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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird.

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands.

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable.

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents.

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government.

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner.

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense.

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap.

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half.

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion.

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint.

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal.

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist.

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot.

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch.

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares.

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait.

For now, this is more than enough.)

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #once again unable to resist the urge to write abt living buildings #duke and danny are pining no stop bc they're both like 'this is a bad time for a relationship/i have to keep too many secrets' etc etc #while also cuddling and going on dates that they dont call dates out loud and sighing wistfully when they think of each other #taking what small things they can while trying to hide their feelings....#some other batfam member is going to stumble upon them in public and chat a bit w dukes friend #then walk away texting the group chat like 'hey duke and his friend are madly in love but too shy/stupid to do something abt it.#lets play cupid lol' and then theyre all trying to get duke and danny together #it gets to the point that every time they hang out it ends with them doing some nonsense to escape the batfam and their kind but unhinged #attempts to get them together #thanks for the prompt!!!

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fandomwritingbit · 1 year

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Okay last one- for now

Michael x female reader hate smut-

Michael is a straight up bully to reader, they always argue and never get along, but one night readers car breaks down confidently in front of his home- doesnt help that its raining so she is getting soaked, she tries calling her roommate but because its night they dont pick up.

Michael comes out to see whats going on and he spot her, he rolls his eyes and makes her get inside instead of staying in the cold, grumbling that he will fix it in the morning and she can sleep in his room, he even lets her have some of his clothes- but he makes her sleep on the floor, she refuses to saying its cold and after a bit of arguing he grabs her and kisses her quiet, telling her he knows a way to keep her warm if she wants

Reader consents and the rest is up to you 👀

Okay, so I’ve never written for Michael before... but I had way too much fun with this. I wrote it kind of like a comedy with smut because I get perverse enjoyment out of bullying Michael lmao. Hope it’s to your liking!

Warnings: smut nsfw, vaginal sex, creampie god I hate that word swearing, bad car knowledge, reader and Mike are both kinda arseholes, Will cameo, a joke about a dead parent, yes ik it sounds bad, but give it a chance cos that’s funny af irl.

Driving home from the shop, you double flick the windscreen wipers as the hammering rain only gets worse. You’re already wet from the 10 seconds you spent outside, your jeans clinging uncomfortably to your legs and dampening the seat underneath you.

Mumbling a ‘for fuck’s sake’, you turn down another residential road, still over two miles from your house, the quick nip out for fags having taken up way too much of your night.

Its then that the worst sound possible could be heard. Your engine packing in, squealing like a stuck pig in a fence, followed by a juddering thud as you’re mercifully able to steer it up the curb outside a house, before it completely dies on you. To be honest, you’d know that this shit-raft hadn’t had long left but really, tonight? Right now? So far from home? After you’d just spent a fucking fortune fuelling up? Bleeding typical.

You get out of the car, no umbrella or jacket to speak of and are wet to the bone before you can even get to the bonnet and peer inside. Seeing smoke depressingly coming from some part of the vehicle you couldn’t name.

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Someone behind you says, emphasising the ‘you’ with disgust. Of course you turn, ready to give someone the mouthful of profanity you were saving for this limp cock of a car. You recognise the tallish, messy haired lad immediately and curse in annoyance. Fucking great: it’s Michael Afton.

You found him such a silly ponce. And he you, a nasty prick. Having known each other since college and now finding yourself studying at the same Uni, your animosity towards each other having grown and matured into a smouldering hatred that caused arguments anytime you were in a room together. Only yesterday morning you’d given him a mouthful for how he’d acted towards you in a Costas. And so, seeing him now, you almost laughed at how this night probably couldn’t get any worse.

“You’re really here to give me shit now?” You sigh, trying to keep a level head as he probably had a better chance of fixing this car than you. “My car’s dead as a dodo.”

“That...” He smiles at you meanly, enjoying the sight of you soaked through and looking damn right miserable. “...is a shame.” He turns to walk up a drive into a house you assumed was his, grinning at your anguish.

Giving him the wanker gesture behind his back, you pull out your phone, registering the sound of a front door closing, whilst your shaky, wet hands tried to dial your roommate. Eventually you succeed, but it goes straight to voicemail, their phone clearly dead or off. Leaving you stranded as your parents were out of town and no one else was local, it being summer hols and you being home from Uni. You put your hand on your head, desperately trying to find a solution to your freezing cold predicament.

From inside his house, Michael peeked through his curtains surprised to see you still stood outside in the rain. Surely, you’d have the common sense to get back in your car or something. But no. He watched you looking like a stray cat for a few minutes before his decency took over and he goes to the door to see if you’re alright.

“You standing there all night, y/n?”

You laugh sharply, tears of frustration threatening to spill. “Just fucking might.”

“You wanna come in while you wait for someone?” He says, sighing at having to spend time in the same building as you, but still feeling a shred of pity.

“I ain’t got anyone to come get me.” You say, hands rising to an irritated shrug.

“Still wanna come in for a bit?”

And although you’d usually rather stick a spork in your eye than sit around with Michael Afton, it beat standing here, or sitting in your car. But only narrowly.

He leads you through his front door, showing you a bathroom and after you heavily hint, giving you some dry clothes to wear whilst your own dried on a radiator. You thank him reluctantly, going inside said toilet to put on the joggers and hoodie he’d given you. Scowling to yourself in the mirror as you can smell him on the clothes.

You come out after promising yourself to not let him wind you round the bend. Finding your way to a kitchen, where stood leant against a counter, after nicely, he’d boiled a kettle for you.

He hadn’t expected the movement in his trousers at seeing you in his clothes, it felt intimate and kind of sexy. And for a moment he just saw you as a good-looking lass, not the witch that had been haunting him for 4 years.

“Thanks for the clothes and the hot drink- I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you should. I was tempted not to invite you in.” You smile sarcastically at him, walking over to the rack of mugs you’d spotted on the counter, grabbing some kind of fancy-arse tea bag.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. My parents are out of town.” You briefly explain to him, using the mug to warm you aching hands. To which he stood silently, watching your arse in his trousers as you did so.

“If you promise to keep your mouth shut, you can stay here.” He offers unenthusiastically.

“Why would I want to do that, Mikey?” You laugh.

“Feel free to go back out-fucking-side.” He gestures with his hand in the rough direction of the door, a very familiar sneer on his face.

And what else could you do? Sleep in your car outside in a neighbourhood you didn’t know that well? So you agree, not hiding the look of despair the prospect gave you. Which only doubled when he told you his dad would be coming home so you’d have to sleep in his room. On the floor. Like a dog.

He threw a couple of pillows on his carpet, then a paper-thin blanket, looking at you with a stupid smug expression on his stupid smug stupid fucking face.

After about 10 minutes of shivering on his floor, your back already throbbing from the lack of mattress, you grow tired of hearing the shit tik toks he was watching.

“I can’t sleep here, this is ridiculous.” You sit up, making him jump a little at the abruptness. “What did you just shit yourself for? Forget I’m here?” You say somewhat meanly, a snicker accompanying it, standing up and cracking your neck.

“Shut up. Where are you gonna go like?” His voice takes on a cutting mocking tone, “Get in here with me?”

You walk over to him, face a picture of annoyance. “That what you want Mike? Me to get in fucking bed with you?” You laugh, bringing you head down to his level as he was sat. “To think, all this time I thought you were a cunt to me because you hated me. When really you just want to fuck me.” Shaking your head, you point a finger at him, “God that’s fucking pathe-”

Your further insults are cut short when he grabs you and kisses you harshly on the mouth, the only thing he could think to do to get you to shut the fuck up for once. And you’ll admit, you respected the bollocks on him for it.

Maybe it was the frustration of the night’s events. Maybe it was built up hate between the two of you boiling over. Neither of you are sure. But you let him pull you on to his lap, kissing him back, tongues and hands quickly becoming involved.

You feel the urge to call him names when you feel the hardness of his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh. But you stifle it, grabbing his hand to make him take his hoodie off your frame, not having to tell him to do the rest because he did so quickly. Rushing to unhook your bra and palm your tits, whilst you pull up his shirt, then down his trousers to gain access to his cock.

There was no finesse to it, just hurried grabbing and heated biting of lips of necks. Both of you wanting to assert some level of dominance and fuck each other before it dawned on you that you hate one another. And so, it wasn’t long before he yanked you forward to pull his joggers down and your knickers aside, his thick cock spreading you open as sit atop him. It surprised you how good it felt to have him thrusting up into you, whilst your hips rolled fuelled by dislike and desperate to cum almost immediately.

You did when he pushed you back, making you lay backwards before climbing on top of you and shoving himself back inside you. The new angle more than welcome, making you grunt as your orgasm neared. Hitting you hard as a freight train when his pace doubled to selfishly chase his own release, which due to the tight fluttering of your walls was closer than he realised.

“Oh fuck.” He spat, pressing you flat into his bed as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist eager for more of his hammering pace. “That's it. Shi- God you feel fucking good.” You had it in you to laugh then, his whiney voice cracking as he neared his end enough to make you smirk. Though it was wiped from your face when his thrust faltered and stuttered as he came inside you, seemingly unbothered about the consequences.

Though in that moment you didn’t think about that either, too focused on the feeling of his release inside you.

It wasn’t the last time you’d be experiencing that tonight.

The morning quickly rolled around, and you slip out of Michael's bed to go and get something to drink, more than thirsty after last night. Bare feet pattering on wooden floorboards, you struggle to find his kitchen again as the house was unfamiliar. Eventually you get there and with your now dry clothes in hand you sit down with a much-needed glass of water.

You weren’t sat long when you register the sound of footsteps descending stairs, a prickle of dread as you thought it might be Michael.

"Who the fuck are you?" A gruff voice makes you turn your head towards the door of the kitchen, where a bloke you'd never seen before stood.

