#idk what the fuck is happening they’re taking over my mind
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I miss them everyday….
#blueycapsules#sister location#circus baby#funtime freddy#funtime foxy#ballora#bonbon#idk what the fuck is happening they’re taking over my mind
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Can I request an Lucifer Morningstar x fem reader??
This like came up in my mind recently and I’m going feral over it
So Reader is Adams third wife that he had begged again to god to make him another wife (this is way before the exterminators fight with the devils when reader was created) and with that god made reader to be his wife that is different from both lilith and Eve, when reader was visiting The garden of Eden, she met lucifer who was on his way to do a meeting with the angels about the populations or the updates(idk you can do something like that) and lucifer was strolling through Eden again like going through a flashback when it all happened until he met reader who was sitting down underneath that same tree where he met Eve
Lucifer found reader enchanting and alluring since she was more beautiful then his ex wife, and soon had an urge to seduce reader like he did to adams other ex wives as lucifer held an apple to reader to tempt her with free will, reader was hesitant and tempted but asked lucifer “what did you do to make adams ex wives to leave him for you?” (She wasn’t told how adams ex wives fucked lucifer but she does know about the free will but what happened to Eve since she knew about the whole story about lucifer and lilith) it made lucifer smirk and told reader “would you like to know?”
(I’m sorry but like I’ve been thinking so much about it🤭🤭🤭)
Third times a charm (Lucifer Morningstar x Adam’s wife! Reader)
Legit love this idea, this a smut for obvi reasons
At this point, Adam just needs to stop because no one wants him also this takes place like 2 year-ish after Lilith left Lucifer
This is not proofread!!!
Also I’m not christen so I don’t know everything about Christianity. So I’m going off of Hazbin hotel and how I interpret the things I do know from the Bible
Reader is female in this
Warnings: smut, P n V sex, oral sex (reader reserving), reader is a virgin (Adam doesn’t get pussy) , dom! Lucifer, outside/public sex, Y/N is suggested to have big thighs, Lucifer comforting reader, Mentions of blood
⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧
No ones POV
After Lilith and Eve both falling for Lucifer’s tricks, Adam begged for a new wife. God obliged gave them one more, he named her Y/N, they had H/C hair and the most beautiful E/C eyes. They were a few form of beauty never seem before, oftenly considered the ‘beautiful one’ of Adams wives by the head angels. You lived with Adam, but due to Adam off doing heavens know what, she spent most of her time in the place it all started…the garden of Eden.
Y/N was told about how Lucifer ‘bewitched’ Lilith and eve to betray God and Adam and the heavens itself, but was never really known why they did, why did they choose Lucifer? It was a question they asked herself quite often.
On one summers day while Adam was off doing what Y/N could only assume to be ‘work’, she was once again in the garden. Y/N couldn’t explain why they like the garden so much but they felt so drawn to it. On this day, Y/N wasn’t the only one in the garden. This was one of the days the Angels were meeting with the king of hell himself, Lucifer.
Lucifer had to attend another meeting due to the population still not going down as much as the Angels hoped. He truly didn’t want to attend such a meeting, but he had to. To avoid the meeting as long as possible he decided to take a walk in the a Garden of Eden, this garden help a special place in Lucifer’s mind, where he met he ex wife Lilith and where evil was created when Eve eating the fruit of wisdom.
Today he chose to visit that very tree, the large tree where everything happened. As the walked through the greenery he way the opening where the tree sat but there was something else, someone else. They’re laid a woman lying in the shade of under the large apple tree wearing a white angelic bread, her beautiful H/L H/C they laid against the bed of grass. Her facial features were gorgeous, things he’s never seen before. She had E/C eyes. Everything about her was enchanting, as he was admiring her the noticed something on her finger, a gold wedding band with a large “A” ingrained on it…she was Adam’s wife.
Lucifer was surprised by the knowledge, when had Adam gotten a new wife? God actually gave him another after what happened to the last two? Lucifer remembering the every tree she lied under. Lucifer idea came to his head, why not keep up the streak of stealing away Adams wife? Lucifer moved swiftly over to the tree taking one of the hanging apples before appearing infront of the woman.
Though Y/N eyes were closed enjoyed the sounds of the garden, they felt an unfamiliar presence around her. She shot her eyes E/C open to see a pale man with blonde hair, we wore a white suit with red detailing along with the snake along his hat,then they notice this hand, he was holding a apple.
Y/N nearly shot up from her previous position, she knew who this was…it was Lucifer. She’s hear stories of the fallen angel, but has never seen his face before but she knew it was him. “Hello my dear.” He said with a smile was he stepped closer to her. She didn’t looked scared more intrigued than anything, which he wasn’t expecting considering the stories told of him by the angels. “Did God not give you a voice dear?” He asked seeming more of a joke. “No,” she said to this, her eyes not leaving his face, “I have one..”
He leaned down get on one knee infront of her, “then why don’t you use it? You could be free…” his clawed hand that held the red apple extend to her, the red apple begging to be taken. She stared at the apple debating it for a moment before her eyes moved back to his, “I have a question for you..” she asked him, she seemed so unmoved by the chance at free will. It caught him a little off guard, “she is truly different..” the thought to himself. “Ask away Dove? What on your mind?” He ask the woman curious what question could be more important then free will.
“What did you do to make Adam’s first to wives to leave him for you?” She asked him, curious
Lucifer smug smile feel into a shocking look, did she not know about what happened? Is Heaven really hiding this from her? Then it hit Lucifer, what a better way to teach then show her. He let the apple drop to the ground as he crawled over to her, moving between her legs, he moves one of his under her chin tilting it to him.
“Would you like to know? I could show you..” he said to her in a low voice.
She looked at him a little shocked, what was this feeling? Y/N had never help this before, she felt hot. “Yes..” she said to him, he smile widen as he lead his face in more. “Are you sure..?” He asked again, in an almost teasing way. Y/N nodded their head, “I am…show me..” and with those words, Lucifer kissed them deep.
It caught Y/N off guard but quickly kissed back, wrapping their arms around this neck pulling him closer Lucifer was quick to move his free arm around your waist and pulled you in. Making her body press against his. The feeling her body pressed again his, Y/N couldn’t help but moan at this foreign feeling growing in her. Lucifer heard her moan, it was like a siren call to him. He took the hand that was on her cheek and moved it down under her dress, brushing his fingers over her clothed pussy.
The feeling of his actions made Y/N jump at the feeling, she’s never felt this, it sent an aching feeling into her cover, it felt as if her body was begging for more. Lucifer pulled away from the kiss, a smile string of saliva connecting them. Her face was flushed, a perfect shade of red. Lucifer pressed against her pussy again feeling a wet pool form, almost like on command she let out another moan, her nail’s scratching the nape of his neck.
Lucifer smiled at her reaction, before moving down. “Let me help you with this…” he said in a low voice full of lust, his voice alone enchanting her. Lucifer spread her legs wider and lifted her dress up, revealing her stomach and clothed pussy. Y/N gasp at the action, a little embarrassed and how relieved she is. Lucifer kissed her stomach as they removed their panties, revealing their soaking wet cunt. Y/N watched him as he kissed down her stomach before pulling away, his eyes moving up to look at hers before back to her pussy.
Lucifer moved her thighs onto his shoulder, knocking off his hat, allowing him full access into to her, before he could react to her lower body being lifted up, Lucifer licked her wet folds. Y/N gasp letting out a moan at the feeling of this long tongue lick her. Lucifer let out a groan, she was he best thing he’s ever tasted, he was quick to move in closer, his mouth pressed against her wet cunt, eating her out like it was his last meal. Y/N couldn’t help but become a moaning mess quickly, the feeling was so foreign but it was the best feeling she’d felt her whole life, she wanted, no, she needed more.
Her hand reaching down and tangled her finger in his blonde hair, pushing his head in. It caught him off guard but he loved seeing her so eager. Lucifer happily fulfilled her wish for move , he slipped his tongue in her as he continued to eat. Y/N felt a pit form inside her, she needed it to go away, he needed to make it go away. “Fuck..please!” Y/N moaned out louder. Lucifer could tell she was close by the feeling of her tightening around his long tongue, he groan at the feeling, feeling his pants tighten up. His groans send a vibration into her.
Y/N clinched her thighs around his head, moaning as the vibration. She felt like she was about to release something that she didn’t even know of. After a few more swift motions of Lucifer, Y/N felt the pit release, she let out a loud moan, she attempted to muffle it out by covering her mouth. Lucifer moaned and slurped up all her juices, it was the perfect taste.
Y/N felt like she was floating, this feeling was so knew but she never wanted it to stop. After he sucked her dry, Lucifer pulled away his chin glistening with her juices. When Lucifer go back onto his knees, he stayed between her now shaking legs, he looked at her flushed face, her eyes clouded with the new pleasure. To him she looked perfectly, he was quick to kiss her deep, yet every passionately. Y/N was quick to kiss back softly playing with his hair. While they kissed, Lucifer was quick to undo this belt. Before he could finish undoing his pants, he pulled away hovering over her.
“Are you ready..?” Lucifer asked softly. Y/N nodded their head eagerly, “Please…I need this..” she said through heavy breaths. Lucifer smiled as he undid his pants pulling them down. His cock springing to life. Y/N gasp softly, mesmerized. Lucifer moved in closer in, when he did Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt him pressing his tip against her entrance, she shivered at the feeling.
After a moment Lucifer slowly entered her stretching her out. She gasped loudly moaning, she felt the sting of him stretching her out. She felt tears peak the corners of her eyes. Noticing this Lucifer stayed still, moving his face down to place butterfly kisses on her face, moving his hand to her cheek holding her kissing away her tears. “It’s ok dove..” he whispered in her ear and he continued his assault of kisses. “Just tell me when to continue, ok..?” He said softly to her, she nodded her head and held him close as he continued to kiss her face, wishing sweet nothing in Y/N’s ear.
After a few minutes, she whispered to him “you can continue..” she said quietly. Lucifer nodded his head as he continued to push in, she whinned a little but it wasn’t as painful as before. Soon he was all the way in, all 8 inches. He was still for a moment looking into Y/N eyes, waiting for her permission to move, Y/N nodded. With the affirming nod of approval, Lucifer pulled nearly all the way our all the way out and slammed back in, making Y/N throw her head pack and moan loudly. It was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure.
Lucifer couldn’t help but moan himself, Y/N was so tight it was a knee feeling to him. He loved him. As he slowly continued his thrust, Y/N could held but moan into Lucifer’s neck. This feeling was new to Y/N and they didn’t want it to end. “Please!” Y/N moaned out to him between this thrust, “more please..” Lucifer smiled at his words as he sped up with his thrust. “Fuck..” Lucifer moaned out as he held her tight. There body’s pressed against each other, Y/N nails were dug into his back nearly tearing his suit jacket, Y/N could feel the pit reforming in her as a fast past, Lucifer could feel it too.
Lucifer could feel him release building up, and it was only getting closer as he felt her squeeze around him. He could only let out groans as he digs his nails through her dress, piecing her skin, drawing blood. Y/N’s head was thrown back they felt like they were about to release. “Please!!” Y/N’s nearly screamed out to him. Lucifer smiled obeying her orders, speeding up for her and his own release. Her blood began to slowly stain her white dress, after a few more thrust Y/N let out a moan as they came again, coating his cock with them. Her body was shaking as he continued to thrust. Feeling the tight wetness, he came into her, painting her wall white. After he was done he clasped onto her, both panting heavily.
Y/N was a shaking mess, Arms wrapped around him tight, almost as if she let go they’d both disappear. “Are you already little dove..?” He asked soft to her. His cock still buried inside her still. “I feel great..” she said softly, nuzzling into him. “Good..” he said quietly kissing her cheek, “now you know why Adams first two wives left him..” Y/N looked at him her E/C filled with wonder and questions. “What does that mean for me.” Lucifer let out a small laugh. “That means your mine now sweetheart..”
Tag list
@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @musicb33nsstuff @rainycloud858 @yaimlight @erissco @aarkhamkknight @pooplyface1423 @purplethree @dog55teeth
#x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar x you#lucifer morningstar#fanfic#hazbin hotel smut
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NSFW Alphabet for Alastor, Vox and Husk if you don’t mind pretty please!
as you wish :)
NSF/W ALPHABET
feat. alastor, vox, and husk
i wrote this over the span of a week and for a good portion of this i was pretty drunk so my apologies if it gets messy
A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)
alastor would recognize the need for aftercare but like as soon as you're fine and happy he's done with this whole ordeal. especially if you're someone who needs cuddles he will tolerate it until the exact moment you don't need him to.
vox tbh gives the vibes of like, he doesn't entirely think aftercare is necessary so only if he's in a good mood will he settle in and take care of you after.
husk is 100% all in on aftercare. you need water? done. need a towel? he's got them ready. anything you need he has it or will do it. he'd probably be SUPER big on cuddling though but he'd never admit it. he does get sleepy very easily tho.
B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)
alastor doesn't seem the type to have a favorite body part but if he did it would be your neck. sorry.
vox is definitely an ass man 100% he always appreciates some ass
husk i feel would be particular about your hands, idk why he just gives that vibe.
C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)
alastor is a big fan of cumming inside, leaving a mark on you
vox is 50/50 but he usually leans towards facials
husk is a creampier but in a more like intimate way.
D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)
i don't imagine alastor having a dirty secret but i 100% think vox has fuck machines and husk is lowkey into bdsm (the more tamer parts)
E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)
i think in order of most experience to least it would be: vox, husk, alastor. i think alastor would have some experience but he doesn't do that stuff a lot yk, husk has definitely fucked before and knows his way around and i solidly think vox is an absolute sexual deviant and is the most experienced by far.
F= Favorite position
alastor is anything that establishes him a a dominant. thinking like a mating press cause he'd want to see your face but doggy style also works.
vox is a cowgirl enjoyer, or anything where you're on top of him. he likes watching you do the work.
husk probably trends to more vanilla like missionary but i don't think he'd have a favorite. he definitely likes anything where he can see your face though.
