#AND HOPE HE FINDS HIS WAY OUTTA THE DARKNESS D:

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 

he notes your impatience, amused. 

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji zenin x reader #toji x size kink

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Dabi

I like- sped through writing this, sorry if it sucks <33

Oh and the drabble kinda went outta line with the headcannons, but just a bit 😅

Edit: I'mma count this series as my 100 followers event cause why not?

Angst to fluff/ Comfort | Headcannons + a drabble | 963 words

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

Warnings!: Mentions of Dabi's backstory, mention of abuse (not in detail), mention of yelling, crying, thoughts of abandonment, flinching, self doubt. Let me know if I miss any!

Gif credit: @kilruas

Dabi would truly be broken.

As soon as you flinched he was send him back to his childhood, Endeavor screaming at his mother and siblings, the fear in their eyes as he did so.

The similarity left him stumbling backwards, making his way towards the front door.

You would quickly snap out of it, truly not knowing why you flinched. You knew Dabi would never hurt you, you knew that you were safe.

You would quickly realize that Dabi was leaving, and rush after him, panicking as you asked him where he was going, what he was doing, and why was he ignoring you.

Part of Dabi wanted to fall into your arms and be comforted, but he knew that that was wrong. He didn't deserve that. Or you, for a matter of fact.

And so with you crying and begging him not to go, he walked out the front door.

And he stayed away.. for a few months.

It was the second week of the fourth month when he came back, eye bags dark and turquoise eyes hesitant, scared, and lonely.

You would immediately jump on him, crying as you asked him why he left.

But, he still doubted himself and merily patted your back awkwardly.

And that was when you realized how terrified he was.

As soon as you were back on the ground you grabbed Dabi's shirt and pulled his face to yours, kissing him roughly.

As you pulled back to breathe you glared up at Dabi and his wide eyes.

"Dabi. I trust you. I don't know why I flinched that day, but I knew for a fact that you would xneverx hurt me. Phsycially at least. You broke my heart leaving like that."

At that moment Dabi realized what he really needed to focus on and lifted you back up, having you straddle his waist as he wrapped his arms around your smaller form, kissing your lips as a silent apology.

"D-Dabi?" You ask, voice hesitant as he grabs his work phone and jacket before sliding on his platform boots.

"Dabi, where are you going?" You ask, moving towards the man you've grown to adore.

"Dabi, answer me." You whisper, putting your hand on his arm.

Jerking his arm away, Dabi made his way towards your bedroom, confusing you further.

"Dabi! What are you doing?" You ask again, moving to keep up with the villain.

Dabi said nothing as he made his way towards the window, unlatching the glass before preparing to jump out.

"Dabi- don't go! Wait- lets talk about this, I know that it seems a lot worse than it actually is in your head!" You exclaim, voice wobbly as Dabi starts climbing.

"Dabi don't leave me!" You cry, grabbing onto his arm in a desperate hope to keep him here.

Dabi simply shook off your arm before taking off, causing you to mentally breakdown.

In your head you somehow did something wrong and now he was leaving you, going off to find someone better.

Breaking down in sobs, you desperately tried to hold yourself in some sort of comfort, silently begging for your Dabi to come back to you, knowing if you went out looking it would cause a scene.

~About four and a half months later~

You awoke to the soft knock on your window. Slowly blinking your eyes open, you sat up and yawned, wondering what woke you.

You stopped as another knock sounded from your window. You knew that knock. That knock belonged to your beloved Dabi, your one and only.

Rushing towards the window, you quickly unlocked and opened it, reveling in the site of Dabi, who looked quite uncomfortable.

"Dabi!" You exclaim, dragging him into your shared bedroom, careful not to hit his head on the window.

As soon as he was safely inside you jumped on top of him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Out of instinct Dabi quickly wrapped his arms around you, making sure you wouldn't fall.

"W-why did you leave me?" You whisper, eyes moist as you bury your face in Dabi's neck, inhaling his comforting scent of campfire smoke and sandalwood.

"I- I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Hurting you, scaring you, loosing you." Dabi muttered, burying his nose in your hair hesitantly.

At that your sobs started, you clung onto Dabi as you cried, staining Dabi's dirty jacket with your tears.

Usually Dabi would bring you to bed, holding you against his chest while whispering comforting words to you. Or maybe even chuckling and sitting you on his lap, kissing you until you were too engrossed in him to think about what was making you upset.

But instead he awkwardly patted your back, his hold becoming a whole lot less certain.

It was at that moment that you realized that he was still terrified of what happened.

Slipping out of his hold, you faced Dabi, tears still falling down your face as you pulled Dabi's shirt, bringing Dabi's lips to yours you clashed them together, kissing Dabi roughly as you clung to his shirt, demanding his attention and trust.

Once your lungs demanded air you pulled away, glaring up at Dabi, whose cheeks were red and eyes wide.

"I trust you, fully." You mutter, pulling Dabi down so your noses touch, "I know you weren't going to hurt me and I know you never will. So please, stop doubting yourself. And make up for the lost time and kiss me."

At your words Dabi hesitated for a few seconds before smashing his lips against yours, pulling you against him as he greedily sought your touch, wanting to make up for the time he spent away from you.

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

Dabi's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

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[angelatmidnight1]

Smile For Me

Hi, @supermarvel-fics! I'm your squealing Santa this year. It's my first time writing for the Scream series, but I really hope this fic is to your liking. I'm a big fan of the series myself :D. I hope you have a great holiday season and a wonderful 2024!

Word Count- 2,169.

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death, and tickling.

Fandom- Scream (1996).

Pairing- Stu Macher x Reader (Friends to lovers- two characters falling in love and character A finds out character B is ticklish (ends in kissing and confessing) Characters are both 18 in this fic.

It’s been a string of dark days for Woodsboro, California, as the Ghostface attacks ravage the town. Stu distracts you from your worries by inviting you over to his place. What was supposed to be a chill night of movies turned into playful tickling and heartfelt confessions. 

Diiiiing!

High school didn’t usually dismiss at 9:00am. You didn’t crawl out of the warmth of your bed for two hours of instruction. But, these weren’t usual times. 

A killer was on the loose. People were going missing, lives were being lost. Woodsboro High couldn’t keep you safe. So, they sent everyone home with a strict curfew to be enforced in the evening.

Even in a crowd, you felt afraid. Ghostface could be anywhere. He could strike at any time. You didn’t even bother going to your locker. Instead, you were one of the first students in the hall, holding your backpack strap in a death grip. 

You walked as fast as your feet could take you. But, someone behind you was faster. 

Unlike you, Stu was thrilled to have a siesta from school. He burst out of his boring history class with a huge grin. He scanned the crowd for you and, when he saw you, he pushed his way forward. 

“(Y/N!)

In the commotion of the busy hallway, you didn’t hear him approach. So, when two strong arms hoisted you into the air, you screamed. 

“No, NO! Let me go!” Your limbs took on a mind of their own, flailing about violently. If Ghostface was gonna take you out, he’d have a fight on his hands. Stu yelped and, after getting clocked in the jaw, he immediately put you back down. 

“Hey, HEY! It’s just me!” Stu wailed. He rubbed his jaw, wincing. “Fuck, that hurt…”

You sighed an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Stu.” You stepped towards him, closing the gap, and tenderly put a hand on his jaw. “You scared the hell outta me. I’m sorry.” 

For a moment, Stu’s eyes softened. The two of you had been friends since elementary school, and it wasn’t really a secret that he adored you. He made an agreement with Billy that they weren’t allowed to hurt you. Ever. You were his calm in the storm that he and Billy were bringing to Woodsboro. 

And, for you, Stu was your light in the darkness. The Ghostface attacks had you on edge. You hadn’t been sleeping well, lacked focus in class, and constantly looked over your shoulder. A part of you wished that Stu took the ordeal more seriously. But, a larger part of you was grateful that he still found ways to make you smile. He leaned into your hand and gave you a little pout.

“Sorry enough to come by my place tonight?” Stu’s pout turned into a bright, hopeful grin. “My parents won’t be home, and Randy hooked me up with some killer movies. All that’s missing is you~.”

He ended his statement with a poke to your nose. You smiled, playfully batting his hand away. Then, you released his jaw and sighed. 

“I don’t know, Stu. I’m tired.” You replied. Then, as if on cue, you yawned deeply. “I haven’t been able to sleep because of, well, ya know.” 

Stu nodded. But then, he gave you another bright smile, leaning his taller frame towards you. “That’s exactly why you should come over! Ghostface’s got nothing on me.” He bragged and flexed his muscles. “Look, I’m so buff, I’ll totally protect you, (Y/N).” 

You regarded him with a smirk. Then, you reached up to feel his bicep. Stu gasped and made a dramatic show of leaning into you. You tried to hold him up, but he was too heavy, and he nearly made you fall. You yelped and stumbled back into a nearby locker, scolding him without malice. 

“Stuhu!” You laughed and grabbed onto both of his arms to keep yourself upright. Stu snickered and hovered over you. He gently shook your hands off of his arms and took them into his own. He squeezed them affectionately, thumbs rubbing the top of your hands, and his blue eyes gazed into yours. 

“Let me protect you, alright?” He asked softly. You froze and held his gaze. There was a sudden warmth in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks heating up. After a beat, you nodded.

“Alright, if you really promise to protect me.” 

Although the safety of your home comforted you, you needed a distraction. And, Stu seemed happy to deliver. Stu confirmed this with a wide grin. 

“Awesome!” Stu cheered. He suddenly scooped you up, making you squeal, and carried you through the crowds. Once out of the school, he put you down, patting your back. “Come by at six tonight. Oh! And bring food! Can’t have a movie night without food.”

You smoothed out your clothes, returning his grin. Honestly, he could’ve gotten lost in that smile. “I’ll bring the best of Woodsboro’s culinary delights. You can count on it.” 

Stu whooped and did a fist pump. Then, with another laugh, the two of you parted ways. 

Burgers, fries, and sodas spelled the perfect night-in for you. Stu’s house wasn’t too far from yours, but your older brother insisted on dropping you off. You waved goodbye as he pulled off and carried the food to Stu’s door. You had to put the sodas down to knock on the door. Seconds later, the door opened, and Stu greeted you with a huge grin. 

“There you are! Right on time.” He gave you a quick hug and helped you bring the food in. Once inside his home, you felt your shoulders drop. You’d been over his home so many times, it brought you a sense of peace. A rarity in the current state of Woodsboro. You followed him to the living room and set the bags down. He did the same. Then, he turned to you, playfully pushing you back onto the couch. 

“HEY!” You caught yourself with your hands, snickering. Stu flopped beside you, and you lightly shoved his shoulder. “That’s how you treat someone who brought you food?” 

Stu chuckled and cozied up to you, putting his head on your arm. “Maybe.” He smirked. He reached forward to grab the remote and his fries. “Now, shhh! The movie’s starting.”

You rolled your eyes, but otherwise relented. 

Stu picked out a scary movie for the two of you to watch. His head was still resting on your arm and, despite your best efforts, you flinched at the jump scares. You shielded your eyes from any more scares, and Stu looked up at you curiously. He smiled. 

“D’aww, you’re kinda cute when you’re afraid.” He cooed. He poked your cheek, snickering as you reeled away from him. 

“Cut it out, I’m not cute.” You argued, keeping your eyes shielded. You moved your hands when you felt him shift under you. He sat straight up, suddenly poking your side. You slammed your arm to protect the area.  “Aha! Stu!”

