, but the man slipped his hand around the base of your neck and tilted your head back before pressing his helmet to your forehead. “I want it too…” He exhaled shakily, “I want you so badly, cyar’ika, I always have.”

“You have?” You ask, disbelieving the words exiting his mouth. “B-but I don’t understand. How have I not noticed before?”

“Because I do well with hiding my emotions.” The man explains, both hands now firmly holding your hips, his fingers slip under your shirt with request. “But not anymore cyar’ika. I won’t hide how I feel anymore, if you won’t hide anymore either.”

“I won’t. Not ever again, Mando.” You moan, brows pulling together with bliss under his gaze. You can feel the warm leather on your skin, feel the burn of his fingers inside desperate to touch you without the barrier of clothing. Looking down briefly and whimpering at the sight of his gloved hands straining against the fabric, you look back up into his visor with a nod. “Touch me. Please touch me, I need you so bad.”

Laying down and arching your back for him as he makes quick work on removing your pants, you moan falling on his ears audibly this time, you feel the desperation from the man during his bid to remove all barriers of clothing preventing him from pleasuring you. Mando hikes up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the warm breeze blowing over your skin before pawing at your booms with one hand. He tears your panties down your legs, the hurriedness of his actions making you blush.

“M-Mando.” You whine; whine and beg without actually saying what you need from him. He heard you loud and clear anyways, he heard it from the way you moaned his name. Mando knew how much you wanted him; knew from the moment he laid his hand on your lower back earlier and your heart rate kicked up suddenly. “I know, sweet girl.” He breathes reassurance, telling you exactly what you need to hear. “I know and it’s okay. I will take care of you.”

“Oh fuck!” You cry upon feeling two bare fingers sliding into your sex. When did he take them off? You don’t even know, but you don’t care either. His fingers are so big and fulfilling, bending into a come hither motion to caress your g-spot. “So wet, mesh’la.” He groans heavy and wanton, admiring the slick coating his fingers. There was so much in fact, it was drooling down his digits and making a mess inside the palm of his hands. “So tight too.” His modulated exhale reaches your ears, shaky and breathless.

You clench around him, the muscles in your cunt aching with dire need to be stroked and stretched. “M-More.” You whimper. Hands trailing down your body to pull down your bra, exposing your nipples, you hold them between your fingers and plead with him shamelessly. “Please Mando. I want mo-yes! Like that, just like that.” You yell out, rewarding his actions with your words as he buries three fingers to the hilt beautifully.

You don’t even feel Mando removing his hand from your breast, nor do you feel him fighting to open his slacks and free himself. All you can focus on is the way he grunts. Your eyes closed, lost within the bliss of his fingers pleasuring you, only when he removes them, you open your eyes with a needy whine. “N-no, don’t stop.” You look up just in time to see the man reaching for you, grabbing you by the sides and pulling you flush to his chest.

“Cyar’ika!” He growls deep and low, cock thrusting inside of you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You mewl from the stretch, pulsing around his girth and grip onto his biceps from the burn his size was causing. It was phenomenal. You wanted it again, to feel him stretch you open again and again with each snap of his hips into yours. “Mando move!” You choke on the words, burying your face into the nook of his neck and rolling your eyes back with the scent of him flooding your senses. He smells so good, so heavenly.

The man makes quick work of rutting into you, using your own body as leverage to pull you into his thrusts and meet him halfway. You could hear your desire squelching around him, could feel the damp spot it was leaving on his clothes, making a mess. Though it wasn’t enough for him. Mando apparently had his own sexual frustrations to release too. He needed more and he took more.

“Hold on.” He grunts an order, hooking both arms behind your knees and using your ass to lift you up and down. The man even leaned back, getting himself comfy as he uses your cunt like his own personal fuck toy to get himself off. You don’t care for the romantics right now, you need raw primal sex, and Mando was giving it to you in the best way.

Little squeaks and moans slipped into his neck as he grabbed the globes of your ass and began slamming you down onto his hips. His cock was bruising your insides, filling you up completely each time. “C-cum, I’m cumming.” You manage to utter before falling limp, just letting him take over and fuck you into oblivion.

“Tell me when to stop.” He moans brokenly, still thrusting hard and deep. “I’m nowhere near done sweet girl but tell me when to stop and I will.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you nod into his neck. Falling apart on his cock, your high was intensified as he surges through your vice-like grip and continues to fuck you from below. “Inside me.” You moan softly, tiredly, “Come inside of me, Mando. Fuck me until you're satisfied.”

You blew past the stages of over-stimulation and entered the realms of sexual exhaustion. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, so instead you just held onto Mando like he was a lifeline and let him use your pussy for his own pleasure. The man had stamina for days. Stamina like you’ve never seen before as he comes multiple times, filling you up with his warm creamy seed. Even when he paused for a break, gathering some energy while allowing you a break, he started again with a slow grind, relishing in the pretty little sounds escaping you.

“Tell me to stop, mesh’la.” He says, almost begging you at this point to give yourself mercy. Mando wasn’t lying, he is nowhere near done and can last for hours - for you. He’s dreamt of his for months, fisted his cock many nights thinking it was your heat instead and now that he has your cunt wrapped around his cock, he doesn’t want to stop, can’t stop until he has emptied his sac. “Do you want to stop?” You lift your head to ask, gazing into the T shape of his visor and picturing what beautiful eyes he must have behind it.

“No, not at all.” He groans and gasps in reply, feeling you clench around him. A smile tugs on your lips, sweet and innocent like at first, but then it becomes devilish and naughty. You don’t want to stop and neither does he. You both want more. “Well keep fucking me Mando.” You sigh breathily, resting your cheek to his shoulder with a request;

“And don’t stop until we’re both completely spent.”

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split-spectrum · 7 months

Text

Four Hours

Chapter 2

(Complete)

Pairings: Din Djarin/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: explicit content, swearing, mild violence, SMUT, 18+ minors please DNI

Description: A quiet day in the repair bay goes sideways quickly when the Mandalorian next door catches you stealing his tools.

☆☆☆

It's been one hour, now.

He's standing in front of a makeshift table built of cargo containers, cleaning his weapons and glancing at you every few minutes. Four hours. Four hours is what you'd told him when he'd asked how long you'd need to wait out the poison. Time is ticking by agonizingly, and you can feel every second of it. You'd spent most of the first hour watching hyperspace streak past in the cockpit before your eyes had started to ache and you'd followed him down below, into the main cargo hold.

"Can I give you a hand?" you ask him from across the room where you're seated on a smaller cargo container. Based on the rest of his ship's inventory, you can guess the containers are either filled with weapons or ammunition. It seems to be the recurring theme.

"No." He answers quietly, then adds, "Thank you."

The silence starts up again, and you want to fight against it. It's not uncomfortable silence; it's just a blanket that seems to follow him. But you want to talk, now more than ever. You want to be occupied.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He says nothing, but it's an inviting sort of nothing.

"Why did you help me? Why are you helping me?"

He places a piece of the blaster he's currently disassembling onto the shelf. "Because you asked."

That catches you so off guard that you don't respond for a moment. "There has to be more to it than that."

He clicks the firing mechanism back into place, holding the blaster at a distance and tilting his head to inspect it. You wait, then give up on a response.

The poison edges a little deeper into your bloodstream...

Or does it?

Your eyes close briefly as you try to push the thoughts from your mind. You'll either live or die, or you'll live in a different way. One way or the other, these hours will end. The only way to get there is to pass the time.

When you draw your gaze back over to the table, he's finished with the previous blaster and picked up a different one. You sink back into your seat, trying to come up with another reason for him to speak to you, and look down at your arm, still purple. The dark, blurred mark on your skin is starting to form into the distinct outline of his hand.