G= Goofy (how serious are they)
alastor would be super serious i think, vox is like mostly serious/intense but sometimes he's just in a silly mood and i think husk is always a little bit relaxed about it, unless it's something really intimate then he's being all romantic and shit.
H= Hair (grooming habits)
alastor is well groomed when he anticipates having sex whereas husk is well groomed regardless, and vox i think is the kind to always keep it hairless down there
I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)
alastor is almost always rough but CAN be a little bit softer. same with vox, both of them are doing it with the intention fo dominating you.
husk is 50/50 can be either tbh. in a relationship he'd prly lean more towards something sappy and intimate.
J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)
i don't see alastor masturbating at all tbh. sorry i know that's such a boring hc but like, i just don't see it happening.
vox 100% does, favorite way to blow off steam if you're not there. remember the fuck machines from earlier? yeah dude prly has a plethora of sex toys.
husk does but not often, like a normal amount. if he's feeling in the mood and you're not there or not in the mood as well he does mind it. he'd do the old man huff thing when undoing his pants tho.
K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)
alastor would be pretty into choking and irgasm denial or like dubious consent. some form of cnc or just something that makes him feel like youre at his mercy. i think vox is in a similar boat but he'd be into the mirror kink or whatever it's called where you have sex infront of a mirror. husk would be into somno and overstim i think
L= Location (where they like to get it on)
alastor would be into privacy, given the fact he's like dominating you he wants the space to do so
vox doesn't care but in his office is where the majority of it would happen i think. he seems the type to rage the fuck out at his desk and need his little doll come make him feel better :(
husk is a bedroom guy but on the off chance the hotel is dead quiet you might be able to convince him into something in the parlor
M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)
alastor is domination and owning you, vox is a mixture of possessiveness and genuinely wanting to get off, husk is all in for pleasure and pleasing you
N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)
alastor would never bottom, like ever. it doesn't matter how much you ask that man is never submitting to you
vox i don't think there's much but he's not into being dommed i don't think. it's a very thin line though because like sometimes he'd like to just be a bit mindless and get fucked and pampered more
husk would never do really rough play. anything that involves straight up hurting you is a big no
O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)
alastor would be a giving guy i think. not that he wouldn't enjoy you giving him head but it's a power thing right, when he goes down on you and you're writhing beneath him? it's heaven. skill wise 7/10
vox is a receiving guy, he loves watching you suck him off. i think he'd go down on you if you asked but it's not his first thought yk. skill wise 4-5/10
husk is a 50/50 again but i think he's more partial to receiving. something about you on your knees and taking care of him like that is so mesmerizing. skill wise 8/10
P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)
alastor could last for a really long time tbh despite the powerplay it's also mostly about your pleasure to dominate you. he'd be fast pace wise though
vox is about average for how long he lasts, there's somedays he's a little fast and he'd lowkey get embarrassed if you teased him. he's fast pace wise but it depends on how close he is.
husk is average but it also depends on what you're doing. anytime you give him head he's very quick to cum, and he'd such a fan of it tbh. he'd be a wildcard pace wise, really depends what you want him to do.
Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)
alastor doesn't like quickies at all, he likes time to do this shit properly
vox LOVES quickies idk if i need to elaborate more
husk isn't a fan of quickies but occasionally appreciates them.
R= Risk (do they like to try new things)
alastor is 50/50 if it has anything to do where he has less power then no but if it's just something more he could do then yes!
vox is a cautious yes, but it's very unclear to me whether he'd want to just be an in the moment thing or like discussed before hand. he seems like the kind to randomly pull out a move midsex and gage your reaction
husk i think he leans closer to no, in his opinion the way he's doing things seem great so why complicate it more? but if you really want to try something he will
S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)
alastor can go quite a lot of rounds I think, like each round is around the same, the only reason he's stopping is if he thinks you physically can't take it anymore
vox can go like 2-4 rounds i think but they definitely get shorter as he goes. you're only making it to round 4 if he's had a rough day
husk is like max 2 id say. second round gets a lot shorter and he REALLY relies on you helping him out for both of you to reach climax.
T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)
alastor and vox yes but alastor could lowkey get possessive for no fucking reason. idk why he just seems the type to be a bit condescending especially if you have sex later.
husk is a no, i think. like if the activity required a toy then sure but he definitely doesn't have toys unless you were adamant about using them he wouldn't suggest it. i think he might get insecure he's not making you feel good enough though :(
U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)
alastor teases a lot but he's not a fan of when you tease him. if you do any sort of bratty shit he's 100% putting a swift end to it, but he does like the challenge. he seems like he might be into total denial so it's a dangerous game for you
vox teases and doesn't mind being teased but i think he's the kind to get frustrated if you're being a brat in public
husk is SUCH a tease. like you wouldn't really expect it but it's just little things in public with affection while no one is looking. during the actual act he's not one to tease much though
V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)
alastor grunts fr but like i think that'd be about it. other than little coy comments and some degrading praises he's pretty quiet
vox on the other hand MOANS. if you tease him abt it he will get so fucking mad. but like he's definitely loud asf too.
husk is a groaner but he also moans. he's like a medium level i guess? more on the quiet side, i don't see him getting loud
W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)
alastor really likes marking and will do so. like one minute you're just lying in bed, the next you're on his lap as he digs his teeth into your neck.
vox really likes handjobs idk why but he just does. something about watching you jerk him off gets him going
husk likes making out while fucking. like he's the kind to give you the sloppiest of kisses while he ruts into you.
X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)
skipping cause i feel like it's been answered thoroughly, they all have cocks that vary in size and grooming.
Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)
alastor has a low sex drive, mostly dependant on your needs. if you hc he's asexual then it's mostly on you to get him going or atleast express interest
vox has a higher sex drive but not crazy. dude mostly just likes to destress and fucking is a fun way to do that.
husk is average. but when he's feeling in the mood he makes it pretty clear.
Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)
alastor doesn't sleep after very often, unless you very specifically ask and he feels like you need him.
vox depending on the circumstances goes to sleep pretty quickly, like he'll do some basic aftercare and if he feels like you're fine he's dozing off.
husk is a sleeper but he'd make sure he stays awake long enough to make sure you're fine. since he's big on cuddling he'd be drifting off, murmuring in your ear and asking if you're okay before he finally goes to sleep.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor smut#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#husk smut#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin husk#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox smut#vox x reader#husk x reader#vox#husk
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Random Obey Me! Headcannons
Lucifer really likes human world blue cheese but refuses to admit it because he knows he will be made fun of for it by his brothers
Mammon has his first dollar he made in the Devildom framed and when Mc found it while looking for condoms he was really embarrassed
Idk it’s so funny to me to think of Mc and Mammon about to have sexy time and they need to go look for a condom. Mammon swears he has some so Mc goes digging though a drawer and finds a framed dollar bill while butt naked
“Mammon what is this-”
“SHIT UNSEE THAT HUMAN”
Levi has neck and back pains from all the gaming he does and really loves massages but is too scared to ask
Satan once stole a pair of Lucifer’s underwear and hung it from the RAD flagpole
Asmo made it a point to introduce Mc into his nightly routine as his face mask buddy, even to the point of doing it over call if they’re separated
This also sounds funny as shit imagine someone like Levi walking in on that
“So anyways, I stomped their skull in and got blood on my new boots. My hands also hurt from wringing the neck of that-”
“Asmo, Lucifer wants to know- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU”
“A face mask, Levi. You could use one”
Beel loves kids and likes it when they use him as a jungle gym
Belphie always kicks people in his sleep without fail. Mammon swears he does it on purpose but knows he doesn't
Simeon does the best hair braids and is regarded the best in the Celestial Realm
Luke hates girl scout cookies since he thinks homemade cookies are so much better
Solomon can be seen leaving Asmo's room at any point during the day but nobody ever sees him going in. Imagine hanging out with Asmo and Solomon just fucking appears and then disappears just as fast
Diavolo's favorite color is pink
Barbatos has a succulent garden and Mc will bring him a new one every time they come back from the human world
Thirteen definitely loves Mexican food and spice in general
Raphael is convinced soft blankets are the best thing to ever exist
Mephisto once accidently knocked over one of Luke's cakes and felt so bad that he sent Purgatory Hall a buttload of money and wrote an article in the RAD newspaper about how great the angels were at baking
Mammon and Lucifer openly hate white chocolate (because it's not chocolate). Satan does too but pretends to like it because Lucifer likes it
Whenever Satan needs a parter to go to the events he gets invited to, Mc and Asmo are his first choices. He's closest with Asmo (Belphie is a second close) and doesn't mind the fanfare
Asmo and Beel often travel around the Devildom together. Asmo can't eat everything he orders since he just wants pictres so Beel is the ideal companion. Beel is also the perfect body guard
Solomon's current favorite liquor is Fireball and always has some on hand, but Luke always hides it because he thinks drinking is a bad habit
Barbatos definitely listens to heavy metal but everyone thinks he listens to classical music
If my grandmothers met the brothers, Beel would be their fav because he would clean his plate but if it was everyone, Simeon would take it home because he’s so charming even though he’s barely clothed
Everyone is so downbad for Mc I think it might scare off other people how much they hover. Like, a lower demon bothering you? Literally anything could happen to them, like they could be thrown in an endless loop of suffering, they could be made dirt poor for eternity, or they could be torn limb from limb <3 gotta love it
Asmo and Belphie make a deadly duo when to comes to trapping people/demons/angels. They both have the power to lure you in, and would probably take turn luring in victims for an evening as some sort of strange brother bonding. They both remind me of angler fish in a way. Asmo lures them with the pretense of sex and Belphie with relaxation, two things people can’t get enough of and they can stay calm enough to pull it off
Solomon has definitely made the brothers swap bodies or something crazy like that, on accident or not, you decide
Whenever Mc is feeling down, Diavolo offers his man titties as a nice pillow to relax on because he read somewhere once humans liked that
Beel is like a bull in a china shop so do not take him anyway where you need to be delicate. Belphie knows this, and will put him to sleep and carry him when they need to go somewhere like an antique shop by promising him a snack afterwards
Beel thinks Satan, Belphie, and Mc make the best weights out of everyone. Satan will just read, Belphie will just sleep, and Mc is like his personal cheerleader. However, he can and will lift all his brothers and Mc and the same time if he wants to, it’s just difficult to get them all in the same place at the same time
Thirteen, Belphie, and Satan got in a prank war once and it had to end in a draw since one party could not best the other. In the end, they made a final, collaborative prank and pulled it on Solomon
Mc once fell down the stairs in the human realm, ended up in the hospital, and sent the entire cast into panic so much that they took turns watching over them
Mephisto and Mc once had a night out drinking together and (somehow) returned to the HoL but were totally smashed. Lucifer forbid them from doing it again, but they still sneak out together and just crash at Mephiso’s place instead
#obey me#obey me!#obey me lucifer#obey me beel#obey me mammon#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me levi#obey me thirteen#obey me simeon#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#obey me mephistopheles#obey me raphael#obey me solomon#obey me belphie#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#obey me mc#obey me x you
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okay i was wondering if you could a joel x fem reader maybe even dbf joel where it’s loosely based on the song diet mountain dew by lana del rey? like the pining part of it and also the lyric “let’s take jesus of the dashboard” THATS SO HOT TO ME SO IDK
ive never requested anything before soo hope this is okay 🫣🫣
ahhhhhh, this one is a doozy
Ride It
pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
joel milller masterlist
She calls her dad's co-worker for a ride and gets a little more than she was expecting.
warnings | 18+ SMUT, age gap, DBF!joel, and not much else y'all
............................
“Hello?”
“Mr. Miller?” She can hear sheets rustling, his gruff sigh over the crackling receiver.
“It’s late, honey. What’s wrong?” Her heart stutters at the sweet name he calls her, the same name he’s called her since she first met him when her dad started working for Miller Construction four years ago.
“It’s my car. I think I have a flat tire and I can’t drive on it.” A long sigh filters through the phone.
“You should call your dad. He’s probably worried sick about you.”
“No! I can’t– he’s gonna be so pissed. Please, Mr. Miller. Would you– would you come get me? I know you’re good with cars and all. Please?” Another long sigh.
“Alright, honey. Will you tell me where you are?” She does, pulled over on the shoulder of the highway, a little ways out of the city but nowhere near home.
“Hang tight, I’m coming.”
“Thank you, Mr. Miller.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times– just Joel, honey.”
“Thank you, Joel.”
“I’ll be there soon.” She clicks her cell phone shut with a sigh, slumping back in the driver’s seat of her car. Her stomach swirls in anticipation. Normally, she’d try to tamp down the crush she’s had on Joel for quite some time, but after a night out in the city with a few of her old high school friends, she’s just warmed up enough to let her mind race with thoughts of him. It’s silly, something that could never really happen, seeing as her dad has been best friends with Joel for years. But it wasn’t impossible, was it? After all, he’s younger than her dad, and only fifteen years older than her. Jesus christ, get a grip. She huffs, shaking her head to still her thoughts as she looks out at the pitch-black Texas night.
It isn’t long before headlights are brightening up the inside of her car and she turns in her seat to see Joel’s familiar pick up truck pulling up behind her.
….
The rosary that hangs off her rear-view mirror is swaying harshly, the only sound beside their harsh panting and the sticky slap of skin is it clinking into the windshield over and over again. She’s not entirely sure how they got here, a mixture of late night talking and boundaries being flirted with until they both gave in to something they couldn’t have in the light of day.
“Shit, honey– fucking squeezing me– bit of a stretch for you, huh?” A high-pitched whine falls from her lips, her nails digging into the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel. Joel lets out a breathy laugh.
“That’s it, bounce on it for me, there you go– fuck– boys at school just not cutting it, are they? Need someone with a little more skill.” He punctuates his last word with a jolting thrust up that has the swollen tip of his cock grazing a spot so deep inside her it makes her crumple up against him, his rough fingers digging into her ass to support her as he starts a jagged rhythm of his own.
“C’mon, miss college. Use your words. Who’s making you feel so good?” She hadn’t been expecting it, a surprised yelp leaving her lips when he smacks the curve of her ass, hard, broad palm sure to leave a mark. There is nothing comfortable about the position they’re in, her straddling his lap, scrunched over him in the driver seat, one hand pressed up against the car door window while the other digs into his shoulders for stability. But all she can focus on is the sweet snap of pain and pleasure licking up her spine with each of his thrusts.