“I don’t know,” he mused, now harboring a playful glint in his eye. “That’s the cutest little giggle I’ve ever heard. And you know what?”

You didn’t respond, but when you felt the couch cushion dip, you jumped to your feet out of instinct. Just in time too, because Stu had scooted closer to you, wriggling his fingers in the air. You giggled nervously, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Stu, don’t you dare-”

“Oh, I dare, (Y/N)!” He grinned mischievously. He made the conscious effort not to dip into his Ghostface voice. “I wanna hear that adorable giggle again.”

He shot up from his seat and lunged towards you. You yelped and narrowly dodged him. You ran behind the couch for cover and tried to run around it. But, Stu mirrored your movements, moving left and right with you respectively. “Where ya goin’~?”

“I’m gonna kill youhu-” You snickered and made the last minute decision to grab a pillow for self-defense. Stu’s eyes widened and, after a dramatic gasp, he covered his mouth with both hands. 

“You’re gonna kill me? With a pillow? Oh my god, have mercy!” Stu pretended to sound terrified. Then, he suddenly vaulted over the couch, easily ripping the pillow from your hands. “I don’t respond well to threats! Now, you’re gonna get it!”

You screamed and took off running. Stu’s grin widened; he loved a good chase. He stayed hot on your tail and chased you through the house. He easily caught up with you and, just before you could book it upstairs, he wrapped both of his arms around your waist. He dragged you back to the couch and tossed you onto it. 

“Baaad move, (Y/N)! You don’t run upstairs when someone’s chasing you!” He playfully chastised. He straddled your waist and poked at random spots on your torso. You squealed and bucked your hips, giggling frantically. “Haven’t you watched any movies?”

“Nohohoho!” You whined and wrestled with his hands. You managed to get a couple of pinches on his sides, making him squeal, but he was faster and stronger than you. He gathered your wrists into one hand, holding them above your head. Then, with his free hand, he alternated pinches along your hips. You arched your back and giggled harder. “Thihihis isn’t fuhuhuhny! Lehehet me gohoho!”

“Nope! No can do, I’ve gotta have those cute (Y/N)  giggles.” Stu snickered and suddenly reached up to spider his nails along your neck. “Give ‘em to me!”

You yelled and scrunched your neck. “NOHahahaha! Stuhuhu stahaha!” You protested and whipped your head around, trying to avoid his fingers. After a couple more scratches, his hand found your side, and he squeezed at it rapidly. You arched your back again. “STUHUHU!”

“(Y/N)~” He responded in a singsong voice. He scritched across your stomach to get to your other side. “Poor baby, does it tickle?”

“Yehehehes!” You whined and fell deeper into your giggle fit. “Plehehehehease stohohohop!”

“But I haven’t even tickled your armpits yet!” Stu argued. Your eyes widened and you looked up at him, only to be met with a smug grin. “What? That wouldn’t be a bad spot, would it?”

“NO! Not there, Stu, plehehehease!” You started giggling again when he poked and prodded up your side. You squirmed, trying to roll away from you, but his weight on top of you kept you pinned to the cushions. “Plehehease nohohot thehehere!”

Stu smirked up at you, teasing your rib cage with his blunt nails. That was your second worst spot; you squirmed around more violently, gasping in between giggles. 

“Here I come, (Y/N)...” Stu taunted. He pinched at the spaces in between your ribs, earning short barks of laughter. “I’m gonna get you..”

You shook your head back and forth, laughing harder as he kept moving up. “Nahahaha dohohon’t!”

Stu’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Would you fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book? 

“Don’t what?” He asked, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. You snorted and pushed your head against his, making him chuckle. “Hmm~? Don’t what, buddy?”

“Tihihihihickle mehehehehe!”

No way. Stu switched to the other side of your neck to nuzzle. You pinched your eyes shut, now full-on laughing. “Well,” he breathed into your skin, making you laugh harder. “If you insist!”

Stu let go of your wrists and, in one fluid motion, plunged his wiggling fingers under your arms. You screamed and slammed your arms against your sides, which trapped his hands in place. 

“NOHAHAHA GEHEHEHT OHOHOFF OF MEHEHEHE!” You kicked your legs against the couch, your loud laughter filling up every corner of the room. “PLEHEHEHASE!”

“Listen to you, listen to that pretty laugh!” Stu laughed along with you and drilled his thumbs into your armpits. You squeezed your arms against your sides even more, falling deeper into a pit of laughter. “You’re such a cutie. Tickle, tickle, tickle, cutie pie.”

You blushed and writhed under him, laughing yourself silly. While tickling your armpits, Stu returned to nuzzling your neck. He blew quick raspberries into it when he felt especially mischievous. As much as you kicked and laughed, you weren’t going anywhere. It was the raspberries that pushed you into hiccupy laughter, and after one more raspberry, Stu stopped tickling you. 

You breathed heavily. Ticklish sensations still plagued you, so you were still very giggly. “Youhu’re suhuhch an ahahashole.”

Stu laughed. “You don’t mean that. You love me!” His eyes softened again as he looked at you; disheveled hair, a wide smile, those beautiful (e/c) eyes. “Right? Cause I’ve definitely got a thing for you, (Y/N).”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Your face spelled surprise, but somewhere in your heart, you already knew. “Really?”

Stu climbed off of you so that you could sit up. “Hell yeah, I do.” He repeated, patting a spot beside him. You obliged by scooting beside him, so that you were pressed against him. “Want me to prove it?”

That’s what you needed. Proof. Something sweet to seal the deal. You nodded. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he leaned down to kiss your lips. Deeply. 

You leaned up into that kiss and smiled. Stu smiled too. He’d kill to keep that smile on your face.

#scream 1996 #stu macher #stu macher x reader #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #scream tickle #lee!reader #ler!stumacher

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 11

hope u enjoy this :D and please comment and reblog! each and every one of them warms my heart up so much <3

credit to @brekitten for betaing this. Seriously she was lowkey amazing and i exploded from it

and by lowkey amazing i mean just straight up amazing

credit to @adonneniel (at least I think that's them. I'll correct it next chapter if not) for the I Spy joke inspiration :3

MASTAPOST

Jack Fenton’s mad driving had them racing up the mountain path. Bruce couldn’t even enjoy the beautiful scenery as every corner seemed to invite a brush with death. He wasn’t sure if the orange man was insane and lucky or one of the best drivers he’d met in his life. In no time at all, they reached the top of the mountain, a noted campsite for many an adventurous teen or young couple.

Many teens, except for the missing trio at this moment.

Bruce already knew Daniel Fenton wouldn’t be here in all likelihood. And if he wasn’t here, there was little chance his two closest friends would, either. No, it was almost certainly a lie to disguise some other kind of activity, but it didn’t sit right with him that they might be doing something normal for a rebellious teen. Gangs, drugs, petty vandalism, dares. Something about their secretive demeanour and false aloofness pointed to a more fantastical answer. A more dangerous one.

As Bruce and the Fentons hopped off the SAV, they confirmed his suspicions. All he could see was trees, campfire stones, and bits of litter.

From his profile of Sam Manson, she would never tolerate such a thing. Every time he saw her, it was a protest of some kind, or loudly accosting litterers and people wearing leather jackets and carrying crocodile handbags, which practically confirmed his suspicions.

“Let’s spread out, we’ll cover more ground, and then meet back here in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, the three parents returned to the SAV, utterly empty-handed. Jack looked distraught, and Madeline was idly squeezing the handle of another gun. He hadn’t noticed that before. How many weapons did these people have?

“No sign. Nothing. Zilch.” Madeline muttered. “Why would they lie to us?”

Why wouldn’t a teenager lie, to be honest?

“Have you ever seen them do anything strange or out of the ordinary?” Bruce asked, the softer voice of a worried father.

Jack gasped. “What, like drugs?! Gangs? We chased those suckers out of town years ago! Danno would never get tangled with them!”

That was a story that Bruce would probably have to look into later.

At the same time, Madeline’s brow furrowed. “He did go missing half a year ago…”

Jack’s expression softened. “Yeah, kid was so shaken he never spoke about it. Can you imagine? Gone for a week, then shows up back home outta nowhere and didn’t even wanna talk about it.”

Bruce nodded, understanding fully what they had felt. Jack punched his open palm. “I oughta find whoever was responsible and tear them apart. Molecule by molecule.” His body slumped, voice losing its vigour again. “But Jazzy told us it was only gonna hurt him, pressing for info, so we haven’t.”

“After that, his grades started dropping. Danny’s a genius I tell you. A Fenton in every way, but after we got him back, he started skipping class, and making vague excuses all the time…” She shook her head and sat down, body seeming to gain days of exhaustion in a second. “It’s like he’s changed, somehow.”

Bruce considered this info… Sixth months ago? The timeline was suspicious. Six months ago, Daniel Fenton had gone missing. A week later, he shows up out of nowhere, refusing to speak of his experience. Soon after, sirens began to terrorise the city, with Phantom playing sometimes hero, sometimes criminal. Daniel Fenton’s behaviour changes drastically. Daniel, his two friends and Damian disappear on the same day. What was the connection?

Jack Fenton crouched on the ground beside his wife, frowning. “But that’s surely gotta be some kind of trauma response, right? That’s what Jazzy always says.”

“Maybe…” Bruce muttered.

Jack picked up on this, and looked up to where Bruce was still standing. “Maybe what, Brucie?”

“No, it was just a curiosity I had. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering about Phantom. Didn’t he appear six months ago too?”

Instantly, the Fenton parents scowled. Madeline clenched her fist around the gun. “That damned fishboy. He parades himself as a hero but we all know he’s a menace! Just last week he stole one of the prototypes for the Fenton Wrist Ray! How?! He doesn’t even have legs!”

And that right there was the big question, but there were a few hang-ups before he could move forward with his theory.

“I thought some of the previous sirens who attacked had legs.”

Jack shrugged, his hands making a so-so motion. “Well it’s actually kind of interesting. See, sirens’ bodies are based on a-“

Maddie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Honey, maybe we should keep the explanation short this time.”

“Right! The answer is we don’t know!”

Madeline face-palmed. “Some sirens demonstrate the ability to shift between their true form and a human-passing form. That being said, we’ve never seen Phantom’s human form, so we don’t even know if he can’t, or just hasn’t. We know for a fact there are some sirens that straight up can’t shift, but what determines that fact is unclear.”

Bruce hummed. A moment of pause before the next thought. “What if he didn’t need to shift?”

The Fentons’ mouths gaped open. “Are you saying…?”

“The last time I talked to your son before he disappeared, he didn’t seem to share most of your opinions towards the siren race. He seemed… evasive.” More than that. Daniel Fenton looked like he had the world on his shoulders, and he couldn’t share it with anyone. Or rather: couldn’t share it with his parents.

“That’s impossible! Danno would never-” But Madeline interrupted her husband.

“He has been running off a lot. Jack, how else would our inventions get into Phantom’s hands?”

Jack Fenton stared at his wife for a minute, eyes slowly opening in horror. “Floundering fishes. The punk’s brainwashed him!”

Bruce waved his hands back and forth frantically. “Maybe that’s going a bit far, don’t you think? I’m sure there’s-”

Madeline grabbed his arm and yanked him into the SAV with surprising might. “No time! I know where the kids are!”

