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#im entirely serious it would go SO hard

artsybi · 1 year

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it's a damn shame no one has made a daredevil edit/animatic for "you're crashing, but you're no wave" by fall out boy because it would go really fucking hard

#daredevil #matt murdock #original #i ramble #daredevil comics #marvel #marvel comics #fall out boy #fob #im entirely serious it would go SO hard #listen to the song and tell me that im wrong #SIKE! you cant. it'd go hella hard #devastated that no one else has had this thought

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pierregazly · 3 months

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the bookworm ꨄ george russell smau

george russell x bookworm/writer!reader

the one where george couldn't be prouder to call you his, even if it seems like the whole world hates you just for doing what you love... even if they don't know the whole truth.

georgerussell63

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liked by yourusername, alex_albon, f1wags, and others

georgerussell63 enjoyed the time off! would never complain about spending time with my best friend, time to get back into things 💪🏎

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username gotta go check off 'george posts shirtless pics during off szn' on my bingo card

username gotta go check off 'yn cares more about her own hobby than her bf' on my bingo card

username girl you got issues with books? can't read?

alex_albon bad hair day? or are hats your new thing

yourusername tried to convince him to go with the bucket hat, but he claims 'all the kids are wearing caps babe'

username girlypop can't even enjoy a holiday with george without being focused on anything other than him??

username he's literally NECKING her in one of the photos?????? do you want her to koala hold him everywhere???

username future wdc russell george and his future writer wife frfr

username 1/2 of these things are probably true and we both know it's not the second lol

yourusername spoiling me always, my handsome handsome man 💗

georgerussell63 wouldn't have spent the last few weeks with anyone else (even if you kick me in your sleep nightly)

username do you think yourusername pictures george as the main male character in any of the books she reads???

username if i can picture him in fanfiction, im sure she pictures him in everything else???

gisèlerosebooks

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, username, and others

gisèlerosebooks first time being on any device since my trip with my favourite person ended. the love on collided continues to amaze me, and i'm so extremely honoured to continuously receive so much love from not only the reading community, but many of the formula 1 faithful as well. this is NOT the end of the journey, either. for now, let the formula 1 season begin... and maybe find me at a race or two? 🤭

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gisèlerosebooks oh and to my incredible, amazing, handsome boyfriend, thank you so much for always proofreading my formula 1 terminology and understanding. i promise i'll give you real credit one day.

username god adrien is so charles leclerc coded, he's all i could think about this entire book

lilymhe 🏎🫶🏻

username the fact i literally could've cared less about the lil zoom zoom cars before the dirty air series dropped and now im eager for the new season.... gisèle baby why u do this to me

username miss girl???? how are we supposed to find you at any races when we don't even know what you look like!!!

username jealous of gisèle's bf is!!! his gf is too talented for the world

username not throttled being the book to get me back into reading and now i'm blessed wth a second book??? mother is mothering real hard

username this is the type of book series i'd totally read at the track and imagine an f1 driver as my husband sry

username 10/10 book!!! dying!!!

yourusername has posted a story

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georgerussell63 wow we're so lucious and hot

yourusername luscious sweetie

georgerussell63 god i love having a hot, smart, book-writer gf. write a book about me and use that word

yourusername they're all already about you??? (handsome)

username you showed up to a race?????? shocking

gisèlerosebooks has posted a story

liked by georgerussell63, username, username, and others

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username omg!!!! where are you!!! dying to meet you omfg

username YOU WERE SERIOUS

georgerussell63 i saw u slip up and post this on the og account loser

georgerussell63 can i have my scooter back ya nerd

gisèlerosebooks no sorry </3 i own it now

georgerussell63 no creds in the books and now my scooter stolen???? you hate the british

gisèlerosebooks my pseudonym is an ODE to you PAL

georgerussell63

tagged yourusername and gisèlerosebooks

liked by yourusername, gisèlerosebooks, lilymhe, and others

georgerussell63 a shame that this weekend didn't go the way we all wanted it to go, i know for a fact we'll be coming out on top soon! i also know yourusername or as most of you seem to prefer (for no valid reason at all) gisèlerosebooks is pretty deep in finishing book 3 and apparently this weekend was super influential??? go me (give me book creds)

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yourusername george!!! lmao!!!

yourusername a heads up next time??? maybe?!?

username 'for no valid reason at all' so SASSY oh boy

username everyone on twitter the other day calling yourusername a freeloader is soooo not doing well rn

lilymhe the secret's out!!!! (shocked, baffled, wild, can i get my books signed now)

username (G)isèle (R)ose... (G)eorge (R)ussell... dare i say... deliberately done

yourusername 🤭

username amazing race this weekend!!! can't wait to see you on top

username no one talking about book 3 almost being done??? or the fact george proofreads all her writing??? so cute

charles_leclerc so collided... is not about me?

georgerussell63 get lost mate

yourusername has posted a story

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, username, and others

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georgerussell63 you think im a gentleman??? love you

yourusername the BIGGEST gentleman, i love you

username god this is so cute

georgerussell63

tagged yourusername and gisèlerosebooks

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, username and others

georgerussell63 that's my little freeloading, best-selling author and future wife!

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username someone come get this chronically online man rn!!

yourusername can i be your freeloader forever??? spending my own money sucks

georgerussell63 my money's your money always my little freeloader

alex_albon emphasis on the best-selling author and future wife part

georgerussell63 you're right mate

username re-reading dirty air and knowing fully the entire book series is about george makes me so happy omg

username proud to admit i loved yourusername before AND after she was revealed as everyone's fav author (and it's not just a hobby losers)

username george doesn't get book creds until he wins a race again :)

yourusername i love this stipulation!!! georgerussell63 thoughts?

georgerussell63 you hate the british.

i had SO much fun writing this!!! i picked george after going down a george rabbit hole again (of course), so i hope you all love it!! thanks for all the love always.

i'm not necessarily taking requests right now, but if you have suggestions please feel free to send them my way.

#george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #george russell imagine #george russell fluff #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 smau #george russell smau

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killakalx · 26 days

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mind blown by the jealousy fic! i just love ur characterization of dick.

also now you've got me thinking abt him and sloppy seconds. like imagine you've gone to someone else and let them fuck you, but they just couldn't get you off, and you're just so frustrated. then you show up at his door in wrinkled clothes, still dripping wet, hair messed up and lips bitten red and his brain just whites out. maybe he's still not jealous, not exactly, but he is so pleased with himself. cause now it's not just "she knows where home is" but "she knows nobody else will ever do it better, no matter how hard they try." then he's teasing about how wet you are, how bad you wanna come, how easy you are for him, and he gets you off with just his fingers first just to prove he can. he has you damn near begging before he even fucks you for real, and even then he does it torturously slow, taking his time and making you whine for it while he touches you all over. before he lets you come he asks "who did it better, me or him?"

ur posts put some sort of devil in me istg <3 🫐

“i just love ur characterization of dick” ☹️❤️ im kissing u rn berry. this got longer than it was supposed to but that’s ok bc i’m in love with our best friend dick grayson

i think right here is where dick starts feeling bad. not in a sappy way, but not in a condescending way either. he opens the door and he just ogles at how sorry you look, contemplating how he’d go about it, but he just gives you that charming smile and waits for your green light.

say you’re more embarrassed than anything else. tried to go home and get yourself off, making yourself look worse in all the most miserable ways. all you give him is that look. the lowkey “if you tell anyone about this i’ll kill you” look. in that case he’s teasing you the entire time, shit talking whoever it was that left you dry while carelessly dipping his fingers into your mouth and getting you soaked with just his hand. that’s when he’s more than willing to keep you embarrassed and begging for him.

“stop being a dick,” you’d scold him with the same joke he’s heard a million times, trying to hold his wrist in place and keep him inside of you. then he just stops moving his fingers and the way you ache around them has his ego practically leaking out of his cock.

“did you fake it or what?” he talks over you when you start insulting him out of impatience. he likes continuing conversation as if it’s one of those old talks you two would have. yk…. without him being knuckles deep inside you.

just in case you didn’t hear him right, you’re giving him that confused look and still rolling your hips for some sort of relief “hn… what?”

“you had to act like you came,” dick explains despite being sure you knew what he meant, “or did he just assume you did after he gave you a sorry excuse of a fuck?”

“mind your business.”

“i’ve got you leaking around my fingers like a desperate slut and this isn’t my business?” he laughs at the gall you have but he is very serious bae. just before the banter continues he reaches deeper inside you, curling up and making you lose your words. “you’d tell me if you wanna cum so bad, babe.” now he’s got you spilling all the deets and his pace speeds up after every sentence, telling you to take your time and spit it out, huh?

however!! imagine you show up so frustrated there are tears in your eyes. you’re sick of everything. stress and stress and more stressed, piled on top of sexual frustration??? dick’s making you cum until the light in your brain goes out. he’s there for you, always. whether it’s pulling you in for a long hug or sitting you in his lap with your clothes stripped. most of the time it’s both.