"You still haven't apologized for this," you say, holding it up.

He glances over to what you're indicating, making you a little self-conscious. Your arm drops back into your lap while he looks at you.

"Where I come from, thieves are punished."

Your lip quirks. "I'm not a thief. I explained everything, remember?"

His helmet angles back down to the weapon. "You took things that didn't belong to you."

"And I brought them back," you point out.

"Yeah. That's why you're still breathing."

Your chest flutters a little, and your face heats. You've known a lot of hunters, and you've heard a lot of the same empty threats. This Mandalorian, you're starting to realize, is in a class all his own. His comment isn't careless; he didn't say it to intimidate. He means it. And it stirs something in you.

You don't have anything to say in argument, and after a moment, you try a different subject.

"You know, I can't afford to pay you much for this," you admit softly. You can't afford to pay him anything, really. You'll hardly be able to cover his fuel costs.

"You don't need to pay."

It's your turn to be silent, now. You bring your eyes back up. "Why would you do this for nothing?"

His visor lowers from your eyes down to the side of your body again. "Your... arm. It's... something I try not to do. Hurt people who aren't deserving."

You shift in discomfort and despite his serious tone, you let a little smirk escape. "Might be in the wrong profession for that."

He doesn't answer, and he doesn't move his gaze from your arm for a while. Slowly, he goes back to his work.

You know a joke probably wasn't the right response, but it makes you uncomfortable when people are too sincere. Unfortunately for you, sincerity seems to be his default setting. "Besides, have you considered I'm more deserving than you think? You haven't asked why he was trying to kill me."

He still doesn't ask. But you tell him anyway, after a moment's hesitation. "I killed his brother."

He stops looking at the blaster. You squirm again. Is he... angry? Surprised? Is he judging you? You don't like it.

"Everyone is somebody's brother, Mando."

"I know."

He says it quietly, softly, and you can hear in his voice that he means it. He knows. The same way you know.

"Something you should know about me, though..." you offer a more genuine tone. "I try not to hurt people who don't deserve it, either."

From the way he slows his movements, you can see he's listening and he takes your meaning, but he says nothing in return. It really makes you want to tell him the whole story - to prove that you're more than a ruthless killer - but you bite back the words. You don't know why you feel you owe him an explanation.

Instead, you just stand up and walk closer. "Another thing you should know: I pay my debts. So..." You hesitate, pulse quickening as you lower your voice. "Maybe there's another way I could show you my appreciation."

Both his hands go still. "You don't owe me anything."

You bite your lip nervously, then decide to take another chance and push further. "Maybe I want to, anyway."

You watch his helmet for any sign, any reaction. Nothing. Your heart is thrumming wildly now, but you force yourself not to look away.

He places the gun down flat on the table and his helmet tilts just slightly in your direction. "What you're thinking... is a bad idea."

A jolt of excitement runs through you. You'd expected an immediate "no".

"Oh? I don't think so. Why do you think so?"

When he turns to look at you properly, in this close proximity, it's the first time you realize how big he is. His shoulders dwarf you on both sides. "Call it intuition."

"Maybe your intuition isn't as good as you think it is."

The broad chest in front of you slowly rising and falling is the only movement between the two of you. "Kept me alive this long."

"So what is your intuition telling you about me, exactly?" you press, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

You catch the faintest shift beneath the fabric covering his neck.

"That you're as likely to fuck me..." He leans his head down, lowering his voice even further. "...as you are to kill me."

Your whole body tingles with electricity, his velvet voice raising the hair on the back of your neck. You can hardly breathe your words back at him, but you force yourself to speak. "So you're afraid of me?"

He pauses, and you wait. It's a line you've used before on many a hunter, and you can't wait to see the effect it will have on him. They love to assert dominance. You can tell it'll drive him where you want him to go.

But you keep waiting, and his hands don't move. His body remains where it is. He finally shifts his weight to his other leg and speaks.

"What is it that you want from me?"

This throws you. You're pinned beneath the intensity of his black stare, and you open your mouth just to close it again with no response. You mentally cycle through several lies and irreverant, vulgar comments. Finally, you settle on the truth. "A... distraction."

Another pause. You know it's impossible to see, but his expression behind the metal seems so clear. Somehow, you know his eyes are fixed on yours, and that his brows are dark, and that they're raised at you. "That's it?"

You swallow. "That's it."

He shifts almost imperceptibly closer to you. "And if the poison hits you? What then?"

"I told you, that won't happen for another couple of hours."

"That's why I asked."

Fuck. That shoots straight to your core, making you bold enough to carefully, tentatively reach out a hand and graze his armored stomach with your fingertips.

He lets you drop your fingers lower to where his belt hangs, and then he speaks again, voice a little thicker, a little more breath behind it.

"How do I know you even know what you're doing? It could be affecting you already."

You're distracted with tracing a line across his belt, slipping your fingers behind it to feel the fabric padding his armor. You don't answer right away. He stops your hand when it slides behind his belt to remove it.

"I asked you a question."

You look back up at him, loving the way his voice surrounds you, up close like this. "You want to know if I'm drugged? I'm not. That's not how it works."

His neck rolls to the side a bit as he inspects you, clearly weighing whether or not to believe you. He's still holding your wrist, but you push against his grip and unclip his belt, grasping it with one hand. "If you don't believe it, ask me a question. Test me."

His belt makes a heavy clinking sound as you set it down on the table next to his blaster.

The Mandalorian says nothing.

You slowly and carefully lift up the fabric covering his stomach, giving yourself access to his waistline.

The Mandaloran says nothing.

Your breath is getting quicker and more shallow with every second. You slowly separate a line between the bottom of his armor and the top of his pants, revealing a strip of beautifully tan skin.

The Mandalorian says nothing.

Your fingertips glide over him, almost working of their own accord, and you hear a whisper of a breath through the modulator when you dip your thumbs first upward, to briefly feel the muscle beneath his shirt, and then down to stretch his waistband and allow you to get into his pants properly.

His stomach pulls inward and the contact seems to jolt him into finally speaking. "What star system was the hangar in? What planet was it orbiting?"

You're holding up his shirt with one hand as your other one is moving steadily downward, underneath his clothes.

"I don't know," you answer. "Some scummy little backwater."

You press closer to him to get the angle you need. "Can't remember the name," you murmur absently as your hand brushes the warmth of him, half-hard and growing harder.

He stifles a modulated inhalation when you brush your palm softly over him, his helmet falling forward.

"Good enough."

You feel a wild thrill run through you at his permission, but you're too fixated on the feel of him to look up. He's getting harder now, the front of his pants straining to keep him contained, and as you drop your hand lower, you start to realize you may have asked for more than you can handle. He's thick, and as the palm of your hand brushes over his head, your eyes widen at his size.

You look up at him inquisitively, a thought crossing your mind that hadn't before. "Human... right?"

He gives a single low puff of air that sounds almost like a laugh, and he pulls your hand back, stepping to the side and crowding you up against the table.

"You want a distraction," he says, placing a gloved hand over your hip. "I can give you that."

He uses the other hand to start unclipping your belt, not looking down. "But that's all I can give you. Understand?"

The belt gets set down next to his own, and you look over at it, then back up at him. You swallow, trying to keep the arousal out of your expression and forcing a smirk instead. "That's all I need, Mando."

His voice tightens up, low and in the back of his throat when he grabs your hips and twists you around to face the table, yanking your pants down.

"Good."

