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#technically speaking it’s really really good

fuckyeahisawthat · 2 days

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One of the most interesting things about the Atreides characters to me is the constant tension between formal and informal power dynamics going on in that House.

Leto and Jessica seem to have a fairly equitable relationship where they genuinely love and respect each other. This rests entirely on the fact that Leto is generally a Good Dude on an interpersonal level, who like, sees Jessica as a person and recognizes and appreciates her intelligence, skills and political acumen. While concubine to the head of a Great House seems to be a fairly high-status role in their world, we know it is not equal in social standing to the role of a wife, and certainly not equal to the male head of the House. Leto does treat Jessica as his equal informally, but by the social rules of their world he certainly doesn't have to.

Similarly, Leto treats Gurney, Duncan and Thufir like trusted colleagues and confidantes, and while they formally treat him with a certain amount of deference (addressing him as Sire or my Lord and accepting that he will be the final authority on things), it's also clear that informally, none of them are hesitant to speak their minds in front of him, offer suggestions or contradict him on something.

Paul's relationships with Duncan and Gurney are similarly complex. They're both older than him and serve as his mentors/teachers. Neither of them are afraid to tease him, challenge him, or reprimand him when they think he's doing something risky. They love him in an almost-familial way and would protect him with their lives. It seems like Paul would like to be friends with them on equal terms. But formally they are both his servants. Or, more precisely, while Leto is alive they are his father's servants and know they have Leto to answer to if anything should happen to his son.

The moments when the formal power dynamics assert themselves are always fascinating. When Paul and Gurney are first reunited, I would say Gurney is still treating Paul like a Duke's son and not a Duke. He's loyal and he is overjoyed to know Paul is still alive, but he still calls Paul by his first name and talks to him like he's giving advice to someone who's still learning. But then there is that moment when Paul pulls rank and gives Gurney a direct order to go to the south and Gurney's demeanor immediately shifts. He only ever addresses Paul as my Lord after that, and he treats him with a deference that makes it clear they are lord and vassal, not friends or family members.

(And like, technically once Leto is dead, Paul is the Duke and everyone in House Atreides is Paul's vassal--including Jessica. Practically when it comes to Paul giving Jessica an order she does not want to follow...well I would like to see him fucking try.)

Leto's leadership style with those close to him seems very much based on creating a familial, mutually protective vibe that wins him intense loyalty. (It is really interesting to see him try this on Stilgar who doesn't buy it for a second.) We see Paul try to emulate that, possibly with an even more intense longing for relationships of genuine equality that's born out of growing up with no peers of his same age and status around him.

But there is still always a little bit of power imbalance, because the chill vibes rely entirely on the continued benevolence of the Atreides men, and that benevolence can be withdrawn at any time.

#dune #dune part two #paul atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #duncan idaho #gurney halleck #house atreides #i like to imagine paul trying to explain all these wack power dynamics to chani and shishakli and them being like. what the fuck dude

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viperwhispered · 2 days

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I don't know about you, but I find shared baths deeply intimate. Mostly cause first you have to be very comfortable with the person you're bathing with and there's an intense feeling of safety that you boundaries will be respected.

Apply this to Jamil who is arguably the most paranoid man in all of TWST. Imagine he and his s/o are getting serious and Jamil is finally starting to really open up. It's also the stage where things are getting steamier, so to speak.

As both a sign of trust and a way to get used to each others naked bodies, the couple starts bathing together. The physical vulnerability of it since their both nude is further amplified since they have to wash/touch each other. That in itself requires a lot of trust.

Just imagine this: gently applying shampoo into Jamil's silky hair while he rants about his day, slowly revealing more about his past and insecurities. Then they switch and now the reader is the one opening up about their struggles while Jamil massages the soap onto their back. Kissing any scars they might have, talking about the most random things, playing with the water, and just enjoying this moment between Jamil and his beloved. Jamil is just so busy that he relishes being able to just enjoy their presence close to him.

There's also a strong desexualizing element. Jamil and the reader likely grew up with a notion that nudity is embarrassing and should only happen with a sexual partner. While this statement is technically true, they aren't in a sexual situation. They're trusting each other to respect their boundaries in such a way that the way they view each other goes from "potential sex object" to "a body that so happens to belong to my dearest".

Which further adds to my hot take of the "If evil why hot" route with OB!Jamil being pre-relationship.

Also, fun concept: washing away blot.

Imagine they're at the very end of the overblot Jamil boss fight. The phantom is defeated but there's still some blot left. So the reader pushes him into the river created by Kalim and holds him there as the water washes away the blot. When he starts calming down, they gently start rubing the blot off. Slowly trekking their fingers through his hair as the snakes dissappear. By the end they're left with an exhausted sulky wet Jamil. The reader then kisses his forehead as they wrap a towel around him.

Aww there definitely is a lot of potential for sweetness with stuff like this. I mean, having someone wash your hair, cleaning up together… It really can feel so intimate and vulnerable.