“i know, i know,” he’s consoling you while kissing sucking at your pretty tits, thumb massaging your clit as your head rests on his shoulder. “let me fix this, mkay? stop cryin’.” on nights like these??? the way he fucks you makes you forget he’s not your husband of five years and counting. and after a while neither of you are too sure how to feel about that.

#can i call u berry? it’s so cute #🫐 anon !!#kali ;; inbox #kali ;; wet dreamz #kali ;; dg #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you

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charmercharm3r · 9 months

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Hihi! I really like your writings. 💕

I would like to make a request. One for ot8.

I would like to know the boys' reaction when you moan their name in your sleep. Like, you're best friends with so and so member and your sleeping over and you're having a wet dream and you moan their name out loud. What would their reaction be? What would they do? Would they say something to you or keep it to themselves? Would they make a move?

If you do this request, thank you so much! 💕

And if not, no worries and thank you nonetheless. 💕

i kept this in the vault for TOO LONG im sorry

Masterlist

☆ﾟ

chan is a slut for you. S. L. U. T. even if you don’t know it. everyone knows this man is a night owl, so to get in your channie-time, you stay up with him a couple nights a week. one of those days happens to be in his bedroom. while he’s on a roll with this melody that’s stuck in his head, he’s humming into the microphone and has his big ass headphones on, so he doesn’t see you start to drift off. but when he finally returns to the outside world, he hears you mumbling in your sleep. you look so cute wrapped up in his bed, blanket tucked under your chin and taking up the entire single pillow he has. then you do it again, more intelligible this time. is that… his name?? he doesn’t do anything to stop you or wake you up. hard as a fucking rock, excuses himself to take a cold shower and get rid of the filthy thoughts swimming in his head. little does he realize that his mic is still recording. only later the next day when he’s going over the project does he catch the small moans in the background. those get put in an extra secret, extra secure folder on his phone. just for him, his hand, and the late, late night.

minho is the most straight forward out of all of them. he warned you, he didn’t want you to fall asleep in the first place because he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep fighting off the stupid warm bubbling in his belly cus you’re so damn cute. you always thought he was being his normal teasing self whenever he’d tell you, “stop falling asleep around me, i’ll fall in love with you, i swear.” no way did he have a crush on you, too. refusing to admit it, you fall asleep in his bed one night anyways. doesn’t get hard cus he’s in shock and almost bursts into laughter at you moaning his name in your sleep. not because he thinks you’re funny, but because he can’t believe you’re actually doing it. of your own free will— well, as much free will as you have when you’re unconscious. wakes you up immediately by tapping the pillow you lay on. his face is right in front of yours with the most serious look on his face. you don’t remember the dream, but still, he won’t let you sleep until you admit what you did >:(

changbin would wake you up immediately. what the fuck do you mean, you moan his name in your sleep?! this whole time?! he’s not gentle about it, his cute aggression a lot stronger now that he knows you feel the same. it was the first time you’d fallen asleep in front of him, and this happens?! he would’ve made you stay over more often if it would’ve led to this. cus he kisses you as soon as you confess that yes, you’re incredibly into him and care for him more than a friend. things get steamy, but you’re still half asleep! it is the a.m., after all. don’t worry, he doesn’t wanna move too fast. you’re the needy one (his words), so he’ll do all the work for now. some nice, desperately in love head for the first of many mind numbing orgasms, it practically rocks you back to sleep. this time, with him cuddled up beside you.

hyunjin knew it from the beginning. he’s intuitive when it comes to other people’s feelings and emotions, is also very emotionally mature. it helps that he knows you so well. falling asleep in his bed, you can’t help the wet dreams when he’s a dream personified. light touches of his fingertips over the outline of your body from your head to your ankles, not wanting to disturb you but also not being subtle. you mumbling his name in your sleep solidifies that you want him just as bad, he can’t pass up the opportunity! brushing your hair with his fingers softly, that wakes you up but only enough to know that it’s him touching you. he’d come in close to press a kiss to your cheek and you think that it’s just a sweet gesture, until he comes in closer and closer to your lips. oops, now you’re making out— and you don’t wanna stop. he’ll stick his hand down your sleep shorts, let you use him however you’d like, but that’s as far as he’ll go until you’re more of a sound mind. would love if he could kiss you until he fell asleep, too.

jisung is another one where you think he’s kidding every time he tells you he’s in love with you. he says it to everyone! he pretends to kiss all of his friends! except he only started doing it to mask how much he liked you. a movie night with him turned into a slumber party, you on the couch and him on the floor in front of you. when you fall asleep on your belly, one hand hanging off the edge and it whacks him in the face, then he hears the slightly incoherent murmurs of you saying his name. ohhh he’s hit the jackpot now, and bricked up like no fucking other. would kiss the inside of your palm to softly wake you up, except you’re deep in this dream and need a bit more than that to come back to reality. slips a hand under the back of your shirt to feel your warm skin and he almost melts cus you say his name louder, consciously. at least, semi. would— and will— rut against the side of the couch when you lead his hand down the back of your shorts to feel how much you want him. rips the fucking fabric off you immediately and goes to town just like that. does not care whatsoever if it’s an unconventional position for a first intimate moment together, he wants you. and later intends to make it clear that he will not try to kiss his friends anymore if you say you’ll date him.

felix is so timid when it comes to romantic relationships, so his mouth is like a vault locked and sealed away when he hears you moan his name in your sleep. however, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pitch a tent in his pants, cus holy hell is he fucking hard. he isn’t shy when it comes to anything sexual, though. you two are close! so close that he feels comfortable enough to roll onto his back and pull his dick out of his underwear and dry fist himself to the sounds of your pretty whimpers for him. does he feel guilty? a little. would he do it again? absolutely. cums hard when your hips start to twitch slightly as though you’re reaching your own peak within the dream. will he be confessing after this? maybe, maybe not. who knows if he can even look you in the eyes again.

seungmin would also wake you up as soon as you say his name even just once. he’s not sweet about it, but he doesn’t make you feel like shit. kinda teases you and goads you into annoyedly confessing that yes, you have a massive fucking crush on him and yes, you were having a wonderful wet dream until he decided to ruin it. raises his eyebrows and smirks, “a wet dream about me,” as if you didn’t already fucking know that. asshole. kisses you to make you stay and forgive him for waking you up, but won’t outwardly admit he likes you back. intends on showing you that the feelings are reciprocated by making you cum on his fingers and in his mouth, “isn’t the real thing better? should’ve been having wet dreams about me this whole time.” “i have been.” “good to know. now, think you can handle more? one for each dream you’re gonna tell me about. who knows? maybe i’ll be nice enough to make it come true.”

jeongin is more flustered than you are when he accidentally falls off the bed and wakes you during his attempt at escaping. he’s only embarrassed because he’s hard as fuck and should not be thinking about his best friend like that— even if you’re thinking the same about him. it’s wrong! it’s immoral! and that’s why it turns him on so much. when you jolt awake to see him on the floor clutching his dick, he gets red in the face and ultimately admits that he was listening to you whimper his name in your sleep. it’s you who makes the first move and invites him back to bed, making him lay beside you while reassuring him that it’s okay to feel this way. he’s not doing anything wrong when you feel exactly the same. uh oh, you’re leaning in, does he kiss you? he wants to so bad. you’re so warm and smell so good. shivers covers his body when you trail your hand towards his waistband and simultaneously guide one of his towards your aching center. who would’ve thought a routine sleep over would’ve ended in the two of you hand fucking each other until you were kissed breathless and eventually fell back asleep in one another’s arms? he definitely didn’t.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #skz #skz smut #stray kids ot8 #skz ot8 #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz ff #skz imagine #skz headcannon #stray kids headcannons #stray kids imagines #skz headcanons #stray kids head cannons

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river13245 · 3 months

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Anniversary Present

Navigation / Main Masterlist / TWD Masterlist

Word count: 3k

Warnings : virgin reader!, Smut, and two people being in love

Author note: This was made with a FTM reader in mind but GN! reader is also great too! This is my first time ever writing smut cause im just getting comfortable with doing it. So go easy on my loves. (not proof read yet)

--------------

Daryl Dixon was a man of very few words. He wasn't very vocal about things unless he was pissed then its the most you would ever hear that man speak. It never bothered you because you talked enough for the both of you.

However despite the fact he didn't talk much. You knew exactly what he was thinking, and how he was thinking. He would become stiff and cross his arms when he's pissed. Make a little face when he was deep in thought. When he was happy he would have this smile that made your heart ache. Daryl was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Not many people understood him, or took the time too. Daryl kept his circle of friends small and sometimes had a hard time with making them feel appreciated but he did it in small ways. He would watch Carl and hold Judith, Make sure that Carol was always safe whenever she came back from somewhere.