Bruce startled, even as Jack Fenton jumped into the driver’s seat. How on earth did she make that deduction?

Of course, he didn’t doubt their intelligence, only their sanity. They were smart enough to figure out all of this tech, but detectives they were not (the profile he had done on them was thorough). Perhaps he underestimated them.

Hold on, what was he thinking? His deduction was that the kids were somewhere on the coast, in one of the many coves around Amity Bay, where they likely snuck out often to contact Phantom.

In that case, why on earth was Jack not turning the duckboat around?

“Dr Fenton, what are you doing?!” The high-pitched squeak at the end of his question was regrettably not entirely fake.

“The fastest way to rescue the kids!” Jack said, a manic gleam in his eyes visible via the rear view mirror. The mad scientist slammed the gas. Bruce’s seat slammed into his back. The billionaire braced himself.

The SAV charged through the campsite, weaving in between trees and rocks and debris. Up ahead the woods cleared to reveal the ocean over a cliff.

Jack did not slow down. He sped up. The cliff came closer. And closer. Jack sped up further.

There was no longer any ground beneath the wheels.

We cut to preserve Bruce Wayne’s dignity.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the ocean…

Damian scanned his left. He scanned the right. He glanced up into the clear sky. He peered down at the dark. He took a peek behind his shoulders. With his decision made, he made his declaration with poise and finality.

“I spy with my little eye, something b-”

“IT’S THE WATER!”

Damian’s eye twitched.

Danny nodded eagerly, like a lost puppy begging for attention. Scratch that. Lost puppies were far more lovable. “Come on. It’s the water, right? Right??”

“I spy. With my. Little. Eye. Something beating. You imbecile.”

“Crap. Uhhhmm…” Danny blinked, eyes turning sky high as he searched for answers. “Is it a bird? Because some people call their movements wingbeats.”

Damian’s jaw dropped. “No! It was your heart! Your heart beating!” He punctuated every word with an aggressive tap at Danny’s translucent chest, a still frighteningly visceral display case for his blue heart.

“That’s stupid! I could’ve come up with a better one!”

“The last three you did were the water, the sky and the sun respectively.”

“I said I could, not that I would!”

…

“I do admit. I did not account for birds’ wingbeats.”

“HAH!”

Back to the parents…

Never had Bruce ever feared for his life more than what just happened.

May he never speak of it again.

“See Brucie? Jack Fenton is an ace driver. You’ll never fear for your life in my capable hands!”

Madeline nudged her husband. “Honey, focus.”

“Oh sorry. Where to, sweetie?”

“The cove!”

Bruce shook the adrenaline off. Back to business. Coincidentally, he’d just received a pertinent message from the Cave.

“Hey B.” Tim’s voice filtered through the tiny ear piece Bruce kept at all times, accompanied by rapid clacking, almost fast enough to merge into a continuous clackackckackackack. “Half the footage you sent was corrupted. I saved the other half, but I haven’t been able to look through it. Currently fighting a hacker and trying to get back into Amity’s servers. Just got a breakthrough though. He’s based in Amity, currently location: the cove just underneath the mountain on the main island. RR Out.”

Bingo.

That cove being a hollow space in the mountain carved out by seawater and erosion. There was a small waterfall covering the entrance and obscuring view. As the SAV drove past the barrier, Bruce heard two gasps of shock.

There they were. A black boy in a yellow shirt and red beret, skin caked in sweat, hunched over a desk with a laptop glaring brightly in the otherwise-dimly lit room. Beside him, a pale girl in all black, clutching an old tome and glaring viciously at him.

But where on earth was Daniel Fenton?

And where was Damian?

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #bruce wayne #jack fenton #maddie fenton #good parents jack and maddie #they still need work tho #brief sam manson #brief tucker foley #brief tim drake

[bellsbear]

she’s an angel

eddie munson x female sinclair reader

synopsis: you’re a cheerleader and he’s the school freak who’s had a crush on you forever. little does he know, you got a thing for him too.

contents: fluff, some angst, eddie being a corny mess, cussing, mutual pining word count: 1.2k

a/n: THIS IS GONNA BE A SERIES. idk what I'm doing and this might suck but I gotta write some eddie ff 😤 additionally i am a black woman, so i wrote this for myself and everyone else who wants the representation! THE TEXT MAY BE GLITCHED. if that’s the case im so sorry, i don’t know how to fix it😭

also let’s pretend that none of the vecna stuff is happening cause this is totally not following the canon story. sorry, not sorry 😮‍💨

chapter song (updated because this fits better in my opinion):

series masterlist

⭑･ﾟ･*.｡༅･ﾟ:*✿*ﾟ:༅･ﾟ｡.:*･ﾟ･⭑･ﾟ*.｡༅･ﾟ:*:✿:*ﾟ:༅･ﾟ｡.･ﾟ･⭑

It was the night of the championship game and Eddie's final campaign. Normally you would have gone straight home with Chrissy to hang out, but Lucas had found you during the game to spoil your plans.

“So, kind of a long story, but basically Erica’s here playing D&D in my place, and you gotta take her home.”

“And why exactly is this on me? That sounds like a Lucas problem.”

“Well now it’s a Y/n problem cause she biked here, it’s pitch black out and you know mom and dad will-“

“Completely freak if I don’t bring her back. Yeah yeah, I got it.”

You turn to Chrissy and apologize saying you’ll give her a call when you're home.

She smiles at you, “Y/n it’s okay. Sisterly duties call, plus this gives me an excuse to go to the after-party we were so desperately looking forward to avoiding. Jason’s going to be thrilled.” You both laugh and go back to watching the game while you're not cheering.

⭑･ﾟ･*.｡༅･ﾟ:*✿*ﾟ:༅･ﾟ｡.:*･ﾟ･⭑･ﾟ*.｡༅･ﾟ:*:✿:*ﾟ:༅･ﾟ｡.･ﾟ･⭑

You knock again, louder this time, hoping they might actually hear it but you end up waiting a full minute before deciding to just go in. You begin to turn the handle but find the door is jammed. Placing all your weight against it, you keep pushing until-

“What the hell is going on! Oh-” You were now on the floor looking up to see the one and only Eddie Munson looking down at you with his big brown eyes.

“What the hell is going on! Oh-” You were now on the floor looking up to see the one and only Eddie Munson looking down at you with his big brown eyes.

“Oh shit, Y/n. Are you okay?” He asks, concern laced in his voice.

Eddie had always been sweet to you.

He sat behind you in Ms. O'Donall's class and never failed to make you laugh with his random outbursts. Whenever you took tests you’d always move your paper to the far right of your desk knowing he was peeking behind you.

However, it wasn’t enough to help him get a passing grade, but you always tried helping him out because you knew he was smart, he just didn’t care to study. It had caused you to develop a bit of a crush on him if you were being honest.

You look at him in the eyes and just burst out in laughter, Eddie had never heard you laugh before, well, really laugh. You’d always giggle at his jokes or laugh with your friends, but it was never like this. You were clutching your stomach and holding back tears, he thought you looked so beautiful. So real.

“I’m so sorry, I must’ve scared the shit outta you. with all that banging.” Eddie reaches his hand out for you, which you gladly take and stand up. “So why have you graced me with your presence m’lady?”

You blush, “Oh I’m just looking for Erica, I gotta take her home since it so dark out. Um, where is she by the way?”

“Ah the littlest Sinclair, I just met her today. She's very... pleasant." You look at him with wide eyes, "Are you sure we're talking about the same Erica?" He laughs at your comment.

"She just walked out with the others, I’m sure they haven’t gone too far. I could maybe… um.” Eddie stops talking when he realized you were still holding onto his hand, tightly, your thumb grazing his rings.

Eddie has had a crush on you since middle school. You caught his eye during the talent show when you sang 'I Will Survive'. You were nervous at first but ended up having so much fun on that stage and your voice was angelic, he fell in love instantly. And now you were standing in front of him and holding his hand.

You wave your free hand in front of his face, “Earth to Eddie, are you alright?” He snaps out of his trance and looks up at you.

“Oh yeah, um I was just going to say I could help you out, i- if you wanted me to of course!” He was bright pink, and you were still holding his hand.

“That’d be nice. Could probably use some help finding that little brat anyway.” You laugh before letting go of his hand and picking up your bag which had fallen down with you earlier.

As you release your hold on him, he quickly turns around to gather his stuff, face red as a tomato.

“By the way, I heard you earlier. Nice vocals, you should be in a band or something.” You joked, but soon saw Eddie’s face as he looked at you with a sad look.

“You don’t remember. Shit you don’t remember.”

“What are you talking about Munson?”

Eddie looks you dead in the face then suddenly jumps up onto the table and starts shredding an air guitar along to the music. After his performance, he jumps down and looks at you with hope in his eyes. “Nothin’? You’re killing me here Sinclair!” He holds his hands out and dramatically brings them to his chest as if he were holding a knife.

“Eddie what the hell are you- OH MY GOD WAIT. In middle school, you were totally in a band!” He claps his hands together triumphantly.

“I’m actually still in a band, but I’ll take it. Yeah, we’re uh-“ You quickly cut him off, “Corroded Coffin. How could I forget, your hair was all buzzed, I used to think it was so cute.”

Eddie was breathless. You thought he was cute. Not only that but you had remembered the stupid haircut he sported in his younger years. “Yeah well, your sister thinks I’m a ‘long-haired freak’ so maybe I should’ve kept it short.” You laugh, the real laugh that he was falling in love with.

“Well if it makes you feel better, I’m glad you grew it out. It’s very…” You stop and think about the best word to use, “metal. That and those tattoos you got."

Eddie’s heart stopped. There’s no way that you were right here in front of him complimenting his appearance that most of your friends had made fun of throughout the years. Oh so beautiful you, standing there and getting closer to him… getting very close to him. So close he thinks he might pass out right now. “Truthfully, I think you’re very handsome Eddie, no matter what stupid haircut you might have.”

Before he can respond, you plant a kiss on his pink cheek then run to the door, “I’ll see you outside Eds.”

Eddie gripped the table behind him to balance himself, trying wrap his head around what just happened. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by none other than Dustin.

“Eddie, what's the hold-up? You’ve been in here for a while are you okay?”

“I must’ve died and gone to heaven because an angel just kissed me”

“What the hell are you talking abou-“ Dustin stopped before smiling at Eddie putting 2 and 2 together after seeing you smiling like a lunatic in the hallway, “OH MY GOD YOU AND Y/N KISSED?! I gotta tell Lucas, he's gonna lose his shit.”

Before Dustin could run from the room, Eddie grabbed his collar to hold him back.

“Not a word to anyone Henderson. Not a fucking word.” Dustin nodded aggressively so he'd let him go.

“Now," Eddie puts on his jacket and composes himself, "let’s go outside, she’s waiting for me.”

a/n: that’s all 🧍🏽‍♀️ i hope this wasn’t terrible, i really tried my best! hoping to write a few more parts soon but i got work and stuff lol ☺️

im gonna make a taglist too, pls fill out this form if you wanna be on it!

taglist form

chapter 2

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x black reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #eddie #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #st4 #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x sinclair reader #Spotify #she's an angel series

[starynightcreator]

It's Not All Bad

Chapters: 8-8

Characters included: Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, and Steve Harington

Word Count: 2,548

No use of Y/N

18+! May be triggering to some!