"Could ask the same for you." You raise an eyebrow at his curtness. "I'm Michael's... mate." You half-arse explain. The man leans on the doorframe a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he walked into the room smirking and started messing about with a coffee machine.

"What's funny about that?" You ask looking at him, there was resemblance between the two, but Mike would look 10 years younger stood next to his dad.

"Nothing." He looks you up and down. "Credit to him: you're alright." He answers through a smirk aimed at you. You just laugh, turning your attention to your phone. Not noticing when Mike came to find you.

Glancing up at him you give a nod of acknowledgement before going back to your scrolling. Completely missing when his father gestures towards you with his head, mouthing the word 'respect' to his son, who looked mortified.

"Stop being a dick, pa." Michael snapped. You look up to see what was going on, catching Mr Afton looking away from you with a laugh. And give Michael a raised brow smile, whilst his dad leaves the room, not without another glance in your direction.

"What are you grinning at?" His tone reaks of irritation. Only growing when you point to the empty door saying,

"THAT explains so much." Through a teasing laugh.

"Fuck off."

"I'm trying to, but there isn't a bus for half an hour. And my car is fucked, remember?" He rolled his eyes, going to the coffee machine himself and mumbling when asking you if you wanted some. You did and told him as such.

"Ay, thanks." You say as he sets it down in front of you. Having the curtesy to sit with you while you wait, lest his dad hear his footsteps and sneak in like a fox in a chicken coup.

"You alright?" You ask him, unused to the sensation of being pleasant with each other and so rejecting it, poking him in the ribs.

"Can you be quiet for like 5 fucking seconds?" Each word is near hissed at you.

"What kind of scene would this be, if I was?" You roll your eyes as you take a sip of the coffee he made you. Laughing as you thought of another way to piss him off. "You're one to talk anyway, with all the ‘talking’ you did last night." He turns to your words, face a clear warning.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. That's it. Like that. Shi- God you feel fucking good-" You mock moan, accompanying it with a lewd gesture that made him look over his shoulder to check his dad hadn’t returned.

"Shut the fuck up!" He rises, "like you didn't have a good time." He says through a face of disgust. You continue giggling, loving how easy it was to wind him up.

"Practically drooling over my cock, like a dirty bitch." You just laugh again; he couldn’t even touch your feelings with that shit.

Letting silence fall over the two of you, you go back to your phone, giving him a smidge of respite. But he throws it back in your face after a mere two minutes.

"Will you stop tapping your foot, its driving me fucking nuts." And there's your green light to go at him again.

"You're a prick sometimes, Mike." You say, shaking your head. "But your dad- oh, no. He's really hot. Like scary, but scary sexy you get me?"

"Yeah... so's your mam." He snaps, his cheeks red. Instantly looking down when Mr Afton pops back in for something, unsure if you'll continue prodding and dreading if you did.

"Uhhh... my mam is dead, really funny there, mate." You say, your face falling still, and voice cracking on the last part. His whole demeanour changes, as does his father who stands like he's at attention in front of the squadron leader, both as tense as a spring.

"Oh shit, really? I'm sorry I-" He starts, panic flooding his face as he thought you were going to cry.

You laugh out of nowhere, "No. she isn't, Mike. But your fucking face." Mr Afton laughs from across the room, coming over to see the fallout that was about to occur, seeing the indignation on his son’s face and being unable to pity him.

"Ah you've got to bring this one back, Michael. She's fucking class." He says, grinning like a wolf. Mike scowls, despising you even more for ribbing on him with his own fucking dad.

"I should kick you the fuck out." He says exasperated, filled with dislike for you again. Sitting back down but not looking at you.

"Uh.” Mr Afton interjects. “You are not kicking my future daughter-in-law out of this house." You smirk, surprisingly feeling a tickle of guilt at being such a cock to him.

But you have a feeling that you'll make it up to him later.

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf michael afton #michael afton smut #michael afton x reader #fnaf william afton #fnaf smut #fnaf 18+

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decembermidnight · 3 months

Text

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact.

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying.

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive.

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there."

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him.

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you?

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet.

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative.

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.”

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it.

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?"

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you.

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal.

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you.

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you.

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.”

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.”

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.”

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you.

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name."

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave."

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you.

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it.

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

240 notes · View notes

peace-for-levi · 8 months

Text

{when you need me...}

who would i be if i didn't project my mental health onto 2D characters/reader and not write about it? i see so many fics of reader being worried for nanami while he's out in shibuya and… we all know what happens there.

content warning: detailed descriptions of anxiety, reader refers to themselves as 'wife' (reader thinks they are a bad wife) and the use of 'she'. it's otherwise in the 2nd person perspective. negative self-talk/beliefs. use of pet names. nanami being the bestest husband. i miiiiight have made him OOC and overindulged on how soft i made him BUT ITS OK YOU GOTTA BE A DELULU IN THIS ECONOMY.

+18 discord server

No, you were not going to call him. Absolutely not! Or text him either, for that matter.

The anxiety had been bubbling away all day inside your head like billowing storm clouds. You were grateful work kept you occupied, but once you arrived home, you trudged to your bedroom. You didn't even change out of your work attire.

You knew the source of all this, too.

Nanami came home injured while you were out dealing with another curse of your own. Thankfully, he had dealt with the bleeding himself and got checked out by Shoko. But to see him come so depleted of energy – dark shadows hanging under his eyes like bats, shoulders heavy – left you extremely unsettled. You were already an anxious mess, and now there are talks of a special-grade 'patchwork' curse. Not to mention the two unregistered cursed spirits that Gojo encountered.

What was going on in the world?

Now, he had been called out to the school again. After being badly injured, no less!

What if he was asked to fight the patch-work curse again? Was that curse able to perform Domain Expansions? Your husband never reached that height of jujutsu…

Would he… make it home okay?

You worked a "normal" job, not being employed at as a teacher at the highschool. As a grade one sorcerer, though, you were sometimes called in on particularly difficult and awkward missions. Your figured your problems with anxiety in the past would slowly fizzle away if you quit working at that highschool; after all, they couldn't make you exorcise and hunt down curses as often if you didn't work there. In your naivety, you assumed that'd be the end to your worries. But they only persisted and got worse the longer your husband of four years continued to work there as a teacher.

You couldn't resent him for it, and you knew he found greater fulfillment in being a teacher than adhereing to the laborious life of a salaryman.

But, maybe… your selfish thoughts got the better of you when you wished he could work a more "normal" job like you… If he worked a job where his safety was guaranteed…

How could you say such a thing? What kind of wife says that?!

Your hand collides against your forehead, releasing a (poorly contained) groan. Your teeth continued to chatter.

Now, I'm a bad wife on top of everything else…

Gruesome images flood your mind's eye. It's obsessive, relentless. After all, you have to prepare for the worst to come, right…? That's what you always do.

If you were by his side, would that make you feel any more relieved? Just by seeing him? But like a jolt, any solution you try come up with is met with more disturbing imagery. It was so vivid, it is as if you were there.

All that gore and worry conjured up in your cursed, anxious little head. The redness – so much red – of your imagery. It seeps and spreads along the ground at a terrifying rate, the image of someone – Kento – bleeding out. No one is there to help him.

You are.

You aren't gifted like Shoko, though.

There is no amount of horror – be it from forms of media or the wicked imagination – that can prepare a person for seeing the life ebb from another; the hopelessness, the tearing at the soul that is the departing of the other. As your loved one leaves this earth.

You're anxious, you're spiralling… You just wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to confirm with you he was okay. But you disturb him enough already with your texts and calls during missions.

Of course, in reality, if you hailed for Kento, he'd drop everything to be with you. He always has.

You didn't realize your thumb was hovering above the 'send' button. Through bleary eyes, you can see a hastily constructed text. Loaded with typos and errors. You're hardly able to read it though. Thumbs fidgting, you toss the phone.

You knew, logically, that he would want to help. He always has helped. But god, maybe you wanted to be big girl for once and try deal with it without him? Maybe be a good wife who doesn't send him a barage of texts when she's anxious?

Anxiety is the leak in your boat. You have to find a way to patch that hole or you'll drown.

But how can you when your worries revolve around your husband's safety?

You try cling to the logic that he has never refused you, made you feel stupid or invalidated you. Ever. But why would you cling to logic when the voice of your anxiety echoes through megaphone at you.

Of course, you're a distraction. Of course, you're a nuisance.

You hadn't even done a single chore to help around the house today. Some wife you were…

Kento would tell you that these thoughts you have are ridiculous. But you couldn't help it. You felt like you were holding him back from everything he deserved – you were so blessed to have a husband like him. You counted your lucky stars to be with him, but you ultimately felt like you didn't deserve him.

But Kento wasn't here now. So all you had was your mind to bully you.

The thoughts come as an electrical storm in your brain that, quite honestly, are painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow. It's uneven breaths as you claw at your chest, and it feels like you're suffocating; all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It's sobbing to the point of staining your shirt. The intense images come at you with cursed intent. Like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable, paralysed with fear and unmoving. And you couldn't, for the life of you, talk yourself out of the spiral.

It wasn't as if you didn't want Kento to be there. You were just denying yourself of his presence. You thought you were being brave, you thought—

Ping!

You lower your hands from your eyes. You gaze at the phone, blinking owlishy, before picking it up.

You let out a groan. In anxiously twiddling your thumbs by your screen, you had sent the (questionable-looking) text.

You don't even have time to berate yourself, for your ringtone begins to chime.

"[F/n], honey. I don't quite understand your text," he greets. He goes back to doing what he was doing – it sounded like he was tidying something away. "Principal Yaga has us staying behind at the school to–"

He stops.

He immediately stops upon hearing you whimper over the phone.

"Sweetheart?"

You mumble, "I-I– Um, N-Nanami, I–"

What if he loses his patience today? Will this be the straw that breaks the camel's back?