Then when it came to you he would always keep you close. He wouldn't be super touchy in front of everyone. Usually keeping that in private, however he would hold your hand when you two went hunting together. Or kiss the top of your head before having to separate from you for a bit. He loves a good hug too, whenever you would come back from a trip the two of you would automatically go to each other. No matter how bloody or dirty you were, it never seemed to bother him.

Daryl was a good boyfriend, a great one. In fact in the beginning of your relationship. You had told him you didn't want sex, it was just something you had never felt for someone before. He was so supportive and said that he himself didn't feel the need to do it alot. So he had never pressured you into anything. Always making sure you felt loved in other ways.

Its been almost a year into the relationship now. Your anniversary is coming up and you had been wanting to take the relationship to the next level. You had never felt this attracted or loved by someone in your entire life and for the first time in your life. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend.

The easy thing was accepting the fact that you were ready, the hard part was getting Daryl into realizing that. Without coming right out and saying it. So you decided the week leading up to your anniversary you would tease him a bit and throw hints his way and if he didnt pick up on them. Then on your anniversary you would be bold and tell him.

------

Throughout the week you had touched him more than you normally did. The two of you had been attending this group gathering and instead of just holding his hand your hand rested on his arm. Then when you had to leave him you grabbed ahold of his tie and pulled him into a kiss before slowly pulling away from him to go and talk to Maggie who needed your assistance. You left him there as he blushed and had to recollect his thoughts while Rick chuckled.

You even went as far as to make plans with him. He would teach you how to use a bow and arrow. So when he was behind you helping you with your stance, you moved your body right up against his. The only reaction you got from him was a sharp inhale of breath and his hand that was on your waist tightened. "keep your body still and focus on your target" he said as calmly as he could manage.

After about a week of this it was finally your anniversary. He had not caught on to what you wanted. Just thinking you were teasing him and joking around, never really taking you serious enough. Carol had even teased him about it and to which he just told her to shut up with a roll of his eyes.

He was always respectful of you, not wanting to do anything our of your comfort zone so he didn't try to pursue you in that way. However tonight you had a special gift for him.

When you woke up this morning Daryl had been gone. At first you thought he was downstairs but when you seen his boots by the door and crossbow were gone, you knew he was out hunting or on a quick run. So it gave you time to fully plan out exactly what you were going to do.

Walking back into your bedroom you go to your dresser and decide on an outfit to wear. Deciding to wear a button down dark green shirt that showed off your toned arms and black pants that would pair well with your shirt. Then when you finish getting ready you grab a box from under your bed and open it. Revealing a book you had found on one of your own solo trips, one that you were going to gift your boyfriend when you two have your date tonight.

You put the box away and spend most of your day cleaning up the house. Then making his favorite dinner and setting the table, leaving a few candles lit around the house.

By the time everything was ready you heard heavy steps in front of the door and your boyfriend walks in. You look over at him as you take a sip of your water. He turns and looks around seeing the house had been nicely decorated and a smile forms on his face before turning to look at you.

When he looks at you your eyes meet and you swear your legs turn to jello. "Happy one year Daryl" you say and he quickly takes off his boots and opens up his bag. He then pulls out bracelet and a stuffed animal that was an otter. "one year down. Many more to come" He says and you walk up to him taking the gifts in your hands and leaning up and kissing his lips. "Is this were you went? To find something for me?" Daryl nods "I couldn't come empty handed, Carol would have yelled at me" This causes the both of you to laugh.

"thank you" You look over to the table before going up to your room. "sit down and get comfortable. Ill give you your gift after" He does exactly that and waits for you to come down and sit in front of him before starting to eat. As the two of you eat there's a comfortable silence, you two never really talked while sharing a meal. Didn't bother you because you loved the time shared with him.

Once the meal was finished he takes a sip of his drink and looks over at you. "this was very good, thank you" He says as he gets up and begins to clean up everything. "I'm glad I have enough cooking skill to not burn the place down" you joke as you get up and walk over to him in the kitchen. When the two of you finish cleaning up everything you place your hand on his arm "come to the bedroom with me. You need to recieve your gifts"

He nods and walks after you until you get to the room. When you get over to the bed he stands and runs his hand through his hair pushing it back a bit our of nervousness. He wasn't exactly used to receiving gifts but if it came from you, he would make an exception. You grab the box from under your bed and place it on top of the bed. "Damn y/n what you got in there?" he jokes a little and you laugh "just a few things. You will see soon enough"

Daryl stands and when you reach for the book you turn to look at him. "shut your eyes" He looks at you with an -are you kidding- kinda look and when you nod his eyes close. Then you grab the book and walk up to him. You grab his hands and place it on the book and then watch as he opens his eyes.

When he notices its a book he is confused for a moment before flipping it around and reading the title. His hands start to shake a bit and looks up at you with a heartfelt smile. "where did you find this?" he asks as he runs his finger against the spine of the book. This causes you to look into his eyes again "That solo trip I took that ended up being almost two weeks long. I found it and remembered you saying your mom used to read it to you when you were young. You deserve something that reminds you of the good parts of your past"

Instead of a response he places the book on the bedside table. Then places one of his hands on your waist and pulls you into a kiss. Your arms wrap around his shoulders pulling him against you. His rough chapped lips pressed up against your softer ones felt amazing. Your hands move to his hair and when he pulls away his forehead rests against yours. "thank you for the gift" there's a silence for a moment before he places his other hand on the side of your face and look down at you. "I love you"

Those three words made your heart race. Of course you both have said it before but its not as often as you would think. "i love you too" you say before kissing his cheek. Then when you pull back and look at him, your hand going to push his hair away from his face. "I have another gift for you. One that i'm nervous about but I hope you will like"

Daryl looks confused "Im sure I will like it, why are you nervous?" His voice is quiet as if he didnt want you to be startled. You take a deep breath and bring your hand to rest against his chest. "I want to make love to you" you say as you look up into his eyes. His reaction is delayed because it didn't register in his mind but when it does he places both hands on your waist. "you sure?" You nod and kiss his lips "just go slow and gentle with me. Its my first time and im a bit nervous"

His hand goes to the back of your head and kisses your lips and then they travel to your jaw. "I wouldn't hurt ya" he says and you bring your hands to the bottom of his shirt and begin to lift his shirt up off him. His arms lifting up and then tossing his shirt to the side somewhere in the room. Then his hands begin to unbutton your shirt slowly before tossing your shirt somewhere. He begins to kiss your neck before pushing you back to the bed. Your knees hit the bed and you sit in front of him.

He looks down at you for a moment before grabbing your jaw and tilting your face up to kiss you. When he pulls away he gets on his knees in front of you. "lay back gotta get these pants off ya" a blush forms on your face but you nod. Your back lays on the soft mattress and he begins to unbutton your pants and you lift your hips so he can slide them off. Once you were fully exposed in front of him he grabs your legs and spreads them. "are you sure you want to do this?" you ask him in a quiet voice and he looks at you. "course I do. Why wouldnt I?"

It takes a moment for you to respond "well I know some guys prefer not to do it. You know..I just didn't want you to feel like you needed to do it" He squeezes your thighs and shakes his head. "you are beautiful. I want to do this for you, let me take care of ya alright?" You nod and he holds your legs apart as he presses his lips to your inner thighs.

Its like he's teasing you because he's pressing his lips everywhere. Except where you need him, your breath is already heavier from the growing feeling of want for him. "Daryl...please" you whimper out and he brings his lips around your clit and suck for a moment before licking up between your lips. Your body squirms a bit before he begins to please you with his tongue.

Moans escape from you as your head tilts back against the mattress and your hands go to the back of his head and pull his hair gently. This earns you a grunt from him as his eyes shut. "fuck Daryl" you moan out. When he pulls his mouth away a whine escapes you and you blush from how needy you sound. But its soon replaced by one of his fingers pushing into you. It slides in pretty comfortably from how wet you are and a moan escapes you. He lets you get used to the feeling of his thick finger inside of you before adding another and brings his mouth back to your clit.

Your back arches from the bed at the feeling. Your hands grip onto the sheets under you. This feeling was nothing you had ever felt before, of course you had touched yourself before but it had never felt like this. He picks up the pace once you begin to move your body and when you feel a tightness in your body your eyes squeeze shut. "fuck im going to cum" he groans against your clit and it sends a vibration through you and that's all it took for you to come undone.

When you cum he licks up everything that he can and even brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks your juices from his fingers and as you watch him do this. It turns you on even more and you lean up and pull him on top of you into a kiss. A grunt if heard from him as he kisses you.