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Kissing, Shy/ Anxious Reader, Sweet/Protective Eddie, Jealousy, Cursing, Alcohol use, Yelling, Heartbreak, Betrayal, & Friends To Lovers.

Summary: After a betrayal from your best friend and boyfriend, you find comfort in the arms of eddie.

Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments. This is my first story and I'm a little nervous.

!Must give credit when re-sharing/ sharing. Don't take credit please and thank you!

PART EIGHT:

So you look down but at Eddie's hands and you just go before you back out…

You grab his hand and ask. “Edds?” “Yes Star?”“I’ve liked you pretty much since I've met you and I knew when I met you I'd always want you in my life. I love spending time with you. You are the best thing that ever happened in my life and what gets me outta bed everyday. Please don’t ever leave Eddie. I don't know what I'd do without you.”“Star?”“Yes”“I love you.” You just looked at him for a moment not because you didn’t feel the same, it was more because you weren't expecting it. “It’s fine if yo- '' You cut Eddie off with a kiss and then when you pulled away. “I love you too, Pretty Boy.” Eddie could tell you were a tad nervous about kissing him before asking as normally you would have for something like that. He then decided to even the score to show in his own odd way that he was okay with it. “Hey Star do you wanna be my girlfriend?”“Yes Eddie I d-” He then cut you off by kissing you which led to you giggling. “Hey, what's so funny huh?”“You trying to even the score. It’s cute.” Eddie then pulls you into a hug. “Ugh no it’s not. Let's watch a movie.”“Okay.” He watched you smile and smile in a way you hadn’t in a while which made him even happier than he was. You both finally found a movie and started to watch it. Just before it starts you look at Eddie and say. “Yeah know Edds It’s not all bad. I have you and that’s all I ever truly needed to be happy” Eddie just smiled “You right And as long as I have my Star i’ll never get lost in the dark again”.

Months went by and Steve tried to contact you with his pathetic apologies and excuses. His contacting got worse when Nancy left him for Johnathan. So bad he reached out to Eddie not realizing the first time you guys were dating after he did find out he tried to get violent. Luckily Hooper stepped in and Steve went and got therapy. Eddie has officially moved in with you and you guys are planning a road trip for fall.

I hope you enjoyed the story of Star and Eddie! I hope you have a lovely day/night!

-Xoxo <3

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #nancy wheeler #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie x fluff #angst #fluff #friends to lovers

[chaussetteblanche]

Hello, can you please write some Sevika fluff or angst? There is not enough of fics on her

hi love :) sorry for taking so long, but here it is !! thanks for requesting darling 💕

summary : sevika finds you in an alley getting beat up and helps you out

word count : 1.5k

warnings : violence (but not that much tbh)

Your cheek stung painfully as you stumbled, holding yourself up on a brick wall, the metallic taste of blood strong on your tongue. You spat on the ground, leaving a small puddle of blood glinting faintly in the greenish light emitting from the street lights. The three men laughed darkly, cracking their knuckles as they advanced on you again. You sighed and coughed, painfully pushing yourself off the wall and lifting your fists in front your face, just like you’d been taught to when you were younger.

“Right, who’s next ?” you taunted. You weren’t about to give up even though you had trouble staying upright after two beatings your had barely managed to hold off.

You’d been coming back from work around four in the morning when you’d heard the men laughing. They had started following you, catcalling and insulting you. It made your blood boil but you had kept yourself from answering. No one usually dared mess with you thanks to your job as bartender in The Last Drop. They had apparently not gotten the message that you were under Silco’s protection. They didn’t know what was bound to happen to them if they touched you.

Not wanting to show them where you lived, you led them back to the bar, hoping they would stop following you if they saw other people were around. But luck really wasn’t on your side and the streets were entirely empty. By the time you reached your workplace, they had come too close to you to ignore.

The middle one, a good head taller than you and about twice your weight, stepped forward, smirking.

“You get a kick out of following women home, is that it ?” you spat. He shrugged innocently as he advanced towards you arms swinging at his sides.

“You could say that,” He took the first swing. You avoided it narrowly and delivered a blow to his face. He swore under his breath and reeled back, angrier than before. Your hand was numb now and you dodged a quick punch to your face. He landed a hit in your stomach, effectively knocking your breath out of you. You doubled over in pain, horrified at the crunching noise you’d heard in your abdomen. Seeing your vulnerable position, he smashed his knee into your cheek. You groaned and fell to the ground, holding yourself up with trembling hands. You coughed and saw blood splatter the dirty pavement, rejoining the blood of many others in similar situations.

You looked up at the three men, vision blurry, as you panted and held your side. A horrible thought made its way into your mind : was this it ? Were you finally beaten ? Before your train of thoughts could get any darker, a shadow fell over your body.

“Now what’s going on here ?” a familiar voice asked. You eyes widened when you saw Sevika step into the alley, eyes particularly dark. You let out a breath of relief, the stinging all over your body making itself known. The tall woman carelessly dropped her cigar to the ground, walking towards the men surrounding you.

“You should get outta here, lady,” one of them grunted. “This ain’t any of your business,” Sevika let her cape fall to the ground, chuckling.

“I don’t think you understand what you’ve just got yourself into,” she chuckled before stalking forward. She threw the first punch this time. You envied the ease with which she fought. Like taking a walk. Easy, quick and efficient. Your three assaulters were dead within seconds. Sevika picked her cape back up and fastened it again before trudging over to you, her footsteps echoing in the alley.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” She bent down and put her flesh arm around your ribcage, pulling you to your feet. You hissed at the pain in your ribs, falling into her side as she half dragged you out of the alley.

“They did a number on you, huh ?”

“I had it under control,” you mumbled.

“Sure looked like it, honey,” she scoffed. You stayed silent as she walked you to your apartment. Once inside the building, you painfully raised your head to glare up at the stairs.

“Right, let’s- do this,” you breathed going for the handrail. Sevika barely spared you a glance before picking you up. You gasped, both in surprise and in pain, and wrapped your arms around her neck by reflex.

“Hey !” you cried out.

“Oh please, you aren’t capable of walking up any stairs right now,” she spoke calmly as she carried you up the flights with ease. She showed no sign of struggle, it was as if you weighed nothing. You pouted but said nothing, your breath hitching with pain when she moved too much. She placed your feet surprisingly gently back on the ground once you stood in front of your front door. You leaned your weight on the wall, the pain in your ribs taking your breath away once again. You were surprised she knew where you lived but didn’t think too much of it. She shoved a mechanic finger in the lock and unlocked the door.

“Wha- you can do that ? That’s so cool !”

Sevika looked at you with a raised brown as the door swung open. She wrapped an arm around your waist again and pulled you inside.

“Can you do that with every single lock or is it only particular ones ? Have you tried it on-”

“Even with your ass beat you don’t shut up, do you ?”

“I’m hurt, Sevika,” you placed a dramatic hand on your chest, ignoring the pain it ignited in your ribs. She rolled her eyes and looked around your place, taking everything in.

“It’s a mess, I know,” you tried to veer her away from the books and glasses lying about. “Bathroom’s over there,” you pointed to the old door.

“It’s… nice,” she spoke, still looking around. You followed her gaze.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s fine. The rent isn’t too high, which is good,” You looked up into her grey eyes, wondering what was going through her mind, before her eyes flickered down to yours briefly. She cleared her throat and made her way to the bathroom, still half carrying you.

She swung the door open, revealing your ridiculously small bathroom. No way would the two of you fit in there with how big she was.

“Uh…”

She picked you up and placed you on the counter, next to the sink. You groaned in pain, leaning your head back on the mirror behind you. She raised her brows at you, daring you to say a word. You didn’t, just watched as she pulled out a first aid kit.

“They got you good, huh ?” she asked lowly, dabbing a piece of cotton with disinfectant on it on a gash in your cheek. You winced and hummed.

“Yeah, but you should see the other guy,”

Sevika chuckled. She finished cleaning up your face. You were surprised to see how gentle she could really be, you were so used to see her put her arm at use for violence that you’d never thought it could be caring.

“Take your shirt off,” she commanded. Your cheeks reddened.

“Sevika, oh my goodness, at least take me out to dinner first,” you gasped teasingly. She scowled at you, tugging at the bottom of your shirt.

“Okay, okay, fine,” You started the painstaking task of pulling your shirt off, hissing in pain when it got stuck over your head. Sevika tutted and helped you get it off, throwing the piece of fabric out of the bathroom.

You gasped when you felt her human fingers on your ribcage, trailing down with a featherlight touch before pressing. You cried out in pain, your body lurching forward and lightly slapped her arm.

“Bruised,” she noted, more to herself than to you. “Are you hurt anywhere else ?” She finally looked into your eyes, making your heart flutter.

“No, no, I don’t think so,”

She leaned forward, probably to examine your bruised cheek, and soon your faces were mere centimeters away from each other. You could smell the cigar she’d smoked before and the drink you’d served her that night at the bar. The thin scars of the side of her face stood out against her skin and you resisted the urge of running your fingers over them.

Your eyes met hers, meeting warm steel. Her warm breath fanned over your lips as you wet them. You hadn’t felt yourself moving closer to her. Taking a leap of faith, you brushed your lips against hers. Your stomach exploded in fireworks as you slightly pulled back to see her reaction.

Her eyes were slightly wider than usual as she stood in place, frozen. Then she moved, cupping the back of your neck and placing a hand on your hips. She leaned you back against the cold tile wall, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. You swallowed a groan, of pain or pleasure you didn’t know. And her lips were on yours, strong yet gentle, as if she didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you already were. Your bruised and bloodied hands were in her hair as you pushed your chest up against hers, ignoring the sting it caused. She kissed you gently before pulling away, slightly breathless.

“Uh… I- should probably go,”

You barely had time to register what she’d said before the door closed behind her.

#sevika fluff #sevika fanfic #sevika oneshot #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane

[crappymixtape]

something infinite • part one

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART ONE M A Y B E T H E W O R L D W O N ' T E N D

2.8K – part one of something infinite – steve steals a car and somehow you wind up in hawkins, indiana, a meet cute without the cute *18+ only  | ( 2.8k, angst, verbal abuse, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here )

J U N E 1 9 8 7 🎶 the rat, the walkmen 

“C’mon Harrington, don’t be a pussy, get in.”

“Shit, hurry up Tommy!”

“Shut up, I’m going!”

With two wires held tightly between his fingers, Tommy Hagan quickly brushed them together until the old Chevy Blazer rumbled to life, Lynyrd Skynard’s Call Me the Breeze screaming through the speakers.

Well now, they call me the breeze, I keep blowin' down the road! I ain't got me nobody, I don't carry me no load!

“Fuck yeah, get it in drive!”

Steve didn’t know how he ended up there in the passenger seat of an about-to-be-stolen car – sheriff’s car to be exact – and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as Tommy struggled to shift it into gear. His hands gripped the dash in front of him as he watched a light come on inside the house, “Jesus, Tommy, fucking move!”

“I’m trying, god damn gear shift is stuck!”

It was the hundredth weekend in a row, Steve was certain, that his parents were out of town on business and the fight he’d had with his dad that night had been a real crowning achievement. The worst of all time and something in him snapped. All he wanted now was to feel something. Anything. And it was barreling toward him like a train off the rails.

“HEY, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLES! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY TRUCK!”

“Oh shit, we gotta go, we gotta go!”

“Fucking bail!”

The screen door on the front of Hopper’s house flung open so hard the whole frame shook as it slammed shut behind him.