You can hear him shuffling over the phone. "Talk to me, what is it? Are you hurt?"

You don't want him to leave work on your account. Damn, your thumbs! If only it stayed as an unsent draft.

You panicked. "I-I'm fine! I think I just–"

You hear him sigh. "You're a terrible liar… You're not fine." A pause. "I'm coming home."

"No, Kento, please–!"

The call ends there. Your fingers seize up and your phone falls to the bed. Your wrists bash off your head, hitting yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Ping!

Be safe. I'll be there in fifteen.

Your heart sinks, especially knowing that he'd probably break several road safety laws to get back to you as soon as possible.

Another notification arrives swiftly after that.

I love you. You'll be fine.

The fifteen minutes drag by so slowly. You're still rooted at the side of your bed. Not having changed, started laundry, started making dinner. You shake your head. It's frightful how automatically you chastise yourself for anything and everything. Once you hear the click of the door, you shudder and cower, waiting for him to come into your shared bedroom to berate you.

Your eyes are clamped shut still, even when you feel his calloused thumb rub at your knee.

"Oh, sweetheart…" he says, and when he speaks it's so soft. Soft like he'd holding fine china.

He's careful to not press your boundaries too much, not wanting to hold you tighter. But he doesn't sense any resistance right now. You let him hold you.

He holds you like you are the most precious and loveliest thing in his world.

(You are.)

As if you weren't crying enough already, his touch makes you crumble more.

"What has you so anxious, [F/n]?" he asks, rubbing your arms up and down. He pulls away briefly to ask, "May I sit?"

You nod and he sets himself down. You overwhelmed by his love. You always have been. He always spoils you with his soft, passionate touch and his gentle words. You sniffle and it takes every ounce of self control to not explode into a heaving, babbling mess (more than what you currently were.) You continue to sob into his arms.

"Shhh, shhh. You're alright, you're going to be just fine, sweetheart. But in order to be okay, you're going to have to stop holding your breath like that."

You hadn't even realized. You always had been an open book to him.

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Your thoughts were so out of control, you were in a terrible cycle of either hyperventilating, or holding your breath. You shake your head, trying to break free. He doesn't let go entirely, but he loosens his grip. His hands hold yours, breathing deeply, as if trying to do it for you. You continue to resist, fighting his hold more as you take agonizing breaths.

"Let me hold you. Let me make things better. Let me stay."

You sob harder, knowing that once again he'll be picking up the pieces. Your pieces.

"What has you so worked up?" he asks, in between practiced, deep breaths.

Before you even have a chance to say anything, he whispers softly against your temple, "I love you. So, please, let me in."

And you let everything out.

He holds you close again once each and every worry comes out. He rocks you slowly back and forth, he plants the odd kiss to your dewy temple. He listens to you intently, taking in everything you say and more. He has heard these worries countless times before, and he listens to them as if these are being revealed to him for the first time. He gently 'shhhh's against your brow when you start to hiccup and unravel more.

As your husband, he wants to be able to promise you his safert; he wants to promise he'll come home in one piece.

But he can't do that. Because he doesn't know how any of this will play out.

So he hugs you, impossibly tighter.

"What can I do to help? Tell me what I can do to make it all okay…"

You want to be a good wife; you don't share the selfish thoughts you have, of wanting him to work at a normal job again. Even when he hated it, even when it left him feeling so drained.

So you say nothing and you let your little lie spread its wings.

You calm down in his arms, holding you until your limbs feel heavy. He continues to soothe you as best as possible. His voice was so achingly gentle, rubbing circles into your hips. It has your heart shattering into pieces.

Mindlessly, you mumble under your breath. "I just want you to be okay…" you admit.

He averts his gaze helplessly, because knows he can't promise you that. He relaxes and lays down on the bed, taking you with him. You undo the top button of his shirt.

He smiles sadly. It's the one thing he can't promise.

And though he'll never let you know, he feels like he fails in this duties as a husband.

But sometimes, he knows he's at least doing something right when he helps calm you down from such a state that you end up dozing off in his arms. He holds you til his arms limp and heavy.

In this blood-stained, fleeting life, he'll walk with you to the ends of this earth.

Even if he must depart early.

taglist: @levi-my-beloved @licuadora-nasir @nelapanela94 @whattheheckmidoriya @poisonpeche @unadulteratedtreecrusade @notgoodforlife @sckerman @theferricfox @happybird16 @jayteacups and idk who else

#cece; speaks #nanami kento #nanami #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami angst #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader fluff #nanami x reader angst #jjk x you #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento headcanons

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brewstersbru · 6 months

Text

Got inspired so enjoy some bloodweave!!! <333

“What are you reading?”

Astarion jumps a little at the suddenness of the question, he’d been reading, alone, for hours now and had assumed all of his companions to be asleep. It seems he had erred in his assumption, as Gale peers at him, squinting in the dark. Astarion sighs, burdened.

“What could you possibly need from me, wizard? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up, all snug in your bedroll?” Gale laughs a little, strained and careful, but continues his approach. Astarion rolls his eyes, snaps his book shut with a decisive whack, and sets it aside.

“Couldn’t sleep. And I see you reading every night, it’s only natural that I’ve wondered what genre of tome could possibly enrapture you so, a man normally much too aloof for anything to grasp onto.”

His voice carries a kind of smug tilt to it, like he’s trying to tease but is too sincere of a man for it to come out as anything other than a collection of awkward observations. Astarion returns a more practiced smirk.

“Mmm. I see.” The words rumble and slur together into something almost animalistic, Astarion’s not quite sure what overtakes him, in this moment, but there’s a kind of vulnerability to Gale. A soft belly upturned to the world, a rabbit twitching its nose but refusing to run.

As a predator- a hunter, at times- Astarion is well practiced in spotting and pouncing on these vulnerabilities. He smiles toothily.

“So you’ve been watching me?”

And Gale? Well, Gale laughs. Quiet, but boisterous and chortling. He shakes his head.

“Did that really work on people?” He continues to laugh. Astarion draws his brows, puzzled. He hadn’t intentionally been trying to draw him in, but in hindsight that’s probably what it looked like. After years of honeypotting, his purr and growl are often one and the same. Astarion allows himself a small smile, but stows it as soon as Gale draws close enough to bathe in the candlelight.

Silence hangs for a moment.

“It’s a romance novel. Drivel, really, but I’m not one to be picky.”

Gale hums and inclines his head towards the book. “May I take a look?” Astarion nods and shuffles to the side, “Please, be my guest. Fair warning, though, it will rot your brains.”

A laugh then, as Gale settles next to- but notably far enough to not touch- Astarion on the rug he’d pilfered from some poor sap’s home. It’s quiet, again, as the wizard flips his way through the pages of the book. It’s clear from the quick dart of his gaze that he’s not really reading it, just scanning the most interesting parts. Astarion waits quietly, a state quite unnatural to him but that feels right in the muted intimacy of the moment. He watches the way Gale’s eyes change as he reads, bright, always, but with intermittent flashes of surprise, and mirth. It’s not a bad look on him. Astarion refrains from mentioning that.

“Well,” Gale sighs heartily and gently places the book back where it had been sitting, “that was quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever read. I mean really, her ‘evil’ orc boyfriend who ‘changes’ for her and shuns his entire family for the sake of their union? And don’t get me started on the more intimate scenes, if I ever read the word “member” again I think I’ll-“

Astarion can’t help himself, he bursts into a tight, brief set of giggles before hunching over himself. By refusing to look up, he misses the pure glee and adoration in Gale’s expression. Astarion shakes his head.

“Gods, you’re right. It’s horrid, isn’t it?”

Gale nods, somber, “Detestable. Truly, you have found no other books to occupy yourself with? I would argue this,” he points at the book with an accusing finger, “does more harm than good. You’d be better off simply not reading.”

Astarion shakes his head; something about the low candlelight, the relative isolation of his tent and the illusion of privacy it offers- it makes him want to be open, honest. To show his soft belly to someone who’s just trusted him with theirs.

“I- well- I would normally throw this wretched thing in the river.” He waves a dismissive hand in the book’s general direction. “It’s just, well, before I never had much time to read frivolous things like this. What with all of the screaming and agonizing and seducing I needed to do.” Astarion laughs a small, humorless giggle at himself, “It’s nice just to be able to sit in the warmth of the sun- when it’s actually daylight of course- and read. Even if it is mindless drivel like this.”

Gale hums, more to himself than anything, but eventually his eyes catch on Astarion’s, something warm and mischievous glinting within. “Do you trust me?”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to laugh. “About as far as I can throw you, wizard. Which is to say I would pass out before I did.” He gestures to the thin wiry ropes of muscle that wrap around his bicep. Gale gives him another soft laugh.

“That’s fair, I suppose. Will you do me a favor then, and come with me for a moment? Leave the book.” As he speaks, Gale rises from the rug, knees giving twin creaks as he straightens. He winces at himself and smiles something small and self-deprecating.

Astarion, equal parts dubious and curious stands with him. “Well now I have to know. Lead on, wizard.”

“It’s Gale, you know.” Gale comments, as they begin walking back towards the circling of tents a bit closer to the campfire. Astarion huffs. “I know.”

He lets the silence settle, and sit for a bit.

Gale chuckles and shakes his head, “Yeah I suppose I should have guessed that’s what you’d say.”

It’s not long before they come upon Gale’s own tent and the wizard opens the flap, disappearing inside. Astarion waits near the entrance for a couple of minutes before Gale’s head- hair adorably unkempt and still squinting into the darkness- pops out to usher him in. “Thought you didn’t need an invitation to enter anymore? Or is the tadpole’s magic so limited?”

Astarion rolls his eyes and smacks lightheartedly at his head as he ducks inside. “You’re such a little shit!” Said shit only grins and returns to… whatever the hell he’d been doing.