It doesn't take long before his pants are off him and hes naked on top of you. The size of him catches you off guard, of course you knew the man wasn't going to be small but its thick and you honestly wonder if its going to fit. He catches you staring and he grabs your hand and kisses it "If you want this. I promise to go slow, just tell me if you need me to stop at any time and ill stop"

He was always wanting to take care of you and you lean up to kiss him. "i will, all I know right now is I need you" a blush forms on his face as he nods and brings his hands to your legs and spreads them apart. When he lines his dick up to you his eyes meet yours "breathe and relax for me hun" You nod and take a few breaths and when he begins to move into you its a slow movement but you feel the way you stretch around him. Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a moan. Daryl's hands roam up and down your legs. "its okay, ive got ya, i'm right ere"

When your body gets used to the feeling of him you reach up to pull him into another kiss. Your legs wrapping around his waist "move please." At your words he pulls out and then thrusts into you, moans now leaving both of you. "fuck you're so tight" he says as he thrusts into you. Your back arching from the bed as Daryl kisses your chest, his lips sucking and teeth biting you gently. "fuck Daryl you feel so good. Please don't stop" Your body begins to move in time to his thrusts which makes the both of you go at a faster pace.

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, your loud moans. You were glad that you had a house further away from anyone's or you were sure the two of you would have been heard. His hands stayed on your hips and thighs unless he brought his thumb to circle your clit. and when he did that your eyes squeezed shut at the added pleasure. "Daryl..fuck....not gonna last much longer" He doesn't stop his movements and instead goes faster.

It doesn't take much longer than that before you cum. Your cum coats his dick and when you tilt your head back he thrusts only a few more times before he pulls out and he cums all over your stomach. He then lays beside you his body collapsing onto the bed as he catches his breath.

You reach for his hand and squeeze it as your eyes close. You only open them when you feel him get up from the bed. "where you going?" you thought he was leaving but he wasn't. "i'm going to take care of you." he goes to the bathroom and gets a washcloth wet before coming back over to you and cleaning you up. He is so gentle with you the whole time and when he is finished he lays beside you and you pull him against you. His head rests on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

A soft laugh escapes you and he squeezes your hip. "what's so funny?" he asks as you continue to touch him. "Just thinking about how vocal and loud you were. Its probably the loudest i've ever heard you" A blush forms on his face and he rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah, enjoy it cause yer the only one that gets to hear me like that"

This causes you to kiss the top of his head. "mhm I like the sound of that. I love you and thank you for doing this with me" He hovers on top of you and kisses your lips. "thank you for trusting me enough to be the one that got to do this with you. I love you too"

That night the both of you fell asleep on top of one another. Only waking up when Carol started banging on the door. Telling you to get up for patrol with her. She ended up seeing the marks on your neck and when she made a comment Daryl stayed quiet with a small blush. it caused you to laugh.

#river13245 #fluff #masterlist #angst #male reader #gn reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x gn!reader #daryl dixon masterlist #Daryl Dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n

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attractedtopeoples · 5 months

Text

Johnnie Guilbert NSFW Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet

Tags/Warnings: mdni, smutty/suggestive stuff below the cut, don’t like don’t read, written with afab reader in mind but barely mentioned

Jake’s Version Here, Tara’s version here

A/N: I have fallen down a rabbit hole of Johnnie and Jake (and Tara), im going insane.

Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I fell like he’s rather drowsy but still making sure your taken care of, you want a bath- done, water- done. He loves taking care of you- even if he was struggling to walk or stay awake.

On the other hand, I feel like he’d be really shy in terms of receiving aftercare- not entirely used to it.

Body Part (their favourite of their partners, and their favourite of their own)

He Loves your thighs- not explaining it too much, but his favourite place is between them- whether your legs are around his waist, or his head is in between your legs- he loves it. If you have afab anatomy- trust me he’ll leave bruises from how hard hes squeezing your thighs (and then apologise later when he realises, no matter how much you say you liked it)

He likes his own hands, because he knows what he can do with them (this man knows how to use his hands (and tongue) it’s actually insane)

Cum (anything to do with cum)

Not a fan of the mess when he pulls out, but always respects your wishes if y’all don’t have a condom and u don’t want him to finish inside. Although he does love to eat you out after fucking you, both your cum mixing kn his tongue, then kissing you like theirs no tomorrow where you can taste yourselves too.

Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves his hair being pulled, he never says it nor admits it, but if you tug on his hair whilst he’s eating you out- trust me he could finish just from eating you out. It isn’t a degradation thing, more of the subtle pain thing that only makes him feel pleasure.

Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doin)

He’s not very experienced (like barely experienced) but he’s still knows exactly how to touch you- not because of videos or other things like that, but he’s good at observing and noticing what makes you feel good, and what doesn’t.

Favourite Position (goes without saying I think)

He’s a simple man, and loves missionary. Being able to tuck his head into your neck and give you more hickeys, your hand in his hair as he fucks you. The dream.

Goofy (are they more serious or silly in the moment)

I think he’d be more serious but would definitely still make jokes as long as he knew you were comfortable with them in the situation.

Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

He doesn’t go out of his way to do anything down there, but he’ll keep it trimmed if he’s feeling fancy.

Doesn’t give a single fuck if you shave or not, seriously could not care less.

He’s a natural blonde hun, but they’re still a touch darker.

Intimacy (are they romantic during the moment?)

He’s romantic in the sense that he keeps you close, and consistently makes you feel good (if that makes sense). It’s not like consistent love confessions, more like soft touches and gentle words whispered into your ear.

Jack Off (Masturbation hcs)

Wayyyyy too shy to actually go up and tell you when he’s turned on, so he ends up either having s cold shower or a hot moment in the bathroom more often than not, but after a while I think he’d get more comfortable with telling you.

About twice a week at a minimum.

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise (receiving)- more along the lines of reassurance, just the knowledge that he’s making you feel good is endlessly hot to him.

Switch- not explaining.

Hickeys/Lovebites/Marks- both receiving and giving, although he’s rather careful with his placement, especially if he knows you have things to do or nothing to cover them with in that area. He doesn’t care at all where you put them other than his neck, Jake teases him and he sucks at covering them properly (Tara has helped him out more than once ngl)

Location (preference of place during)

Basic bitch but likes the privacy of the bedroom, and just being in your own bed.

He’s down for what you want most of the time though- unless it’s something to do with being in a more public area where ppl could be, that ain’t really for him.

Motivation (what turns them on)

I feel like he’s a sucker for physical affection, like you lean up against him, or push back against him whilst you guys cuddle/have a movie night- and he tries to ignore it most of the time too (shy boy).

Also he doesn’t really get turned on but he gets really flustered by pet names (not weird ones, but ‘darling’ or ‘love’ never fail to make him blush)

No (something they wouldn’t do, or turn offs)

Anything public, values the privacy of the moment, and gets too jittery when there’s a chance of getting caught.

Anything that’d hurt you, not the smaller things like little lovebites or tugging your hair if you asked, but other stuff like spanking and shit just isn’t his thing, the idea makes him confused and uncomfy with the idea of seriously injuring you.

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

King of giving head, tell me I’m wrong I dare you. I won’t elaborate bc I don’t feel the need to, but he doesn’t mind receiving- would never ask but would never say no yk.

Pace (self explanatory I think, the pace they go at during sex)

Depends on his partner, again- more of an adaptive person in terms of what he does in the moment, prefers to find what makes you feel good.

Quickie (their opinions on quickies)

Not a fan, wouldn’t say no, but prefers to have more time with each other, and again he’s not a fan of the risk that comes with doing it somewhere they could get caught.

Risk (are they down to experiment and try new things, do they take risks when horny, etc)

Definitely down to try most of the things you suggest, fine with some experimentation.

Again, as I’ve said, dislikes the risk of getting caught or doing it anywhere where someone could hear/walk in.

Stamina (how many rounds can they go?, how long do they last?)

About 2-3 rounds before he needs a second, but if you are still good to go he’s fine to give you (the best) head until he can continue or you tire out.

Toys (do they own them? do they use them?)

Doesn’t own a lot, not bc if a dislike for them, he just never had a use for them. If you had/wanted some he’d be willing and/or supportive. 👍

Unfair (do they tease? If so how much?)

Not the biggest tease, but 🤷, if he’s feeling like it then he feels Ike it.

Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make? etc)

Not overly loud, more quieter noises into your ear most of the time, or words muttered/whispered under his breath.

I don’t Care for describing sounds, but feel free to imagine however you’d like

Wild Card (a random hc for them)

Loves it when you play with his rings absentmindedly. It’s such a small thing but he finds it so oddly domestic. He doesn’t know why he finds it so nice, but he’s never told you to stop and he doesn’t plan too.

X-Ray (what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5 inches and pretty. I won’t explain any further.

#F0E4D1 > #EFCEC3

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I’d say slightly above average, but again he’s rather shy with this information, and prefers to make jokes about it or just not mention it at all.