“You, Joel– you feel so good– want more– please, please–” Her words die in her throat when he thrusts up particularly hard, pressing her hips down to meet him and holding her there in a deep grind. She lets out a choked sob of his name, cunt clenching hard around him and coaxing a low moan from the back of his throat.
“Been wanting this for a while, haven’t you, honey?” His words are a smear against her bare chest where he had tugged down the front of her dress and bra, leaving harsh grazes of his teeth to the swell of her tits. He chuckles when the only response she gives him is a preening whine.
“Fucking knew it. You think I didn’t see how you were looking at me? Practically begging for it– shit– dirty little thing, aren’t you? What would your old man say, huh? Does he know his daughter’s just a little slut?” His voice is a southern slur stamped hotly into her skin, low and drawling and all melted together, pushing her even closer to the brink as her wetness starts to smear down hers and Joel’s thighs, the sound of skin slicking and sticking with each thrust becoming impossibly lewd. It’s almost too much when his one hand dips under her rucked up skirt, fingers harshly toying with her clit.
“Give it to me, honey. Make a fucking mess, c’mon.” The pleasure floods over in an instant, the only sound she can make is a breathy chant of his name as her hips seize up and she spasms around him. He’s not far behind as he thrusts into her a few more times before his hips stutter to a stop and she feels his warmth spreading inside her. She clings to him, both of them breathing hard and flushed with pleasure.
“Jesus christ, I’m sorry– I should’ve–”
“S’fine, I’m on the pill.” He throws his head back into the headrest at that, chest still heaving. But he doesn't stay still for long, jostling her in his hold as he suddenly leans forward and yanks the rosary still clinking into the windshield clean off the rearview mirror, tossing it haphazardly onto the passenger seat. She quirks an eyebrow at him as he settles back into the seat.
“Damn noise was driving me insane.”
#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller au#joel miller imagine#tlou#the last of us#tlou fanfiction
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My Number One Priority | Kokushibo
₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ───────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ─────────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊
warnings ✩° : 18+ NSFW, cursing, brat taming!receiving, rough sex, p in v, fucking against a wall, built up tension, consumption of alcohol (but non-intoxicated sex), not established relationship, consensual sex, size difference, open area fucking, dirty talk, dacryphilia.
pairing ✩° : bodyguard!kokushibo x fem!reader, au not specified maybe modern idk...
premise ✩° : as your personal body guard, kokushibo is tasked with looking after everything you do to ensure your safety. you typically don’t take kindly to his overbearing nature, seeing as he’s just someone your dad hired, but kokushibo wants to change your mind about this whole protection thing to show you it’s really not all that bad.
word count ✩° : 5.7k
authors note ✩° : so. i’m back. with this. lol!
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"Look! I don’t need you following me around all day! You’re not going to this club with me, you don’t wear anything besides that suit and I’m not letting you follow me around looking like you’re going to the next business conference! Besides, don’t you have something better to do?”
You breathe out a rough sigh and cross your arms with nothing but pure frustration clouding all judgment. For the past month or two, you’ve had your very own bodyguard, someone who follows you around, guards areas where you’re present, and doesn’t let you have a mind of your own. Of course you didn’t need one, but being related to one of the richest men where you live, your father keeps you on lock down where a body guard is needed. It annoyed you at first, and it annoys you now.
You have a reputation for always managing to uproot even the most stubborn of weeds that call themselves your protectors, usually playing tricks on them to get them fired or slip up enough times that your father makes sure they never work again, just because the feeling of a man—usually two times your size—lurking over your shoulder every waking second rubs you the wrong way. What makes it especially worse was that none of them had personality, they were all the same: quiet, uninterested, and far too uncomfortable with you to do anything risky.
Up until recently, it really hurt knowing the undeniable truth that your body guards were never going to be your friends or even get to know you—they were just mindless husks working with strings in their backs to do anything your father said. He was the one with money after all. You were just an associate to them.
That realization was the reason why you decided to burst all out on your father’s new hire, a man by the name Kokushibo. According to him, Kokushibo was the perfect fit for his lovely daughter, reserved, agile, and willing to stop at nothing to ensure your safety. But to you, Kokushibo was just like the rest, quiet, uninterested, and most likely just doing what he’s told. On his own, though, Kokushibo was tall, way taller than you, had long, layered hair with frosted red tips that stood out from his head of otherwise dark burgundy hair, and almost ghost white skin. His arms were strong, which your father made sure to comment on with a goofy gesture of flexing his own, elderly muscles, saying how they’re, “the best in the game,” and even pulled up Kokushibo’s pants to reveal his toned calves and rave at those too. When it happened, you lost your mind, screaming at your father at the invasion of privacy, but Kokushibo remained solemn and just let your father continue.
When you were introduced, all Kokushibo did was bow and make a promise of not letting you get out of his sight, and making sure you were his number one priority. What a load of shit.
So now, with your finger in his face, you buck up to your body guard and glare at him. Your silence means nothing to him, Kokushibo continues to stare at you as if he was watching paint dry, which easily irritated you more. “Kokushibo I am NOT letting you go with me.” Your answer remains the same. In your defense, you’ve been planning to go to a club with your friends all week. Getting dressed up and doing your makeup and attending a trashy club isn’t something that’s usually in your schedule, so when presented with the opportunity to take shots or even better, hook up with someone random, you eagerly accepted. The only issue now is the man standing behind you in your own bathroom, watching you poke the backs of gold hoops through your ears.
“I can wear something else if the suit is the issue.” Kokushibo says with his head tilted down, “I don’t only wear this. I know club attire isn’t proper like what I’m wearing.” He wanted to justify.
“Well, maybe you should wear something else for a change, maybe then I’ll see you as something other than a robot who follows me around. You’re like one of those cartoon characters who never changes their outfit because their show doesn't receive enough funding for more animation frames...or something.” You laugh to yourself and spin your head around in the mirror, checking all angles of how your earrings look, “Perfect!”
Kokushibo leans against the door frame and lets out a small grunt of displeasure, “I still think you should’ve worn the white dress.”
“And look like some runaway bride? Plus, I’m not trying to spill anything on imported silk. So. What, you don’t think the black looks cute on me?” You look over your shoulder and give your bodyguard a pouty look, poking fun at his question. Kokushibo shrugs and rolls his eyes, “I’m just glad you chose to cover up this time.”
Looking down at your outfit, you had to disagree with his passive aggressive remark. Whether you covered up or not was never dependent on how cute you looked. The long sleeve dress look was already so complimentary to your figure, hugging your hips and waist in all the right places, even enhancing certain assets which was a nice bonus. The only issue you had with the dress was with the length. Sure, you’d be going to a dimly lit club where no one would be able to tell if your dress rode up just a bit, but the struggle of constantly pulling it down to avoid that already made your head roll back in annoyance. Almost as if he’d read your mind, Kokushibo lets out a chuckle and makes his way behind you.
With only an inch or two separating you from each other, you swear you can hear your name leave his lips in sort of a desperate tone, yet it’s quiet and almost sort of whiny, leading you on to believe he really doesn't want you going. But who was he to stop you from having fun? You deserve it for putting up with him.
“Here,” You hold your hand out to your body guard, “Can you put this on for me? It’s got a little clasp, so try not to break it with your huge, killer hands please?” As much as you like to joke about things like that, Kokushibo knows all too well what he’s done to protect you with those same hands, now holding an expensive 14k gold plated choker, laying it across your collarbone. His pale, knobby fingers fidget for a second, releasing the clasps from each other, and wrapping it around your neck.
It was all you needed before you headed out to a night of fun and getting the perfect chance to turn heads and grab the attention that you lacked with anyone else around, mostly Kokushibo. But then again, you wanted to ignore the possible thought that you could ever wish your bodyguard to look at you in a way that no body guard is allowed to.
You turn back towards the mirror, ignoring the eyes that stared as you applied the expensive, creamy red lipstick onto your lips slowly. The color itself was a guaranteed rite of passage to any eyes in the club, especially accompanied by your dress and jewelry, and it only helped that it was a light wear and something that was easily smudge proof. That was, if anyone would want to kiss you tonight, no one would suspect anything when you came back home.
The sudden feeling of rough hands gliding down your waist jostles you from your thoughts, rustling the fabric hugging tightly against your skin just enough to expose your thigh to the curious thumb already poking in.
“Need I remind you, Y/n, I don’t need you getting into any trouble tonight.” Kokushibo’s husky voice speaks into your ear, “You know if I’m not there to watch you, someone could easily kidnap you and hold you for ransom, right?” His fingers massage lightly into your hips, signaling he means no harm with his sudden grab. Said sudden grab, however, ignites a swarm of butterflies inside of you, instantly flooding directly to your chest and stomach leaving you with no sensible thought when the words, “Don’t worry Kokushibo, I’ll be good. I promise.” leave your red stained lips in an exasperated tone.
Kokushibo smiles and lets go, although you wish he hadn’t. With that, you find your ride waiting for you outside, with one of your friends driving and the other in the passenger seat, leaving you to sit in the back with another friend. You were happy with the seating arrangement, because at least you weren’t going to be the designated sober friend and you could drink as much as you pleased.
When you arrive at the club, almost immediately you’re hit with all the feelings you were looking to get. Instantly, you’re rushed with trashy sounding music, boosted so everyone can hear the amount of bass in the song, the pounding of people jumping around and all of their voices quickly merging into one, big cloud of sound. Perfect.
Before you know it, you have a drink in your hand, and before you know what happens next, you’re holding an empty cup. Shot glass after shot glass, you throw your head back to take every small, yet effective amount of alcohol your friends willingly provide for your whole party. That is, until everyone starts to disperse, leaving you alone dancing by yourself in what seems to be a mosh pit of people doing the exact same. Loose arms and wobbly legs hit your own, bumping into you and occasionally pulling on your hair, to which you immediately receive a slurred, ‘sorry!’ after. Unlike everyone else though, you’re not as drunk as you’d like to be. After all, you could still see reasonably well and didn’t have to hold onto anything to walk, but another trip to the bar would fix that right away.
As you’re making your way out of the surplus of people, you finally break free and manage to catch your breath, only for a short while.
That’s when you make eye contact with him. He isn’t exactly someone who you can see clearly, not from far away at least. He is hidden in the darkness of the club, only being illuminated by the strobe lights occasionally flickering now and then with the beat drops of the loud music booming in your ears, wrapped with mystery and alluring temptation. Even by just looking at him, you can tell he’s well off. His long hair is tied back into a low ponytail and he’s wearing a white shirt only buttoned up halfway with his long sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, dark pants that are secured with a similarly dark colored belt that shines along with the light, and a silver Breguet watch that glistens when the light touches it.
He’s irresistible. So irresistible, you don’t deny your body when it starts moving on its own, taking a few steps closer towards the mystery man, swaying your hips with your own charm, still managing to be nonchalant and confident at the same time. It doesn’t take long before he eyes you again, a smirk spreading across his lips seeing you drift closer and closer to him until finally, you’re close enough to actually see his face.
The man turns away as soon as you’re standing right next to him though, much to your dismay. It isn’t until then do you find yourself at the edge of the other bar in the club, clearly the fancier kind seeing as there’s not that many people around than on the dance floor or mingling elsewhere. It’s just you and him.
You bite your lip and sit down, leaning into the counter and pressing your chest up against the cold surface, politely waving down the bartender who comes rushing to your aid as soon as he sees you. He takes down your order and toddles off to make it, pouring all the ingredients in and shaking your drink in his metal bottle. That’s when you take your chance and look at the guy again, tilting your head down.
The bartender hands you your drink and you easily gulp it down, not satisfied with the effects yet. So you ask for a few vodka shots in hopes to get to where you need to be, and thankfully it works. Now, with a good amount of alcohol in your system, you start to feel that estranged buzz jerking through your body, giving you the confidence you need to
With a few drinks down already, the electrifying buzz starts to come into effect, granting you more confidence that you thought you already had to tap the man’s shoulder. Despite your vision blurring, you lean against your palm and smile. “Hi~ It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/n-“
When he finally turns around, revealing his face, your blood runs cold. In sheer disbelief, you instantly lurch back. The sight sobers you up immediately.
“KOKUSHIBO?!” A hand flies to your mouth, “What the hell are you doing here?! Did you—did you follow me?”
Now you had wished you’d come to your senses earlier. From across the room, all you saw was a tall man with long hair and a drink in his hand, but there was a small—now loud—voice in your head that said you should’ve waited before sitting down next to him. You wanted to slam your head into the counter for being so reckless.
“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.” Your bodyguard lets out a lowly chuckle and rests the bottom of his drink down onto the counter. “I knew you would get yourself into trouble so I had to come too, you know that. It’s also nice to prove that without my supervision, you’d walk up to anyone and—from what I can only assume—sleep with them. Am I right?” Although his eyes are dark, you can’t seem to ignore the very subtle, flirty tone in his voice. Almost as if he were teasing you.
“Don’t fuck with me! You followed me, Kokushibo. And it’s because you don’t trust me. I told you what was going to happen but I guess I just can’t be alone for one single fucking night!” You groan and hide your face with your hands, “I seriously thought you’d let me off the hook for just this once…”
Kokushibo’s eyes fixate on yours, “Don’t be like that, it’s my job, Y/n.”
“It’s not your job to make me feel suffocated, it’s your job to make me feel safe. And I do not feel safe knowing you’re watching my every move.” You fold your leg on top of the other and lean forward, pressing closer to him. As much as you hate him right now, you have to admit there’s something about his presence that makes you feel at ease, especially at a club of intoxicated and possibly dangerous people. Of course, Kokushibo takes note of it and hides his small grin.
“Y/n, it sounds like you feel safe with me,” Your bodyguard leans forward and touches your thigh delicately, “You don’t actually hate what I do, you’re just bad at telling me those things. Maybe, you even think this job of mine is something you tolerate?” Kokushibo’s voice is low and melodic. It draws you in nearly instantly, forcing you to nod as there seems to be no other choice to do. Kokushibo leans in closer and raises his brows slightly, eyes closing in onto yours and you refuse to look away. You always knew he was attractive, anyone could tell you that, but when did he become irresistible?