The inside of his tent is almost impossibly spacious but Astarion guesses that has something to do with being a wizard. There are scrolls and ink pots just kind of lying around but the chaos is rather cozy. The largest thing in the tent, however, is the absolute leviathan of a bookcase off to the right, which Gale is now rummaging through, muttering to himself.

“Romance… Romance… Wait, does he even- ASTARION- oh you’re right here, perfect, do you even like romances? What’s your preferred genre?” There’s an urgency to his words and movements but it’s not frantic. Rather quite the opposite actually, he looks more at home here and now than Astarion thinks he’s ever seen him.

“Oh- uh- well, darling, I’m not quite sure. It’s been a while. I do think I’ve always enjoyed romance when it’s- well- good.” Gale nods decisively and returns to his task, a man on a mission. Astarion tries not to notice how sweet he is, how sweet the whole situation is, really. He’s just appreciative of the arts, can’t go around letting people besmirch its name with nonsense like this stupid book or anything.

“Aha! Here-“ Gale lifts a rather thick tome from the shelf, it’s got quite an ornate cover- a mix of dark blue with gold embossing- and he shakes it like he’s just found a particularly useful scroll, “it’s an enemies to lovers epic surrounding two clerics- one of shar and the other of selune- and their struggles with their respective faiths and the adventure they embark upon.” His smile is almost blinding in its intensity and Astarion finds he has to look away. Has to squash this warmth fluttering in his gut.

“Did you just read that from the summary?” He’d tried for a snarky sneer, but all that came out was genuine curiosity. How many times would one have to read something to be able to recite its summary from memory like that? Although, Gale’s always been quite bright.

“Not at all. I’ve read this enough times I could probably recite the first chapter from memory!” Gale’s still smiling but there’s something strained and uncomfortable to it that makes Astarion unreasonably unhappy. He thinks for a moment.

“Would you? Darling, my eyes were just starting to hurt from the prattling prose of that hack of an author, they could use a bit of rest… Would you mind terribly getting me started?” His face had just seemed so puppy-like, so eager to share his interest in this piece of fiction that even the thought of implying that that was bad or annoying or at all anything but hopelessly charming was… well… unthinkable. As a reward for his kindness, Gale absolutely beams at him.

“I would be honored, my friend! But first-“ With a snap of his fingers all of the candles snuff out, leaving the two of them in complete and utter darkness.

“Uh, Gale, dear, as much as I do enjoy good mood lighting I don’t think you’ll be able to actually read in-“ Before Astarion can finish speaking, a bright, almost blinding orb of light materializes in the palm of Gale’s hand. He gestures to his right and the orb moves itself into the corner of the tent.

Blinking, Astarion notices the comfortable warmth seeping into his skin from the rays of light the orb is emitting. He grins over at Gale, who had already been looking at him, furrow of trepidation between his brows.

“You mentioned you liked to read in sunlight, and, well, it’s not like either of us is going to sleep tonight, right?” His smile is more sheepish, this time.

Part of Astarion wants to cry, part of him wants to kiss Gale on his pretty mouth, part of him wants to destroy this tent and all of the books in it.

He decides to sit. Gale joins him after a moment. He reclines himself on the pillows that line the other man’s bedroll and then rolls himself into his lap. Gale simply huffs, mutters something about “Tara” and situates the book in his hand in such a way that allows for his other hand to card through Astarion’s hair.

Astarion really does cry, now, but the tears are silent and Gale graciously pretends not to see them.

“The moon cannot shine on it’s own. Each night the sun caresses its cheek, granting its light and we are able to watch this act of love from a distance…”

They fall asleep, or rather, Gale does. In the midst of a sentence his daylight spell blinks out of existence and he kind of slumps in on himself, hands going lax. Astarion is only able to catch him and the book because of his almost impossible dexterity.

Astarion huffs a ghost of a giggle at him, but carefully bookmarks the page, sets the book aside, and tucks the wizard in. He sleeps like a rock, it seems, because even with all of the jostling he remains steadfastly unconscious.

After a moment of gazing and contemplating at Gale’s relaxed face, Astarion uses one of the many available inkwells and quills and scribbles out a short note.

Had a great time tonight, darling. Let’s do it again sometime, I’m aching to know if Shenra and Kaye actually kill each other.

He doesn’t kiss Gale’s forehead as he leaves but the thought crosses his mind, and he regrets not doing it when he reaches his own tent.

Damned wizard. Damned Gale.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bloodweave #astarion x gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #cringefail bfs #i love them sm #both of their love langs are acts of service but also neither of them can receive aos well #no idea how long this is but oh well

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bird-inacage · 1 year

Text

Love in the Air: Give & Take VS Give & Receive

You best believe I wrote a meta around Sky/Prapai’s Episode 12 uncut NC scene. That’s the reality we’re operating in folks. So saddle up. Episode 8′s initial collision between Sky and Prapai is the epitome of Give and Take.

Prapai proposes that Sky ‘give’ him something in return for helping him. Sky very pointedly responds with, “just take what you want”, which carries an implied ‘(I dare you)’ in that rebuttal. It’s the resigned surrender of someone accustomed to others doing just that, with little concern over his wellbeing. There’s an air of ‘Fine, ruin me for all I care. If that’s how you want to play, then do your worst.’

Episode 8′s love scene revolved around Sky trying to pleasure Prapai, because that was the condition he was trying to meet. When you give and give till you’re running on empty, you can almost convince yourself you don’t care anymore. You flirt with self-destructive behaviour because you think you’re numb. Sky does this with evident reluctancy because he hates how much he does care.

Once Prapai falls in love with Sky, he no longer wishes to see Sky fall prey to this type of mentality. Sky telling him ‘he gives in’ is not the reaction Prapai necessarily wants. Because doing so would only make him feel like he’s taking advantage. What Prapai seeks is a mutual, reciprocal relationship with Sky. An equal relationship. He reiterates this by saying ‘just because I do x, y and z, doesn’t mean I expect sex in return’. Prapai is not okay with receiving if it means Sky always has to give. Sky’s tendency for self-sacrifice doesn’t sit well with him.

Fast forward to Episode 12, Sky declares “I’m yours. All yours.” and its embroiled in devotion and rapture. Instead of being resigned to his fate, he’s actively choosing his surrender to Prapai. Rarely do we see Sky make such an open admission such as this. Rather than ‘I’m giving myself to you because I see no other option’, this is ‘I’m giving myself to you because it’s my chosen option’. The implication is anything you take from me is warranted. I’m giving you the go ahead to do so.

Even in Episode 11′s love scene, Sky uses the words “please shut up and take me”. He’s still trying to downplay the gravity of what it means when someone does this. ‘Just take me already, stop being so considerate and sentimental. It’s no big deal’. Sky still believes he has to be willing for his partner to take in order to secure their affection, and be seemingly nonchalant about it. It’s all he knows.

How Prapai chooses to respond to Sky in Episode 12′s uncut scene is what makes it so important. Instead of just ‘taking him’ up on his offer, Prapai decides to give back in a different way. To reply to Sky’s admission with: ‘if you’re putting yourself fully in my hands, then I will take care of you. I’ll do more than just take care of you, I’ll cherish and worship you.’ It’s no longer about one taking and another giving. Prapai grants Sky full permission to receive. If you give, I give. If I receive, so do you.

Oral is an act of service. You’re prioritising someone else’s pleasure before your own. When Sky realises this is what Prapai intends to do, he reacts with complete giddiness, sweetly stunned by this gesture. The notion that someone would put him first is clearly unfamiliar and unexpected. We can safely assume that all Gun ever did was take what he wanted, how he wanted.

For Sky, it was never about him, even during the highest act of intimacy. So for Prapai to make a point of doing so, to put Sky’s pleasure first and providing clear indication that ‘It’s okay, I want to do this for you’ is a huge act of love where Sky is concerned.

What’s even better when compared to Episode 8 is that Prapai gazes up at Sky lovingly before he goes in. When Sky did it, it felt very detached, he was performing based on what he thought Prapai probably wanted or expected of him during their one night stand. This is a silent declaration from Prapai of ‘this is how I want to treat you, this is what you deserve, I’m prioritising you’.

The difference between taking and receiving is assertion. Taking implies acting on what you want, upon your own desire. Whereas receiving is allowing someone to offer it to you. It signifies patience. Selflessness. It allows for generosity. It says I’ll be grateful for whatever you offer me, but I’m not demanding it. I’m letting you decide how, what and when.

It matters immensely to Sky to feel in control; to feel he has agency and choice. That’s the ultimate act of giving, is allowing the receiver to decide if they want to return the gesture without expecting them to do so. It’ll mean even more if they do.