Probably about 2-3 times a week, but could easily go higher with the right circumstances

Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Refuses to sleep until your comfy, but will be absolutely knocked out after that (bonus if your hands are carding softly through his hair)

#18+ mdni #mdni #lily’s thoughts #fandom: youtube rpf #don’t know if there’s a fandom name for these two #divider by cafekitsune #divider by animatedglittergraphics n more #divider by saradika #I love dividers #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert smut #smut

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minhosimthings · 6 months

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Girl Dad!Skz headcannons

Pairings: husband!Skz × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mentions of pregnancy, reader wears a dress, mentions of food, teensy swearing

A/N: GUESS WHO HAS BABY FEVER AYY ITS THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. I am so DONE with watching my fav idols play with babies and not expect me to die. WHERE IS MY CHAN WHO'LL GIVE MR A BABY HUH? anyways enjoy my very drunken headcannons

Bang Christopher Chan

DID I JUST HEAR BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

This man was born to be a dad istg

He'd be so amazing when you're pregnant, like he'd ask his mom for advice, give you belly rubs if your ask and will willingly lend his entire closet to you.

Would be so supportive through the birth process, is not disgusted or anything because he is him.

"She looks just like you."

Would be just a teensy bit overprotective, just a teensy bit.

"And you will bring her back by 7 yes? Oh and what's your address for unrelated purposes?"

*sends the address to Minho incase he needs to murder anyone*

Would be so comforting when she gets her period

"you know I used to do this to your mother.", While massaging her back.

The baby would grow up multilingual and Chan would be so smug about it

"my daughter is my second producer

Lee Minho/Lee Know

Would have such mixed emotions when you tell him you're pregnant

On the one hand A PERSON MADE UP OF BOTH OF YOU? WOAH

On the other hand OH SHIT A PERSON WHO HAS BOTH OUR GENES

Cooks all your weird ass cravings for you but not before giving you a side eye

"Alright y'all are gonna get a sibling." *Is talking to the cats*

Buys everything cat themed

"baby what if the baby is a dog person?"

Y'all have twins, a boy and a girl (manifesting my twin dad Minho fantasies)

Would dance for them when they're babies and would get elated when they try to copy him

Pouts when their first word is mama

Brags so much about them

"I mean they are MY spawn, obviously they're better at dance than your kid, Susan"

Seo Changbin

GIRL DAD GIRL DAD GIRL DAD

So elated when you tell him you're pregnant

PREGNANT CUDDLES KZKSNSNJ

Would be a 100% on board with lifting your belly to save your back

When you find out it's a girl, he straight on sobs.

"I CAN'T HANDLE ANOTHER PAIR OF ADORABLE YN EYES LOOKING AT ME"

Holds the baby extra carefully in his buff ass arms

She looks like you part 2

Tea parties with her are serious buisness for him

"jagi can't you see im currently discussing with the princess about her magical dragon I'll do the dishes later."

Would probably ask her if she wants to go to the gym with her dad and when she says yes he'd be so happy

"you're better than your mother she can't even lift her ass up and go to the gym"

Hwang Hyunjin

When I say this man would paint you a portrait when you tell him you're pregnant-

HE'LL PAINT YOU A FUCKING PORTRAIT

So sweet with you all throughout but also a nervous wreck

Much like me

Would love to paint your belly if you allow him to

Would try your weird cravings with you

And actually like them

Let's not pretend like Hyun doesn't do the pregnant woman pose everyday

Cries so hard when your baby is born

He doesn't mind the gender or anything, but when he found out it's a girl-

"GUYS ITS A MINI Y/N"

She looks like you part 3

Such a clumsy mess when it comes to taking care of her

ART CLASSES ART CLASSES ART CLASSES

"Darling, we painted this for you."

Han Jisung

Immediately freezes when you tell him

Jisung.exe has stopped working

"wait so the protection didn't.... Protect?"

Now Y/N.exe has stopped working trying to figure out whether you actually used protection or not

Talks to your belly all day

Treats the baby like a gossip partner

"girl you won't believe what Hyunjin did today."

"what did he do?"

"yn shush I'm talking to our baby girl."

Is your personal high school cheerleader during the birth

"jagi you are slaying right now you can do this."

Cries when baby is born part 3

Calls her a co-producer part 2

Spoils her shitless

She has him wrapped around her finger, much like her mother :)

Making playlists with her is his love language

Lee Felix Yongbok

Did I just hear breeding kink

Cries when you tell him

Bakes so many brownies when you tell him like one time that you're craving his brownies

Makes your weird cravings part 3

Idk what it is with me and DanceRacha making all your weird cravings

Runs you baths, with bath salts, bath bombs, scented candles and massages your aching muscles I WILL DIE RIGHT NOW

Is the best during the birth, holds your hand allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you want

Dresses baby up like the fashionista she is

Is so amazed and ecstatic when the baby gets an Aussie accent

"JAGI SHE JUST SAID BREKKIE"

Kim Seungmin

Tsundere daddy meow

Will literally melt like his face will be like 🥺

Buys all the cute stuff on day one

I'm talking cradles, blinkies, toys, bonnets for some reason

"of course she needs a ponyo outfit darling come on"

Tones down his teasing a bit

Still makes fun of your penguin walk tho

And if you cry, he will comfort you and never forgive himself for it

Is kinda disgusted by the birth process but he's a strong soldier

Cries when baby is born part 4

Like Kim Seungmin crying is a real thing chat

Singing lessons are free for her, and she has her dad's angel voice!!

Also inherits her dad's roasting style, and she's the only one who can roast him back hehe

He kinda died inside when she told him he was old (he's never been prouder)

Yang Jeongin/ I.N

Bruh this guy istg

Mixed emotions part 2

"IM TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CHILD"

Calms down eventually (after a slap on the head)

BELLY RUBS

Spoils the shit out of you because obviously

Asks his mum for advice part 2

Sings to your belly at night when he thinks you're asleep

Secretly hopes baby will have his dimple

He loves kids, so parenting is a natural thing that comes to him

Probably more experienced at holding a baby than you are

Feeds her for the first few days when you're tired

Perfect husband honestly he should marry me

Loves braiding her hair and giving her fashion advice

Mini fashion shows!!!

Dances with her a lot

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thewertsearch · 6 days

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I'm not surprised. After the stunt you pulled with that mind-control chip, you're lucky she didn't give you the Vriska treatment.

NEPETA: :33 < we can always curl up in the pile again to talk about f33lings :33 EQUIUS: D --> Nepeta, for goodness sa%es, a man can only di%uss feelings for so much time […] EQUIUS: D --> We e%amined my emotional state until we were both bl00 in the face […] NEPETA: :33 < b100 b100 b100 b100 b100 NEPETA: :33 < i just love how you say that word! EQUIUS: D --> I know

How, exactly, does he say 'b100'?

Karkat's quirk manifests as literal shouting, so I think Equius is literally saying 'bee one hundred'. Fantastic.

EQUIUS: D --> Nepeta, I think it would behoove us to address the e%treme danger in a serious manner NEPETA: :33 < you mean about gamz33? h33h33! NEPETA: :33 < im still not sure if i can believe it! […] EQUIUS: D --> His is the richest and most noble b100d possible among the high land dwellers EQUIUS: D --> As such, he is prone to being more violent and unpredictable than any of us

I'm not so sure about that.

Like - sure, based on the sample we have, the top half of the hemospectrum does seem to produce more aggressive trolls. Terezi, Vriska, Equius, Gamzee and Eridan are all demonstrably more violent than their lowblood compatriots. But are their attitudes really a product of nature?

Take Vriska, for example. She was forced to be a killer by the blue-blooded lusus that adopted her. Yeah, she's violent and unpredictable now, after years of abuse, but her situation would drive any troll to desperate measures.

Do we really think Aradia wouldn't become a murderer if her mom was a hungry spider? Of course she would!

Then there's Eridan, a troll whose behavior could not stem more obviously from the classism that was ingrained into him by society. His culture reinforces the idea that violence is his right, and that it's particularly justifiable when directed towards his inferiors.

Would Eridan really be like this if he was raised on Earth? Wouldn't Tavros or Karkat also become shitheads if they were handed this kind of privilege?

Let's not forget Feferi - a troll who, by Equius's logic, should be the most dangerous of the entire cast. She's not, and I think it's simply because there's no one above her on the hierarchy. Who's going to tell the princess that she's a failure of a highblood?

From where I'm sitting, it really seems like highbloods are aggressive due to cultural factors, rather than biological ones. Their blood doesn't predispose them to violence - it marks them as trolls who are expected to be violent. A case could be made that hemospectrum position is, in effect, a secondary gender for trolls - an institution that enforces entirely artificial standards for their behavior, which are then internalized as 'natural' by the populace.