“Get outta here, meet back at my place!” Kyle and Tommy jumped out of the car so fast Steve didn’t have any time to think.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” scrambling, Steve’s hand fumbled on the door handle as he shoved it open, scraping his leg against the runner board on his way down. Hair messed and wild in his eyes, he looked up to see his friends were already over the fence and sprinting toward the tree line behind Hopper’s place, “Wait!”

Not bothering to close the door behind him, Steve tried to pick up a sprint, but a large hand half-shoved, half-grabbed the back of his neck and within seconds he was face down in the lawn with a mouth full of grass and dirt, Hop’s weight pressing him into the ground.

“You little shits think you’re so clever. Well, s’the last time you fuck with Hopper, hm?”

It was dark, the summer night thick and warm when you arrived at your aunt’s place in Hawkins. Nothing like Indianapolis. The moon hung high in the inky black sky, stars blinking above you like holes poked through canvas, and the sound of crickets and frogs off over the fence was almost deafening. No ambulance sirens, no yelling, no loud music in the apartment above you. Your stomach sank. What was this place?

“The real armpit of America, hm?” the cab driver said tossing your bag and skateboard at your feet as if he could hear your apprehension, wiping sweat from his forehead. You gave him a look, almost pleading to let you come back to the city with him, but he was already climbing back into the car. Rolling down the passenger window he leaned over and tipped his ball cap at you with a laugh, “Enjoy!” And with a rumble he was off down the road you came, dust kicking up around the wheels as he went.

Fuck, you muttered squeezing your eyes shut, hoping maybe if you clicked your heels together you’d magically appear back in your room like Dorothy. The whole summer. That’s how long you’d be stuck in this place. Until your mom was back, and in that moment you wished you’d asked to stay with your grandmother. Anywhere was better than this.

“You’re here! Oh, you’re here!”

Your eyes flew open at the sound of a voice you hadn’t heard in years and you were suddenly wrapped up into a big hug. It was all cinnamon and fresh laundry and cut grass and so soft. So warm. Your aunt Joyce.

“Honey, you’re so tall! My gosh, I don’t think I’ve seen you since…can’t be since ‘77 can it? Here, Hop will get those, come on inside,” with a gentle hand on your back she guided you to the door, leaving your things where they were for whoever this Hop was. “I just made dinner,” Joyce gave you a big smile, her shoulders squeezing up toward her ears with excitement, and you wondered for a second if maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

She was so different from your mom, her sister, so much softer around the edges, fuzzy and sparkling and bright. The look she gave you made your heart ache a little, like she really loved you, and a small lump rose in your throat as you tried to smile back.

“Oh, Hop, grab those will you?”

As the screen door creaked open you came face to face with what could only described as the human version of a grizzly bear. Tall, frame like a fridge and gruff, but oddly soft under all the grit like your aunt. He grunted a reply and held the door for you both, muttering a Hey, kid, to you on the way by before going to grab your things.

Your aunt’s place was modest, but so homey and comforting somehow. The living room was smaller, with a little television in the corner, and it bled right into the dining room and kitchen. Open, just like your aunt.

Family photos hung along the walls, you recognized your cousins Will and Jonathan, but there was a girl now too. And Hop. And tons of other kids you didn’t recognize. All grinning and laughing and piled on each other or hanging out the bed of a pickup or floating lazy in a lake.

“Will and Jonathan are out with their friends, not sure when they’ll be back…” your aunt’s voice brought you back, “Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I’m sorry, I’m just pretty tired and–”

“Oh, of course you are! That’s okay, sweetie. Your room’s the third door on the right, Hop’s got your things in there, and the bathroom is the first door on the left. I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and for the first time in a long time you felt your lips curve up into a small, genuine smile, murmuring your thanks.

Turning to walk down the hall you looked back to see Hop settle into the big, brown arm chair with a beer in hand as your aunt climbed up onto his lap. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, fitting perfectly there with him. Hop rumbled a contented sound as he wrapped an arm around her and pressed his own kiss to her forehead.

Happy. Loving. A proper display of affection. Nothing like home.

Closing the door to your room you didn’t bother unpacking and flicked the light off before falling onto the neatly made bed. Hawkins, Indiana. Crickets and frogs and wheat fields and dirt roads and hot and thick all summer long. Your eyes slipped shut and the lump came back to your throat as you rolled onto your side.

It’s only three months. It’s only three months.

The words looped in your head on repeat as you curled into yourself, exhaustion slowly wrapping around you until you fell away into sleep.

“Got some real shitty friends there, huh?”

Steve’s arms were folded tight over his chest as he glared at Hopper from across the big desk. Tommy and Kyle had made it over the fence and home, because of course they fucking did, and he was here getting an ear full of shit he already knew.

Hop took a long drag from his cigarette and tapped it on the ashtray. Leaning back in his chair he blew smoke up toward the ceiling, not bothering to look at the kid across from him, “Suppose you think you’re gonna get off easy, right? Mommy and daddy come in here and cut me some check, let little Stevie go home, lesson learned.”

“They don’t even know I’m here–”

“Shut up, my turn to talk,” Hop snapped, cutting Steve off as he spun in his chair to lean on the desk. He fixed the boy with a look that shut his mouth right quick. Sucking on his teeth the sheriff shook his head. “You’re all the same. Entitled little assholes,” he hummed in thought, “Same goes for your buddies, Hagan and Peterson, right? Yeah. Well. They ran faster than you, unfortunately.”

Steve let out a heavy sigh and jammed his tongue into his cheek, fighting the urge to snap back at the older man, knowing damn well he was already in for it as it was, “Jesus, can we just get this over with?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Got somewhere to be, Harrington?” Hopper sniped, taking another drag, this time blowing the smoke into Steve’s face. “You’re lucky, I don’t feel like looking at your face anymore,” putting out his cigarette, Hop stood from the desk and snatched up the pile of paperwork in front of him. “Community service oughta do it. Fifteen hours a week all summer at the library, weekends off.”

“Fifteen?? That’s crazy, how am I supposed to—“

“Keep runnin’ your mouth and I’ll make it thirty!” Hop rounded on Steve, leaning down to get in the boy’s face and meet his eye line.

Steve’s chest was heaving as he sucked in air, struggling to keep himself in check as his heart pounded against his ribcage. Hopper shot him a grin.

“Perfect. See you Monday, champ,” he clapped Steve on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward, Asshole, muttered under the younger boy’s breath.

Hop didn’t bother to wait as he walked out of his office and down the steps of the police station. Steve watched through the blinds with balled up fists as the sheriff climbed into his rig and rolled out onto the street.

“Do you need something, hon? Jim won’t be coming back today…” the receptionist called in after him and Steve turned to kick the leg of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“No, just— no,” Steve grumbled and followed the same path Hopper had out into the hot, sticky summer heat, chucks smacking against the pavement as he started the walk home.

His parents didn’t know he’d tried to steal a car, didn’t know he went out drinking, didn’t know how much he longed for their approval, their affection, and didn’t know he was saddled with three months of community service for the rest of the summer.

The last time he’d talked to his dad was the night he’d gone to Tommy’s, begging to do something – something reckless. It had hardly been a conversation, Steve and his father at each other’s throats, yelling until they were both red in the face and saying things that couldn’t be taken back.

“You couldn’t even get into a trade program, Steven! What in the hell am I supposed to do with you??”

"I tried, dad! Do you know how many applications I sent–”

“I don’t give a shit, we’re done. You’ll start at the firm in September.”

“Dad, I don’t want–”

“It doesn’t matter what you want anymore, son. If you’re gonna amount to anything in life it’s obvious I need to step in.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as his father’s words ran on a loop in his head.

If you’re going to amount to anything in life. If you’re going to amount to anything in life. If you’re going to amount to anything in life.

The corners of Steve’s eyes prickled with tears, but he threw his gaze up to the ceiling and hastily blinked them away. Finally it was out. What his dad really thought of him. And it hurt more than he wanted to admit. “I don’t need your help,” the boy snapped, turning back around to look his dad in the eyes. Heat rose in his chest, flames crackling and roaring to life, a fire he’d tried to contain all these years, but his father’s words were like gasoline and it was hot and angry now.

“Yeah? And who’s gonna hire a kid out of high school with shit for grades, huh? The only thing on your resume is a damn ice cream shop and video rentals and the real world doesn’t care about basketball or popularity contests, Steven.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Gary, just drop it–”

“Quiet, Carol! He needs to hear this. No one else seems to be able get it to sink in. You wanna be a real man, Steven? Take care of a family, huh? A wife? Get your shit together.”

“Take care of a family?? Are you kidding?” Steve was laughing, but there were tears streaming down his cheeks now as he slammed the chair he’d been gripping onto into the dining room table, “You’re never home, you don’t give a shit about me.”

“Watch your mouth! Ungrateful. I told you Carol. Doesn’t appreciate anything I do for him–”

“I can’t,” Steve threw his hands up as if to shield himself from the words his father was hurling at him, voice thick as he hissed through his tears. Snatching his keys from the hook next to his mom he knew he couldn’t be there anymore.

“Steve, your father doesn’t mean it–”

“I do mean it! Don’t you walk away from me, boy, we’re not done here! I’ve got a flight in the morning and–”

“Yeah? Well gee, dad, have a great trip!” Steve snapped, slamming the door behind him as he left. The tears came more freely then as the hot, sticky summer air hit him, thick and suffocating and too warm. He cranked his BMW to life, speakers screaming as he turned up the volume, and backed out of the drive before ripping down the street toward Tommy’s to steal Jim Hopper’s rig.

Paying no attention to where he was walking, Steve let muscle memory guide him down main street. A light sheen of sweat was clinging to his forehead and brows as the sun beat down on him and his anger faded with each step in the heat. Tommy and Kyle were going to give him so much shit for his community service stint, Steve could already hear them laughing, and he toed a rock into the road. A muttered dammit came forth, eyes still on the ground, but then someone was shouting at him.

“Hey! Watch out!”

Eyes wide, the boy standing in the middle of the sidewalk clearly wasn’t going to move, so you angled your board into the grass and jumped off, hands flying up to grab fistfuls of his shirt as your feet hit the concrete.

“Shit!” he yelped, his own hands grabbing onto to your arms. You stood like that for a moment as if to make sure you were both okay, but then the boy was letting go and pushing himself away from you, threading his fingers through his hair to try and regain his composure. “Watch where you’re going,” he sniped, tone packing more heat than he’d intended.

You scoffed. “Where I’m going?” crossing your arms over your chest you fixed him with a look, “I’m not the one with my eyes glued to the pavement.” Bending down to grab your board, you tucked it under your arm and glared. He was taller than you by at least a few inches, moles chasing along his jaw and cheeks, hazel colored hair messy across his forehead and eyes all warm honey and burnt caramel. He might have been pretty if not for the scowl on his face.

“Pedestrians get the right of way,” he sniped, throwing an arm out toward your skateboard.

“Okay,” huffing a laugh you shouldered past him, but he caught your hand.

“Hey! Where are you going? Shouldn’t you apologize?”

“I’m so sorry,” your voice was sugar and saccharine sweet, but it didn’t match the look on your face as you tossed your board to the ground, “Don’t get run over!”

“Oh nice, really nice!” he yelled after you, and when you glanced over your shoulder to give a wave you laughed at the sight of him. All worked up, hand on his hip, lips twisted into a frown and hair caught up in the heat.