You gulp down some much needed air, staring at him with wide eyes and a trembling mouth, unable to form any words only hoping that your expression can tell him what you wanted to say. Those three words that would finally admit your feelings for him. But instead, you take a chance, and his leg in your own hands, quickly rushing to close the gap between his face.
In a flash, the space between your heads is removed and your lips catch his. Your mouth is cushioned by his thin, usually stoic smile, that quickly sears hot with what you can only assume is embarrassment. You can even feel a similar heat spread all over your face. But to your surprise, Kokushibo doesn’t pull away. The overwhelming sensations become too much to bear, however, so you pull away and gasp, ripping your lips from his.
Kokushibo blinks rapidly, almost dumbfounded at what you had just done, and looks at you with his finger curled over his lips in a flushed shock. The realization hits you like a truck that there was a small possibility that you misinterpreted a few signs along the way, that maybe now you fumbled so hard into Kokushibo that you weren’t ever going to be taken seriously ever again—or worse—ever going to see him again. You back away.
"Oh. Oh my God. Kokushibo, I am so. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that, I don’t even know what I was thinking I just—” You try and stammer to make sense of yourself, but even you don’t know what you want to say. Instead, you stare at Kokushibo in hopes he’d understand.
But he doesn’t say anything. There’s not even a transition between now and when Kokushibo pulls you back into his chest, now sitting you onto his waist. The world disappears just as soon as it appears, and you’re kissing him again. And again. And again. You feel him stand up and the way his hands snake around your hips to hold you up and notice how he even tugs down the sides of your dress so you don’t accidentally reveal anything he wouldn’t want anyone to see.
The walk, if you can even call it that, to a more private area is all a hazy blur. One second you open your eyes to see people dancing and the next, you’re against a wall in a busy hallway. No time is wasted since Kokushibo was doing all the work, all while handling your weight in its entirety with the sheer strength of his hips and slight hold of his arm up your back. The rest he does blindly.
When you open your eyes to catch a glimpse of his face, you realize that now you’re in a different hallway, one still as dark and hidden away as the rest, so no one can walk by and see you two. You crane your neck up to meet Kokushibo’s sultry, yellow eyes as he lets out a raspy groan.
“Fuck...Y/n,” You can tell he’s annoyed but holding back for your sake, “Why did you have to go and do that? I can’t...I can’t...why did you...dammit.” Kokushibo looks away to the side so you can only see the sharpness of his cutting jawline, checking his surroundings. It isn’t until now that you can see how red he is. His ears, his cheeks, his nose, his entire face, all glowing pink. Could it be?
“Kokushibo, did you like the kiss?” The question burns on your tongue.
He struggles to defend himself with a stern, “No. I can’t like it. So just, I’ll drive you back but you can’t ever talk about this.” That’s an order, you know all too well, but you continue to press him for answers. You know Kokushibo is strict, but you know he can’t resist you, and right now there’s a fire burning inside of you that you’ve never felt before, and you only want to make it burn more.
Lifting your leg, you flash a small grin up at Kokushibo who has a firm hand planted beside your head, guarding your face from anybody walking by. You do it slowly, but eventually, you start moving your dress so that his eyes draw to what you’re desperately trying to show him.
“You’re so mean and uptight, Kokushibo...always following the rules and making sure I don’t get into trouble,” You lift your leg more, exposing more of your skin past regions he shouldn’t be looking, “Kokushibo, I came here to feel seen for my body and have a little fun,” You peel your dress back and reveal a pair of dark, lacey panties that match your dress to a T, “Would it kill you to do the same?”
No, it would not.
Like a man possessed, Kokushibo hungrily catches your mouth with his and kisses you roughly. With the sudden collision, his teeth knock against yours but the pain quickly subsides as soon as you feel the softness of his tongue glide into your mouth. But his lips are soft, and so are his hands as they trace lines up the back of your neck to bend your head back, allowing for a better position for Kokushibo to kiss you deeper. You want to say something, but the words quickly fizz away as soon as Kokushibo starts to breathe heavier. Almost on instinct, you feel your body roll against his. That’s when you feel a hardness you know well growing inside of his pants, which only makes your movements a thousand times more heated.
Kokushibo groans into your mouth and cups the side of your face with his hand and breaks the kiss suddenly to gasp for air, which you do the same.
“Fuck, Y/n, what are we doing?” He whispers, panting hot air against the side of your sticky neck, “What are you doing? Have you always wanted to do this? Fuck your body guard? What does this say about you...”
You bite your lip and lower your gaze down to his belt, “This is payback for losing my trust. This,” you look in his eyes, “Is how you’re going to get it back.” You kiss him again, only this time harder, which catches him off guard but not for long.
From the very start, Kokushibo was holding back. Not anymore. Now, Kokushibo has no control. Watching you fall apart completely from just his touch sends shocks throughout his body, seeing each twitch, each spasm, each jerk, turns him into a stranger to himself. A deprived, starving stranger.
His own hands are the ones to rip your dress from the top clean down the middle, tearing the black fabric easily with a small tug as he unwraps you like you were a gift to him all along. Kokushibo’s careful with not tearing anything else, though. Once your body is free from the skin tight dress, Kokushibo stares at your chest and thighs, now fully exposed to him. You can’t help but feel a bit shy under his heated gaze, but he doesn’t give you a chance to hide away from him.
Kokushibo pulls his shirt off in a hurry, unbuttoning every button he had on and practically throws it off his burly shoulders, diving right back into your lips, meeting your mouth with a feverish, eager tongue. You can’t even think. You knew he was assertive, it’s in his nature, but you’d rarely think about what Kokushibo was like outside of working for you. Was he secretly kind? Did he go to school? What color was his favorite? Even with his mouth on yours, you realize that you don’t even know anything about him, but he knows practically everything about you.
He even had tabs on your internet history, which was something you always meant to bring up with him but never did. So, yeah, everything.
“Kokushibo-” You gasp out his name, feeling his hard, yet strangely smooth hand roll up your stomach, thumbs pressing into your skin as they search for all the weak points he knows you have.
Kokushibo stops for a moment to admire all of the exposed parts of your body. Even though he’s been around long enough to where you’d feel comfortable changing around him, Kokushibo never had the chance to fully look at your torso. Doing so was sinful in his mind before, but now it hardly mattered what he was looking at. It’s the fact that you make his thoughts run rampant, screaming at him to do anything to mark up your untainted and pure skin.
“Please don’t make me ask for you to touch me...I give you full permission to do whatever you want to me, just don’t make me wait, Kokushibo.” Your arms swing around his neck, “I really just need you to touch me.”
Thankfully, Kokushibo obliges. With a soft hand, he finds the bottom of your thigh and starts rubbing, searching for the waistline of your underwear, all while smirking down at you. “You don’t have to beg, Y/n, I thought we knew I do things based on what I see fit. And I see desperation,” Kokushibo pants, “Yearning,” he grins, “And lust.”
For a moment, your eyes flash down to see your bodyguard’s hands pulling his belt loose from his waist, unbuckling the sterling silver latch and loosening his pants enough to reveal what was so hard against you earlier. You shiver at the sight of it. You always knew Kokushibo was big, that’s the whole reason why he was chosen for the job. If he was big enough for himself, he’d be big enough to protect you. Nothing about him was small. He had big hands, big hair, a big ego, and now that you find it out, even his dick was big. But that was to be expected.
What you didn’t expect, however, was how miserable it looked not being inside of you. Despite its length and girth, Kokushibo’s member was neat and clean, with thick veins running down the sides and a slightly red tip with just the slightest amount of cum leaking from the head, slicking over it and making it appear shiny under you. Looking at it, your body jerks and you look up at Kokushibo, who’s just staring down at his length with half a breath in his chest.
“I am desperate, Kokushibo.” Your legs tremble as your hand trails down between your legs, careful not to touch Kokushibo’s cock, and pull back your panties to the side, revealing your equally aching pussy to him. Just as you thought, you were soaked. Soaked even could be an understatement. Your pussy was dripping with slick pooling from all of the kissing, all the comments, and the sight of your ‘scary’ bodyguard now so horribly drunk in love. “But you didn’t pay attention to me, so what was I supposed to do? Wait?” You slide your fingers in between your cunt and start rubbing into your heat slowly.
Kokushibo pants louder, “Fuck...”
“Come on, Kokushibo, you know me. Do I like to wait?” You keep rubbing. Despite the sounds around you, all you both can hear are the wet, sloppy sounds echoing, making it impossible to ignore it.
He shakes his head silently, thinking that would be a satisfactory smile, and keeps his eyes on your hand.
“Do I?” You let your jaw hang open and that’s when he finally understands.
“No, you don’t.” Huskily, he says.
Everything was silent now.
With that, Kokushibo doesn’t allow you any chance to process when your hand is ripped from your slit and replaced by the head of Kokushibo’s twitching member pushing against you. He doesn’t give you time to move or adjust, as you don’t like waiting, Kokushibo adheres to that wish and enters your needy pussy. The darkness had actually hid his length relatively well, so it seemed like you could take him easily, but what you learned was that you couldn’t, and he was far too big to slam into you right away. Tears prick your eyes as your nails hungrily bite into his back, mouth hanging open and chanting his name like a prayer to not die right then and there.
“Kokushibo! W-Wait! FUCK!” You cry out. Anyone that heard you was their fault at this point, you didn’t care, you had to make noise. “Kokushibo!”
Your bodyguard ignores your pleas and thrusts inside of you again and again, slamming deep inside of you with your pussy drooling all over his stiff cock. Your cunt starts to throb almost instantly now that he’s all the way in, but it still tries to reject his size and slowly starts to push him out, but Kokushibo grabs your hips and forces your pussy to swallow him whole. You continue to cry out at the pain, wishing he’d at least take you gently, but Kokushibo was anything but gentle.
Going along with the rhythm of your gasps and shrills, Kokushibo fucks your walls unapologetically, muttering as best as he could into your ears while trying to catch his breath himself. “You’re so fucking tight, Y/n. Fuck, you like that? Keep your eyes on me. Make as much noise as you want, I want to hear it. I want to hear how badly you wanted to fuck me, your body guard.” His voice was growing thicker by the second to the point it sounded like it was coming straight from his gut. It doesn't even matter, nothing matters but feeling Kokushibo quickening his speed and deepening his cock into your core.
You cling onto his back and arch your back, pressing your body against him. You want to say something to him, but the words don't come out. How can they? How can you even form a single thought when Kokushibo is rocking into you with all of his pent up tension running inside of his body, only slowing down when you cry louder, but even then he has the chance to speed up and takes it a few times.
Almost as if you thought you’d never get used to it, the pain subsides to a more enjoyable pain that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. Now you were able to focus. Now, you could feel the way Kokushibo cupped your ass in his hands, how tightly he held you, and how your stomach fluttered every time he rolled his hips into yours. You grasp onto the roots of his burgundy frosted hair and latch onto his lips hungrily, to which he gladly accepts and kisses you back twice as hard.
“You always go too far, and you don't expect me to go all out? How is that fair, Y/n?” He thrusts harder with each word, groaning into your open mouth as your walls clamp around his dick, gasping his name. You can feel his cock sink inside of you deeper, twitching inside of you every chance it gets, making it hard to ignore the growing, twisting feeling inside of your stomach that starts to swirl into knots and very quickly starts to unravel. You knew what was going to happen next, and by the way Kokushibo squeezed your body closer to his, you can tell he was close too. Fucking your bodyguard was something you'd always hoped would happen, but you didn't know it would come sooner than later. Beads of sweat start to form on Kokushibo’s face and arms as he huffs more onto your well damp skin, just trying not to lose composure before you do.
“K-Kokushibo…I-I can't, I need to,” You cry out and claw into his back again, “Y-You're not being fair to me! How can you! MGH!” He cuts you off by placing his mouth on yours before abruptly pulling away.
“Y/n, shh.” He hushes you and kisses you again, closing his eyes tightly, “Fuck, fuck why do you feel so good. I shouldn't enjoy this as much as I am…and yet…What did you do to me?” His cock pumps inside of you more sloppily now, dipping into your core. All he can hear are your breathy moans and the way his dick messily slaps into your hips. It drives him wild.
“I’m gonna cum,” You murmured into his ear, “Kokushibo I’m sorry, I'm sorry for everything and treating you like shit and ignoring you and getting mad at you. Please please please! I'm gonna cum!”
Kokushibo returns to silence and doesn't let up, keeping his pace quick, deep, and efficient. The steadiness of his thrusts builds up until finally, your walls tighten all around him more than they ever had before, which was all Kokushibo needed to finally release. You tip your head back and so does Kokushibo as you both simultaneously stop moving all together, gasping and twitching feeling Kokushibo’s load burst inside of your sore cunt. For what feels like forever, your bodyguard’s cock pulsates, leaping while still being stuffed inside, spurting his warm, gooey, white liquid against your walls and filling you up to the point where you can feel a good amount leak outside down your legs. You tremble and pick your head back up with your chest heaving, looking at Kokushibo as he looks just as tired as you, if not more dazed.
“Hah…hah…oh my God…” You pant, leaning against him with a soft smile across your face. It didn't matter if either of you smelled like sex, or looked as though you'd just ran miles, Kokushibo looks back at you with an equally satisfied grin, but he doesn't speak, clearly too concentrated on the aftershock of fucking his assignment as hard as he possibly could. You couldn't stand or feel your legs, but again, that didn't matter.
His eyes fixate on your legs and soon enough, he gently moves himself so that you're no longer attached to him, noticing the way his cock springs free and is still throbbing, wet with slick and cum leaking from the tip. Kokushibo glances at you and swallows.
“We should head home, Y/n, you've caused enough trouble here.” He lets out a sigh and stuffs his dick back into his pants, jumping a bit to fully dress himself back up. Without being asked, Kokushibo fixes your panties and hides your body as best as he can, and picks you up in his arms so that your body isn't exposed. “I'll walk you back. No need for a car, I don't need anyone else seeing you like this.”