Now, I feel like I should add the caveat that I'm Finnish, so I'm fairly used to seeing other people's bodies in the sauna, for example, and the whole concept of nudity = sex is not quite so strong for me, personally. (Though personally I'm not likely to go to a mixed sauna, especially with strangers, but still.) So my perspective for the nudity aspect may be a little bit different, though I do definitely agree with these scenarios being intimate and potentially vulnerable. Like, you really do need to let your guard down to let someone see you bared like that, no hiding behind your clothes (or status) or anything else. Just, people, together.

Which definitely ties into that whole opening up for each other. We always tend to say that people are equal in the sauna, and it (perhaps surprisingly) is a good place for those deep, intimate conversations. So I can definitely see that same vibe for this bathing together, too.

Also just, the thought of squeezing into the tub together, trying to figure out how to adjust everyone's limbs and bodies so that you're both comfortable in there (and covered by water enough to actually get to enjoy it). One of you wrapping your arms around the other, holding them close, it's just… So sweet, and intimate, and also you kind of have to be “normal” about it to make it work (I don't really have the words for these vibes, just, yes it's intimate and vulnerable but at the same time you kinda just have to treat it as a normal thing if it's gonna work).

Just eugh I love this concept so much.

(Also now I'm definitely wondering how the twst guys would feel about sauna, perhaps even with the whole “run off naked to the lake to cool off a bit and then go enjoy some more heat” extra shebang.)

Oof that washing off blot, though… Oh it's going straight for my heart 😭 Just the whole I'm still here for you, I'm here taking care of you, let's wash away what happened (both literally and figuratively). Oh boy what a concept ripe for being picked apart.

(Also for some reason it's making me think of like washing off bodies for funerals, but in this particular case more in the sense of washing off the old self / what happened, something to allow rebirth or something. Or like, this could've destroyed him, but didn't. Idk, there's just so much one could do with this. Maybe it's just the talk of being washed in a river specifically that's making me think of like Lemminkäinen’s mother and all sorts of stuff.)

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #ner talks #chatting with folks #lex752 #I hope I'm making sense my thoughts are kinda all over the place right now #these are such delicious thoughts to chew over tho #(also yes that squeezing into a bath together musing is definitely from experience)#funnily enough I'm so used to having a sauna (and just a shower) that baths always seem like the exotic option #(I mean I also fall asleep in a bath in about 3 seconds so it's not exactly something that'd work for me anyway)#(at least if I'm alone I'd be too concerned of just falling asleep and sinking under the surface)

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maybege · 2 days

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What If - Part 3

Summary: The more you get to know Paz Vizsla, the more you fall for him.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), semi-public sex, thigh riding, cockwarming, dirty talk, idiots in love

Whoop whoop! Another weekend, another part! This is, technically, part 2.2 with some more smut, some fluff, some idiots in love and a very special adorable guest star that could not miss if we want to talk about Paz in S3. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote a comment or reblogged the story so far, I really appreciate it and I hope that you enjoy this part too. The next (and last) part will be out either next week or the week after, just because I need to channel all the angst lol

Again: Just a little reminder, that this is not strictly adhering to canon and I am just roughly imagining what actually happened during these episodes.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You woke up alone the next morning, the sun already high in the sky. It was later than usual but you felt so blissed out, you could not really bring yourself to care. Your entire body felt deliciously exhausted and as you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a big yawn, you realized that you had slept better in this stranger’s (though could still call Paz Vizsla a stranger now?) bed than in the last few years in your own cot.

There was a fresh bowl of fruit on the desk and this time you did not hesitate to devour the tasty berries which you knew he had meant for you. The sheer fact alone that Paz Vizsla had organized breakfast for you made your heart race.

The sun was out in full force by the time you left the ship. You could see people milling about, carrying crates this and that way and for a moment you felt bad that you had slept the day away instead of helping.

But then you thought about how your job for these few days was to be a calmer. And if your alpha (yours) was calm and happy and made your heart skip a beat, then you had done your job by keeping the peace and prolonging Axe Wove’s life for yet another day.

Rounding the ship to get to the inventory, you passed by another ramp, this one almost completely abandoned except for a small figure that huddled at the entrance. When you came close enough, you realised it was a child. Still helmeted with the same blue as Paz’s clan, but certainly a child if the frail shoulders and little hands were anything to go by.

For a moment, you hesitated. You didn’t know what it was like in their clan but in yours, it was rare to see a foundling on their own and even rarer to leave them on their own if they were upset. So you approached him.

“Hi,” you greeted the child sitting, “You okay?”

You could hear sniffles under his helmet and your heart broke. Clearly, they were not okay.

“Yeah,” the boy mumbled, turning away from you, “Go away.”

Forgotten were the happy activities of last night and the way Paz Vizsla could make you smile even in his absence. “Were – do you maybe want to talk to one of the elders of your tribe?”