“The nicest!” you called and with a few kicks off the pavement you were gone around the corner toward the gas station for a blue-raspberry Icee, leaving Steve there cursing on the sidewalk with an infuriating curiosity as to who had almost run him over.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve stranger things #steve x you #stranger things au #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader

[albed-hoe]

i had a thought, diluc or zhongli with a portrait painter s/o, and s/o walks away when arguments happen and hide in their studio and just paint. so one time the guys get sick of their s/o walking away in the middle of fights and walk in and they see all these super beautiful portraits of themselves because s/o thinks there beautiful

Forgive Me, My Artist

Characters: Diluc/Zhongli x GN Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a fight/yelling, reader crying/storming off, hurt/comfort

Word count: 480

A/n: Okeyy so I wrote this in sort of an androgynous way, so basically you can picture either Diluc or Zhongli as the character, whichever you prefer!! (Just imagine Zhongli is doing too much overtime at Wangsheng, even tho wbk he would be outta there the minute his shift ends❗)

Again. It happened again. That stinging feeling in his chest, he always felt regret and guilt flood over himself after watching you storm out of the room, choking back sobs of sorrow. He knew you were right, that he was working way too hard and kept on neglecting you.

He always felt bad when he came back home to a dark house, with the rest of the dinner you had cooked for the both of you, now sitting cold on the stove with a little note: “make sure you eat as much as you need! :)”. He would finish it up gratefully, and enter your dark shared room, seeing the covers rise at your spot of the bed, you seemingly sleeping peacefully. He didn’t know however, that you would never be able to sleep without knowing he had made it home safely, so it was only when you felt the sudden rush of cool air under the covers and his big arms wrap around your torso, that you would finally close your eyes.

Unfortunately, it had all been too much for you and he knew you were right. It was now the third time you had stormed off after confronting him about overworking himself and this time, he would set out to make things right. He left the room you had ran out of and looked down the hall to see a faint light coming from under a door. Curiously, he pushed it open and gasped in surprise at the sight before him.

Through the large windows of the room, the sun shined bright, casting a shadow behind the easel you painted on. The tear stains on your cheeks were visible, but he paid them no mind when he saw your soft, serene smile as your brush traveled across the canvas. He panned around the room to find hundreds of paintings hung on the walls, at least a few dozen of them being portraits of him. All done by you. He turned back to you, to see you with a bright blush, hiding yourself behind the canvas.

“[Y/N]… They’re beautiful! All of them!” He ogled at the hundreds of painted canvases.

“D-Do you like them? The portraits, I mean. I hope it isn’t creepy…” You muttered, embarrassed.

“Of course not! But… Why me, of all subjects?” He questioned, not comprehending why someone like you would take interest in painting such a boring subject as him. Wordlessly, you stood up from your seat, setting down your supplies. You walked over to him and buried your face in his shoulder.

“I paint to destress, and… I just think you’re beautiful.” You murmur. Surprised, the man chuckles and wraps his arms around you, his own blush now starting to rise.

“And by the way, I’m sorry for storming off… I don’t like yelling.” He apologizes in return, planting a kiss on your head.

Pls I can’t draw💀

#genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #diluc x reader #diluc x gn reader #diluc x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli x y/n

[mrcrowblargs]

Did a guys' night out for the end of act 2 -- first time ever taking Wyll out of camp and I was REALLY tempted to spec him as a fighter since my party has always been Tav (bard) - Astarion (Rogue) - Gale/Shadowheart (both Clerics) - Karlach/Lae'zel and well... I wasn't sure if Bladelock would keep up because it's underwhelming in traditional D&D. But I like what Larian did with the pact boon. Just putting the main draw of hexblade right into it and making Extra Attack included.

rest of rambling under a cut for end of act 2 spoilers!

When I scouted around Moonrise earlier I noticed these rafters and was immediately like OH it's Shattered Sanctum all over again lmao -- to kill the goblin leaders I basically had Astarion sneak all about the rafters and snipe from where he was hidden above. Didn't QUITE work the same at Moonrise because they had archers already up there but was still effective.

Also Wyll uh... got his ass handed to him. a lot lmao. I don't think I've had anyone get downed so often. But he had the moon lance from Aylin and hit hard with it!

Ketheric kinda... surprised me? The first battle with him was TOUGH dude could fucking smite the shit outta my guys. and then WOAH THE MINDFLAYER COLONY??? HELLO???? I was screaming the entire time

I was very keen to tie up quest lines before going to find the Nightsong but there was nothing on Zevlor so I kinda just, hoped he would show up in the VIP Prisoner Suite where the senator guy supposedly was and yup, there was the guy's tail sticking out of his pod lol. Was glad to make it out of that fight with everyone alive.

yeah sure connect yourself to the weird neural apparatus surely nothing will go wrong there.

And then of course encountering Ketheric with the other two chosen of the death gods... man I actually felt really bad for Gale since like. I had accidentally romanced him and recently dumped him to be with Astarion, but then when talking Gale down from activating the Nether Orb he was like "No, I don't want to kill you" and aauuhhh that got me tearing up a bit. Like despite the hurt the dude still cares.

The Persuasion roll to to apparently talk Ketheric out of a rematch seemed WAY too low and it was like. I immediately knew there was going to a way worse fight and I WAS RIGHT AAAA A FUGGIN GOD SHOWED UP AAAA but!! I think I handled it pretty smoothly despite my usual "camp in darkness and wait for mooks to get whacked by Spirit Guardians" strategy not working lmao. Dimension Door to get Aldrich and Wyll over to Aylina and free her, Astarion I had sneak onto a platform before the fight so he could easily nuke the skellies with a fire arrow, and Spirit Guardians still having use as Gale dashed around destroying them lmao. Only thing I dont want to admit is how long it took me to realise that boss guy is stationary and I could just... plop down Wall of Fire on top of him lol.

Really admire Aylina's intensity and her being like "I was trapped in 100 years of sorrow, vanquished the great evil, now I am reunited with my lover and GONNA FUCK"

She's just so intense I love her. I hope she sticks around!

#crowbar plays bg3 #aldiirn bg3

[beavesaintmarie]

bet ya anything now that teddy is about to become a murderbot the same people who talk about how boring teddy and dolores are will be shipping it like ‘wow now he’s an asshole i suddenly care about him and this ship and that’s in no way a commentary about who i am as person!’ 

#like i'm all in for this arc. i rather knew that s2 there was gonna be some SERIOUS angsty fallout from Dolores becoming terminator jane #so i BEEN ready for this and i think it's gonna give Marsden a chance to show off some of his crazy range #and imma ship that ship till i die no matter what im in love with that ship #BUT #IMMA BE JUDGING EVERYONE WHO SAYS 'OMG NOW I FIND TEDDY INTERESTING!' #cause it's like teddy was already capable of going ham on motherfuckers BUT AT HIS CORE HE WAS A LOVER NOT A FIGHTER #AND THAT'S WHAT'S BEAUTIFUL ABOUT HIM #HE SNAP YOU LIKE A TWIG BUT CHOOSES NOT TO. THAT'S HOT. #now he's gonna be just bodying bitches left and right and imma stan but imma also mourn for my purehearted son #AND HOPE HE FINDS HIS WAY OUTTA THE DARKNESS D: #westworld related #crazy ramblings of a troubled mind...

[dominantslasherking]

Michael Myers x Childhood Friend Male reader

Basically Michael had only one friend which was Male reader and he ends up meeting Make reader after so many years and becomes obsessed with him

Love you And your work<333

Michael Myers with dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

"Leave him alone!" You screamed out running as fast as your small body could take you, charging at the other's boys we were beating up a small kid, with short blonde hair.

"And what the hell are you gonna-" Before the bully could speak up, you suddenly socked him in the face, doing the same to the other one as well. You helped the boy up, and tugged him along with you, "Let's get outta here before they get back up!" You muttered to him, noticing the bruises on his arms and face as well as the current bloody scratches

<<>>

Gently taking a cotton swab and cleaning up his bloody scratches, before putting dinosaur bandaids on him. "Thank you..." He muttered out, looking at you with utter awe, you gave him a smile, finally, he decided to talk to you after the intense silence.

"It's alright, I'm glad to help...hopefully my parents don't find out...That I attack those bullies." you scratched your head in awkwardness. "'I'm (Name) (Last Name)!" You quickly introduced yourself with a smile holding out your hand, only for him to just stare and look at it reluctantly.

"Michael Myers." He spoke looking at you, as you took his hand to show him your comics.

And that was how you and the future slasher became best buddies, of course until the fatal accident of him, murdering his parents and sister.

<><>

"Mommy? Where are they taking Michael?" You asked in confusion clinging onto your mother, as she tried to pry your eyes away from Michaels's fretful gaze upon you.

"(Name!), (Name!)!" Michael called out to you, frantically trying to get to you, but the cops quickly held him back and tazed him.

You tried to run towards him but your mother held onto you tightly and told you no multiple times.

<<>><<>>><<<>>>><<<>>><<<>>>><<<>>><<<>>>>><<>>><>>>><<>>>><>>

Wiping the blood off your lip as you smiled in the mirror, touching the cut, before looking towards your nightstand and seeing the little picture of your childhood you hung up. It was you and a boy...what was his name again...Mike? No...no, something close.

You let out a hum, as you drew closer to the picture and lifted it up into your hands, you gently traced the old photo and suddenly muttered, "Michael Myers..." Your husky voice rang out in the house, before the lights suddenly turned off, the entire house switched into bleak and black darkness.

"Ah, shit, they told me this house had nothing wrong with it!" you cursed out. Recently moving into this house, was something you didn't know why you did...maybe it was because you remembered your dear friend Michael recently, and couldn't forget about him, but your parents rather forced you to as they sent you to therapy after learning of what your friend did.

Maybe you moved here hoping he would return one day, and still consider you a friend.

You neatly placed the picture back where it was, before halting to the door, you opened the door, only suddenly to be forcefully slammed on your butt.

"What the hell?" You cursed out in the darkness, your eyes slightly adjusting as you made out the figure of a tall man in a suit, wearing a mask. But what mostly caught your eyes was the knife.

You quickly got up, not expecting him to put you in a quick chokehold, He leaned down almost as if teasing you as he raised his knife.

Michaels's eyes suddenly snapped to the picture, tilting his head, of course at first he took a quick glance...but it did seem strange.

The slasher suddenly dropped you, slowly making his way over to the picture.

"H-Hey-D-Don't touch that!" You yell, not wanting the killer to ruin your prized picture.

You watched as he pointed at the small version of you, "U-uhm-?" You looked at him confused as he turned back at you and pointed with much more aggression. "You want to know who the boy is?" You asked out not sure if that is what he wanted to get across.

Michael nodded his head, "Well, thats me..." You spoke up, Michael taking a closer look at you and the younger version of you, seeing a resemblance.

"Michael.." His deep voice spoke out saying his own name as he pointed at the picture and then himself.

Gulping on your saliva, you slowly walked forward, as Michael put the knife down to his side. Gently placing your palm on his mask, he leaned into the touch, needily.

"The recent murders, of the men with the same hair, eye color and much more as me...were you?" You slowly put it together...Before continuing, "Did you get angry that they weren't me?" He figuriously nodded his head

"I see," You spoke, awkwardly pulling him into a hug. At last, the slasher had you right where he wanted you, holding him, after so many stalkings and killings of the wrong people, he finally found you.