#kaicubus#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#kny#kny fanfic#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer fanficiton#kokushibo#kokushibo kny#kokushibo x reader#kokushibo x you#kokushibo x y/n#kokushibo smut#kny smut#demon slayer smut#smut fanfiction#smut
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18+MNDI (degradation, brat taming, dom/sub dynamics, pillow riding, facial, handjobs. Listen idk what happened… this stemmed from a thot I had bc of one of the nsfw asks @bimbobaggins69 sent me and my brain spiraled…)
“Look at her Stevie, look how pathetic she looks.” Eddie groans, the feeling of Steve’s large spit slick hand jerking his cock nearly sends his eyes into the back of his head. But he resists, keeping them on you.
“Oh she’s so fucking desperate… is that drool? Are you fucking drooling over our cocks right now baby?” Steve’s voice is condescending and there’s a lop sided smirk painted across his lips while he continues to fuck Eddie’s cock with his fist. His hips thrust in time with the other man’s hand on his own cock, his eyes also glued to you.
They have you sitting on the bed, straddling one of your satin pillow case covered pillows. Your body is completely bare while you desperately rub your wet pussy against the soft material. They’re standing directly in front of you, also fully bare, while they stroke each other’s cocks. Their hands run down each others bodies and they occasionally places kisses on each others lips, necks, shoulders. You want so badly to touch them, for them to touch you. Your eyes can’t decide where to look but they keep landing on their lips, and their cocks. You want them inside you so bad.
“Please.” You whimper, your hips continuing to thrust against the pillow. The soft material feels nice against your clit, but it’s not enough. You need your boys.
“Awww you hear that, Eds? She’s begging now. That’s cute.”
“Sooo cute, Stevie. It would be so much cuter if she wasn’t a fucking brat all day. Maybe then we would actually help her cum.” The long haired man taunts you.
“Right? She could be getting fucked by both of us right now but instead she has to watch and fuck her pillow like a desperate little slut.” Steve moans when Eddie picks up the pace of his strokes on his cock. A bead of precum leaks from his tip and you want nothing more than to lick it up.
“Too bad, her mouth looks so good right now. You really are drooling, huh? Just our dumb drooly little girl, so desperate to get off?” Eddie juts his bottom lip out, mock pouting at you.
“Yes, please, I’ll be such a good girl, please?” You’re so desperately turned on that you aren’t above begging, you’ll take anything they’ll give you at this point.
“Mmm… I don’t think so, princess. If you wanna cum, you know what to do.” Eddie snaps the fingers on his free hand, pointing at the pillow underneath you. His hips thrust into Steve’s hand, a moan you want to fucking swallow leaving his plush lips. “Oh fuck, that’s so good Steve. I’m so fucking close.”
You whimper as your hips pick up speed, subconsciously matching the pace of your boyfriend’s hands as they jerk each other off. Steve leans his head down so he can spit on Eddie’s already slick cock, you watch as he uses his thumb to mix it with the pearly white precum leaking from his lip. You weren’t sure before if you could cum like this or not, but how hot they look and they way they’re talking is quickly changing your mind.
“God, me too babe, fuck. Don’t stop.”
They’re so fucking hot. The way their forearms flex while they work each other with their hands, the beads of sweat collecting on their skin. Steve’s chest hair glistens and the hastily done bun Eddie threw his hair in is barely hanging on for dear life. You grab onto the end of the pillow, pulling it tighter between your legs, this new angle has the silk of the case hitting your clit in a new, more delicious way.
“Open your fucking mouth, baby girl. Stick your tongue out.” Eddie’s voice is strained, breathy grunts leaving his lips. You oblige, sticking your tongue out as far as it can go and looking up at them through your lashes. Your hips continue their assault on the pillow and you feel yourself getting close to the edge.
“Oh, good fucking girl, look at you. You’re so desperate. Just want us to paint you with our cum, huh? You’re so needy you’re gonna cum just from humping your pillow and watching us get off? You’re so pathetic baby.” Steve’s practically babbling now, his entire body shaking with pleasure. Eddie feels so good and you look so fucking sexy and it’s all too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Fuck, me too.” Eddie moans.
You watch as their hands speed up, their bare chests heaving. Steve lets out a guttural groan and his body tenses as ropes of his cum shoot out onto your tongue and chin. Eddie follows suit, his own cum painting your tits. The sight of them coming undone for each other and the sounds they’re making combined with the taste and feeling of their cum sends you over the edge right with them. Your eyes roll back as your legs clamp shut around the pillow and a pornographic moan rips through you.
“Fuck. That’s so fucking hot. I’m about to get hard again just from watching that I swear.” Eddie swipes his thumb across your chin, collecting some of the combined juices and your eyes snap open just in time to see him licking the cum off of his digit.
“Dude. When are you not hard? Seriously. Baby, how are you doing? Wanna get cleaned up? I can make us all a nice bath.” Steve grabs your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. He was always so gentle with you after you played like this.
“Mmm… that sounds nice and all Stevie… but I think I like Eddie’s idea of getting hard again a little more… then maybe a bath after?” You bite your lip as you look up at him eagerly. You still want them so bad.
“Fuck. Yes. What do you say, Steveeee? I think our girl deserves a little reward after she took her punishment so well…”
“You two are insatiable.. You’re going to be the death of me, I swear…..”
#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#steve Harrington smut#steddie x reader#steddie x fem!reader#steddie x reader smut#steddie x reader blurb#dom steddie#Dolly writes#I was truly possessed#you can thank half asleep hella stoned Dolly for this one
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do you write hypnosis stuff?? it's not specifically against the rules but idk it's kind of an iffy era for a lot of writers-
if it's okay with you, could you write some Vox x Singer!Reader who he uses his mind control on to sell their soul to him so they remain under the VoxTek label? (im sure remaining with him is an ulterior motive of his as well lol)
thanks :]
I can absolutely do that! I’m a little iffy about NSFW hypnosis, but I can do a SFW oneshot :)
siren songs
Obsessed!Vox x Singer!GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.4k
WARNINGS: Yandere-ish behavior, hypnosis, manipulation, toxic behavior, all that good stuff
A/N: I told y'all I'd be back with some toxic Vox!! I wasn't entirely sure how to end this one, but I've spent enough time rewriting it to stop caring. This one is only romantic in theory - nothing actually romantic happens between Vox and Reader, it's more mutual pining than anything else This is also my first time writing obsessive behavior, so I hope I did it well!
Dividers
You’ve been working with the Vees for years now. You were originally recruited by Velvette, who’s like a bloodhound for new talent. She saw some popular videos of your singing online, and she made you famous.
But you don’t work with her that much, oddly enough. Over time, you gradually started to see her less and less. Vox was the one to take her place. By the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it—you’re certainly not an equal to the Vees, so there wasn’t much you could do. Sure, you could’ve quit then and there, as you’d never signed a soul-binding contract, but you really liked your job. You were getting to do what you loved for a living! Who wouldn’t want that?
Well, you. You don’t want that anymore. You’re getting burnt out. You feel like you’re out of creativity for writing songs, and singing no longer has the same appeal it used to. It feels like a chore. Getting on stage doesn’t get you excited—it just fills you with dread.
Then you saw the videos of the annual clown pageant down in the Greed Ring. How Fizzarolli, Mammon’s favorite little jester, just…quit. Just like that.
Can you do that?
You don’t have backup like Fizzarolli did. There’s no Prince of Hell to protect you if the Vees lash out in response to your resignation. But the Vees aren’t Mammon. They’re powerful Overlords, sure, but they wouldn’t kill off an easy cash grab like you. And they don’t have any leverage to use against you—you’re a fucking superstar, you learned to stop keeping secrets a long time ago.
Yeah, you can totally do this!
You spend the next week making a plan. You currently live in V Tower, so finding another living arrangement is a priority. Luckily, your standards are just as low as before you got famous, so snatching up an apartment doesn’t take long. You’ve been building up savings for some time now, just little bits here and there that wouldn’t look suspicious among your bank withdrawls, so you have enough money to last you a while. You’ve made a go-bag, but you’re not too worried about bringing anything with you, as you have enough cash to just buy new shit. By the time the end of the week comes around, you’ve got your escape plan ready to go. All that’s left is to actually quit.
You decide that directly speaking to Vox is your best option. Velvette and you don’t have the same rapport that you used to, and Valentino is just… no. During your time working with Vox, you like to think there’s some sort of friendship there. The two of you chat amicably, and he always makes sure you’re okay when it comes to creepy fans and the like. You feel like there could be something more than just friendship, but you don’t plan on staying long enough to find out. As much as you like Vox, you’re not willing to spend the rest of your afterlife hating every second of your job just for him.
You stand outside Vox’s lair, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation. You take a deep breath, and right before you can knock on the door, it opens.
Okay, here goes.
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
You aren’t as sneaky as you seem to think you are.
A normal boss wouldn’t have noticed the small transactions in your bank account, or the little trips you’ve been taking to go look at apartments. But Vox isn’t a ‘normal boss’ by any means. And he noticed.
From the moment Vox set eyes on you, he knew he wanted you. You’re beautiful, and fuck, your voice—he just can’t get you out of his damn head, no matter how hard he tries. And he really fucking tried. But he couldn’t avoid you, thanks to VoxTek being such an integral part of your performances. And you’re like a damn siren with that voice of yours, even though he’s supposed to be the hypnotizing one here. Eventually, he just gave in and accepted that he was more than a little obsessed with you. That’s why he started drawing you closer to him, pushing away Velvette and taking control of your brand. He doesn’t like sharing.
Obsession isn’t a particularly new feeling for Vox. He certainly has… tendencies. But this isn’t like whatever the fuck he’s got going on with that deer-headed, old-timey bastard Alastor. It’s not a lust thing, either. You’re certainly attractive, and Vox most definitely would sleep with you, but that’s not the main factor at play here. This is a deeper obsession than any of that bullshit.
Vox knows that he doesn’t own your soul. He’s well aware that he can’t truly stop you from quitting. Even if he managed to trap you inside V Tower, he can’t force you to keep up the performances. If he had you under a proper soul-binding contract, though…
He would own you.
Now, he’s not Valentino. He doesn’t plan to take that kind of advantage over you. He doesn’t want to change a damn thing. He just wants you to stay.
And he will make you stay.
He knows when you approach his office, and he opens the doors with the touch of a button on his desk. He plasters that casually perfect smile on his screen and turns to face you as you enter. The doors shut behind you.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, my dear,” he lies easily, the charismatic mask fitting into place like it was never absent in the first place. “How can I help you?”
You hesitate, your anxiety starting to get to you. But you’re determined to do this. You clear your throat and step forward. “I’m resigning.”
Vox’s smile doesn’t falter, nor does his screen glitch. His demeanor is…unnerving, to say the least. You’ve known him to be temperamental, emotional. You expected some kind of reaction. But he’s just smirking at you like he always does.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to change your mind,” he replies smoothly, tilting his head to the side just slightly.
“No,” you confirm, trying to sound confident in your answer. You’re not sure if you succeed. “I’ve already made my decision.”
Vox sighs, though he doesn’t sound very defeated. His smirk hasn’t gone away, either. “Well, then. It’s been a pleasure working with you, darling.”
He holds his hand out for you to shake. The gesture immediately worries you, as it’s the well-known sign of a deal. But you reassure yourself that there’s no deal being made here. Hell may be chaotic, but there’s rules when it comes to these kinds of things. Neither of you have offered anything, therefore there’s no harm in shaking his hand. It’s just a respectful gesture of a boss wishing their employee farewell. It all feels too easy, but you’re too relieved to think too hard about it.
You go to take his hand, but as you lift your head up to meet his gaze, everything goes fuzzy.
Vox grabs you by your wrist before you can shake his hand. He’s not rough with you. He’s careful of his claws, ensuring they don’t put too much pressure on your skin. Not that you’d notice, either way—your mind is far gone at this point, thanks to those spirals in his eye.
“In exchange for your soul, you’ll remain under the VoxTek label and continue working for me. Your work will remain the same as before. You’ll forget about leaving. You will want to stay here. You will want to stay here with me.”
A golden scroll appears out of thin air, and it floats in front of you as it unfurls. “Sign it.”
Your body moves on its own. You sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page.
Vox releases your wrist, and takes your hand in his own as his eye reverts back to its normal state. When you come to just moments later, he’s shaking your hand with calm professionality.
“I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Vox remarks smoothly, his smirk looking almost proud now. “I look forward to your next performance, my dear.”
You blink a few times as you become more lucid and aware. “Uh, yeah. Can’t wait!”
You smile, and Vox releases your hand, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You don’t remember what exactly you came in here for, but you’re happy with the outcome.
“Perfect.”
#hazbin hotel#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x you#hazbin vox#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox x reader#the vees#gender neutral reader
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Another Rough Day
gif credit @chrishemsworht
Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 13.7K
Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort
A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that
ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello
ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing
anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall
---
You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.
Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.
They’re… awful.
Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.
Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.
You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.
Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.
You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.
Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—
“P-Please don’t kill me!”
His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.
It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”
Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.
No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.
You pause, staring down at him in shock.
It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.
“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”
“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.
“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.
But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”
“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”
“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”
“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”
Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”
“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.
“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”
“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”
“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”
“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”
You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.
Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.
“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”
“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.
“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”
Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.
But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.
You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”
“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”
“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”
“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”
Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.
You make the decision immediately.
“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”
“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”
Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.
Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.
“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.
When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.
“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.
Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.
Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?
It’s just… not really your thing.
---
They’re everywhere.
They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.
Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.
He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.
His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.
Din needs to go.
And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.
Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.
Run, sweet girl. Run.
---
You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.
“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.
“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”
Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”
“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.
“Radar?”
“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”
You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”
“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”
“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?
The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.
Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.
You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”
That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.
“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.
But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”
“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”
“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”
But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.
Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.
---
There’s too many for Din to handle.
They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.
Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.
An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.
“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”
Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.
“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”
Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.
After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.
“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”
Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.
“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.
“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”
“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”
All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.
Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.
“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.
The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.
After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”
Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.
“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”
It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—
“He also spoke of a girl.”