So no, I don't think Gamzee was 'biologically predestined' to be like this - I think he picked it up from somewhere. Maybe he was more susceptible to Alternian propaganda than we realized, or maybe someone like Doc Scratch was manipulating him from the shadows. It wouldn't be the first time he's goaded a troll into violence.

You ever roleplay so hard that you literally gain a cat's slitted eyes when you're pissed?

EQUIUS: D --> I will now seek the highb100d, Nepeta […] EQUIUS: D --> I will e%act caution, even when safety 100% to be 100% assured EQUIUS: D --> Even so EQUIUS: D --> I would still like to take the opportunity to say […] EQUIUS: D --> Goodbye

Oh, man.

Alright, sound off. Does anyone really think Equius is going to stand up to a highb100d? No?

Ok, great. Let's stop beating around the bush, then.

Equius is basically walking to his death here, and he knows it. The comic's really laying the death flags on thick, with a very clearly telegraphed 'final goodbye' for Nepeta. It's almost too obvious, but I don't think it's going to be a fakeout this time. We can't all be Kanaya.

NEPETA: :33 < well ok, goodbye! NEPETA: :33 < but you had better believe i will s33 you again soon, equius! EQUIUS: D --> Yes, you will

Yeah you will - the next time you go to sleep.

#full liveblog #homestuck liveblog #act 5.2 #s125 #3438

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no-droids · 1 year

Text

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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coupsie-daisies · 8 months

Text

Kinktober '23: Mutual Masturbation | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Afab GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: Your boyfriend overhears you joking with your friends that men don't seem invested in pleasing their partners. He's determined to learn exactly how you like to be taken care of.

WC: 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (have fun, be safe), mutual masturbation, squirting, breeding kink, use of petnames for reader (baby, pretty), mention of potentially passing out near the end

A'N: Sorry that this took so long, but hopefully we'll be back at it soon here! Enjoy

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

It had really just been a stupid conversation between friends, a silly little comment you'd made about how men always seemed to have such a hard time pinpointing what their partners liked, as if they were too concerned with themselves to put in that much effort. You hadn't anticipated Chan overheating it, let alone the confrontation that would come afterwards.

"Do I make you feel good?" He asked one night over take out. You gave him a look, not entirely sure what he was talking about or what had prompted it.

"What? Make me feel good?" You asked, taking a bite of your egg roll. He nodded with a firm, serious look on his face.

"Yeah. I heard you talking when your friends were over. And you said men never learn how to make their partners feel good. Do I make you feel good? Or is there something I should learn?"

He didn't sound angry, but the intensity in his demeanor was enough to tell you that he was being completely serious. You put down your food, turning to face him.

"Channie, if this is about you being insecure or anything, you don't need to. Im very satisfied, don't worry about that," You told him carefully. "it was really just a joke, I was just having a chat with the girls, and Chaer had been complaining about the guy shed been seeing."

Chan shook his head. "No that's not what it is, not exactly. Im not worried, I know I can take care of you. But if I can take care of you better, I wanna know. I wanna take care of you the way you do."

"Okay?" You asked, motioning for him to go on.

"So I want you to teach me." He said.

"Teach you?"

"Teach me how to make you cum. Show me how you like to be fucked."

The words set your entire body on fire, heat searing straight to your core. Your food was forgotten as you tried to wrap your head around the request from your boyfriend.

"You want me to...touch myself for you?" You asked. Chan had never been overly possessive or anything, but he was always determined to make you feel good on his own. And he was certainly good at it, you had never been let down.

"Will you? If you're comfortable with that."

"Yeah. Yeah I can try."

Which was how you ended up propped against a pile of pillows in your shared room, spread out on the bed while Chan sat in his gaming chair at the end of the bed. It was the hundredth time he'd seen you naked, but something about it felt so much more exposed. You had stripped down, but he was still completely clothed, insistent that this wasn't about him.

"Do I just..."

"Do what you'd normally do. What you do when I'm not around to play with you." He said. You nodded, closing your eyes and trying not to be hyper aware of the eyes on you.

You started slow, your fingertips running up your stomach, over the curve of your chest and back down again, dragging your dull nails over your skin and humming at the feeling. It was nice, just giving yourself the attention. You brought one hand up, letting it dance along your collarbone, over the sensitive spots on your neck while the other flicked and toyed with your nipple. You whined lowly, basking in the light shocks sent through you at the soft tugs.

You could hear Chan, hear the way that his breath caught when you made any sort of noise, and you imagined that he was making mental notes of every spot that earned the tiniest squirms or hums of approval. He was reading you like a book, memorizing your body like it was the most important thing he'd ever learned.

The hand not occupied with your nipples slid down, teasing over your waist, along your hip. Working closer and closer to the heat between your legs that was begging for your attention. But it never strayed that far, following the path over your thighs, scratching at the sensitive skin there and making you purr.

"So pretty," Chan mumbled, and you weren't sure if you were meant to hear. You probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for the fact that your ears were already straining for signs of his presence. You moaned quietly in return, letting your legs spread open and teasing your hand higher, tracing the seam where your thigh met your crotch, brushing ever so lightly against your lower lips. You huffed out a quiet breath at your own teasing. But you knew you had to work yourself up first or you'd be chasing an orgasm that wasn't interested in being caught.

Finally you let your fingers dip through the pool of arousal you'd worked up. You arched a little from the bed, a hiss of relief coming from your lips at finally getting some friction. You spread the wetness up to your clit, brushing against the bundle of nerves just a little before slipping your fingers lower again to gather more of it. You repeated the process until the movement was smooth, easy, and you were battling the urge to give in too quickly.

So you did, rubbing tight circles around your clit, a pretty sigh coming from your lips as you chased the feeling of your fingers, strumming the nerves just right. You heard the chair as Chan shifted, a stifled groan that you just knew it was because of him biting down on his lip.

You slid your other hand down, sliding a finger into your desperately empty hole and then another quickly after, unsatisfied with your own touch after giving in to Chan's so often. Once you were pushed even further into desperation by one finger, you added a second, scissoring yourself open for him and trying to push them even deeper. His fingers filled you up better, they could reach spots yours couldn't. You whined loud and very much not content with your situation.

"Channie, please. Can't do it myself." You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. The sight in front of you was breathtaking, Chan sitting back with his shirt hiked up to show off the solid muscle of his stomach, and his pants pushed down just low enough for him to have pulled his cock out. His hand was wrapped firmly around the base and he was rock hard, the tip of his dick was a pretty, dark shade of pink and leaking precum that trailed down along the heavy vein that ran up his length. Your hips rocked upwards into your hand, wanting him inside of you so badly that it was downright painful. "Can't make myself cum. Please, need you to do it. Want it so bad."

He groaned, biting down on his lip in an attempt to keep his focus from faltering as he watched you fingering yourself. Your hand against your clit had stalled, just putting pressure on the nub as your hips rolled against your fingers. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. Can't help, need to see how you do it. Gotta get it right." He said, brows furrowed in either concentration or pleasure, and you didn't try to figure out which it was because he was jerking himself off now, slow and steady in hard strokes. You needed to be the one wrapped around him, you needed to feel him fuck you just like that.

"Channie, I can't. Can't make myself cum as good as you can. Needs to be you, baby please. Please, it hurts. Just want you to fuck me, don't wanna try anymore. Need it to be you." You were on the verge of tears now, desperate and so worked up that you thought you might actually explode. You just needed him to take care of you. Besides, if he wanted to know what made you feel best, he'd have to be fucking you anyways. Nothing new that you could teach him.

You heard a stuttered moan, and he was squeezing the base of his cock so hard that you could only imagine it hurt.

"Can't say things like that, pretty." He muttered, already getting up and shedding his clothes like they burned him. "Beg so pretty for me, gotta take care of my baby. You tried so hard, didn't you? Just couldn't do it."

He climbed onto the bed and knocked your hand away from your dripping pussy. You quickly obliged, letting him take over. Two of his fingers dipped easily into your warmth, curling and twisting and making you moan his name so loud that you were sure to have a noise complaint in the morning. He hummed appreciatively.

"Feel better, baby? Giving you what you need?" He asked, and you shook your head, gripping at his wrist.

"Want your cock. Please, want you to fuck me. Fill me up." You said, giving him the most persuasive eyes that you could manage. He sighed out, eyes closing for a second and you could see them roll back under his eyelids, trying to keep himself in check. He always had the philosophy that you would cum at least once before he did, always the gentleman even when he was fucking you dumb. You were determined, it seemed, to test him on that today.

"So needy. Just for me. My greedy baby. Always need me to dick you down. Want me to breed you too, you always do." He was practically talking to himself as he lined himself up and slid into you. You whimpered, pure relief shocking through your body. You nodded, hands grabbing at his waist, tugging him closer and forcing his cock impossibly deep.

"Yeah, need your cock." You agreed quickly, already rocking up to meet his hips. Any coherent thought you'd had the entire time was gone now, just chasing the sweet feeling of his hips clashing against yours in hard, hurried thrusts as both of you lost your self control.