His childhood friend and soon-to-be lover that he would do, anything for. And I mean, Anything

#michael myers x male reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers fanfic #Slasher x male reader #Michael myers #Slasher x reader

[ichigopanhpff]

Last Promise

Warnings: Some manga spoilers from the start of The 3 Deities arc, established relationship between Mitsuya and afab!reader. This can be considered a one-shot off of "Begin Again", but can also be enjoyed as a stand alone :D

Genre: Angst, No comfort, Bit of violence.

Banner art by me :)

–

Finding herself feel nostalgic, (Y/N) wandered the twilight streets of Shibuya alone. Looking up at the clear night sky, she sighed at these peaceful days she once yearned for in the past. Suddenly finding herself at the steps of Musashi Shrine, she made her way up to where Toman used to have their meetings, the pale moonlight illuminating her path up. Her brows knitted in confusion upon seeing unconscious bodies laid out by the temple.

She ran up and immediately recognized the first boy with short mousy brown hair.

“Peh-yan!” she called, shaking him by the shoulders in an attempt to wake him, only to see the unresponsiveness of his white eyes. She looked up and her line of sight immediately fell on a familiar set of short lilac hair after seeing Draken’s braided tail and Chifuyu’s undercut.

She gasped and ran to her boyfriend’s side. Carefully rolling him on his back, she supported the upper half of his body by cradling it. His face was littered with bloodied scrapes and bruises; his breath was ragged and winced in pain with every exhale.

“(Y/N)…” he hoarsely groaned and seethed from his injuries. “Get outta here.”

“No way! Are you nuts?!”

His bloody lips tried to form more words, only to have his consciousness slip. She called him a few more times to no avail.

“Oh, it’s you,” a familiar voice called without emotion. She turned to see Mikey staring down at her blankly. He was wearing a set of black sweats.

“Mikey!” she cried and gently set Mitsuya down. “Come help me! Someone’s attacked them!”

While she busied herself trying to prop her boyfriend up against the wall, the blond stood stationary, his dark eyes peering down at the ground. The silence from her friend shot a sudden chill down her spine, sensing ill, malicious intent.

She slowly pivoted her head back at the blond, breathing shallowly with widened eyes.

“… Mikey?” she warily called this time with a shudder in her breath.

“They were pretty stubborn,” he uttered out; she then noticed at his fresh, bloodied knuckles. She slowly stood and faced Toman’s former commander with hesitation, feeling her palms get clammy and her pulse quicken.

“… You did this?” she asked in disbelief. “Why?!”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t see you,” he continued, completely ignoring her questions. Just as he took two steps forward, she took two back with a defensive stance. “You’ll ruin my plans.”

“(Y/N)…” she heard Chifuyu grunt out from the far end, his body struggling to get up. “Run…”

"Mikey..." Draken raggedly called his friend, trying to stand. "Don't..."

“I dunno what you’re trying to do, but you need to st--”

Her sentence was cut off mid-way by Mikey’s burst of speed. He launched his signature roundhouse kick that she managed to dodge by the skin of her teeth, propelling her back near the stairs. She huffed an audible grunt, feeling the sting and rattle of his attack down to her bones. That hit felt like the hilt of a blade impacting the base of someone’s skull.

He was serious this time.

I guess we can’t talk, she thought to herself and prepared to fight. It’d been a while since she’s exchanged hits with anyone after her shoulder healed up and prayed she was successful in knocking some sense back into her kindred spirit.

He charged at her again, this time with a right straight. (Y/N) dodged it and grabbed his arm to twist it behind his back to disengage, only to be countered with his footwork. Steadying herself, she jumped into the offensive and led with a feint before going in with a left low hook to his body. Even though the hit connected, he was able to recover quickly and slugged her in the stomach, making her collapse on one knee and coughed violently.

“What are you trying to say?!”

She steadied her breathing to stand with shaky legs, her glare staring back into a black abyss. She hated what she saw; it was like she was fighting herself from two years ago.

That was it. It all made sense. He’s trying to push them away.

What the actual fuck; he said he wouldn't! Why would he lie? What changed?

“You better explain yourself after this, Manjirou,” she growled out, feeling the adrenaline rush all over.

She had to get aggressive.

The two went head to head and exchanged a high kick before backing off. Mikey charged at her with his punches, to which she managed to defend against. When he extended out again, (Y/N) grabbed his forearm and flipped him successfully. His back hit the pebbled grounds, only to rebound and jump at her again like it never happened. Just as she prepared to counter, the blond suddenly grabbed the back of her head with the kind of gentleness she expected from Mitsuya leaned with a chaste kiss on her lips.

Shocked from the sudden turn of events, she stared back at him after he released.

A single tear streamed from his obsidian eyes filled with pain and loneliness.

That was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

Feeling the cool spring breeze whip through in the calm night, she slowly stirred and fluttered her eyes open. The blurriness of the night sky gave way after adjusting her eyes to see the full moon shining above. She tried to move and immediately winced at the shooting pain from the base of her neck that traveled up to her temples and the middle of her torso, letting out a ragged hiss from her lips from the throbbing headache.

Rather than continuing to fight her, Mikey knocked her out. The tips of her cold fingertips gingerly found their way up to touch her lips; tears slipped uncontrollably out of her eyes.

All the words he couldn’t say were expressed through that one gesture.

“I promised I'd protect everyone no matter what. Be happy and forget me. I love you. Goodbye.”

#manjiro sano #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mitsuya takashi #draken tokyo revengers #matsuno chifuyu #peh yan #tokyorev fanfiction #tokyorev spoilers

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

#happy SINday :) #pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

#Request 2

"(M)Civilian is a dedicated (M)Hero worshipper. (M)Villain happens to catch wind of this and decides to show make Civilian see how much better he is through "force." Wink wonk.)

Warning: nsfw, non-con/dub-con, kidnapping.

Boy, oh boy did this one take some energy outta me lol. I still had a lot of fun writing it tho! It was a nice little challenge :]