And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?
But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?
“A girl?”
The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”
He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.
Except, then—
“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”
And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.
The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.
He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.
Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.
“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.
All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…
Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.
---
You’re right on time.
The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.
Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.
For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.
“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.
“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—
To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.
The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.
“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”
You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.
As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.
Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—
It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.
A star destroyer.
Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.
Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.
---
The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.
You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.
After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.
“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”
You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.
Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.
Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.
You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.
There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.
You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.
But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.
“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.
Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.
Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.
You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.
“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”
He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.
But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.
He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.
But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.
“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”
Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.
He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.
When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.
Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.
After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.
Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.
Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.
“Are you hurt?”
He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.
“No,” you eventually whisper.
The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.
You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.
Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.
When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.
You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…
What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.
The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.
So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.
Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.
After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.
Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.
The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.
After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.
You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.
You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.
You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.
You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.
Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.
So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?
Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.
You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.
And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.
That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.
Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.
You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.
---
When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.
“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”
“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”
“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”
His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.
“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”
“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.
“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”
“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”
Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.
“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.
“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”
Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.
“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”
You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…
There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.
“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”
“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”
“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”
“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”
It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.
“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”
Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.
After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”
You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.
“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”
“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.
“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”
Not a Mandalorian.
“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”
“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.
After a while, Din quietly breaks it.
“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.
You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.
“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”
And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.
This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”
And that covers everything.
The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.
“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”
“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.
He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.
“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”
He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.
“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”
---
@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#mando x you#reader insert#fanfic#star wars#rough day#no-droids
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Blue lock NSFW HCs
A/n: so since I’ve let this anime take over my life completely I feel I’m overqualified to give better hcs and since I don’t have a specific scenario in this is general headcanons💕 (pls request blue lock I have brainworms)
Blue lock:
- off the bat isagi telling us he has a thigh fetish is so real it me he keeps his hands on your thigh at all times
- Really one hand on the steering wheel the other just barely in your pants fingering you
- They all kinda got that sauce in ‘em yk?
- Isagi can say “pretty thing” or “sweetness” in that low ass voice and it will have you on your knees
- NAGI CALLING YOU PRETTY
- Idk WHERE that shit came form but every fic he just calls you pretty and that’s def canon that man is 6”3 so hear me out
- This big ass man who’s usually lazy and barely paying attention putting in that work on you, keeping you pressed into the bed with his full body weight
- Mumbling in your ear in his monotone voice that’s just one octave lover
- “Cmon pretty, gunna come f’me?” he’s looking at you with his egoist eyes
- Will have you in between him and Reo
- Sorry but that’s just as canon as bachira and isagi it’s gunna happen at LEAST once
- Seishiro can run with the best of them w that ego too like he says he’s a pacifist but he’s squared up first on someone like 4 times😭
- He Probably offhandedly mentions something about you in convo with Reo and you’re done for
- They’re like gaming or something and you walk into the room
- “I’ll prove it- hey come here for a sec” and now all of a sudden you’re seated in between his delicious thighs being fingered open by nagi in front of Reo like he’s giving a tutorial😭
- I see y’all’s saying Reo would do that for inexperienced nagi but I raise you that Reo only has casual flings and has been intimate with nagi so he’s not used to their duo being a trio
- Nagi spreading your legs keeping them wide open for Reo to see everything while he leans over your shoulder and makes sure he’s focused on what he’s doing
- Something something good with his givers because gamer
- He’s working you open with his huge fingers almost unbothered by the fact that your squirming and grabbing at his arm
- Reo is a little flustered but he’s def paying attention
- They’re acting like they’re talking about the weather like you not gushing all over his fingers
- Makes you cum like three times this way before he says “Reo is pretty good with his tongue, can he have a taste too?”
- Nagi and his crazy stamina will not let you rest!
- RIN! My beloved baby boy!
- He’s a FREAK like freaky NASTY and mean about it too!
- Little slow on the uptake but once you really start learning about each other he’s working out all his frustrations on you
- Not very emotive but he’s blunt so he will make his feelings perfectly clear
- Brat tamer by default bc you push his buttons
- “Keep that same energy when I get you alone”
- Fucks you in the locker rooms
- Likes you wearing his jersey while he does it
- Had hella pictures and videos of it too that you don’t remember him taking😭
- Keep him company on his long away games💕
- Everyone knows he’s having good sex bc he has scratch marks all over his back and dares someone to say shit about them
- Since like every single one of his dispositions is bc of Sae you have to be patient with him
- The itoshi issue is that they will have conflicts in their head, decide what YOU are gunna say and make choices silently based off that
- Like bitch if you don’t TALK TO ME??
- Rin will not start the convo and avoid you in a fight bc in his mind he fucked up and you never want to see him again but like did I say that??
- You gotta go to him and be like say what the fuck you’re thinking :/
- Both the itoshi brothers are rough
- Rin will use his insane stamina to fuck you right to sleep like he’s trying to watch a game stop playing w him
- Probably end up fucking you with or in-front of isagi
- One thing about Rin Itoshi is that he has something to prove always
- Sae and shidou you already know lmao
- My favs?? Come the fuck ON they have nasty ass sex daily
- Sae count your fucking days bc imma best your ass 😐
- However,,, the dynamic between him and Ryusei is too tasty to ignore
- Sae and his butt fetish will usually do anal if you’re taking both of them at once
- His dick is really pretty you and shidou have full length discussions about it and he is TIRED
- Sae likes to think he has you two on a leash and for the most part he kinda does
- But you might as well be on demon time too bc once you and Ryusei tag them
- Him??
- The great cold and calculated Sae Itoshi the gem of Japan will be a whiny little Bitch
- Likes to piss you off so you’ll be rough with him and Shidou right there with you
- You’re both fed up with his shit so you decide to punish him
- You edging him while Ryu fucks him mercilessly
- Imagine you’re riding him reverse cowgirl and shidou is fucking him so hard and deep he can’t breathe
- You two doing that whole outwardly ignoring him kissing while he wants you to pay attention to him clawing at your lower back and hips
- Moaning out “sorry” and babbling nonsense
- Cums a lot and it’s thick in consistency
- Whimpers when you and shidou taste him on each other and he can’t kiss either of you
- Tears steaming down his face while he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back and can barely even say what he wants because he’s moaning so much
- Aftercare is so cute bc you both clean him up and give him as many kisses as he wants
- That really fixes his attitude LMAO
- Isagi can get pretty try mean too you trigger that ego and he’s just as ruthless as he is in the field
- “You think I’m gunna let you cum after you spent all day on my nerves? Be serious”
- He’s big on eye contact
- Will sit back in a chair and stare at you as he makes you ride him with no help
- “Go on, you wanted it, ain’t you?”
- Spanks you hard
- Chigiri hyoma is HUNG
- like oh my god pretty face huge dick
- People paint him as like corset when he’s like really mild mannered and mean? Lmao his egoist profile even says he’s mean
- He’s blunt and says exactly what he means
- If “okay?? AND??” Was a person😭
- Will get choked up if you kiss the scar on his knee when you go down on him
- “Cmon you can take more than that can’t you?”
- He can go fast but likes going slow and deep
- Really savor the moment
- Wants to feel every second of you going up and down his dick
- Meanie!!
- “You’re creaming around me already and I’ve barely made it all the way in”
- Preps you really good before hand too that’s like mandatory even if you’re ready he’s going to have you cum on his tongue or fingers first
- Gets pussy drunk a lot and ends up fucking himself into overstimulation
- Liked his hair pulled on
- Barou? Whew the king definitely deserves that title!
- A big fan of slow and deep like Chigiri
- Will make you face him as he fucks up into you
- “Quit wining and take it, you’re the one who kept begging for me to fuck you all day”
- Will clean the sheets fully after sex like lmao he’s changing the whole bed
- Let’s see hiori too! People like to say the self proclaimed “ultra sadist” as like just a bottom all the time
- He’s more mean and doesn’t care about it
- “Ow! That kinda hurt!”
- “Hm? Good”
- Big fan of face fucking
- Shidou alone is very baby
- I’m his defense lawyer yall like he’s an aquifer taste so you can not like him
- But that’s your fault and a skill issue💅🏿✨
- He’s the unhinged very soon of isagi very emotionally intelligent and can read a room
- He simply does not CARE about others
- Very ‘if people are going to isolate me then I’ll push them away’ vibes
- Like he rly has a connection w the whole cast minus rin and kunigami
- If he hadn’t took a kick at isagi him and bachira would be besties!🥺
- They understand the same type of loneliness
- Back to the horny
- He will split you open on his cock any time of the day
- He’s very god at anatomy and chemistry like look at how tf he talks
- HES LITERALLY A STRAIGHT A STUDENT!
- Has a breeding kink in canon
- “If you keep my cum inside you for the whole game I’ll eat it out of you when we win”
- Cock bastard also
- Rin def walked in on you two once and it haunts him
- Seeing your face utterly fucked out not caring that you’re both locking eyes while shidou who’s blissfully unaware keeps bullying his fat cock into you against the lockers🤭
- He can’t look you in the face for like a month lol
- Chigiri like pegging and kunigami can suck dick rly well
- Don’t ask me how ik I just KNOW Mr. Bisexual representation has had a relationship with a guy who he was intimate with
- Bachira likes to paint your face white
- Loved seeing you with his cum on your face
- Won’t tell you he’s close when you suck him off on purpose sometimes
- “Oops, my bad! You do look pretty like this tho☺️” be so the fuck fr
#x black reader#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk x you#bllk#bllk smut#blue lock x black!reader#my writing#isagi yoichi#blue lock isagi#isagi smut#rin itoshi#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi smut#nagi seishiro#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro smut#reo mikage#reo x reader#bllk reo#bllk rin#sae itoshi#bachira meguru#meguru smut#bachira meguru smut#bllk bachira#barou shouei#shidou ryusei
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Okay DONT JUGDE ME PLEASE but I have an idea for mike schmidt. Okay so basically she(y/n) gets these new meds for the two of them it was basically like had idk what it's called but sm that makes them horny af and yk what happens next and also they r just friends when this happens. U can fill in the details with whatever.
a/n: Ahh no trust me i’m not one to judge people ever about what they’re into and stuff like that, obviously it’s different when i’m asked to write about smtg i’m uncomfortable with or if it’s illegal, but nonetheless here it is, i apologise in advanced as i did rush to get it posted but ye enjoy!! 😭
warning: most of my replies to requests i get don’t include warnings but please keep in mind before reading that this will contain ⚠️drugs, taking of drugs, irresponsible drug use!!⚠️ other than that it’s just the usual smut stuff :)
“come on you’re not gonna pussy out on me now are you?” you jab at Mike knowing he was the one boasting about the drug being a placebo that wouldn’t work.
“of course i won’t since i know it doesn’t even work. whoever sold it to you just got a free 30 dollars.” he looks down at you kneeling in front of the living room table slicing the pill in two. You were told by the seller that it was a hormone enhancing pill that was basically just stronger weed, so you were being cautious about how much you both took.
“ok fine hurry up give it here” sitting down next to you, Mike grabs one half swallowing it down in one go, you do the same. After 15 minutes neither of you feel anything.
“see i told you, it’s a fucking scam”
“no no we must’ve not taken it right, come on one more chance pleaseeee” you whine looking at him with your hands clasped together.
“fine. only cause your my best friend” “mike..i’m your only friend but ok”
Taking out two more pills you grab a cup using the base to crush them into a fine powder, with your credit card you finely crush it and seperate the pile of white powder into two even lines. Meanwhile Mike neatly rolls up a dollar bill leaning forward to snort up one line, handing the note over, you sniff up the powder feeling a sharp sting in your nose leaning back against the couch to relax and let everything settle.
First there was nothing and suddenly so much was happening all at once. In two minutes you and Mike had gone from sitting beside each other dazed as ever to feeling heat all over your body. The sensation causing you both to remove layers of clothing to avoid any effects of what felt like heatstroke. “god what the fuck is happening y/n?” you hear Mike say as he removes his clothing leaving him in a pair of black boxers, “idk mikey everything’s so hot and suffocating” you respond back stripping down to just your bra and denim shorts.
You feel the heat rising especially at your core, the denim shorts getting increasingly more uncomfortable once you’ve soaked through your underwear. Raising your head you notice Mike sitting with a pillow on his lap, “Mike…is that what i think it is?” Before he can reply you’ve already removed the pillow, the sudden movement of his body attempting to hide his raging hard on shocks you as you fall on top of him. His arms support you pulling you on top of his lap as you straddle his thighs. Not even caring at this moment, you grind your pussy against his thigh the rough denim rubbing against your clit as more liquid gushes from your pussy. A dark spot forms on your shorts as Mikes hands grab your hips to push you down harder. He abruptly stops,unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down, he flips you over on the couch so your legs hang off the edge while your back lays on the seats. Kneeling down between your legs he spreads your thighs apart, fingers digging into the soft squishy flesh.
“fucking soaked aren’t you”
“please do something please”
“say it i wanna hear you”
“please touch my pussy”
His nose brushes across your clit through the thin material of your thong as his fingers rub you you’re getting increasingly wet. He quickly rips at the flimsy strings leaving you bare to him, your folds glisten with your wetness as you feel it dripping down. His fingers enter your mouth as you suck on them like you would a lollipop, tracing down past your hardened nipples and to your clit. The first few seconds after contact has you writhing around on the couch, things only getting more intense once you feel Mikes mouth on you. His tongue explores every crevice, caressing your delicate folds and spreading your juices all over. He spits on your clit watching it drip down before collecting it with his index and middle fingers, entering your tight hole and watching it stretch. you moan at the intrusion finally being filled by something, his two fingers feeling like three of your own. You’re so close to coming, his fingertips rubs harder and harder against the soft sensitive spot inside of you, until he removes them. your eyes shoot open widening even more once Mike flips you over onto your front holding both your hands above your head, you’re barely able to turn your head due to the position of your shoulders. The tip of his cock is pulsing and red as it rubs between your folds, poking at your sensitive clit.