One of his gloves drops beside you onto the floor and the next thing you feel are his bare fingers dragging through your wet cunt. Your shoulders immediately go slack and your back arches before you can really think about it, giving him better access when you spread your legs. You let out a little "ah," and cut your own air short when he turns his hand flat and slides his open palm from your ass down between your legs, middle two fingers lying flat against your pussy.

He hums low in his chest, the modulator turning it into a noise so deep it's almost grinding, as he palms you. He doesn't come close to your entrance, doesn't let his fingers wander. It just seems like he wants to feel as much of you as he can, all at once. Like he's claiming you, mapping out territory he intends to own.

You're seeing stars with the slow brush of his hand, wishing his fingers would spread out and tease you properly, and finally, blessedly, they do. The thick pads of his fingers are surprisingly soft. It makes sense, you think absently - they're always covered in gloves. His hands would be soft, his fingertips smooth.

But you're wrong - the tips of his fingers glide against your skin, but when he shoves them deep inside you, burying himself to the knuckles, you can feel the coarseness of his hands. He's got callouses across all his knuckles, a testament to the brutality of his fists. His fingers were made for pulling triggers. The rest of his hands are worn by years of less civilized use. You moan when he twists them inside you, making you ache for more as he drags them slowly in and out.

He holds you down like this, pressing you into the makeshift table and pumping his fingers deftly, methodically, in perfect pace with the arches of your spine. You're pressing your own fingers down against the metal surface in front of you, eyes closed and focused only on the way he's effortlessly drawing the pleasure out of you like it's his job. Like it's something that comes to him so naturally that he's just silently absorbed in the pattern of it. You can feel the way he flexes his wrist against your inner thigh each time he presses up and into you and his rhythm is relentless, measured and perfectly in control.

Your eyes pop open of their own accord, your vision slightly blurred when he suddenly changes the pace to curl one finger further than the other, finding the perfect spot inside you, brushing over the bundle of nerves that makes you want to howl. Instead, you grit your teeth and take in a shallow, sharp breath.

"Fuck, Mando. That's so- you're gonna make me..."

You're already panting for him and it's only been a few minutes. He's about to shatter you, with only a single, steady hand.

"Shit," you squeeze your eyes closed again, a whine entering your tone. You're nearing the edge when a soft beeping starts to drift down from the cockpit.

"Shit," Mando says, in a tone completely different from yours.

He slows his movements as you buck against his hand, embarrassingly desperate to keep him touching you. But as the alert continues to go off, you feel him pulling back, and finally stopping altogether. You suppress a noise rising in the back of your throat, blinking and looking over your shoulder. His palm flattens over your back, pressing you down.

"Stay."

His single instruction sends electricity through your every nerve - and it's not just the way he delivers the word. It's the sound of his voice. It's deeper, fuller, richer. It's heavy with everything he's not saying aloud. When he stood behind you silently pulling you apart, the heat was building in him, too, and now you've heard the evidence.

You feel him adjust himself before walking away, leaving you bent over, spread for him. As soon as he disappears up the ladder to the cockpit, though, your nature of disobedience wins you over and you decide not to be left alone. You remove your boots, stepping out of the pants that were left around your ankles and shrug out of your vest, leaving only your untucked shirt to cover your naked body down to the tops of your thighs. You follow him up the ladder and back to the cockpit.

He's sitting, looking a bit uncomfortable, when you find him at the ship's controls. He doesn't turn around.

"Thought I told you to stay."

A grin emerges as you softly roll your eyes. "You did."

You round the side of his chair and his helmet tilts in your direction, then abruptly tilts the rest of the way when he sees what you're wearing. Your shirt is low-cut and the full curve of both breasts is visible through the thin fabric. You clasp your hands behind your back and shrug, then release. "I told you to distract me. Guess we both didn't get what we wanted."

You're standing at his knee, now, and he's looking at you while pressing a few buttons on the side. "Needed to change coordinates. Fuel consumption is too high. We won't make it to our original destination."

He's still working at the controls, but as you press nearer, he turns his seat toward you and starts to spread your legs with his knee. "Would have been back in a minute."

Your eyes flick down to what he's doing, and you place a hand over the metal covering his leg. "Didn't want to wait."

You watch him continue to input new coordinates as you lower yourself down onto his thigh, eyes fluttering a bit when the heat between your legs makes contact with cool metal. You've gotten wetter just standing in front of him, and the slickness covering both of your inner thighs is now wrapped around his leg.

Your clit pulses with need when he leans back in his chair, broad and stiff, muscles tensed as he takes you in. His left hand is still punching in coordinates, but his right one falls to your leg, holding you on top of him.

You start to grind into his armor, searching for contact any way you can get it. You drag your pussy across him, over and over again, riding him, working yourself up as he gives you half-attention, still typing instructions into the ship's computer.

Somehow his casual indifference makes you burn more, and you start to rock your hips down, grinding over the cool brown metal. When he finally finishes his work, both of his hands shoot up to unfasten the clasp at the top of your shirt, revealing more of the smooth skin of your chest.

When he realizes that the clasp doesn't open your shirt all the way, his motions are laced with impatience, almost irritation, as he drops his arms down and grabs the bottom of your shirt. You give no resistance when he pulls it over you, leaving you naked, breasts inches from his face.

...from his helmet.

It's unnerving, not seeing a reaction of any kind. It makes you feel like prey. And although you didn't think it was possible, it makes you wetter than you already were.

He drops one ungloved hand to squeeze your breast and drags it across your soft skin. Then he palms himself, watching you.

"That feel good?" he rumbles, dark visor fixated on your movements.

You arch your back more, displaying yourself for him as you rub your slick pussy up and down the length of his stiff thigh. "Mm." You can't give a proper answer at the moment, too lost in the thrill of riding him.

He gets your attention, though, when he drops his hand from an open palm down inside his clothes, pulling out his cock and starting to stroke it for you. He's slow, languid with his movements, jerking himself softly and with a focused intensity.

It's all you can do not to moan at the sight, your eyebrows pushing together in a pathetic expression of need.

"Stars, you look good, Mando. Let me sit in your lap." You watch his grip tighten. "Please."

His lazy strokes become more intentional, more heated. You try not to let your movements become ragged the same heat pools in your stomach. "Pl-"

You're about to repeat the word "please", but you only get half of it out before he's grabbing you by the waist and pulling you off of himself. He stands up and turns your body, standing you next to the chair and forcing your shoulders down, bending you over it.

He slides the head of his cock through your wetness, pushing up against you, pressing inside. You almost choke at the relief after spending so much time rocking against him, feeling so empty, but you choke instead at the fullness of him stretching you open.

Gasping, you grip the hand rest of the seat that's in front of your face. As he presses in further, you suck in a string of curses through your teeth. He pauses, holding your hips still and letting his swollen head sink slowly, slowly deeper. After only an inch or two, he pulls back out, letting the muscles of your legs relax. He lets you breathe for a moment before he pushes back in, sliding shallowly back and forth, as your pussy gives him more room.

It takes a long few moments for you to stop clutching the hand rest, but once he's slicked with you and starting to push in all the way, his movements become more even, more fluid, and your eyes roll back in your head as you feel every inch.

"Oh, fuck-" you groan, head tipping forward as he starts to move his hips at an even pace, burying his cock deeper and deeper with each thrust.

He splays one hand flat over your back, pounding into you and striking up against the spot that makes you shudder with bliss. You're starting to hear soft grunts escaping the strangle of his modulator, barely audible but enough to send you over the edge.

He fucks you perfectly, giving you exactly what you need until you're almost begging for the relief of orgasm to pull you back from the brink of losing your mind. And then he lets you.

"Shit, shit. Shit."