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #love in the air uncut #LITA meta #LITA analysis #prapaisky #paisky #prapai x sky #sky x prapai #YES i wrote a meta on a BJ scene essentially #its important academic commentary okay?#i've missed talking about them so much

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khattikeri · 19 days

Text

drives me nuts when people treat jin guangyao or wei wuxian like they're socialist revolutionaries like no! they're not!! in fact their respective roles in society and complacency regarding its hierarchies is why ANY of the story even happens to begin with!!!

jin guangyao doesn't hold bitterness just because he was born lower class. he is bitter because others deride him and his prostitute mother in spite of both their intelligence, skills, and efforts to climb the ladder.

why do you think we were shown scenes of other prostitutes in the brothel deriding meng shi for being literate, for "trying" so hard? why do you think we were shown scenes of anxin taunting meng yao and throwing shit at him because he was trying to learn cultivation at his mother's behest?

why do you think jin guangyao arranged for the arson of that brothel, burned to the ground with everyone except sisi inside? that's not the behavior of someone who believes in true equality and the inherent worth of sex workers as human beings!

that's the behavior of someone who thinks he's better than them. the behavior of a man who already came up on top through political games and war crimes, backstabbing and spying for the sake of the "greater good".

i won't rehash his argument to nie mingjue that he didn't have a choice-- he had some choice, but no matter what he does his class will come up and people will always assume the worst and try to hurt him for it, which forces his hand to do whatever will protect him best (hence 'no choice').

jin guangyao did everything he could to secure his own safety and a place among those already higher up. and by that point, he'd won it.

the fact that the temple rebuilt on the brothel site is to guanyin, the goddess of mercy, is even more ironic! the fact that jin guangyao has the goddess's statue carved to look like his own mother is proof that he viewed both her and himself as higher than them. more worthy than them.

of course he cared about the general welfare of others (read: the watchtowers). but consider also that there is no watchtower near yi city, which ended up being one of xue yang's playgrounds. jin guangyao can and will turn a blind eye to certain sufferings if it is convenient to him.

sure, jin guangyao made undeniable contributions to cultivation society and accessibility, but he is not at any point trying to topple existing class structures. his adherence to them is in fact integral to his own downfall in the end.

it brings with it the inevitability of society conveniently ignoring his triumphs and genuine moments of humanity to deride him once more as an evil, disgusting son of a whore once his crimes come to light.

now for wei wuxian. he's the righteous protagonist of the story and he doesn't give a fuck what society thinks, yes, but he wasn't out there trying to cause an uprising so that all the poor servant classes and lower could become cultivators. he wasn't trying to redistribute wealth or insinuate that those who are lower deserve to be viewed as equal to the gentry.

the most critical and non-explicitly stated fact of mo dao zu shi is that wei wuxian has always been resigned to his position in the social hierarchy.

his unreliable narration, especially regarding his own past and thoughts, is so damn important. he doesn't EVER tell the reader directly that people treated him any which way at their leisure because of his parents' differing social classes.

no. instead we are shown how much prestige he is afforded as cangse-sanren's son-- reputation as a talented and charming young cultivator, made head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang-- and how little respect he is given in the same breath, as the son of servant wei changze.

the way he is treated by others is as fickle as the wind. if he obeys and does as told, there is no reward. of course he did that, that was the expectation to start with! if he does anything even slightly inconvenient, there is a punishment. of course he has no manners, what else would you expect from an ungrateful son of a servant?

wei wuxian's righteousness is not a matter of adhering to principles he was explicitly taught, the way nie mingjue values honor or the way jiang cheng always tries to prove himself. wei wuxian does the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to him because his good deeds are always downplayed and his bad deeds are always singled out, no matter who or how many people were doing it with him.

he has faced this double standard since childhood. there are points in the novel where it's clear that this sticks out to wei wuxian, but does he ever fight back against that view of himself? does he EVER, at any point in the story, explain his actions and choices to jianghu society and try to debate or appeal to their sense of reason?

no. because he knows, at his very core, that any explicit deviation from their interests whatsoever will be punished.

slaughtering thousands of people is fine when they want him to do it, and when the alternative is unjust torture, re-education camps, and encroachment upon other sects' lands.

slaughtering thousands of people who are trying to paint him as evil for not going along with their genocidal plans, however, is punished.

wei wuxian knows his acceptance among the higher classes is superficial and unsteady. from the age of 10, when jiang fengmian took him in, he knew subconsciously that he could be kicked out at any time.

he knows that cultivation society doesn't care about war crimes and concentration camps and mistreatment of the remaining wen survivors of the sunshot campaign. but the right thing to do now that they aren't at wartime is to help them, plus they'd punish him either way for it, so he will.

in this regard wei wuxian is more self-aware of his position than jin guangyao. he does care about common people and he does try his best to help them as an individual. even if that ends up with him disabled, arrested, targeted in sieges, or dead.

but is he revolutionary? in the full equality, fight the establishment, rewrite laws, change social structures and people's perceptions of class sense?

no. no. he isn't.

now my knowledge of chinese society and history is fairly limited to my hindu diaspora upbringing and our shared cultural similarities ... but speaking to what i absolutely know us true, adherence to one's social class is expected.

this is rigid. efforts and merits might bring you some level of mobility, but in the end, the circumstances of your birth will always be scrutinized first, and your behavior compared to the stereotypes of where and how you originate.

mdzs is not about revolution, and none of its characters are able to truly change its society. there is no grand "maybe cutsleeves aren't inherently bad" or "i'm sorry for persecuting you and believing hearsay, you were truly a good person all along!" at the finale.

people ignore history and repeat it again with the next batch of ugly gossip and rumors.

wei wuxian, lan wangji, and luo qingyang find peace only by distancing themselves from cultivation society and its opinions.

jin guangyao and wei wuxian both cannot ever escape from others' perception of their origins and actions. regardless of their personal beliefs, they are not revolutionaries.

#keri chats #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #long post #mdzs spoilers #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #mdzs meta #the untamed #cql #i know it's funny or fanon to call them commies but it's so deeply fucking important to me that ppl understand they CANONICALLY are NOT #AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #this is messy and unedited and rather surface level but again if you read this post i love you lmao #wwx did the right thing in the xuanwu cave by helping mianmian and fighting back against wen chao BUT he was punished for it #through wang lingjiao's visit insisting he be whipped for it + the fall of lotus pier #like if wwx'll be punished either way ofc he'll do the righteous thing. but he is undeniably resigned to the fact that they won't change #wwx doesnt TRY to change THEM. he just does what he wants & believes is right himself #big difference & while jgy is often easy to clear up i still see so many people say that wwx is different and im like. YES but also GOD NO

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serialunaliver · 3 months

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the strange thing about my earlier elementary school experience is although I experienced stereotypical disney channel bullying to the point where teachers said it's better I just leave the school, I never felt like people were being mean to me, at most I felt uncomfortable, like when things got physical I was scared I would fall too hard. I was smaller than the other kids so it was easy for them to pick me up and move me LOL.

now later in life I assumed such experiences had no impact on me because it came across as normal. "oh I was small so of course people would pick me up and throw me", or "I was a huge nerd and talked about some things weird for children to talk about so of course people threw stuff at me".

once I changed schools for the first time this issue stopped; I was outcasted but not harmed, however my mom had an obsession with making me "fit in" and it always felt like there was something wrong with me.

then later on even though my mental health was at its worst in high school it was probably my least bad school experience because I made good friends--hello friend who follows me on here if you see this post--and I could hide some mental health issues by running out of the classroom before things got bad. but I also had this mindset that everyone outside trusted friends secretly hated me. this got pretty bad and eventually the (huge dumbass) school psychologist told me to talk to more people.

i'm trying to let go of this mindset that everyone secretly hates me today but I still experience it at work. I leave the break room and i'm like "oh now they're all talking about how annoying I am". was I born so insecure, or do I underestimate the impact of past experiences? will I ever truly be confident?

WHATEVER SMART GUY, LET'S SEE YOU TAKE A CRACK AT SCHOOL‼️‼️

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 2 months

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a/n: Hello, my fabulous Readers! It's been a hot second since I last wrote a fic. And I can honestly say, that I've been distracted by the whole Chris Drama and Fiasco. But that doesn't mean that I haven't been writing fics. I actually have a few lined up, that are definite WIPs, so stay tuned. In the meantime, I hope y'all will enjoy this fic.

Which I'm happy to dedicate to @cutedisneygrl, Happiest Birthday to you, girl! Thank you for always lending an ear, and also happily sharing your fics with us. You're awesome, and I hope you enjoy this fic. Sorry if it's a little late.

And to @royalwriteroftheuniverse, for being one of the best friends, I could ask for on here. You're one of the best, and honestly, you both deserve the best. ❤❤❤❤❤

Yes, this will be a thing now. Some of my fics will be dedicated to my friends, family, or even the fans like me, who are writing this. 😆🥺 So, without further ado, enjoy this fic. Hopefully it isn't too cringey.

Steve Rogers x civilian!Reader

Requested: Yes

WARNINGS: None really... No mention of Y/n, Steve is a big softie, Y/n is kind of sad for most of the fic, food(?), feelings of loneliness...

Enjoy!

I'm using this gif, because it's the one with my most favorite button-up, that Steve wears in the entire MCU. Feel free to comment what's your most favorite Steve casual wear in the entire MCU.

*Y/F/C/D = Your Favorite Cold Drink

The clock continued to tic the hours away, as you laid on your bed. Trying to will it to move faster, and end the long day. Time always seemed slow during the tough days. Even longer lately, what with Steve being out on seemingly endless weeks of missions.

You really couldn’t complain, considering that that is his job. And it was all for the good of the future. Your future, together. Steve has been open about building a safe and happy future. And being able to secure it, one bad guy at a time.

You chuckle at the thought. Remembering the night Steve said those very words to you...

You had called an hour before, needing to vent. Your work day was one of the worst you’ve had in a while, and Steve, hearing the frustration, and weariness in your voice, took it upon himself to try and make it better. He arranged the pillows to frame your bed, pulled the curtains closed, put the lamp on its dimmest setting, grabbed the comfiest blankets, and made a little love nest for you two love birds.

He nervously looked over every little detail. Fluffing up the pillows, smoothing down the bed sheets, pulling at the curtains, double and triple checking everything. Luckily, you announcing your arrival, broke his intense focus.

Steve rushed off. Tripping and stumbling on his own feet, regaining balance, and taking another look around, before stumbling once more, and finally hopping down to you. Not that you were having any of it. Immediately assuming that Steve had prepared something romantically sexy. Which, in Steve’s opinion, was sweet but nothing romantically sexy about his plans.

But at Steve’s insistence, and puppy dog eyes, you were, albeit begrudgingly on your part, lead upstairs to your converted room.

“You sounded so sad on the phone earlier, I wanted to do something special. Try and make your day a little bit better.”