The gentle movements lulling you into a further daze, however that’s quick to end once his dick starts easing into your pussy. It’s a tight fit and you weren’t sure about how much would fit but Mike just said “gonna stretch you til’ we fucking make it fit”, his words have you moaning into the couch, spit dribbling from the side of your mouth the more that he enters. His cock is about three quarters in and you’re sure you can’t take any more, that is until he starts pulling out and pushing back in.
Finally he’s all the way in and you’re pulsing around him, your channel trying to fit around the girth of him.
“ok i think it’s fine, you can move”
his thrust start picking up speed, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass bounce off the walls of the room, his heavy balls slap against your clit adding to the pleasure.
“fuck mikey harder please, i’m so close omg”
He picks up the pace going faster and deeper into you, his cock pushes hard against your g-spot spurring you closer to the edge.
“baby i’m gonna cum, fill you up nice and full, fuck you everyday you want that?”
“yesyes please i need you, cum for me baby”
He continues ploughing into you, hips stuttering as he tilts his head back releasing a low guttural groan, you can feel drops of liquid releasing every time he pulls outwards. Finally a stream of Mikes cum pools inside of you, his groans grow softer the more that spurts out, your pussy clamps down on him and more of your come is leaking down his length the droplets staining the couch. Mike rolls over off of you to lay on the couch beside your panting body. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, out of breathe and still coming down from the effects of the drugs you both took. After a few minutes you’re both still in your underwear, Mikes head resting on your lap while you stroke his hair, the two of you thinking about having a discussion on what this would change about your friendship but with the state of high you were both in that topic was for another time.
“well now that we’ve proven it works what do we do now?” Mike asks looking back up at you.
Reaching over to grab something off the table you simply smirk and wave a small clear packet containing two pills, identical to the ones just taken around and hour and a half ago.
~unedited~
#smut#josh hutcherson#mike schmidt#fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf smut#josh hutcherson smut#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt x reader
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I rarely request stuff but I love your writing and I saw your requests are open so…. If you’re open to it, something public or semi public with Miguel and the reader? Maybe they’re in a briefing and while Miguel is explaining the mission other things r going on under the table??? It’s been plaguing my mind idk
Awww I’m glad you like my stuff!! Also, top tier request anon <3 /gen I’m gonna be the self proclaimed king of fucked up Miguel x reader fics - I’m gonna keep it very gn but reader is gonna be afab since you didn’t specify, hope that’s okay! Sorry it’s like… really public <\\\<
Miguel x afab!reader - Public Shenanigans
CW: NSFW, public, toys, riding, no plot, established relationship, cockwarming
This is certainly not how you expected your day to go. You were hoping for a simple quiet day. But nothing is simple in the spider society. Especially not being so close to Miguel. That man just seemed to love torturing you.
Torture is the perfect word. Your legs tremble as the small vibrator in your suit picked up speed, and you tried desperately to hide your noises. One little moan and everyone in this meeting would know what you’re up to. God, what would they think.
Miguel seemed to enjoy watching you suffer, his hand casually under the table as he fiddled with the settings of your toy. It slowed to nearly a stop, before being sent right back to that agonizing speed that made your clit twitch. Your chair had to be soaked with your slick by now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to check.
Your hand flew up to your mouth to muffle a moan, covering it with a cough when a few heads turn towards you. The corners of Miguel’s mouth form a small smirk, and he quickly puts that away, returning to that serious face that puts fear in the other spider people.
You very unwillingly let out a few grunts and groans, squirming as familiar heat filled your core. You placed your head down on the table, legs trembling as the toy dragged you closer to the edge. You gasped and squeezed your thighs together as an orgasm rips through you, biting into your hand to hide your whines. The vibrations suddenly stopped as you panted, coming down from that release.
“Y/n. If you can’t pay attention, I suggest you sit closer.” Miguel smirked. It wasn’t uncommon for you to sit in his lap, the other spiders knew you two were together. Ever since he announced your relationship, he seemed to loosen up quite a bit.
Your cheeks were pink with blush as you got up, stumbling your way over to Miguel and taking a seat on his lap. Your blush grew when you felt his bulge against your soaking wet panties. His hands moved to your hips before sliding down your thighs, and he continued his briefing like nothing is happening.
Miguel’s talons scratched at your spider suit before slicing it open at the crotch. His fingers tugged your underwear aside before he took the vibrator away, setting it on the chair between his legs for now. His fingers spread apart your slick folds, carefully rubbing circles on your swollen clit as you squirm and gasp, trying to not cause a scene. He couldn’t help but smirk at your noises, and surprisingly, no one caught on.
As slowly as it could, his suit dissolved at his crotch, letting his hard cock spring free and smack against your aching pussy. Your hand flew to your mouth and you felt the tip prod at your entrench. This was so bold even for him.
“Don’t move.” He growled in your ear, quiet to the point you could barely hear as his cock slide into your cunt. You tried so hard to follow his orders, but your body was betraying you. Your pussy clenched around his cock, just begging it to move inside you. He let out a low grunt as you tightened on his length and rocked your hips, his hands gripping your waist to keep you still.
The meeting continued on as if you weren’t sitting on Miguel’s cock. It was baffling how calm he was. But he wasn’t calm. You can feel his dick twitching and throbbing, leaking precum inside you. The meeting started to end, and your walls continued to contract around his length.
As the other spider people filed out of the room, Miguel started to move your hips. He was slow at first to not draw the attention of the last few spiders. The second he heard the click! of the door shutting, he let go of you. You let out a slow breath of relief as you started bouncing up and down on his cock.
Every inch felt like heaven inside you, you were so needy at this point you didn’t care if anyone walked in, you didn’t care if they heard your moans. Miguel placed gentle kisses to your neck as you rode him so desperately.
Whorish moans left your mouth as your hips moved up and down over and over on his length. The only sounds in the room were the wet sounds of his cock inside you and your moans, no doubt able to be heard from outside the door. He certainly didn’t care, he loved when you were so vocal.
He groaned as he felt his release getting closer. Your pussy practically edged him the entire time, all those little clenches and small movements drove him mad, it was hard to not bend you over the table and take you right then and there, even with everyone watching. He did restrain himself, however.
Miguel grabbed your waist, forcing you to increase your speed. He was practically using your pussy as a fleshlight with how much control he had over your movements. You moaned and whined as the familiar heat filled you.
“M-Mig… Miguel I-” Your sentence was cut off by a loud moan as your second orgasm rips through you, coating his cock in your cum. He groaned as your walls tightened even more around him, causing his own orgasm and milking his cock for everything he’s got. He rolled his hips slowly, letting you sit completely on his cock as you both rode out your releases.
Once the high was over, you finally glance down at your lap. “You ripped my suit…” You panted slightly.
“Hm… oops.”
“How will I fix it? I can’t leave the room like this, Miggy.”
“I don’t think anyone will mind, Cariño~” He teased, placing a gentle kiss to your neck.
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okay I’m here like two business days later with that request because my adhd brain forgot about it lmao
GHOSTFACE!! YOONGI!! I added the picture of yoongi because I had a very ~specific~ yoongi look in mind when thinking of this loll. I’m thinking Halloween party vibes?? or any other way that a costume would make sense. idk I’m making this request late at night so my brain is half turned off. I’m kind of letting you take the reins here and make it as spooky as you feel comfortable with. like I said I’d love to see your take on this because I love your mind <3
You've had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn't know is that he's had his eyes on you, too.
↳ pairing: yoongi x f!reader
↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | halloween | friends to... (?) | light smut | angst | dead dove
↳ wc/date: 1.4k | October 2023
↳ warnings: dubcon, knife play, blood play, yandere vibes, mc is afraid but also turned on, mc is confused and so am i, slut shaming, humiliation, lowkey gaslighting/victim-blaming, a toxic relationship at the least, vaginal fingering, open ending, i wrote this half asleep and without editing
↳ notes: i have no idea what the fuck this is 🥲 pls forgive me. idk how this happened
↳ masterlist / taglist
↳ what was jai listening to? freak - sub urban ft. rei ami
Halloween 2023 Masterlist
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The wind kicks dry leaves across the sidewalk, swirling them around your feet. Twisting your torso around, you glance over your shoulder as you walk. One of your red stiletto heels falls in the crack between the slabs of concrete. Pain blooms in your ankle when you wobble. The sound of you sucking a breath through your clenched teeth is the only thing disrupting the still, crisp autumn air.
Until you hear it again.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
It sounds like metal on metal, perhaps the jingle of keys or buckles knocking into each other as someone walks.
Alcohol warms your cheeks and chest despite how revealing your red corset and miniskirt are. Still, you know that the sound following you ever since you left Jungkook’s Halloween party is real and not some alcohol-induced paranoia from walking home alone at two in the morning on Halloween.
Jungkook hadn’t wanted you to walk, but finding an Uber so late at night would be impossible, and everyone else at the party had been too drunk to drive you home.
Two blocks isn’t much at all.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The sidewalk is empty when you twist around and try not to trip again. Streetlights cast shadows across the grass that could be people. Or animals. Or monsters. Creatures of the night.
Taking a deep breath, you quickly unlock the gate that opens to wooden stairs leading to the backdoor of your apartment on the second floor. You rush up the stairs as quickly as you can in the stupid heels your best friend convinced you to wear because they’re sexy, and you both thought they might help you catch the eye of a certain boy.
It wasn’t worth the trouble, though. The certain boy barely looked your way.
For a second too long, you stall, fumbling with your keys to find the one that will unlock your backdoor. Your fingers feel numb from the cold, and your reflexes are dulled by whatever was in the punch Hoseok made. Perhaps that’s why you don’t know what looms behind you until its body has yours pressed against your door.
Sticking your hands out, you try to stop yourself from hitting your face. It works, but now your arms are trapped between your body and the door. Your keys fall with a hollow thud, and for a heartbeat, the world is silent, like every creature in existence is holding its breath.
Every creature except for the one crowding you against the door. It breathes, hot and heavy, against the shell of your ear, scattering goosebumps across your skin. You’re burning up from its body heat, the creature big and firmly pressed against every inch of you.
But what makes your knees tremble isn’t the oppressive force of this thing sticking to you like a second skin. It’s the clink and then something cool and sharp pressed against your throat.
You can’t swallow down your nerves without fear of your throat bobbing against what you guess is a large knife.
“Are you scared?” a voice whispers. Soft lips brush the tip of your ear. Then a nose, buttoned and cold, drags along the side of your neck. “You’re being such a good girl, didn’t even scream.”
Fear clutches your heart, but that voice strokes a fire in your core. It’s sick how you shiver against the man’s chest because you know it isn’t only because you’re scared of him.
“You’re not funny, Yoongi,” you say with a shaky breath and do your best not to move too much when you talk.
Yoongi chuckles into your shoulder, where he’s nuzzled his face. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
The knife glides down your throat at the point with not enough pressure to break the skin but just enough for it to feel uncomfortable.
“Are you gonna let me in?”
It’s not a real knife. Yoongi is your friend; he wouldn’t threaten you. Or, at least, you think he’s your friend. He’d ignored you all night, though.
“Did you seriously follow me all the way here at two in the morning just to scare me?” You elbow him out of the way so you can bend down to retrieve your keys.
“Yeah,” Yoongi admits with a gummy smile.
Inside your apartment, you can get a better look at him. His costume is just his regular clothes with a Ghostface mask, though he isn’t wearing the mask anymore. It’s tied to one of his belt loops. The side bumps against the metal of his belt when he walks.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Yoongi’s grin grows. “Jungkook didn’t want you walking by yourself.”
“Then why didn’t you walk with me instead of following me around like a creep?”
You kick off your heels and take ginger steps toward the kitchen, the balls of your feet throbbing. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi shrugs. His pretty black hair falls against his shoulders and curls into his eyelashes when he tilts his head to watch you.
“You knew I was there,” he doesn’t ask, just smiles when you roll your eyes.
Catching your wrist, Yoongi stops you from crossing the living room to the kitchen. His grip on you is bruising when he yanks you into his chest. It’s claustrophobic and makes your stomach churn when you twist your wrist, and Yoongi doesn’t let go.
“I’m thirsty.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, can’t manage to get any louder. “Let me go.”
“Interesting,” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m thirsty, too.”
You follow his eyes when he drops his chin to peer between your bodies. At the same time, you feel the cool edge of the knife drag up your thigh. The tip eventually catches on the edge of your miniskirt. In one swift motion, Yoongi flicks the knife up and cuts through the thin, stretchy fabric. A thin line of blood sprouts from the shallow cut his knife makes up the inside of your thigh.
“Oh my god,” you whimper, watching little dribbles of blood trickle down your leg. Heat spreads from the cut across your thigh and unfurls in your stomach.
The dim lighting of your living room reflects in warm tones within Yoongi’s dark irises. Squeezing your wrist even tighter, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of your couch.
“You liked it,” Yoongi points out with a tut of his tongue, his tone condescending and judgemental. The shame it stirs in your chest makes it hard for you to breathe. “Let me press you up against the door. Mark you up with this,” he twirls the knife around, making a show of how loosely he grasps it.
“Yoongi.”
Yoongi brings the knife to your lips to silence you. The tip glistens with your blood.
“Keep quiet like a good girl for me, okay, sweetheart?” Yoongi kneels on the couch in between your spread legs. The position forces your ruined skirt higher up your thighs, exposing your sheer red thong.
You watch in amazement as Yoongi drags the tip of his knife up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your thong. Lightly, he drags the tip along your clothed pussy. It doesn’t cut you, but you can’t stop shaking because it could, and you don't know what that would mean for you if you admitted that you kind of want it to.
“Why are you–”
“Shhh, don’t play so innocent,” Yoongi murmurs. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You dressed up so pretty for me. Look so good in red; I wanted to see more of it on you.”
The knife presses against the crease of your inner thigh and slices upward, giving you another shallow cut while cutting you loose from your thong.
You moan when Yoongi drags his cold fingers along your folds, dig your nails into his forearm when he plunges two fingers into your pussy and makes your muscles flutter.
“So wet for me, fuck, you’re such a slut,” Yoongi moans as your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers despite the press of the bloodied blade against your throat.
"Yoongi, please," you buck into his hand, urging him to fuck you faster. Your thighs sting from the cuts, and your legs are wet with little streams of blood, but you've never felt so close to an orgasm so quickly in your life.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.”