Hope you enjoy!

~~~~

A groan echoed throughout the room as Civilian slowly regained consciousness. He struggled to open his eyes amidst the drowsiness of his body, but when he finally came to, he took in his surroundings. The room was dark, its details hard to make out, but that was fine.

It was fine because Civilian didn't need his sight to know that someone had chained up his arms above his head. Focusing on the rest of his body, he realized that he was lying on top of a soft bed. The sheets smelled fresh, as if someone had just changed them.

"Where the hell am I? Could this be-" - a gasp left the civilian's lips as a possibility entered his head, shaking him to his very core. "Could... Could this be Hero's doing?" - a shudder overcame his body at the thought. Could it be? Had Hero- His one and only Hero, kidnapped him? Hid him away someplace safe? Somewhere where no one would ever find him?

Oh, the mere thought was making his body burn with need. Civilian could feel the blood rushing down to his dick as he imagined Hero fucking him senselessly into the pillows below him. Trapped, in chains, and completely at the hero's mercy. All for Hero to do with as he pleased, for Hero to mark and bruise, and use.

Well, this wouldn't be the first time his Hero had graced- No, blessed Civilian with his attention. Oh, and what a blessing it was! To feel Hero's hands on his skin, to feel the hero's gorgeous cock sliding in and out of his hole. He couldn't wait- He couldn't wait to please-

Civilian's body froze at the sound of a door opening and closing. His breathing grew shaky in his excitement. With a flick of a switch, dim lights shone upon the room, barely improving the civilian's ability to see. But it was enough! It was more than enough to see-

"Villain?!" - Civilian exclaimed, rage and disgust evident in his voice. What was he doing here? What did this disgraceful thing want? His Hero's enemy. How- How dare he-

"Ah, I see you're awake." - Villain replied, his eyes traveling up and down Civilian's vulnerable body. "Good." - the villain finished as he locked the door he had just come through and proceeded to make his way towards the bed.

Civilian thrashed against his chains and yelled - "I don't know what it is that you want, but whatever it is, you're not getting it!" The civilian kept pulling fruitlessly at the chains as Villain stopped at the bed's edge. Their eyes locked, and Civilian froze at his gaze. There was something in his eyes. The way he looked at Civilian... It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Civilian couldn't help the lump that formed in his throat as Villain climbed onto the bed. He fought his restraints once more as the foul villain sat atop his outstretched legs. He tried to throw him off, but to no avail, Villain remained in place, his hands cradling the civilian's face as he said - "Oh, don't worry, Civilian. I already got what I wanted~."

"W-What?" - Civilian asked, confused. Did- Did something happen to Hero? Had Villain captured him? Hurt him? "What- What have you-"

"I got you." - the villain interrupted. Blood drained from the civilian's face as Villain began to run his hands down his chest.

"No! D-Don't touch me!" - Civilian could only yell as Villain caressed his body. He squirmed as the villain's hands ran down his waist, gliding along his hips.

"S-Stop! I'm- I'm Hero's! Only Hero can touch me!" - he exclaimed as the villain's touch moved down his thighs and then swiftly came back up to his crotch.

"Oh, don't make me laugh." - Villain responded as he palmed Civilian's dick through his pants, his other hand playing with one of his nipples, making the man's breath hitch. "I could treat you so much better than Hero ever could~." - he claimed, whispering lowly.

"N-No!" - Civilian proclaimed, closing his eyes and turning his head away from Villain, not wanting to look at his captor. How dare Villain try and turn him against Hero?! He wouldn't get swayed so easily! The villain could never make him feel better than Hero could-

"Okay." - Villain said, suddenly withdrawing his hands from Civilian's body, who, to his own embarrassment, whined quietly in response. The civilian bit his lip as the villain's laugh echoed across the room.

"What's the matter? I thought you didn't want me touching you?" - Villain asked, grinning with pure glee. Oh, this one was plain starving to be touched, wasn't he?

"I- I don't!" - Civilian replied, his eyes open once more but still turned away from the man above him. He could feel his face heat up in shame. He- He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this! Only Hero was supposed to make him feel like this! Villain... Villain shouldn't have such an effect on him...

"I'm a disgrace. I'm- I'm supposed to be Hero's! Not Villain's! Only... Only Hero's..." - Civilian's train of thought was interrupted as Villain's hand teased him once more, the villain's knuckles gliding along his cock perfectly.

But Civilian bit his tongue, refusing to make a sound. Villain merely grinned at the sight before him. "Very persistent about belonging to Hero, aren't you?" - the villain received nothing but Civilian's increasingly shaky breathing as an answer. The other man still not looking at him.

Civilian just refused to give up, didn't he? That's alright. Villain didn't mind. In fact, he always liked a good challenge.

"You know..." - Villain began as he unzipped the other's pants, freeing his dick from its confinement. Civilian couldn't stop an unsteady gasp from escaping his lips as the criminal's hand slowly and oh, so gently stroked his cock. His pace was so agonizingly slow. "You could have a lot more than this..." - he continued. "There's just one teeny, tiny condition..."

Villain took hold of Civilian's chin, forcing him to make eye contact, and as his captor's words registered in his mind, a pit of uncertainty grew deep in the civilian's stomach.

"You have to worship me and not Hero."

"Since- Ah... Since when do y-you care about that?" - Civilian questioned, still trying his hardest not to show his pleasure. Why was he being affected by Villain's touch?! That wasn't right! Hero was much better than the villain! He... Hero... Had Hero ever... bothered to make Civilian feel good?

Villain gripped the captured's dick harshly, bringing him back to the present and making him whine as he whispered in his ear - "Since I found out Hero has his own little cult sucking his dick off all day and night."

Before Civilian could respond, Villain returned to stroking his sex, his grip now firm but not painful, his pace fast but not quick enough to end the fun right away. It was perfection. The civilian could feel his orgasm coming closer and closer. "S-Shit... Oh... Y-Yes... Yes...!"

Only for Villain to let go of him.

"No!" - the man whined before he could even realize what he had done. He froze as Villain's expression filled with sick triumph. "I- I didn't- I..." - he tried only to whimper as the man above him run his finger up and down his shaft, teasing his already sensitive penis. His feather-light touch made Civilian want to scream.

"Hero never touches you like this, does he~?" - Villain inquired, but Civilian refused to talk, biting his own lip so hard that it bled. The villain leaned forward and licked the blood off of his face before locking their lips in a light kiss. Civilian didn't want to kiss back. He didn't, but he did anyway, and he hated just how good it felt. He hated just how right Villain was.

All of this was so new to Civilian, so new and overwhelming. To have someone pleasure him like this... It was just too much. Civilian wanted- No, he needed release. "P-Please..." - he pleaded breathlessly once Villain ended their kiss.

"Please what~?" - the criminal pressed, rubbing small circles on the tip of Civilian's dick with his thumb, making the man whimper.

"Please- I- I need to come. Please." - Civilian begged.

"Hmmm..." - Villain studied him for a minute, pretending to consider just giving the other man what he wanted. But of course, it wouldn't be that easy. "Tell me... Who do you belong to? Me or Hero?"

"I- Ah! I..."

"Well?" - Villain demanded, applying just a little bit more pressure to Civilian's dick.

Who did Civilian belong to? Who would he worship? He had spent so many years below Hero... Pleasing him as best as he could. But Hero never bothered to pay him back. Hero never bothered to please Civilian.

"But... Will Villain still do all of this after I agree...? Or will he be the same as Hero?"

"..."

To Villain's disappointment, Civilian did not answer him. The villain let go of the other's dick once more and crossed his arms with an annoyed sigh.

"Really? You're not going to answer me?"

"..." - Civilian remained quiet, guilt etched on his face.

"Wait, guilt? Then that must mean..." - To the civilian's confusion, a grin returned to Villain's face as a realization hit him. "You didn't even say that you belong to Hero."

Villain's words made Civilian's eyes widen, and he tried to avert his gaze once again, but Villain did not allow him to. He grabbed a fistful of the captured's hair and leaned in closer.

"You just need more convincing, don't you~?" - the criminal whispered. Civilian's worry only grew as Villain fully undressed his lower half, pants and underwear thrown off to the side. To Villain's pleasant surprise, the civilian didn't fight against him as much this time.

Villain let go of Civilian's head, both his hands trailing down the other man's back, making him arch as he suppressed a whine. They stopped at his ass, squeezing, kneading at Civilian's soft flesh.

It felt good. So good, but Civilian wasn't convinced. Not yet anyway...

"Mmmm, say, could you flip over for me~?" - Villain asked, his hands back on Civilian's chest, simply enjoying the other's body.

The sudden d̶e̶m̶a̶n̶d̶, no, request caught Civilian off guard. Villain asked him. Hero never asked for anything. He always just demanded to be given what he wanted.

Still... doubt clouded Civilian's mind as he willingly flipped over. This was just a trick, right? It had to be. Villain was just playing nice with him so he could get what he wanted. So he could have Civilian 'willingly' submit to him as he fucked his ass without care.

The civilian's suspicion only increased at the sound of the villain unzipping his pants. Villain shuddered as the cold air around them hit his dick. He grabbed Civilian's hips and brought his ass into the air, making the other man shudder as well.

"This is it..." - Civilian thought as he prepared for the worst. He could feel Villain's cock ready at his hole. The civilian failed to realize it earlier, but Villain was hard. "He will stop playing nice now. He'll just fuck me, use me- he-"

Normally, Civilian wasn't bothered by being used. Hero had used him all the time after all. But now? Now Villain had shown him just how different things could be. He had shown him just how amazing it was to have someone touch you. To have someone pleasure you.

Civilian just couldn't go back from that. He couldn't go back to only being used, to only being someone else's toy, he-

He gasped in surprise as Villain slowly slid into him.

Then slowly back out...

And then slowly back in...

Civilian's chained hands clawed at the plush bed beneath him. It was so good. So, so good he was about to cry. Villain's pace was just right. It was excellent.

The civilian could only groan in response as his captor whispered in his ear - "You thought I would go as fast as Hero does, hmm~?" One of the villain's hands traveled from Civilian's hips to his dick. Grasping it and stroking it calmly once more, making him bury his face in the pillows below him as he moaned in ecstasy, not caring about keeping quiet anymore.

"W-Wait, but how does he know-"

"I have spy drones following Hero everywhere he goes... I've seen how he treats you." - Villain murmured against Civilian's skin, making yet another shudder run through him.

"Hero is always in such a hurry, but I like to take things more... slowly." - the villain said as his free hand squeezed one of Civilian's ass cheeks, making him moan even louder. "Hero likes to rush things, while I like a good build-up." - Villain continued as he slightly sped up.

The change in speed making the man below him moan out something that vaguely resembled Villain's name. "Oh, I'd love to hear more of that." - Villain thought as he let out a moan of his own, the feeling of Civilian's muscles clenching around his dick filling him with bliss.

"Tell me, Civilian, do you want to come~?" - the villain asked sweetly, making the civilian lift his head from the pillows and beg.

"Y-Yes! Please, Villain... I-I need it..." - the man whined. Villain grinned at the sound and seized all his movement.

Before Civilian could whine or complain, Villain reasked him the fate-deciding question - "Who do you belong to~?"

Civilian pondered this for a moment.

But only a moment.

"Fuck it. Hero would never touch me like this. Not even if he wanted to convince me to do something for him. Villain... Villain is my new Master."

"Y-You! I-I belong to you, Villain!" - Civilian exclaimed, a pleading look in his eyes that Villain couldn't see anyway. But it didn't matter.

"Good answer~." - Villain purred, as he began to move once more, even faster this time. His pace rough as he slammed into Civilian over and over again, but not as ruthlessly as Hero. Overflowing with pleasure, the civilian screamed out his name, chanting it like a mantra as Villain stroked his cock with unrivaled speed.

And before he knew it, Civilian came hard, staining the sheets below them. Villain kept up his touch throughout the civilian's orgasm, milking him for every drop of cum his dick could manage to let out.

With a few more quick thrusts, Villain's hot seed filled Civilian's insides, and he welcomed the feeling. As their breathing calmed, Villain slid out of him, making him shudder one more time, and undid his restraints, collapsing next to him.

"Did you enjoy that~?" - Villain asked slyly as if he didn't know the answer already.

"T-That was... amazing." - Civilian responded, still catching his breath. "Sex with Hero couldn't even fucking compare to this."

"Mmm, glad you think so. Now, if you play nice, you can have even more in the future. Understand~?" - Villain inquired, taking hold of the other's chin, bringing their faces closer.

"Y-Yes, Master." - the man's reply made Villain shiver with glee as he grinned and dragged him into a kiss, which Civilian did not hesitate to return.

#villain x civilian #civilian x villain #writing #writeblr #villain #civilian #hero #request prompts #prompt request #request #writing prompt #prompt

[hellosummersun00]

The Dark Pictures Anthology: Biohazard

Someone has been sleeping on the dirty mattress right on the floor. It was a man, well-built, but weak by the hits, that have turned bruises on his hands and other open body pieces purple. Jason recognized him at once: by the shaved nape, dark hair, clothes that he has gone missing in.

"Joe," his name slipped out with lightweight and at the same time painful gasp. How Jason could abandon his the only one loved person in this disgusting, monstrous and frightful place? Has he really been here for 3 years? How he could come in this state and what other investigations did? What these people have done with him all this time?

More terrible questions arised in Jason's head. But except it the most terrifying was the fact that Joe has been in this place because of him. If Jason hadn't turned away from his words and guesswork, Joe would have been alright.

"Joe!" called him again Jason, hard and loud.

The man on the other side of the cage woke up from familiar voice. It has sounded in his head from time to time, when pain backed down. Sometimes, staying in the absolute darkness, listening someone's footsteps between the walls and imagining this nasty image, Joe whispered the brother's name and called him for help. After 3 years he stopped to believe that someone will come after him and save.

"Hey, buddy, it's me," Jason smiled softly, not the way he usually does it. He just wanted that his brother will be in safe for the first time in a long while. But what he had seen, made him erased all emotions from face.

Joe got up from the mattress and looked at Jason. The fresh bruise under his right eye started swelling and the red cut over the eyebrow on the same side was well visible to Jason. Sharp cheekbones became more noticeable. But the most hard thing was the empty, lost and frightened look. Will his former funny enthusiast Joe return someday? Or this place have already taken his soul?

"Jason, is it you?" only his voice was the same, a little quiet, but the same. It had seemed that an instant hope twinkled in his eyes, but immediately lost in the cold dull room light.

"Yep, bro. And I get you outta here."

"It must be key somewhere here. Look next to the workbench, the old man usually leave it there," continued quietly Joe.

Jason explored quickly the owner's workshop. He found an old metallic key on the wall among rusty tools. Joe held onto the cage to not fall. It was problematic to stand on his own two feet. Joe watched every Jason's action carefully. They hadn't been too close before Joe's disappearance: despite the family bond, Jason spent his time with Nick mostly, and Joe didn't want to intrude and ruin their comfort. Nevertheless, Jason has been always worried about his brother and has been ready to help him, he's the only one left of the whole family. But Jason wasn't there with him in the most needed moment.

"Joe!" Jason grabbed him in tight hug. Joe freezed for the moment, but then clapped unsure his back and put arms around him too. "I knew you're alive. Nobody believed me, but your message... fuck, I just knew it!"

"Message? What's the message?"

"You sent me a video. Told me where I can find you. Said come after you and save."

"I've sent nothing to you."

Jason let his brother go and looked seriously at him.

"You don't remember it? You've sent a record and said in it you're in fucked up mess. Asked pull you out from this place. It was two days ago."

"Yeah I made some record for you. But it was three years ago and I warned you never come here."

"What are you fuck talking about? I'm not bloody crazy! You've said where to go, so I'm here."

"Someone changed my record. But how they could falsify it so professional?"

"Dunno. But we must get outta here right now."

Jason hadn't had time to move from Joe when the second one couldn't stand more on his feet, falling on the floor and making an unpleasant moan.

"You're ok?" Jason got down on one knee to him.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Dark veins appeared on Joe's hands, he started to breathe frequently, making hoarse and growling sounds. Jason touched his shoulder and angry black eyes looked at him with the ruthless abyss in them.

"Fuck what's wrong with you?" asked nervously Jason.

"They... they've done something to me."

"What exactly?"

"I don't fucking know!" shouted Joe, and his face distorted due to pain. He fell in Jason's hands again. "I don't wanna die here, Jason. I don't wanna die."

"You won't die, I won't let this happen."

"You don't know these monsters. They're not humans. They won't let us go."

"I'd survived in the fucking mess, so this house seems bullshit to me. I won't lose you again. We just need to go. Now."

#the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures man of medan #house of ashes #man of medan #jason kolchek #joe roberts #joe × jason