You grind out the words, barely registering that you're talking at all, and you tumble over the edge, groaning and squeezing at the chair to keep yourself upright as he steadily pounds into you, not stopping, not slowing until you sigh, shakily pushing yourself up and turning to face him.

"Fuck," you smile, wiping the hair from your eyes. "Fuck, that was good."

He's still inside you, sliding in and out, slow and controlled. He doesn't answer you right away, just keeps fucking up into you, waiting for your shaking breaths to subside. Then he grips the side of your hip and pushes, letting you feel every part of him inside you. "Yeah?"

You nod, blinking up at him, drained and delirious. "Yeah. So fucking good."

His voice is so deep it sends a shiver up your spine when he leans close. You could swear you actually feel the bass in his tone as it rumbles through the muscles of your back. "Then why are you smiling?"

"Hm?" You're caught so off-guard you can't even form a word in reply. You're still buzzing from your orgasm as he pulls out of you, yanking you up from the chair and sliding back into the chair himself. He drops you into his lap, making you gasp when he positions himself back at your entrance and shoves you down on his cock in one hard thrust.

"Let's get rid of that fucking smile."

Before you can say anything back, he puts two fingers into your mouth and you suck them, jaw slack and willing, so overstimulated from the sensation of him fucking you hard and deep like this that you can hardly breathe. He rips the fingers from your wet mouth, dropping them between your legs and stroking, firm and relentless and perfect. He circles your clit until your voice is a high, keening, wrecked thing and you're bouncing on his cock, recklessly seeking a second high. It comes over you quickly, ripping through you without mercy this time, and making you whimper brokenly as you impale yourself over and over on his stiff cock.

When you finally finish - really finish, and you're left panting, completely unable to form a coherent thought, you feel him start to twitch inside you, pulsing with the final few thrusts, and he lifts you off of himself, releasing his cock with a vulgar, wet sucking sound.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-"

He drops you back into his lap with his cock warm against your pussy, your legs spread wide as he shoots hot, thick ropes of cum over the both of you. You reach down to grip him, pumping every last drop out of him until he's spent over your stomach and legs, his chest rising and falling raggedly against your back.

You lie there against him, unable to think, or move, and hardly able to breathe, for a long, long time.

After so much time has passed that you feel guilty for sinking your weight into him, you finally stand up and bend over to pick up your discarded shirt. He extricates himself from you, tucking his softening cock back into his pants as he leaves the cockpit, mumbling something like, "Be right back."

When he returns with a damp cloth, he finds you staring at the chrono behind the second chair, your eyes unfocused but your face concerned. You snap to attention when he enters. He starts to gently swipe up the mess he's made on your stomach, and looks over to where you're staring.

"What?"

"Why does that say 17:00 standard hours?"

He pauses. "Because that's the time."

You tear your eyes from the glowing numbers to look at him. "That's the current time?"

He seems to register what you're saying, and answers more slowly. "Yeah. That's the time."

"Then why does that one say 14:00?" you ask, heartbeat slowly quickening as you point at another chrono.

"Oh," he says quietly. "These are all set to local time."

"Even the one in the cargo hold?"

He nods the helmet once, slowly, then turns back to the one in front of you. "That's the only one I keep at standard time."

A smile crosses your face and breaks out into a wide grin as you read it again, just to be sure. You could kill him right now, but honestly, it doesn't matter. You can't stop smiling.

It's been five hours.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #Mandalorian #mando #pedro pascal

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swampstew · 1 year

Text

Truth or Dare

Summary: Eustass Kid was obsessed with the new Witch on his ship under his custody, and the feeling was mutual. As the two flirt between the lines of frenemies and associates, Killer suggests a game. What could go wrong? Will they choose Truth and admit their feelings, or will they choose Dare and engage in reckless activities? Scene from my OP Fanfiction - edited so it can be read as a self insert. Let me know if you like it and want me to pull/edit the other book smut scenes.

WC: 3.6K CW: 18+; NSFW; sex under the influence but consented to; alcohol consumption; oral sex; penetration - PIV; AFAB reader x Eustass Kid

M!n0rs DNI! You will be blocked

Kid watched them all partying, a cheeky grin on his face. The crew kept singing until the song ended; crowd and band dispersed to get more liquor. Killer swayed over to Kid; the man always got a little too sassy when he had too much to drink. “You gonna join in on the fun, Captain?”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“You never let loose. Even before the Witch joined us. We’ve made it to the New World Kid, try to enjoy yourself a little.”

He sighed, draining his glass. “What do you suggest I do then?”

Killer clasped his hands together before separating them slowly, “let’s play a game.” Kid rolled his eyes. “Let’s play truth or dare,” the tone in his voice irked Kid.

“And why the fuck would we do that?”

“Because its fuuuuuuuun.”

“We’re not children we’re pirates you drunk.”

“I’m trying to help you, idiot.”

“And do tell how exactly this helps.”

“Well for one, it builds morale amongst your crew. For two, playing this game with (Y/N) will either mean she tells us more about herself, orrrrr,” he giggled, “or she can be dared to do things.”

Kid narrowed his eyes, “We’re not making her do anything weird.”

Killer shook his head vigorously. “Noooo nothing weird but like say I dared her to kiss you in front of all of us.”

“I can fucking kiss her whenever I want without you bitches watching as an audience. Also weren’t you the one who told me to keep my dick away from her?”

Killer nodded, “Yeah but it’s also very obvious how into her you are. Also, I see the way she eye-fucks you when you’re not looking. She waaaants you,” he teased.

Kid turned as red as his hair, “Sh-SHUT UP!” He stomped to the barrel, filling his glass once more.

Killer grabbed the microphone and announced the game, the pirates all whooped and cheered. Groaning, Kid covered his face. (Y/N) was laughing, mixed in with some of the men, she appeared to have grown used to the strong drink as she lapped it up. She walked to the barrel to refill her glass. “You gonna play too?” Kid asked.

“I’ve never played so yes,” she giggled, taking a small sip. Kid groaned again, “I’m gonna kill Killer.” She laughed, tugging on his coat, she led him to the deck where the crew started taking seats on the ground in a large circle. Killer stood in the middle, waiting for everyone to pay attention to him. He quickly explained the rules and began the game.

“Heat – truth or dare.”

“Uhhh truth.”

“Okay, tell us, how the FUCK are you able to breathe fire?”

Heat began to blush, eyes downcast. After a minute, he closed his eyes and said, “when I was a kid, I stole a pepper from this farmer, there was some type of festival going on, I don’t remember. I was starving and it was huge. I ate it, and it was the hottest goddamn thing that I have ever had in my mouth. I swallowed it and I remember steam escaping out of my nose and ears. I cried out for water, but instead of words, fire came out, and I accidentally burned down the event. I’ve been able to breathe fire ever since,” the man shoved a hand through his hair until it fell over half his face.

“Hahaha that’s awesome!” Kid exclaimed, laughing. Heat blushed even more, red coloring up his pale complexion. Killer called him to the middle, it was his turn to pick a victim. The game wore on for several minutes before a crew member picked on the Witch.

“Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

Everyone oooooh’d, Kid narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever regretted killing anyone?”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her chin, musing for a moment. “No. Every person I’ve killed has deserved it. I do regret torturing sailors when I was on Thriller Bark because I was forced into doing so by Gecko Moira. But as far as people I’ve killed, every person has been an enemy of the Straw Hats or was a Marine. So no, I don’t have any regrets about those I’ve killed.” The crew nodded in approval and Kid lifted his drink to her, taking a swig. Taking one herself, she got up in the center, looking for her victim. Her eyes zeroed in on Kid, and he internally winced.

“Truth or Dare Kid.”