Halloween 2023 Masterlist
all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3
do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work
#jai asks#souryoong#yoongi x reader#bts fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#bts angst#bts smut#jai writes#gimmethatagustd#ash!#halloween 2023#ghostface killers
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So I don’t know if you still take commissions (even though it literally says it’s open by the time I’m typing this lmao) but I was thinking of Ghost from COD modern warfare 2 with male reader who is mute? Also male reader is like a total sweetheart, pretty shy.
Maybe it’s winter and Ghost invites his friends to his house for dinner for some reason (maybe male reader wanted to meet them but ghost said no cause he wanted privacy) , and on the car ride there Ghost accidentally mentions his househusband which suprised the team since he never talked about him. (Let alone he was into guys)
Ghost says that he wanted their marriage to be private and makes a quick recap of what male reader is like, who is a photographer and has 3 Barbie dolls (I like Barbie dolls don’t judge me 😂) and gave them their own personalities and stuff on social media to look like they’re traveling the world.
They reached home, male reader welcomes them and quickly heads to the kitchen cause he’s making the food. The crew all sit at the table eating (the food is delicious) and Soap asks how they met and Ghost just says that it’s pretty boring.
Idk what happens next, (maybe they play a board game? Or they continue chatting with Ghost and male reader, ur pick) but after that the crew stays for the night and Ghost and male reader sleep together.
(Also, small detail, male reader is wearing a sweater and sweatpants)
thank u for your time
This has to be one of the cutest requests I've had in a while! Ngl. The barbie doll part honestly took me out.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X MUTE photographer MALE READER
Finally winter break in task force 141 arrived. It's one of the few times they get off for holidays and to be with family.
So the team made a tradition. The first day of the break everyone takes turns to take the team to their home for dinner, since it maybe the last time they'll see each other in a while.
This time around it's Simon's turn.
At first Ghost didn't want to be the host. He didn't want the team all up in his personal business. Simon already had an excuse in mind as to why he couldn't host, but sadly his husband found out about the tradition and begged Ghost to meet them.
But the cold hearted man said no at first, but his husband had convinced him to host.
So this leads into now.
Ghost was driving to his house with Price in the passenger seat while the others were in the backseats. The car was blasted with loud music because of Gaz. and conversation.
"Hey Simon!--" Soap shouts trying to catch the male attention. But sadly the music went over his words. "Ghooost!~" Gaz drags out as well. The pair try over and over again trying to catch Ghost.
Soap taps Price on his shoulder. Price turns his head to the side looking at Soap. Soap signals with his hands to turn down the radio even using his hand as an example. The captain immediately understands and turns his head back around facing the radio and turning it down.
"Fuckin hell finally. Ghost!" Soap says finally being able to hear himself. Simon hums in response.
"You got anything or anyone at home? Like dogs, cats..." Soap trails off with Gaz finishing the question. "Secret girlfriends?" Ghost lets out a groan and an eye roll.
"No Johnny. I have no one there." Ghost says clearing lying shooting down the question.
The car grows silent with only soft music playing in the background.
"Any kids? Since theres a little barbie back here with brand new packaging." Gaz points out picking up the box. "Don't tell me you play with dolls L.t?" Soap teases with a smirk.
"No. I don't have any kids. And the box is a gift for my husband..." Simon trails off as realization slowly sets in.
Price eyebrow raises looking away from the window and to the soldier next to him. "You liar!" Soap shouts point his finger at Simon. "Husband?" Price repeats looking at Simon. "You like guys!?!" Gaz says looking around wide eyed.
"Fucks sake." Simon says slapping himself mentally.
"Well who is he!?!"
"What is he like??
"What's his job?"
"Does he treat you right?"
"Why didn't you tell us about him!!"
Question after question comes from the group.
"I wanted our marriage to be private. It's none of y'all's business about me and my husband's love life. But i'll only give you a small recap about him, but that's it..." Simon breathes out with his tone full with annoyance.
"His name is Y/n L/n. He's a mute photographer with three barbie dolls he gave their own personalities and background stories with verified social media accountants about what's going on with their lives. Like them traveling the world, their boyfriends, mental health updates and so on. The girls names are (___) (____) and my favorite (___)"
Simon says getting his phone and goes to one of the dolls social media accounts clicking on the newest photo of the girl and shows his team.
The picture is (____) looking outside the window looking for someone while the other girls are trying to confused in the background.
The caption read:
"(____) waiting for her husband to come home from the military."
After everyone sees it Simon takes his phone back and likes the post.
After a few more miles Simon sees his house in a couple more feet away. "Were here." Simon says waking up Gaz. Simon parks the car in the driveway and turns the car off.
Ghost looks in the backseat snatching the brand new toy from Gaz's hands before leaving the car with the team following close behind him.
"Don't make me regret taking y'all here." Ghost breathes out mostly talking about Soap and Gaz.
Before Ghost could unlock the door, the door swings open.
A pair of arms wrap around Ghost's body hugging him tight. Almost causing Simon to fall.
Insistingly Simon wraps his arms around his husband back hugging him tight bringing him closer. "I miss you too..." Simon says into the crook of Y/n's neck.
Y/n is first to pull away before giving Simon a quick kiss on Simon's covered lips. Y/n's head looks over Simon's shoulder looking at the men behind him.
Y/n gives them a bright wave before walking back inside the house.
Soap and Gaz lets out a few giggles thats quickly shushed by Price glaring at them.
"Well don't just keep standin there cmon." Simon groans out walking inside the house leading them into the dinning room.
TIMESKIP
After Simon gets the team all settled down in the dinning room he walks to the kitchen holding his husband's gift behind his back. "Y/n love, come here." Simon says looking at him.
Y/n turns his head to his husband and stops from what he was doing and walks over to Simon looking at him confused.
"Here. For you and the girls." Simon says showing the brand new barbie to him. Simon watches his husband's eyes become filled with joy and ideas.
Y/n takes the box out of Simon's hands before using his free hand to pull down Simon's mask to kiss him deeply on the lips. Y/n kiss him over and over again as thank yous.
"Your welcome." Simon says against Y/n's lips.
"How about you go show the girls while I take over cooking." Simon suggests.
Y/n doesn't need to get told twice as he goes upstairs to the dolls "personal" room.
TIMESKIP
After the food was done cooking Y/n and Simon began to serve the team with food and drinks even Deseret. The whole team loved the food. (Even got Gaz asking for seconds)
As everyone is eating and talking about whatever Soap finds something to talk about.
"Where did you two meet." Soap asks looking at Ghost and his husband.
"It's pretty boring..." Simon answers trying to shoot down the question. "I bet it's not." Price voice rings out. "Trust me it is." "I don't believe you." Gaz says already planning to ask Y/n if Simon doesn't tell them.
"It's just pretty boring how we met. Nothing fancy or cute just boring." Simon says once again.
As the team begins to argue about wanting to know they don't notice Y/n with one of his dolls and his photography camera posing her at the dinner table taking pictures.
Y/n even got to sneak some pictures of her staring at Price with love in her eyes.
It isn't until a while Simon notices he wasn't paying his husband any attention. Simon looks to the left of him to only get met with a doll in his husband's seat looking at price.
"Y/n." Simon calls out looking at his husband taking her pictures. Y/n looks away from his camera looking at Simon with a smile.
Timeskip
Finally hours past everyone is ready for bed. Y/n takes each team member to a guest room signing them "goodnight" before finally going to his own room with his husband.
Y/n strips out of his clothes and into one of Simon's shirts and sweats before crawling into the bed.
After a while Simon comes inside the room after washing the dishes. Simon takes off his shirt pants putting on sweats as well before climbing into bed.
Simon wraps his arms around Y/n bringing him close.
"I love you." Simon whispers against Y/n. Y/n kiss Simon on the cheek responding with the same love.
THE END
#simon riley x male reader#ghost x male reader#ghost simon riley#mw2 x male reader#mw2 ghost#call of duty x male reader#call of duty#x male reader#x mute male reader#male reader#the bear club
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indy you’ve done it again!!! 19 year old gf and brucie inspo pics below… i would also like to believe that an “affair” ( is it really an affair if the relationship with isn’t real) happens with one of the boys, more likely jason than dick (even tho dick gives me mad butterflies)…
gf being a social media influencer is in my mind and bruce loves it more because it allows him to publicize his relationship even more…
https://pin.it/1iacJEVLd
https://pin.it/3IPhPVh4L
sorry if this is all over the place but i have so many thoughts now -🍓
— link | link.
Berry. i screamed into my hand. the first one made me smile and the second one had me clapping a hand over my mouth and screaming. bcos like the energy was so perfect and it’s hard to find good bruce wayne vibes in pics.
i need you to share those thoughts btw idk how long my bruce interest will last so i have to take advantage of it while i can
now the affair thing is interesting because funnily enough jason has a tendency to get under people’s skin, and he was trying to do that with reader in the fic. purposefully disrespecting you is a way to see more into who you are and what you’re doing here because he’s curious and it’s entertaining to mess with people. he may be attracted to you, but sleeping with him would take a lot more effort considering he’s shy and if he actually likes you, he’ll be a little shyer around you bcos his instinct is to pick people apart verbally (like in the fic) but he can’t do that with you when he likes you if he wants you to like him back.
now dick is a chronic cheater in the comics. infidelity comes naturally to this kid, so he’d be more likely to be down for fucking bruce’s girl on the side. if you register to him as a girl down to fuck, he’ll prolly ask just cos. sex to him is fun it’s like a hobby, it’s not his problem who you’re with. in his eyes bruce is a grown man he can deal with this shit logically, and when dick hears that you haven’t gotten any in weeks, his instinct is gonna be to coddle you into thinking you deserve some from him.
reader being a social media influencer is so good!! bcos yes one of the reasons bruce chose you is your reachability. huge plus with him. everybody’s talking about the instagram vid where he’s doing a body shot off of you in the smallest bikini imaginable in the middle of an insane party. and they’re not talking about how batman was spotted atop wayne manor
#:pinterest#indy shoots the shit#thanks for the msg!!#anon: 🍓#ch: bruce#ch: dick#ch: jason#bruce wayne prompt#dick grayson prompt#jason todd prompt#nineteen year old!reader#reader x bruce wayne x dick grayson x jason todd
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i’ve been following ur writing for some time now and i do have to agree with that anon who said you did CH dirty. you are a very talented writer so it’s just hard to watch.
you started off CH so strong with the lore and little chapters here and there but as it progressed you kind of just got lazy and it shows. when important events happened in the story, they weren’t conveyed through writing but through the texts (ie the riki and yn fight, that was definitely worth a written chapter) and it was honestly disappointing.
the ending isn’t much to say about either. yn and hoon barely go through development after the letter incident and all of a sudden they’re dating and married with a kid like two chapters later?
idk, if it was a mental health issue then i get that but even then you should’ve just gave it a break and thought everything out more. you could do so much better.
thank you for the feedback!
i wanna put you through the progess of a piece of writing from the POV of a writer okay? now keep in mind: i work two jobs, am a fulltime uni student and the daughter of an immigrant household with two parents who still work most of the day just so you know what else i have to deal with, besides my mental health okay?
now, i started off CH strong right? yes. i uploaded on the daily, fine i chose that. a chapter usually takes me around one hour if i actually sit down and focus on nothing but the chapter itself, which includes IG stories, editing, formatting etc. alright
on top of the daily chapters, i constantly replied to 40+ asks a day, a blessing in disguise because no matter how much i enjoy talking to you guys, the pressure does get worse the bigger that number of my inbox becomes, i hope this makes sense
now, i started CH back in october, right when my semester started, thats why i started off strong but as time went on, my assignments and private life got too busy and i guess i felt entitled enough as a writer to skip a few certain chaps and make life a little easier for me by making them regular chapters instead of written ones.
and this is gonna be my main point: i'm not a machine. i wrote a minimum of 5 THOUSAND words per written chapter, MINIMUM. we're talking about a 5-9 THOUSANDED worded chapter EACH WEEK. which usually took me about 6-7 hours, even allnighters.
yes, i chose to do that and maybe my time management wasn't the best but i had to create a compromise where i wouldnt have let you guys wait for over two months which would have resulted in me losing my motivation completely, and yet still focusing on EXAMS. because you know, i'm a fulltime uni student with TWO jobs 😮💨
if YOU think i did CH dirty go write an alternative ending yourself but it should be a minimum of 15 chapters including 5 written ones, with at LEAST 9k words each yeah? i wanna see you manage it all, pls prove me wrong snd show me you're better than me i'm genuinely begging bc it might inspire me to do "better" next time.
as a writer/artist/creator, and i can tell you probably arent one yourself or havent been one for long, the longer smth takes to come to an end the worse the pressure becomes which results in a blockage i dont wish upon my worst enemy i'm being deadass. i dealt with some of the worst writer's block ive had since i started writing literally 12 years ago and you're telling me i should have just "taken a break" and do "better"
i never, ever expected anything from anyone but some of you are so entitled to a writer's time and skill it's giving me a headache. maybe you didn't like the timing and writing of the last few chapters of CH and i guess that's unfortunate but this was so unnecessary because you completely dismissed everything else that could have been going on in my life and even belittled my mental health issues like im some fucking AI writing machine
do better, be nicer, write it yourself if you don't like it i'm so fucking over this
if i had gotten out of my own comfort and wellbeing and have actually written another set of written chapters i would have burned myself completely out. ive been in this fandom for not even a year and have already finished FOUR smaus with 50 chapters each, you do NOT get to tell me what i should or could have done better because you dont even give a fuck about me as a person this is just about receiving what YOU think YOURE entitled to but this is MY art and I will do what I see fit even if it's not what was expected of it because i'm a fucking human being with a life before i'm a writer on tumblr
oh, also: i do this for free ㅤ:) just a reminder :) this is my HOBBY :)
and don't you EVER call me lazy again when it comes to writing because i'm not gonna pour my heart and soul into a fic just for you to call me lazy when i literally wrote 50 THOUSAND words for this fucking fic just for the written chapters
goodbye
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