You smiled as tears slowly filled your eyes. Jumping into Steve’s arms, as he picks you up, and puts you on the bed, to rid you of your work clothes. Slipping you into your favorite button-up of his.

You’d stay in the love nest for hours. Snuggled into the love of your life, except for the few times, he’d get up to get food and water. Insisting that he should get them, not wanting you to get up and leave your little bubble.

Few minutes into your meal of a shared bowl of chocolate covered fruits, Steve’s phone rang. Causing him to step out, to answer it. Not coming back until a few minutes later. His expression crestfallen, but trying his best to keep up a mask of happiness so as to not drag your already down mood. Ofcouse,you knew him well.

“They’re calling you away on another mission?” You asked, after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes. But it’s a necessary evil, if I want to build our future.” Steve sighed, giving you a weary smile.

“And I do want to build it, one bad guy at a time.” He continued, taking both of your hands in his.

“Are you proposing to me right now, Rogers?” You laughed.

“Believe me, Doll. When I propose, you’ll know...” Steve smiled.

“Well, until then, I’ll take a few of your shirts. But even after you ask, you might never get them back.” You declared teasingly, grabbing a strawberry and running off, as Steve gave chase.

You sigh and get up out of bed, deciding to go down to your living room to watch a rom-com with your over-sized stuffed bear. But not before grabbing your favorite button-up shirt, that Steve left at the foot of your bed just before he drove off to the compound for his mission, a few days ago. You pressed it to your nose, inhaling the comforting scent of aftershave and wood, something that was uniquely Steve. And changed into it, buttoning up most of it, and leaving some undone.

You made your way down the stairs and into your kitchen, grabbing some leftovers stored in tupperwares, in your fridge, and preparing to heat them in your microwave. You stepped into your living room, turning on the TV. and arranging the throw pillows, blanket, and your bear, so that your couch has prime comfiness, all before the microwave dinged to signal that your dinner is warm.

You quickly grabbed it, utensils, and Y/F/C/D from the kitchen, carefully carrying them in your arms, and using your elbow to turn off the light in your kitchen. Leaving your living room lamp, and your TV as your only remaining light source. Creating some sort of ambiance that allowed for optimal comfort once you wrapped your shoulders in your blanket, placed your bear on your lap, and pressed play on your movie, before grabbing your food and settling in for the night.

A few hours later, the roar of a Harley can be heard in the distance. A bit toned down, due to Steve knowing that most, if not all of the residents of his neighborhood were soundly and safely tucked in their beds.

The mission was shorter than expected, and for that he silently thanked God. Because he was able to come home to the woman he loved sooner than anticipated, and will be able to surprise her with the best gift he could ever give her. Him.

He shut off the engine, as soon as he arrived and parked on the driveway. Removing his helmet, grabbing his things that he had strapped to the back of his motorcycle, and grabbing his keys to unlock the front door.

The first thing he noticed was the TV was on (hard not to when he noticed the dim glow coming from the living room). The one thing he didn’t expect as he was reaching for the remote was the sight of you holding your bear, the very over-sized bear that he had won for you at the Fair last month, close to you, one of your cozy blankets draped over your shoulders, and the collar of his button-up peaking from under the blanket.

He chuckled at the adorable sight, but sighed softly. Knowing you well enough, that you had a rough day, just by needing any semblance of him near, and needing every aspect of your cozy cocoon in order to feel better. He knew what was needed, and it was something he definitely needed for himself too.

And so, he put his bag and shield down to the side of the recliner to the right of the TV, out of the way, so that none of you would trip on it the next morning. Removed his leather jacket, and placed it on the arm of the couch by your feet, before kneeling down by you, to get on the proper position to be able to pick you up, and carry you bridal style. Hopefully without fully rousing you from your sleep.

You were half awake as Steve slowly made his way up the stairs, to your shared room. The blanket still wrapped around your body, essentially wrapping you up in a burrito. You felt the need to find more warmth and comfort from the solid wall of muscle that you were resting against. And so snuggled needily into it, much to Steve’s amusement.

And that is why he decided to remove his shoes, before going into bed with you a minute later. Not wanting you to spend even a minute without your human teddy bear. He could change and take a shower in the morning, he just knew you both needed the other near.

“I’ve got you, Doll... And I’m not going anywhere...”

a/n: Hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm kind of nervous uploading this, and I'm also worried that it's cringey. Love y'all, Bookies! Stay sane, especially with things coming up in the Fandom soon.

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Chris Evans Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#chris evans #chris evans fandom #chris evans imagines #chris evans x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #booky's written works #To the N🫶nnie that sent this ask months ago #sorry that this took so long I hope you like it...

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littledata · 3 months

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I know you’re probably working on those prompts, but I, too, just ended up on North Sea tiktok, and if you have time, I’m curious what Ava’s reaction to that particular algorithmic destination would be. Because like, Bea’s the most capable person ever, but those waves are Very Big, and why isn’t everyone tethered to the boat at all times??

(From the on that dizzy edge universe. An example video if anyone would like context.)

For a long time, Ava's TikTok experience was predictable. It mostly went: hot girl biting her lip, hot girl playing guitar, hot dude baking a cake, weirdly mesmerising crafting video, drama about people she'd never met, hot person kissing another hot person.

The number of straight-up thirst traps has been on the decline recently though - mostly because Ava just has to turn her head and Bea will be changing her shirt or using a hammer or standing perfectly still, all of which is a lot hotter than any video she's ever seen. In its infinite wisdom though, The Algorithm has seen her scrolling past those videos and decided it needs to fill the void with something else.

That thing, apparently, is North Sea TikTok.

They're lying in bed when it happens for the first time. Beatrice had spent the first few weeks after she came home insisting they should try to maintain separate bedrooms, move their relationship along at an orderly and appropriate pace, but she pretty quickly gave in to the allure of spooning and her bedroom defaulted to being both of theirs.

Now, before they go to sleep, they often end up lying side by side while Beatrice reads one of her insane books about lesbian necromancers or whatever and Ava scrolls TikTok or reads fanfiction about hot people falling in love in coffee shops and stuff. It makes her feel mature and settled and safe in a way that's sometimes so exciting she has to take Bea's book out of her hands and make out with her about it.

Anyway, so they're doing that (lying in bed, not making out) when it shows up on her for you page. It starts with the weird, slow sea shanty, then there's the huge waves, and then someone is getting slammed in the face with the fucking ocean.

Ava lets it loop. Then she lets it loop again. Then she taps on the suggested search north sea tiktok and she's presented with a thousand more videos exactly like the first. People falling overboard and huge waves crashing over ships and and and -

"Bea." Ava taps her arm insistently.

Bea looks up from her book without much concern - she doesn't use TikTok but she does submit to being shown Ava's curated favourites. Also, she's wearing glasses and she looks super cute.

No, Ava, don't get distracted.

"Bea," she repeats and holds her phone up to her face.

Beatrice watches with a scrutinising gaze. When the video finishes, she says, "They really shouldn't be filming in those situations, it's distracting them from proper safety precautions."

Ava stares at her. "That's all you have to say? They could have died."

"Possibly," Beatrice agrees. "Once someone falls overboard it's very difficult to recover them, although certainly not impossible. And it depends a lot on the kind of ship. I assume someone wouldn't post a video where someone died though."

Although Beatrice's naivety about what people are willing to post on the internet is adorable, Ava's mind is stuck somewhere in between the words overboard and impossible. Even Beatrice, careful and capable as she is, couldn't keep herself from being swept off her feet by some of those waves. Ava can picture her so vividly, disappearing under the surface.

"You're not making me feel better about this."

"Oh." Beatrice blinks in surprise as if she has only just realised that they aren't having a purely practical discussion. She puts her book carefully down on the nightstand. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't lie to you and pretend it isn't dangerous. Those are cherry-picked clips showing the worst though, it isn't always like that."

Which, yeah, okay, Ava already knew it was dangerous. For all the months that Beatrice is away she lives with the low-level, prickling anxiety that the next call she gets will be telling her Bea is hurt, or worse. It's different seeing it though, seeing how quick it is, how powerful -

"How often are you in the north sea?" she asks, as if that's the only problem with it.

Beatrice winces, "Well, it depends. The contracts I work - " She explains something complicated and lengthy about shipping and demand and the company she works for and Ava thinks she's the most interesting person in the world but this stuff is, also, a little bit boring and she's still pretty busy picturing her girlfriend's imminent death.

She needs to send these videos to Camila. If there's anyone she can rely on to overreact with her, it's Camila.

"Ava," Beatrice says, seeing that she's lost her. She tugs Ava's phone gently from her hands and puts it down next to her book. Then she wraps one arm around Ava's shoulders and the other around her waist and pulls her in close.

Ava has always loved being hugged by Bea, even before they got together - she's strong and solid and lets Ava hold on for as long as she needs to. (Also, she smells fucking amazing, like, all the time).

It wasn't until they started dating that she realised Beatrice had been holding something of herself back though, not letting herself relax entirely whenever they touched. Now, it's as if her whole body sinks into it, like some tension evaporates the moment Ava's arms are around her.

Ava pushes her face into Beatrice's chest and inhales, lets herself hide there in the fabric of her shirt for a moment. It's dark and warm and hard to worry about anything.

"I promise I do everything I possibly can to come home safe to you," Beatrice says into her ear, "I'm sorry I can't give you any more reassurance than that."

"Okay," Ava says, voice muffled against Beatrice's chest. It's not enough but it has to be enough. This is Bea's job, the thing she loves more than anything else, and Ava won't ever touch the sanctity of that. "I'm still going to worry about you."

"I know." Beatrice presses a kiss into her hair and pulls back, "I worry about you too though, when I'm gone."

Ava rolls her eyes, "The most dangerous thing that could happen to me is Lilith finally snapping and turning on everyone she loves."

"So fairly likely then?" Beatrice asks.