“Dare, obviously”

“Hmmmm, I dare you to…..make me my own fur coat, yours is hella cozy.”

Killer popped up, “I made the coat! He can’t sew for shit, so I’ll do it. Do a new Dare!” Kid snarled at him, but (Y/N) was laughing.

“Ok ok ok. Kid, I dare you to…say one nice thing to each of your crew.” Kid groaned out loud, but the men started cheering him on. Getting up, he walked up to each man and gave them a compliment. He hated every minute of it, but he did have a sense of relief, seeing his men beaming at him for each compliment he gave out. That wasn’t too bad, he thought. As he went back to his seat, Killer pointed at the center stage. Groaning again, Kid stood in the middle, draining his drink.

“(Y/N) Truth or Dare.”

“What?! I was just up there!”

“Do it” the crew chanted.

“Fine Dare.”

The redhead smirked, “I dare you to be my drink wench for the rest of the night. I need a refill now,” he let his glass dangle on his pinky. She rolled her eyes, walking up and taking his glass, refilling it. The crew and Witch played many rounds of the game, she dutifully refilled Kid’s glass at least three more times before she was called on again.

“Truth or Dare?” called out a pirated named Boogie.

“Dare”

“I dare you to give us a show, sing for us!” the crew began banging hands on the deck.

To her credit, (Y/N) put on a show, clearly enjoying singing, her voice was playful as she changed her tone and pitch during the first few songs. Sometimes she sang with a husky voice, evoking a sense of lustiness during the songs. She danced along the beat shaking her hips, Kid ate her up with his eyes. She met his eyes during a verse, singing:

You and your museum of lovers The precious collection you've housed in your covers My simpleness threatened by my own admission And the bags are much too heavy In my insecure condition My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again

Her voice sounded lusty; Kid’s mouth was drier than a desert island. She spun around dancing on stage, continuing the song, the crew cheering and whooping. She locked eyes with him again as she sang on:

But I still love to wash in your old bathwater You make me feel like I couldn't love another I can't help it you’re my kind of man Why do the good girls always want the bad boys

She winked playfully at him as she sang that line. He was losing his grip. Smirking at her, he held up his empty cup. As the song ended, he told Killer to take over the set, (Y/N) made her way to him and refilled their glasses. “You’re not a bad singer,” he nodded at her.

“Aww I’m glad I finally got my compliment,” she giggled at him. He looked at her confused for a moment.

“Your dare was to compliment everyone on my crew – or are you considering yourself one of us now?” he smirked. She opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it again, realizing his words.

“Fair enough” she shrugged.

“I was serious though, didn’t expect that from you.”

“I’m full of wonderful surprises.”

“I look forward to discovering them all,” he responded, taking another large swig. They both blushed at his words. “You look good in red,” he spoke into the glass. It was the truth, the halter top she wore made his eyes zero in on her breasts, her ass looked amazing in the leather pants. Flipping her hair off to the side, she thanked him, cheeks fully flushed. She took another sip of her rum when he looked into her eyes. “Truth or Dare?”

(Y/N) gulped, “we’re still playing?”

“I am.”

“Truth.”

“Who is the most attractive person on this ship?”

“Easy, me.” Kid rolled his eyes at her.

“Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to take me somewhere nice.”

“Right now?”

“Surprise me.”

He closed his eyes thinking. “Ok, it won’t be now then. Truth or Dare?”

(Y/N) drained her glass, “Dare.”

“I dare you to do the first thing that pops into your mind right now.” She hiccupped, eyes growing wide.

“I-I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Her face and neck turned red, “I just can’t.” He looked her over before taking her to the rum barrels, topping of their glasses one last time. Kid looked back, his crew were entirely engrossed in the show Killer was putting on, so he grabbed (Y/N)'s hand and led her to the Crow’s Nest, which was thankfully empty. He let her climb up first, he wanted the excuse to look at her ass as she shimmied up the ladder. They shut the door behind them and they sat together on the red velvet bench.

“Is this better?” She nodded shyly, eyes on the floor. “Ok then, you have a Dare to fulfill.” She took a tiny sip of her drink before putting the glass down on the floor. Kid held on to his glass with a death grip. He watched as she took a deep breath in and exhaled. “You don’t have to be so nervous around me,” he snickered.

“Shut up!” she cried, twisting her hair. She dropped the strand, putting all her weight on her hands that had gripped the seat, she leaned forward and kissed Kid, pressing her soft lips against his. He kissed her back, licking her lower lip with his tongue, he parted her lips and explored her mouth. They made out for a few minutes before she pulled back, lightly panting, she pulled up her glass and took another swig. Looking back at him, his lipstick was smeared slightly, and she wiped her face with the back of her hand, noting the stains that came off on her hand. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“How often do you sleep around?” she asked shyly. Kid blinked.

“Uhm, I don’t exactly keep track. If the mood strikes, I might act on it. I don’t always though. Why?”

“Just playing the game,” she muttered.

“Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Are you single?” he took a drink.

“Yes.” She took a drink as well. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Tell me the truth, what do you think of me?”

Kid took a breath, “I don’t know what to make of you sometimes. You’re talented, strong, and fucking gorgeous, but sometimes you’re completely antisocial and I’m left wondering if you even like being here.”

“I don’t hate being here, but I do miss my crew. They were my friends and we got forced apart in the most violent of ways. I miss our adventures and all, but I know that we all must get stronger if we’re going to survive the New World. I like your crew; heh I even like you. Just trying to make sure I stay in my lane.”

“Truth or Dare?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, draining her glass. “God how are we still playing this game? Dare.”

His eyes were dark, “I dare you to kiss me again.”

She let out a tiny gasp, turning red again. “I don’t know about th—” he cut her off.

“You chose dare, now face the consequences.”

She let out a whine, standing up and pacing. He leaned back against the bench, legs spread open, arms hanging on the back. Maybe the liquor had finally gone to his head, or maybe he was just desperate to see what she would do, but he was not backing down from this. Finally, she took a tentative step towards him, then another, finally walking up straight to him. She sat on his thigh and leaned in, kissing him again, she took one arm and hooked it around his neck and used her other hand to trail her fingers over his muscular arms and chest. Kid angled his head so he could deepen the kiss, his hand was still holding his glass. He tossed it across the room and gripped (Y/N)'s waist, pulling her legs over so she was straddling his hips.

As they continued kissing, his hands trailed over her body, lightly touching her; she did the same to him, both hands tracing the lines of his abs and pecs. He brought a hand down, cupping her ass, and she sighed into him. “More,” she whispered. He took his other hand and squeezed her breast. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth as she began panting. She could feel him hardening underneath her and she made no motions to get off. She pressed her pelvis down against him, earning a growl from the large man, who moved his head and bit down on her neck. She let out a small shriek. He bit down again, licking the tender spot. He finally let go and pulled back from her, his lipstick had stained her neck and jaw.

“Take your top off,” he commanded. She did as she was told, and he watched her large breasts bounce freely when the top was thrown off. He had one hand still on her waist, and he gripped her tightly, enjoying the way his hands looked digging into her flesh. He pulled her forward, taking one breast into his mouth as he sucked on her nipple, pinching, and teasing the other with his free hand. She let out tiny gasps and pants that drove him wild, biting and sucking more intensely. She began to ground her pelvis on his erection, and he growled at her, eyes closing at the sensation as it gripped his body. He let her do this a few times before picking her up and pushing her in his former position. Now that she was seated, he leaned her backwards and began tugging her pants off.