"Look how fucking perfectly you take it." His hands pushing your thighs up to your chest, exposing the way your pussy sucked him in for him to admire. "Gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full of cum just the way you like it. My pretty baby. Come on, cum on my dick. I know you want it, been so good. Playing with yourself for Channie. So fucking-"

His words cut off abruptly as your walls clamped down around him hard enough to have his pace slowing. Your surprised cry hurt your throat as you came, juices gushing around him and wetting the bed underneath you. He didn't last a second longer, spilling inside of you and flicking at your clit to push you through the last few spasms of pleasure that rocked you.

"Can't believe it," He breathed out, hands moving to caress your quivering thighs. "You squirted. God, you're so perfect, didn't even know you could do that."

You giggled, body feeling warm and heavy and only grounded by the feeling of Chan touching you ever so gently. You blinked a few times, looking up at him and revelling in the look of pure amazement and adoration on his face.

"Didn't know I could do that either." You said. You watched him for a moment longer, the way he touched you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever grace his presence, and then he stopped.

"Gotta do it again, baby. Gotta learn how to make you do it every time. Gotta practice."

You whined at the thought, knowing how your boyfriend got when he set his mind to something. He was going to keep you up all night at this rate, and you'd be lucky if you didn't pass out by morning.

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beenbaanbuun · 4 months

Text

emo!mingi

im writing something big rn but for the time being, i can’t get the fact that mingi is a certified! emo off of my mind… like ever….

it’s all i think about and as an emo/metal girlie myself, i can’t help but think about mingi fucking you to his personal horny emo/metal playlist.

bc i can guarantee he has one. like the man said one of his favourite songs was dance dance by fall out boy??? like i can just imagine him taking the lyrics to that song a little too personally, stripping you bare on his mattress, putting you on your front and kissing down your naked spine. pete wentz was sooo right when he wrote that song… mingi does want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with him…

and i’m sorry, if that man ever listens to death of peace of mind by bad omens??? oh that man would be DONE. FINISHED!! because how is he supposed to hear that song without you popping into his head. memories of him folding you in half as he fucks into you, mascara tears streaming down your face as you cry out for him. chanting his name over and over again like a mantra… it’s like that song was written about you.

and that man has eaten you out one too many times to K.M.B by nova twins… he gets so pussy drunk and just goes dumb between your legs while the music degrades him and calls him out for what he really is. there really isn’t much going on between his eyes once he gets even a hint of your pussy juices. literally turns into a pretty puppy that exists solely for your pleasure, and you’re okay with that…

and i just know that this man goes fucking i n s a n e when he hears the first note of a deftones song. imagine him listening to my own summer (shove it) and just ramming into you. he’d have you pinned down as he almost completely loses himself, thrusting hard and sensual, trying so desperately to hold on to his last thread of sanity. trying so hard not to snap completely and let himself go absolutely feral on you. he wants to, so bad actually, but for the sake of you being able to walk the next day, he holds back… barely.

but like, we also know this man is a giggly baby half the time. like he’s such a princess and i refuse to believe that every single time you have sex with him, he’s completely serious. like imagine he’s trying to be but then the playlist switches songs and it’s a fucking limp bizkit song or something. like it just switches the mood entirely because how is he supposed to fuck you when fred durst is singing rollin’ directly in his ear. like you’re not telling me this man won’t collapse on top of you in a fit of giggles, rigid dick still pressed inside of you as he tries to contain his laughter in your ear. and you just slap his shoulder or something because what the fuck is LIMP BIZKIT doing in his sex playlist?!?!?!?

i’m so sorry, but emo mingi DOES THINGS TO ME!!!!! like it’s all i can think about at any given point in time and i need people to understand that this is my roman empire!!!

#ateez x reader #ateez hard thoughts #ateez drabbles #ateez oneshot #ateez headcanons #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez smut

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wonusite · 3 months

Note

nalani im in need of some sexy cheol smut 🧎🏻‍♀️

okay so i kind of got carried away bc i started thinking about sugar daddy!cheol who’s lowkey obsessed with the cute little college intern that works at his company. lmk what you think 🤭

from the moment seungcheol saw you, he knew he had to have you.

his need for you increases a tenfold when he hears what a good job you’re doing and how diligent and punctual you are. cheol starts coming around your area more—much to his subordinates’ distress. like they’re so tense when he comes around bc sure he’s a nice guy, but he’s ridiculously rigid and strict. and you’re no exception bc you’ve heard all about his demand for perfection.

except when he comes around to your desk, pretty smile in place, you seem to forget every single warning your coworkers have said to you. seungcheol is interested in your opinions and input, telling you how nice it is to have such a fresh perspective. his attention makes you feel proud and shy all at the same time, but you’re forced to get used to it bc he starts coming around a lot more.

it’s hard for seungcheol to control his desire for you. all he wants to do is make you his and have you on his arm at all times, but he knows he has to play it cool since you’re one of his employees. still, he can’t not spoil and dote on you. it’s just not in his nature.

especially when he finds out you take the bus and sometimes uber to work. he can’t stand the thought of pretty little you riding around in public transportation with your cute skirts and blouses. so one afternoon he calls you in his office and offers you a key to a brand new car. when you laugh off his very serious words, he has to laugh it off too. clearly, he would have to take smaller steps with you.

at least you accept to have his secretary take you and from work.

it doesn’t end there, though. he always offers to buy the office lunch since he knows you’d feel some sort of way if he only bought you lunch. if cheol orders in, he makes sure to get plenty of what you like. if he decides to take everyone out to a restaurant, he makes sure to sit next to you.

admittedly, you love his attention. it’s so flattering that such a smart, handsome man has taken in interest in you no matter how small. what you don’t realize is that his interest is anything but small.

you realize this when you find out that the rest of your tuition has been paid in full.

when you confront your boss, he doesn’t deny it. seungcheol just casually raises an eyebrow, asking why it was so wrong of him to help such a deserving woman like yourself. you’re so flustered that you can’t think straight. he goes on to say that this is only the beginnings of his displays of affections.

suddenly, you start getting bouquets of flowers every week, along with expensive skin care and perfumes. then, that turns into designer clothing and shoes that somehow fit you perfectly. you’d be lying if you say you didn’t love it, but you know you have to put an end to it.

“the clothes aren’t to your taste.” seungcheol muses with a thoughtful nod after you place the bags on his desk one morning. “very well. i’ll let you pick what you want from now on.”

you almost collapse when he holds out his black card for you to take. as you start to splutter about why you can’t accept it, he cuts you off with his soft yet firm voice.

“let me take you out. three times. after that, if you want me to leave you alone, i will.”

it’s like a dream when you spend time with him. seungcheol is much more than a cold, rich man who has more power than anyone you know. he’s thoughtful, kind, and a genuine person. by the end of the first date, you know you won’t be able to stop seeing him.

so you suddenly have a new car, a new luxury apartment, and an entire new wardrobe. your nights are suddenly filled with excitement, always going to places you could’ve only dreamed of. it’s all like a fantasy to you, especially because the most seungcheol has done is kiss your cheek or the back of your hand.

until one night when he’s stressed and you insist that he lets you help him take the edge off.

“daddy!” you cry out as seungcheol pounds into your hot cunt from behind.

“fuck, princess.” cheol groans gutturally as he watches your ass recoil against his pelvis. he slaps your ass and roughly kneads it, loving how the flesh feels in his palms. “love this pretty ass and your tight little pussy.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues to ram his thick cock into your sweet spot. his heavy balls hit your clit with every thrust, and the stimulation finally pushes you over the edge. you come with a loud moan, staining his thick cock with your orgasm.

“louder, princess.” cheol grips your hips and pounds into you harder. “i want the entire building to hear you moaning for me.”

“stuff me full of your cum, daddy!” you cry out wantonly, his thrusts quickly pushing you into another orgasm. “want you to fill me up!”

you’re abruptly flipped over, legs hooked on seungcheol’s broad shoulders as he starts to drill into you harder and faster. you’re tightening around his cock so much that he can hear a wet plop sound every time he fucks his cock back into you.

“come for me again, princess. come on daddy’s cock while he fucks a baby into this sweet cunt.”

when seungcheol bites down on your neck, you both come violently. thick ropes of hot cum paint your gummy walls, coating every part of you in his essence. you’re mewling as cheol licks and bites at your sensitive flesh. his hips keep moving, fucking his cum deeper inside you.

his lips meet yours for a messy kiss, addicted to the way your cunt keeps sucking him in. he groans into your mouth. “feels like you want more cum from the way you're squeezing me.”