Ava snorts, "Like a 90% chance."

They settle themselves to go to sleep, lying down fully and adjusting the pillows and blankets. That's another thing Ava learned recently: Beatrice - her big, tough sailor - likes being the little spoon. She won't admit to that, obviously, but she sighs contentedly whenever Ava wraps her arms around her from behind.

So when Beatrice reaches up to switch the lamp off, Ava does just that, presses herself against Bea's back. She listens to Beatrice's breathing become slow and even, and she clings on.

#extra writing #asks

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thefunkfactory · 1 month

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Persian Magic

Alex absolutely hated gym class. He was never athletic and hated all the guys that he had class with, all of them were obnoxious and arrogant seniors. To Alex the worst of them all was Karim, he transferred in this year and was popular among all the athletic kids in the gym class. Alex couldn’t stand Karim and what's worse is that Karim used the locker right next to Alex. Karim never liked Alex though either, the first day of gym Alex told Karim that he reeked worse than a spice market. Karim knew that he was gonna make Alex eat his words since then.

After Alex went home he set his backpack down at the foot of his bed, got changed for work, and left. While he was gone Karim’s surprise worked its magic. Karim had placed a pair of his gym socks at the bottom of Alex’s bag, Karim had preemptively placed a curse on the socks to make their stench more powerful. When Alex returned home,incredibly tired from work, and entered his room he smelled something rancid. He looked everywhere but could not figure out what it was. He eventually gave up and went to bed being too tired to continue searching, but he did open his window to try and air out his room. While in his sleep the socks went into overdrive. The stench they let off was so powerful and the curse started to change Alex.

When Alex woke up in the morning he didn’t notice any smell anymore. He had just assumed that whatever it was got aired out overnight. Alex began to ready for the day starting with getting dressed. When he opened his sock drawer he saw a new pair of socks sitting atop the rest of them. He didn’t remember ever seeing these before of even buying them but to him they were just a pair of socks so he threw them on. As he finished getting ready he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, put on deodorant, and spritz himself with some cologne. When he looked into the mirror his appearance had changed! He wasn’t White anymore! He looked like he could be siblings with Karim! Immediately his mind started racing but then quickly his mind told itself that he “has always looked like this” and “why is he getting so freaked out? he has always been proud of his Middle Eastern features.” He chuckled to himself thinking it was stupid that he got scared of his own reflection and reached for his deodorant. Picking it up he looked at it and threw it in the trash saying “Why do I even own this? I don't want to cover up my own scent. It’s unnatural!”. He did the same for his cologne. Ali brushed his teeth and grabbed his backpack and went to school.

All day he didn’t feel right being with his friends, he felt like he should be hanging out with the other Muslim and Middle Eastern boys. It didn’t help that his friends kept complaining that he stank, he just told them that “It’s natural to smell like this” and that they should just stop being inferior males. On the walk over to gym Karim ran up to him, “Hey Ali!” he shouted “You look great! And you smell even better!”. “Dude! You smell great too! Isn’t it great that our natural scent weeds out the pussies who wanna smell like chemicals!” said Ali. “Yea dude it’s great!” responded Karim. Ali and Karim hung out all of gym class working up a sweat. Back in the locker room while they were changing back in to their regular clothes, some kids walked up to them and told them “You guys are like hotboxing the entire locker room with your pits! Can’t you put on some deodorant!?”. Ali and Karim lifted up both their arms fully airing out their body odor and told the kids “You are all gonna love this Persian boy-stink soon enough!”

#musk #armpits #racial change #TTF

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djarinsbeskar · 9 months

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HERE, THERE BE MONSTERS: THE MINOTAUR PART 3

A/N: Me? Updating within a week? Surely we're in the wrong timeline, but believe it! This update is indeed a canon event, as is our poor nymph's first encounter with the brutality of the Minotaur. Once again, special thanks to @astroboots for the beta and cosntant hype! Artwork by machiavellicro on deviantart!

Pairing: Minotaur!Din Djarin x Nymph!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ NO Minors)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: gross misuse of mythology, gore, horror, suggestive themes. Reminder that this is a MONSTER FUCKING fic, so be warned for future chapters.

NOTICE: If you want to keep updated on when I post fic turn on notifications for @djarinsbeskar-writes c:

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Day 4

Something was out there.

Maybe you were naïve to assume the size of the labyrinth would ensure you wouldn’t cross paths with the monster who made his home here, and for several days, you didn’t.

A gust of wind made you whimper and curl into the pocket of space between raised, gnarled roots of the tree you’d taken shelter in. Burying your face in your knees to wait out the gale, you berated yourself for the nth time for thinking the forest would be a better bet than the maze.

It was so, so much worse.

At least in the maze, there was only four directions, and it was easier to tell when things changed. In the forest, it was next to impossible.

Half the time, you suspected you were the one being altered, not the labyrinth. As though, by some divine power, the wind was sweeping you off to a different part of the prison to disorient you anew. But nothing was crueller than the moments the wind changed nothing.

You knew you should be grateful in those moments, but it had the opposite effect.

It plagued your mind with paranoia, leaving you doubtful of the route you planned to take, your vision tunnelled on trying to find every little difference with frantic eyes and a pounding heart.

Was that tree always there?

Had the next left turn always been that far away? Was it even left? Maybe it was right…

Does the ground feel more uphill than before?

It was hell, and a few days within its snare made you feel aged beyond your cosmic eternity.

But that wasn’t the worst of it… because like all prisons, there was always a gatekeeper.

Something was out there…

Instinct had sent you hiding as you scavenged for fallen walnuts and bramble berries to fill your empty stomach. Like one of Artemis’ deer, your head had snapped up when a sudden hush fell over the land. An unnatural disquiet that was imperceptible at first until you looked up at the organic awning of leaves and branches, none of which were making a sound as they rustled against each other.

A warning breeze disturbed the litter of leaves around you silently, causing goosebumps to erupt with molten adrenaline all over your body.

You hid in the first place you could find, slight enough to fit into such a cramped space entirely, the only perk to a disadvantageous physique that was continuously punished by the unrelenting environment.

Cold water drenched your spine now, locking your bones in place and refused to let you move even as your muscles complained from how small you made yourself huddled between the roots.

And then… whispering.

Humans?

“I’m tellin’ ya,” the voices were faint, far away but still too loud in the oppressive silence, “this dust is comin’ from somewhere.”

In the air, a heavy oppressive presence poisoned the air. Your eyes widened, trepidation coating your tongue in fluff.

Whatever was out there, whatever you sensed, was not them. Your stomach sank at the realization; they were doomed. Walking passengers of Charon… their sacrificial coins blinding them to the death they were walking into.

How did they not feel the atmosphere shift? The potency of malice thickening to a point it felt like even the blood in your veins was congealing, so tight you just knew the tension would have to burst eventually. But too skittish to give your position away lest you suffer another humiliating encounter as you had in the village, you were forced to wait them out and listen.

“We need food, not dust.” The other human grizzled.

Dread draped over you as your eyes dropped to your muddied feet where your toes curled into the dirt. A faint glimmer of stardust surrounded where you sat and doubtlessly littered anywhere you spent any prolonged amount of time in.

“Are ya kiddin’?” The footsteps stopped, your heartbeat following. “Look at how this shit glows. It could help us navigate this hellhole. Outside’a havin’ the strength and sword to kill the beast, tha’s the most valuable thing we could have in this place.”

Oh, merciful gods… you lamented, burying your face in your hands.

Your fear and anxiety were so heightened here that, unbeknownst to yourself, a fissure had formed that allowed your essence to escape. Your astral soul was instinctively reacting to the burden of stress placed on your physical body and expelling stardust tracks in a bid to guide you home.

But here, in this netherworld, even it didn’t know what direction to lead you and ended up falling in a flurry of cosmic snow that did the opposite of help. Indeed, it led everyone in the labyrinth to you.

If those people found you…

If he found you.

The thought surfaced just as you realize the voices had halted.

They finally noticed, the atmosphere a tightly drawn back bow and their hurried steps the trigger to finally release it. Suddenly, the vacuum of silence was dispelled, the rustle in the canopy a battle cry of nature and the thick foliage a shield of leaves that continued to separate you from the light of the stars.

The hairs on your arms stood on ends, a drag of fingers up the back of your neck that resulted in a violent shiver when you glanced behind you, paranoid. You inhaled shallowly; lungs suddenly starved of oxygen as though you’d been holding your breath since you first hid.

Maybe the land wasn’t the only thing affected by whatever caused that silence to fall.

And then, as if to prove its iniquitous presence, the silence was finally filled with a dreadful sound.

Crunch… crunch… crunch…

Your stomach dropped into a pool of freezing water, blood pounding in your ears as your heart hammered wildly. The weight behind those footsteps… it wasn’t human. It wasn’t divine. Not even Hephaestus with his mighty hammer and full belly carried the power of this new presence. Every footstep sank into the detritus littered forest floor, telling you in no uncertain terms that whatever was out there… was huge.

Monster…

A tumult of noises, animals fleeing as they were possessed by their instincts, resonated through the air.

Crunch… crunch… sniff… crunch… crunch… crunch… sniff.

Tears welled in your eyes.

You knew, on an instinctive level, what was up there. The very thing that gods and mortals alike spoke about in whispers, a warning tale to scare naughty children into obedience lest they find themselves where you were now.

The Minotaur.

Fear like you’d never known before – not when you’d first been thrown into the labyrinth or even when you were dragged before the Queen of Gods herself – overcame your senses as it consumed you. It eradicated your identity in an icy riptide of terror, dragging you under until only your fear floated and became your entire existence.

A horned silhouette stretched across the treetops in front of you, a shadow among shadows. Darker than the blackest hole and just as hungry to destroy anything that came close to it.

He was close…

You covered your mouth to silence the sob that sought to escape you, unable to blink as you witnessed the shadow of the bull-headed monster hunting you grow as he moved.