Underneath she wore a pair of maroon panties that hugged her ass cheeks. His fingers dug into the materials, softly rubbing her at her entrance. Her panting was louder now, she even gave off a few delicious sounding moans, the material quickly soaking under his touch. He let out a guttural growl as he pushed the material aside and licked up her slit, her juices flowed freely on his tongue as he lapped her up. His tongue was restless, dragging along her clitoris when he trailed upwards, and thrusting inside her core when he travelled downwards. Her moaning become insistent and louder, her fingers scraping against his scalp as she tugged on his hair, trying to pull him closer inside of her. He continued with tonguing her delicious pussy. He began to feel her walls clenching on him, and he pulled his tongue out, replacing it with his fingers.

He pumped two of them in and out of her, his mouth finding her nipple again, he sucked on that while he fingered her quickly. It didn’t take long for her to orgasm, her walls clenched over his fingers and he felt her pulsate as the orgasm washed over her. She let out a wail of moans as she rutted against his fingers. When she was done, he pulled his fingers out of her pussy and into her mouth. She lapped herself up, and his mouth found hers, tongue fighting against hers to take back some of her taste to his mouth. (Y/N)’s fingers started tugging on his pants, and wasting no time, he yanked them down to his ankles.

His cock sprang forward, no longer being held down by constraints, and she eyed it hungrily. He was massive, and she gulped, wondering if he would even fit inside her. She ran her fingers over his tip, slowly running them down his length, his cock bobbed from the contact, his hips lightly thrusted forward. She gripped him and began to slowly pump him, her eyes locked on to his cock not letting it leave her sight. She leaned forward and took him in her mouth and he gasped, enjoying the feeling of her hot little mouth on his tip. He thrusted in her, burying himself down her throat as she ran her tongue on his underside. She took him in and out, her hand palming his base as she lowered her lips to meet her hand and then pull back. The sensation made his legs feel like jelly, but Kid stood there taking it, watching the Witch take him with her mouth as he growled in pleasure.

He let (Y/N) have her way with him before he pulled out, pumping himself a few times, he lowered his body down, looking in her eyes. “Please, I need you,” she whispered to him, irises blown up, lust in her voice. He nodded and he pulled her forward by her hips. He lined his cock up to her entrance and he entered her slowly. He gasped at the sensation, her wetness let him slide in with ease and he could feel her pussy stretching around his cock, allowing him in deeper. Kid was no stranger to sex but this was different. He felt fucking fantastic as he watched his cock slowly slide into (Y/N), her face was scrunched up in pleasure, moaning as he slid his cock deeper inside her, inch by delicious inch. He was dumbstruck, impressed with her ability to take him in completely, his length disappearing into her tight hole. He let out his own pants and groans, his cock stuffed inside her, his balls began to lightly slap against her ass as he began thrusting in and out of her, at a comfortable pace for them both.

(Y/N)'s eyes were half closed, hands gripping his shoulders as he continued rutting against her. She let out tiny pleas of “yes, more, faster” as he followed her wishes. He could feel her orgasm building as his tip rubbed against a spongey spot inside of her and that was when she got wild. She let out little screams of pleasure as he rubbed against the spot, nails digging into his shoulder and back. He started thrusting faster, her walls clenching his cock as he moved in and out. He started losing rhythm as his thrusting became bucking into her. He could feel his cock hitting her cervix as it bounced off, but he couldn’t stop. “Fuck fuck I’m gonna come,” she cried into his chest.

“Yes (Y/N), come for me. Cream all over my cock - I want to shoot a load in you,” he panted over her. That made her wail yes over and over as her orgasm rocked her. She clenched her pussy around his cock as the waves crashed over her, biting his neck, squealing into him, she shuddered throughout it. That made him drive straight off the edge, he felt the heat buildup in his tip and then he was coming inside of her, letting out a primal groan. He overfilled her, cum dripping out as he kept thrusting into her, pooling into a puddle on the floor, beads soaking into the bench fabric. She tightened her hold on him, legs wrapped around his waist as she let out a final cry of pleasure, resting her head against his heaving chest. He rutted against her a few more times, catching his breath, finished spilling his seed inside of her, he stilled holding her body against his tightly. He breathed into her hair, closing his eyes trying to steady his heart. She held on equally as tightly. His cock began to soften and he pulled out. Before he could pull his pants up, she gripped his cock. Without a word, she lapped up their combined juices off his length, her tongue flicking his slit, she licked it clean, finally letting go. He pulled his pants up. She quickly pulled on her own clothes.

They both collapsed into the bench, his arm around her shoulder, both heads laying against the headrest as they steadied their breathing. They sat in silence for a while before Kid lifted his head, “I wonder if they’re still out there.” (Y/N) shrugged, not moving. Turning his face to hers, he kissed her again. “I wasn’t expecting the night to end like this, but I’m glad nonetheless,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek trailing it down to her lips. She nodded against him, sucked in his bottom lip between her own, not wanting to let go. He chuckled against her, thumbing her cheek. “Don’t get greedy, we have plenty of time together.” She huffed at him and he chuckled again, he wasn’t used to her acting this cute.

They spent time together in the Crow’s Nest talking for a few hours, waiting for the last pirate to clear from the deck before they climbed down the hatch. He dropped her off at her door, giving her a goodnight kiss, well embrace since she wrapped her arms around his neck. Kid was left wanting more as she closed the door, but he had a feeling that if he didn’t go to his room, he might never leave her side again. He headed towards his cabin, before he could enter, he saw Killer pop his head out of his room, giving him a thumbs up/down motion. Kid rolled his eyes and gave Killer his middle finger, slamming his door shut.

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~

#swampstew #swampstew stories #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid x you #one piece eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #one piece kid #eustass kid x y/n #op kid #what's the magic word?#reimagined #eustass kid smut #op smut

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ljf613 · 10 months

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1, 9, and 10 for Encanto :)

1. the character everyone gets wrong Not a specific character, per se, but I think people tend to misunderstand what's really happening in "We Don't Talk About Bruno"-- and, by extension, how the Madrigals (and the rest of the Encanto) actually feel about Bruno. At face value, the song claims that nobody talks about Bruno because he's creepy and weird and bad luck they all kind of hate him. Which may make a little bit of sense if all we were shown was that one song... but when you actually look at the whole movie, it doesn't add up. If we'd rather pretend Bruno doesn't exist, why is he being painted into brand-new murals featuring a nephew he's never met? Why are we even going into a whole long rant about how much we don't like him instead of hushing it all up? Why would he be the one consulted when Mirabel didn't get a gift? Why does Julieta tell Mirabel that Bruno "lost his way in this family"? Why does Abuela argue that "Bruno didn't care about this family"? And why is everyone so quick to welcome him back at the end-- not to mention absolutely ecstatic about his return? Because the real reason they're all so upset is not because of Bruno's gift-- it's because he left. They're angry and hurt that he would pick up and disappear without a word of explanation. They feel betrayed. And they also feel guilty, because deep down they think that their displeasement with his prophecies might have driven him away. And those aren't pleasant feelings. They're painful and messy and extremely uncomfortable. It's just so much easier for everyone to tell themselves that they're better off without him. To think about all the reasons they shouldn't want him around. To say that they don't need to blame themselves because Bruno was the one who was always in the wrong. To focus on all the little wounds and resentments of the past rather than on the gaping hole that's been left in their lives. Because the truth is that they all love Bruno just as much as he loves them. (I also think a lot of people fundamentally misunderstand Mirabel's motivations and character arc, but that's a rant for another time.)

9. worst part of canon I don't like the way that, right in the middle of the story, Dolores is suddenly treated like a blabbermouth who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. This makes no sense. We know that Dolores can keep a secret-- not only did she manage to hide her crush from everyone, she also knew exactly where Bruno was for ten years without ever telling anyone. Not to mention that she can literally hear everything going on in the entire town, which means she probably knows lots of secrets that she's kept to herself.