“please, daddy.” you beg against his lips. “keep fucking your cum into me. want to be full of you always.”

seungcheol goes feral with your pleas. he wraps your legs around his waist, drilling his still-hard cock into you again. he watches, satisfied, as your eyes roll back while your mouth drops open in pleasure. his heavy balls smack your ass loudly as he splits you open on his cock. each thrust is getting harder as he chases his second orgasm.

“gonna fuck you full of my cum all night, baby. not gonna stop until you’re pretty little pussy is full of me.”

#kinda got carried away but oh well #can’t resist this man #nonny #nalani.thotz

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lovelettersforthedamned · 4 months

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300 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🤞+ "im just a girl" with peterrrr -🎀

--word count: 0.2k

--warnings: nothing, but fluff. one cheek kiss, but that's all:)

“I’m just a girl.” You’re lying on his chest while a random movie plays as background noise.

Peter cocks his head back in confusion, slightly chuckling before he responds, “Uhh, what?”

“I’m literally just a girl,” your expression is dead serious too, making Peter even more confused than he already was.

“So,” his eyes darted back and forth, “you bite my arm, I yell out in shock, and then you respond with, ‘I’m just a girl’?”

Thinking about it for a second, just to make sure he got it all right, you respond, “Yep! Pretty much, baby!” You snuggle further into his chest as he decides to let it go, the movie distracting him from the rest of the conversation.

Fifteen minutes pass before Peter speaks up again, “Wait, isn’t that kind of misogynistic and not cool?”

You giggle, he’s obviously thinking too hard into the entire phrase, but mentally applaud him for looking out for you and all the women in his life. “If that’s what you’re really worrying about, it’s not I swear. If it was, I wouldn’t be saying it,” you look up at him, placing a kiss on his cheek, “but thanks for being a good guy and thinking about it in more ways than one.”

--author's note: something silly because i say this all the time LOL. another sickly sweet ask from 🎀 anon!! liking, commenting, and reblogging really helps me as a writer btw!! don't forget, i have my 300 follower celebration going on, and if you would like...send something in!!! ok, ily bye<333.

#fluff #marvel #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker blurb #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #llftd 300 follower celebration

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

* waving* heelllloooo, just want to say thank you for the “ break in” series! I love König and Civilian!readers, there’s not enough non military reader stories out there so i am always hunger for more.can I put in a request? I don’t know why this idea pops into my head and not sure if Soap has a younger sister, imagine his sister had a crush on König from meeting him during military family day ( im sure theres no such event lol) or some off duty team outing. Something like..

Sister: who’s that really big guy there johnny?

Soap, knowing his sis too well : oh no you don’t.. dont go there darling

Sis: but he is so cute like a huge costco teddy bear..very huggable

All the while König overheard the who convo, flattered +embarrassed + in disbelief

Thank you! If it’s too much just ignore me its ok 😂

Pairing: König x f!reader ft. Johnny + Ghost

Summary: You tag along to Johnny's party.

A/N: Thank you @sofasoap

"The Favorite MacTavish"

“You’re still on the fastest route.”

The navigation on loop. You focused on what you could tone out Johnny with.

Looking out the window, a blur of cars turned into a blur of bricks, that in turn ended up to just dirt and then open land. Dust. You’ve been sitting as a passenger princess the entire ride there. Johnny but insisting on lecturing you about what was expected of you.

It felt more like briefing you if you were being honest.

“I’m dead serious ya hear?” Johnny had turned and pointed a finger to you.

“You got to tone it down with Ghost.” “You were off ya trolley last time, I told ya to leave the poor man alone.”

You smiled. “It wasn’t anything too bad.”

Your mind flashed back to the last get together Johnny and his friends had. You had met the legendary “Ghost” that Johnny had worked with. A man with a skull face covering, taller and larger than any other of his teammates. A deep set British accent. (You and Johnny still argue if it’s Southern or Manchester.)

Ghost kind of bothered you that he was at a party. The man had radiated big fuck off vibes from you. It made no sense for him to be here.

All you saw was… someone crying for attention.. Or even a little competition.

You approached Ghost with a deal, if he were to out drink you, you would shut Johnny up the entire night, and if you were to outdrink him, he would join the group for 20 minutes.

The little game turned dangerous and it wasn’t until you had almost bested him in the tenth beer of the night that he almost tapped out. Almost beat by a MacTavish. It didn’t help that you were flirting with him a bit when he started to become sloppy, which you think became in your best interest.

One of the other teammates had lost it.

“Ghost is going to lose!”

Ghost looked loopy. Not even his skull painted covering could hide that. He ended up going to the cooler, bringing out 3 beers, chugging them one by one, and then remained in his stoic composure. It was truly a sight.

All of Johnny’s teammates never let that one go.

“Can’t believe Johnny’s little sister thought she could out drink Ghost.”

“I can’t believe she had him stuttering. Never heard the LT at a loss for words.”

“I think I like his sister more than Johnny.”

Johnny never lived it down, and never heard the end of it from Ghost.

“I actually don't know why I bothered bringing ya.” He continued.

You missed your older brother. It was hard seeing him a few times a year. With any opportunity to see him, including riding along to party with his teammates, you took. It helped that he had a soft spot for you.

“I won't make any promises, but I’ll leave Ghost alone.”

It wasn’t until an hour later that you had arrived. You remembered what Johnny had said. “No teasin’ Ghost.” “No trying to out drink anyone.” “Behave!”

You both walk up into a small beige house. There’s a plain white metal gate in front of it, but no live plants, just dirt. Endless dirt, dust, and rocks surrounding it, and a few other SUVs, Jeeps, and sedans.

You walk inside, right behind Johnny, mumbling in your head—

“No drinking, no ghosting.”

How annoying.

Once inside, you’re greeting everyone behind Johnny.

Gaz looks at you. “Well if it isn’t Ghost’s favorite little sister!”

You smile. “No ghosting tonight.”

Immediately looking toward Johnny, who was nodding in approval.

Much later when you're inside that you see him, along with a brand new set of faces that you aren’t familiar with.

There’s a lady with a small ponytail, some guy on a tablet and sunglasses on, and a guy who's got a black face mask on. This particular individual is more distant, pushed further away from everyone else. Looks big, bigger than Ghost.

He’s not alone, he’s got some other guy next to him talking about some game he was playing on his phone.

“Steamin’ Jesus” you think to yourself. How did this massive guy end up here?

You grab a hold of Johnny,

“Johnny, who’s that over there?”

Johnny had barely taken a sip of his 3rd beer before his eyes went wide.

“Aw Jesus Christ, no you don’t. Don’t you dare go there.” he says, grabbing a hold of your wrist.

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m just asking who the guy is!”

“Haud yer weesht! It's the same ol’ script with every single one of my teammates I swear to god.”

“Is he new?”

“He’s not with us.” He stops for dramatic effect.

Whispers- “That group over there is a different team.”

Oh.

The big guy is holding an electrolyte drink as opposed to any alcohol. He takes up the entire chair and he’s polite, nodding his head to his teammate, but quickly glancing back and forth towards you and Johnny.

“And I swear to god, you better not think of stepping over there, I’ll get Ghost to restrain you.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You said no Ghostin…”

Johnny pulled you a little closer to him, then quietly (his case of quiet) says

“Do you know what those guys do?”

“Military?”

“Christ on a bike… those there are contracted killers.”

You snort.

“Yeah fuckin' right Johnny and what do you call yourself? Saints?”

“I swear you’re so daft. Don’t go near them, stay with what you know.”

“I just want to introduce myself to them, it would be rude no?”

The guy in the mask looked harmless. He wasn’t drinking, he was among friends, he was simply waiting for someone to approach him.

The entire night you keep thinking of ways to get over it. You’ve got plenty of liquid courage in you now though.

“Just because he’s bigger than the rest of you, you’re intimidated.” The liquid courage was bubbling up inside you.

“Fucking hell, would you drop it?” Johnny says

“I just want to talk to him, Johnny!”

You made your way over to him.

Johnny’s eyes looked like they could burst out of their sockets.

“Hi, how are you? You know what, you don’t seem bad at all, you just seem big, but that's ok.”

The man looked at you wide eyed, beneath his mask formed some crinkle surrounding his eyes.

“I just wanted to let you know that you don't intimidate me, but quite frankly you encourage me to give you a hug.”

He smiled now, you could see it.

“You’re like a huge teddy bear even, have you been to the states? They got a whole warehouse full of teddy bears the size of you.”

A small laugh from him and his fingers running through his hair.

“In fact, I kind of wish I had you as my own size for a teddy bear… what do you say?”

Before he could respond, you were yanked up, thrown over someone’s shoulders.

“That’ll do mini MacTavish..” A British accent. Ghost was hauling you away.

You felt dizzy, and kept your eyesight on the big man.

“I MEAN it! You are not intimidating you're just in need of a hug.”

#könig x y/n #konig x you #konig x reader #könig mw2 #ask #request prompt #könig cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon riley #cod könig #cod fanfic

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