He turned his head, a wide muzzle exaggerated in his profile and distorted by the disorderly wall of trees that created a mismatched canvas for his shadow. You watched the silhouette lift his head towards the sky, intentional, measured… followed by another series of sniff sniff sniff.

You didn’t even realize the tears were falling before they pooled in the crevice where your hands were folded over your mouth, tracking down your cheeks in a constant stream as a bugle blared in your mind, resisting the existence of such a nightmarish creature even as you saw his shadow with your waking eyes.

Closer he walked, crunch crunch crunch, his shadow growing from the bovine head to the body of a man—strong, broad shoulders large enough to carry those horns and the defined curve of his muscles evident even through the flatness of his silhouette.

You were trapped.

Bark dug into your back as you pressed as far back into the roots as you could, silent and wishing you possessed the wood nymphs’ ability to sink into the trees themselves for protection. But your salvation was out of reach, far above the trees and cloud cover that the twinkling light of stars couldn’t pierce.

A bellow—bullish and remarkably, with tones of a human voice undercutting it, echoed throughout the forest. The wind carried it farther than it ought to have travelled, in service to him and reminding all who dwelled within this prison, just who the jailor was.

Did he know?

You tucked your knees and feet tighter against your body, eyeing the treacherous trail of stardust in front of you. He only needed to catch sight of the gleam and it would lead him directly to where you hid, cornered against the roots.

You could risk it and run. Either into the maze or up one of the trees, but you had little faith in your speed given your only experience with running was in pleasure. In coy chases through the trees that ended with you sprawled in some meadow with your hunter’s cock buried inside you, claiming the prize you presented.

That train of thought led you somewhere taboo in your mind, somewhere sinful… somewhere you shouldn’t linger as the image of a bovine beastman doing just that flashed across your mind.

You shied away from it, confused by the sudden rush of adrenaline that banished the cold on your skin. There was a harsh exhale above you, he smelled something.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself harshly. This wasn’t some flirty chase of your own design… where your pursuer even seeing you, let alone catching you was at your will. This was different.

Here, with him… you would be running for your life. And if he ran you down…

What prize did a Minotaur want? Was it the spilling of blood like legend would tell? Was it something more carnal… like all those of flesh and bone desired?

No.

The only other option you had was to remain still and pray he moved on, so you never had to find out. Every step closer he took to the precipice of the roots you were under, however, diminished that hope and when you could practically smell the musk on his skin and fur, hear his exhales, and see the billowing clouds of condensation from his breath, you tried to make peace with the fact that you’d been caught.

But it was not to be your end.

Another bellow proved to be your salvation as the noise broke the courage of the other poor souls hiding close by, those who had followed your stardust and who you initially thought long gone.

Your heart seized at the sound of them scrambling out of hiding and running, their ragged breaths overshadowed by a ferocious snarl as the Minotaur’s shadow whirled around. Instinct overtook him, or luck was on your side, his heavy footfalls charging – too fast – after their fleeing forms and away from you.

There was no relief though, not when the sudden scream some distance away warned of you meeting the same fate if you didn’t move now. The screams were cut off as suddenly as the drop at the hangman’s gallows, that same cruel wind carrying the wet gurgle of flooded windpipes to you.

It chased you as you pulled yourself out of your hiding spot, fleeing the carnage and praying you could put enough distance between you and the carnage. At least until the wind picked up again and dropped you somewhere else in this maze of madness.

For surely you were going mad… because no matter how fast and far you ran, there could be no other reason that anything other than fear or revulsion should fill you at the thought of that murderous brute.

You hoped you were going mad… to justify the inkling of attraction that continued to simmer low in your navel hours later.

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tiajk · 5 months

Text

Little Miss Hamilton(I think i’m actually hilarious)

Masterlist

Warnings: reader is seen as the Hamilton of the crew, reader is implied to have powers but not have eaten devil fruit, Poc reader implied (brown skin, curly hair ), It’s a platonic mostly (hint of zosan x reader not a hint it’s plain a day), Cursing, pre time skip im mind, Best friends Nami & Ussop (such an underrated duo), Mostly the Anime in mind when writing this, no use of name or y/n, grammar errors (i js know there are)

A/n: Told you guys another fic would be out today (I love Hamilton) (if you watch Hamilton what’s your favorite song(s) mines are satisfied & Non-stop), you guys i wrote this with the worst stomach pain im gonna fucking die

Dividers from ; @y-yushin & @anitalenia

—It almost felt like a reward every single piece of it. Starting with the fact you were apart of the straw hat pirate crew. Luffy claimed that you were all the best including you. most of the time dismissing him with a smile and a small “thank you!!” Then going back to your books and writings. thinking back to the fights you’ve been though you were grateful for having your powers what was more important was knowledge knowing every single piece of information that you found valuable was important to you and you would do anything to obtain it. Even if that included staying up late at night sleeping all during the day which at first no one thought was odd just assuming you were like Zoro. At night was when you did your true calling the most knowledge obtained from the Stars making charts, maps, and hypothesis’s about the moon and why does it change every single night. Mind running through thousands of ideas on how. Most of the time you would ire yourself out so much that you would fall asleep on deck but someone would always awake in the night to check most of the time it was Sanji and Zoro. Whenever Zoro found you he would grumble stings of curses out of his mouth when he saw you. He didn’t understand why you would leave yourself out in the open just to get more information about the stars but he would rather die then let you sit out in the cold. Sanji was the same way he would find you most of the time after Luffy tries to sneak into the fridge and he can’t go back to sleep. Tonight is no different from the rest your slumped on the deck your book is closed secure so the wind wont open it with little bits of pages sticking out of it your notebook stacked on top as well. Sanji & Zoro both cant sleep tonight instead of arguing with each other the just drink and get to know each other better. Surprisingly there laughing together playfully bantering each other when Sanji’s expression changes and goes outside Zoro doesn’t know what he’s doing at first but then it clicks in his head you were probably asleep on the deck again. He follows Sanji out the kitchen door seeing Sanji picking you up bridal style already you look peaceful its like your boy knows that Sanji’s got you and that your safe. While he’s climbing up the stars when he passes zoro he stops “Can you get her books I would usually would get them but your here to help me this time”. He wants to roll his eyes but he can’t and for once he just listen maybe it’s the alcohol flowing through his system or maybe he knows how important your books are to you it’s your dream. During the day most of the time nami watched over you she would distract from your books claiming how you both needed a break. Dragging Ussop(he wanted to go) as you guys al go shopping and play a little dress up. By you guys its mostly nami and ussop finding clothes to give you and you to try on while they give you there opinions (Ussop has good fashion taste cant change my mind (u prob could but pls don’t). Nami Had this beautiful Long body con dress the base of the dress was a peachy pink with coral all over it the coral being in all different shapes the colors being blue, purple and ifferent shades of pink as well. “Go try it on it’s gorgeous and goes perfect with your skin tone ” taking the fabric from her hands you go to the dresseing room sort of excited to try it on. when you finished putting you examined your self in the mirror in the dressing room it was the perfect length on the floor but not enough to drag on your feet to annoy you but it hugged everywhere and it just felt perfect you didn’t really care if you have to go into debt for nami to buy this dress it would be worth it. While opening the door holding your hair in a low pony with no ponytail holder some curly staying in the front. Nami and Ussop mouth dropped to the floor when they saw you “What is it bad” you confidence going down slowly but it accelerates when nami says “It’s perfect on you we have to buy it it was literally made for you” you smile at her thanking her for the compliment “I agree it’s an amazing dress for you”.

—When going back in the dressing room as you put your other clothes on thinking what would Zoro and Sanji think about the dress you shiver at the thought of the reaction and shake it from your mind. When you guys head back to the ship it’s not loud and that worries you automatically as you speed up your pace to the going merry. Going to the kitchen is ur first stop and it was correct. You see Luffy, Sanji and Zoro all cooped up around something but you don’t know what “HMH” clearing your throat to get their attention. The all look in shock not expecting you to be there. Luffy hides the object behind his back “We thought you guys were still shopping?” “Well we're back now” You look at all three of the they seem nervous. Luffy is sweating hard “What do you have behind your back Luffy?” “Nothing” You don’t believe him so you place the shopping back on the counter and sit at the table with them “What’s the problem guys you seem nervous did i do something wrong?” They all looked at each other silently communicating “No we just don’t want you to get mad at us” it was really confusing why would you get mad? “I won’t promise” Luffy looks at you one more time just to make sure he brings the object in front of him and on the table it’s your book your book with everything in it. Part of you wants to get mad but you don’t “where did you find this?” “It was on the table fore you left I saw it and wondered what it was about didn’t know it was yours” Zoro states with his harms crossed looking at you “It’s okay but are any of the pages missing” you say examining every page that you could get your hands on slightly worried that some valuable information could be missing “No I made sure that nothing happened to it” Sanji blows the smoke out of his mouth “What happened?” Nami ask as she enters the room “Nothing just my books” Ussop comes behind you one of your books was open and he’s peeking at it over your shoulder “woah you wrote all of this?” you honestly didn’t think that it was a lot not enough knowledge so it wasn’t a lot. Nami comes and looks as well “Wow it really is a lot is that why your always up at night writing?” You start to feel a little bit on the spot which it doesn’t really matter that its you its just the subject “Yea but I could write more i dont feel like it’s enough” Zoro thinks to himself ‘what will be enough for her’ “Why it’s it not enough you write like your running out of time”…………

Part 2 coming soon ( i couldn’t finish my stomach hurts and it feels like i have the throw up)(update i threw up and i’m sick ass hell)

#tiajk #opla x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro x reader #opla luffy x reader #opla nami x reader #opla sanji x reader #opla ussop x reader #one piece x poc reader #one piece x reader #zorosan x reader

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