10. worst part of fanon People who include DNIs in their fanfics. (Especially when they do it in the tags. Those are supposed to be used to explain what the actual story is about! They're there to help the readers!) Imagine trying to police who can and can't read your publicly posted stories because you don't agree with what ships they like.

Send me an ask that may incite violence.

#encanto #thoughts #ask me stuff #choose violence #bruno madrigal #we don't talk about bruno #dolores madrigal #anti anti shipping #i have seen some truly awful ships in plenty of the fandoms i've written for #and i'm not going to read fics for them but what do i care if those fic writers want to enjoy MY stories #they're not going to contaminate me by reading words i wrote #thanks for the ask!#all queued up

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sxvenz · 2 years

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rules / requesting ♔

this will discuss rules to follow when interacting with this blog, as well as how/what/when to request !

Rules

What I don’t write

What I do write

Requesting

Basic Rules :

when interacting with this blog, do not be rude / demanding and do not ask any admins personal questions.

rudeness isn’t excused; I will not answer your ask nor fulfill your request. respect on the internet is very important. please respect mine and one another’s privacy.

minors do not interact with any n*sfw posts on my blog or you will be blocked. sfw posts are fine.

while I can’t stop every minor from viewing mature writing and I understand it’s pretty normal, it would be morally wrong of me to encourage it. It makes me uncomfortable knowing teens or children may be reading my content, so please respect me and my blog. have your age in your bio if you choose to interact with my n*sfw works.

I do not answer every single ask/request that I receive; if I intend to fulfill your request, then it will be on my to do list.

I don’t always have time to answer every declined ask in my inbox and explain why, so if your request isn’t written in my To Do List within a few days, then please try another blog :)

Do not request for characters who are not listed in their fandom’s masterlist !

the only fandoms and characters I write for are all listed in my masterlists !

View my content responsibly !!

please respect yourself and your limits. My blog may have sensitive and possibly triggering content. Warnings will ALWAYS be provided.

What I do NOT write (off limits) :

I primarily do not write for minors

the only time I write for minors is when it’s very innocent, platonic, familial, or parental. It will NEVER be n*sfw.

I do not write shipping, crossovers, or character x character

it’s just not my thing !

I do not write male x male smut

while I wholeheartedly support any kind of gay relationship, I myself am a woman and I do not want to fetishize anyone in the community. I will write sfw male x male.

I do not write incest, pedophilia, racism, or any kind of bigotry

I might write pseudo-incest but that’s it. All of these mentioned topics are uncomfortable for me and in no way acceptable in the real world.

(TW!!) I will not take requests that include self-harm nor depressed reader

this rule is something I’m quite strict on; I believe this content can be extremely triggering and that many people do not view responsibly.

I will not go into detail about race nor body type unless it’s specific to the fic / request

I generally try to include everyone, especially in headcanons. I provide instances of different skin tones and hair types. If you have questions about this rule, please ask ! this rule is NOT strict.

What I do write / accept :

I allow anonymous requests

anon stays on to respect everyone’s privacy, but please don’t take advantage of this. if you’re a minor, respect me enough to not request any n*sfw content.

I do write platonic/familial relationships

these are so fun and cute, I accept child/teen! reader

I often write yandere/obsessive content, but I write regular content as well

It’s mostly soft! yandere, but warnings will always be provided

I do write dub-con, abuse, and other types of n*sfw content

trigger warnings will always be provided, please avoid this content if it could affect you negatively. minors dni with mature writing.

I do write poly relationships

character x reader x character (or more)

I do write any race / gender / sexuality

I do feel knowledgeable about these topics, but if I feel as though my writing won’t give you what you want, then I will recommend a different blog ! I generally try to include everyone, especially in general headcanons.

Requesting :

Whether or not requests are open will always be on my pinned navigation post !

If you send in a request while they are closed, then it’s very likely that I will just delete it. If I notice it’s similar to another request I’m currently working on, then I will just let you know when it’s posted.

QUESTIONS, ASKS, and THIRSTS are always open

I’m open to communicating with you guys always ! especially if you’re curious or confused about something.

Always check my wip. and to do list. before requesting

these are located on my pinned navi. page. checking these will help avoid repeat requests. If your request is similar to one listed, then I’ll just delete it.

Fandoms / Characters I write for

Fandoms I write for are all listed on my masterlist, which is on my pinned navi. post. In each fandom, every character I write for is listed. I won’t accept requests for characters that aren’t listed.

What you are welcome and allowed to request / send in:

scenarios, headcanons, drabbles, mtl’s

au’s (any kind is welcome in theory)

thirsts / ideas

general questions

venus

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bonky-n-steeb · 3 years

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𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #mob!steve #dark!bucky #mob!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader

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bakuroo-writings · 3 years

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Self Ship September Day Thirteen: Drunk with Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader, heart dividers made by @doinmybesthere

Warnings: female reader, alcohol mentions, iwa is very drunk, the other seijoh 4 members have been drinking as well but they’re not as drunk as Iwa, one suggestive line/euphemism, no beta. 18+ ONLY MINORS 17 AND UNDER AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI (i.e. do not like, reblog, comment, or follow).

Word count: 966

Walking into the bar, you immediately go in search of the troublemakers. You expected them to all hang out since Oikawa was visiting from Argentina, but you never expected to receive a phone call from Makki – and really never expected he’d end up being the responsible one – at a little after 1 am to hear that Iwaizumi needed to be picked up.

You were given no context as to why and you were in for the treat of your life when you saw Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off of one Oikawa Tooru. When his land on you, a giant smile lights up his red and flushed face and he throws up his hands.

Stumbling over to you, he shouts, “I LOVE YOU, Y/N! L-O-V-E YOU!”

You look at the other three troublemakers, “Is he okay?”

Before they can answer, a flush and red-faced Iwaizumi shouts in your ear, “LA LA LA LA LOVE YA, Y/N!”

You giggle when you hear Oikawa answer, “He got a little drunk.”

“Yeah, a little,” Mattsun snickers under his breath before taking a sip of his beer and speaking louder, “Never thought I’d see the day where Iwa is drunk.”

“I AM IN LOVE,” Iwaizumi shouts to the whole bar and you move to him, putting your arm under his shoulders to try and guide him to the exit so you can corral him into your car.

“Okay, big guy, come on. Time to go,” you turn to the other three, “Thank you for calling me. Stay safe on your way home, okay?”

The three all agree and turn back to the bar to order more drinks as you haul a very drunk Iwaizumi to the passenger seat of your car. You buckle him in and close the door then get in the driver’s side, debating on whether to take him to your place or his. If you picked his, you’d have to rifle through his jeans for his keys and try and keep Iwaizumi upright. But, if you picked yours, you’d have to carry a drunk Iwaizumi up many flights of stairs. You also don’t have clothes for him at your place.

‘His place it is,’ you think, starting the ignition and making your way to his apartment. A short drive later and you arrive at his apartment, parking the car then getting out to collect your very inebriated boyfriend. You open the door, lift him up, and, then, slam it shut, locking your car.

You chuckle again at Iwaizumi’s state and he looks at you questioningly, noting his eyes are a little glossy and unfocused.

At his look, you clarify, “You’re really drunk right now.”

He moves his face closer to yours, the alcohol on his breath fanning your face, “No, I’m not. You’re just blurry.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.”

“I can show you my ‘big guy’,” Iwaizumi slurs and heat rushes to your cheeks, but you don’t give that a response as you reach his door.

You have him lean against the wall and search his pockets for his keys, successfully finding them and unlocking the door. Placing your arm under him again, you get him inside and try to usher him to his shower but he sees his bed and just flops on it, instead. You do your best to remove his shoes, socks, jean, and jacket to leave him in his boxers and t-shirt to sleep. Unfortunately, his dead weight, combined with the way he lifts his arms, making grabby hands for you, and whining and flopping around, does nothing to help.

You huff out an exasperated sigh and he yawns and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Rolling your eyes, you give a pointed look, “Hajime, you’re drunk,” like it explains that it’s not easy to try and make him comfortable for sleeping.

With slurred speech, he leans up and cups your cheek, “You’re beautiful,” then he flops back down, light snores coming from him.

You sigh again, “Damn, you’re really drunk,” then turn him over so he’s lying on his stomach and you put a trash can by the side of his bed, along with a bottle of painkillers on his nightstand, leaving a cold tumbler of water with it.

You go to leave when you hear him mumble, “I really do love you, Y/n. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” then the snoring resumes and a giant smile graces your face.

The next morning, you’re in the kitchen making a hearty, greasy for breakfast for five when you hear a thump and a groan before Iwaizumi makes his appearance.

“Good morning,” you say softly and his head snaps up to see you, clad in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his shorts. “Did you sleep well, Hajime? Have a good night last night?”

At your last question, he groans, memories flooding back, “Y/n, look, I –“

“I love you, too, Hajime,” is all that comes out of your mouth after cutting him off.

He looks at you, shocked, then groans again before running a hand over his face, “I can’t believe the first time I told you ‘I love you’ was in a bar, full of drunk people, when I was drunk myself. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“Don’t be. It was honest and made me really happy. I loved it; it was perfect,” you walk over to him, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“Now, I invited over Mattsun, Oikawa, and Makki for breakfast so I’m gonna go shower quickly before they arrive,” you start to walk away from Iwaizumi when he grabs your hand and pulls you back to him, his hand cupping your cheek as he covers your lips with his, kissing you deeply.

He lets you go and, resting his head against yours, breathes out, “I love you, Y/n.”

general tag list: @chibishae34

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x female reader #🦊.onyx's writing #🍨.September Sweetheart Sundae

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skimblyshanks · 3 years

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Negativity and me rambling about discoursey topics below the cut. feel free to keep scrolling. Actually, I encourage it ilaushdfhasd Have a great day!

I want to talk bluntly here.

I know I probably come off like a jackass nowadays, and I don’t want to, but at the end of the day there’s a group of ppl who are going to continue spreading lies about people based on what they ship, how they read characters, or literally anything that they disagree on, and they don’t listen when you try and explain anything.

so I’m kinda tired and grumpy and I genuinely try not to address it because I know no one who i want to get through to will listen, but also I feel like if I don’t just make a big old post whining about it there will probably be more of those small, whinier posts that I delete after an hour or so. But anyway. People are going to call me and my friemds horrible things, and they’re not going to listen if we try and defend ourselves. Which. Old news. Already found that out last July-August.

Guess what? I was here last year. I missed most of the first drama of the year, that being Kittencourse 1.0, but I was dragged along for the ride every other time. And it was anti-shippers starting those dramas, every time. I probably wouldn’t have lebelled myself as anything if not for the fact that for half a year bullies were throwing around their weight and justifying it by being antis, even when their opponents were doing nothing wrong.

I was here when someone was harassed for months over a fanfiction. this person wasn’t some huge presence in the fandom; the fanfic wasn’t some bastion of the fandom. I don’t think most of us knew either person or fic until antis decided it would be fun to fuck with the account for months on end.

I began identifying as pro ship because at least the pro shippers didn’t seem to be going out of their way to be nasty.

You know the funny thing? For a long while the most problematic thing I shipped was Tugger shanks. Even now, the most problematic thing I ship is Munku pounce, which I will not hesitate to tell you is a comfort ship, as pounce is one of my comfort characters. Any other ship is between kittens and those in the nebulous young adult range, which doesn’t seem to match the Anti Council’s definition of problematic, given many of them had no issue following a blog openly labelling itself as pro ship when the spiciest ship was Pounce/Plato.

And that’s the other thing. I’ve been very open on this blog about being pro ship.

Every time I got a wave of followers who seemed v likely to be anti-shippers, I reblogged posts explaining my stance and hopefully making it clear that I was pro ship. Regardless, I ended up having these followers for months; I didn’t block them bc many of them didn’t make it clear either way what they felt, so I dared to assume they were alright following a pro shipper. Then of course a few months later: a pro ship DNI, maybe some soapboxing, and more than once this has been while they are still following me.

And the fact is, it doesn’t matter what I try to explain.

It doesn’t matter how many posts I reblog trying to explain what it means when I use the term pro ship.

It doesn’t matter if I say that incest ships aren’t really it for me.

It doesn’t matter if I say the kittens are not young children to me.

It wouldn’t matter if I compiled every instance of kitten characters being provocative or taking part in sexually charged numbers.

It doesn’t matter that what we’re talking about here are fictional anthro cats played by adults.

It doesn’t matter because antis have already made up their mind and don’t want to hear otherwise.

It wouldn’t help if I changed labels because the label isn’t the issue, it’s the opposition to antis and their mentality. If I changed labels, they’d simply transfer the baggage they’ve given pro ship onto whatever I had chosen instead.

And I don’t think there’s going to be a middle ground reached because both sides are coming at media differently.

Yes, Pro shippers are alright with people having ships between characters who are related, ships with large age gaps, and, yes, even ships between adult characters and child characters. Because this is fiction we’re talking about. No one real is being harmed by this ship existing. The threat of grooming with these ships exists for all ships, all fandoms, all pieces of media, and all things that can be used to gain a victim’s trust.

Also, you don’t know why anyone ships what they do. You don’t know why anyone has the headcanons they do. I think it’s well-documented by now that there are survivors on all sides of this discourse, so that much should be clear. Telling those who do use these more controversial ships or headcanons to cope that they ought to be doing it in private is not only callous but disingenuine, as antis have, multiple times, gone into private spaces and leaked all content thereof so they could call out those within the group.

As it applies to this fandom, I don’t believe I’ve seen any potentially triggering ship in the main tags. Most of us who do ship controversial ships are aware people don’t like them. We provide tags to block, and of course users can be blocked as well.

Speaking of which.

I know who blocks me back. It shows a specific icon when a block is mutual. I assure you very few antis block me, even when they say they do.

Listen.

The truth is, at the end of the day, this is a blog for a musical about cats. I’ve shifted away from interacting with most users, partly so i don’t end up with more followers who end up antis, and partly so other, neutral users don’t end up catching flack for interacting with me.

And yeah, it is true that the current fandom climate is hilariously hostile to several ships that were popular for decades beforehand. It is true that antis have double standards. That their hypocrisy is easy to point out. That’s true of antis and fandoms in general.

But also. No one outside this fandom gives a shit what any of us are shipping, really. We’re all weirdos to them. The block button is right there; the filtering option is right there, Xkit and its blacklisting tool are right there. Yet there are still these dumb as shit outbursts and fearmongering and soapboxing.

And I’m Tired.

I’m tired moreso by general antidom.

There are multiple compilations of anti shippers being horrible people over ships and fiction, and sometimes even just because they think someone is a pro shipper, even if they aren’t. I’ve had many urges to link them, to share them, but often I think about the trigger warnings it would require and I lose steam; I don’t want to share that stuff with my followers.

And I’m Tired.

I’m tired that the same stupid points of drama are probably going to get resurrected again. At least this time I have most of them blocked.

But, yeah.

I’m Tired.

#fandom discourse--#discourse--#fandom drama--

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