He shook his head fervently.

“Sometimes it helps me to speak about it with a friend,” you suggested lightly, “Do you have a friend you want to talk to? I could get them if you like?”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat suddenly and you recognized the hurt in his voice, your mouth grimacing at the pain he must feel. And you were not about to abandon a hurt child, no matter how angry they might be.

True to your feelings, it did not take long before he spoke up. His voice was much softer than before.

“They said I could not be a good Mandalorian because –“ he shook his head again, folding his arms over his knees.

“Because?” you asked carefully, debating whether any of the clans might be offended if you consoled this child. But in the end, you decided, you all just valued the foundlings’ happiness.

“Because I have never been to Mandalore.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Most of the people here have never been to Mandalore,” you explained gently, “I haven’t been either and you don’t see me being treated like I’m no Mandalorian, right?”

He tilted his head, musing over your words. You could see how he was debating your helmetless existence and not for the first time did you wonder what it was like to grow up in one of the more stricter tribes. Whether their foundlings grew up knowing that there were other ways – many ways, actually – to the same goal.

“My dad has been to Mandalore,” he said suddenly with the pride only a child could have.

“Really?” you asked, “And he never told you that you need to have been on Mandalore to be a true Mandalorian?”

He shook his head eagerly. “No, he said I am a true Mandalorian no matter where I was or not. The important thing is to honour the way of the warriors,” he quoted his father with a deeper voice and you smiled at his antics.

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” you nodded, “And don’t you think he would know a bit more about being Mandalorian than your fellow foundlings?”

That seemed to give him pause. “Yes, my buir is very smart,” he said thoughtfully, “And I don’t think that Loren and Say’na have been to Mandalore either, actually.”

“See?” you nudged him playfully, “They don’t know what they’re talking about either. We are all just on our journey to become Mandalorian.”

The boy nodded, clearly in a cheerier mood than before. Then he turned to you fully. “I am Ragnar,” he inclined his head, “This is the way.”

Recognizing it as his greeting, you repeated your name and the phrase,

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked eagerly, “Have you dreamt about it? I have. I think it is going to be full of the highest mountains and no caves in sight, I don’t like caves. And waterfalls too! Buir said he saw a waterfall as a child and he promised one day he would show me.”

Grinning at his excited chatter, you listened carefully to the pictures he painted with his words. Of snow-capped mountains and rain forests so full of rain, there would never be any deserts in sight. (Turns out Ragnar did not like deserts nor the creatures that lived in them.)

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked again after a while and despite the blacked-out visor on his face, you could picture his eyes twinkling in delight.

“I think it will be full of grassy hills and lakes,” you revealed, “When I was little, I always dreamed that I could wake up to the sound of waves and take a swim whenever I wanted. Has your buir told you what Mandalore is like?”

“Buir does not like to talk about it,” he shrugged, “But I am sure if you would ask him nicely, he would tell you! He always says I'm too small for that stuff but you are big! Though my buir is bigger, he is the best warrior in our tribe and one day, I am just going to be like –“

“Who do we have here?”

“Buir!” the boy called excitedly and you watched with utter surprise and fascination as he jumped up straight into the arms of the warrior who had kept you company the last few nights.

“You are – He is – What –“

“Getting all speechless again, ‘mega?” the large man joked, “Seems I have that kind of effect on you, huh?”

You were so flustered you did not know what to say. Instead, you just snapped your mouth shut as your brain worked overtime. Paz had a son. Ragnar was Paz’s son. Paz was Ragnar’s father.

Now that you saw them together, their helmets the same colour as the night sky, you wondered how you had not realized it earlier. But Paz had never mentioned a child. And as you watched Paz set Ragnar down again, a heavy hand on his shoulder, you wondered whether Ragnar might have a mother somewhere that still played a role in Paz’s life.

The thought made you feel strangely queasy.

“Buir, she has never seen Mandalore before either,” Ragnar announced, looking up at his father, “Maybe I can be a good Mandalorian after all.”

“How many times have I told you your value as a warrior quality is not dependent on whether you have been to Mandalore,” he chided his son gently in a way that parents often did when their children finally had a revelation after years of them telling them the exact same thing.

“Sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else,” you said quietly. Paz’s gaze snapped to you and you swallowed.

“I suppose that is right,” he said and as Ragnar decided to jog back to his now-again friends to play, Paz came to stand in front of you in all his glory, covering the sun from your face.

“Ragnar is very sweet,” you started shyly, “I didn’t know he – or that you – He … he is very proud to be Mandalorian.”

“That he is,” your alpha replied, “Some clans don’t see him as my son ever since I found him all alone but to me and mine he is my son in all the ways that matter.”

“Our clan has the concept of foundlings, too, you know?” you smiled, your heart bursting in your chest at how protective he was over his son, “He is very proud of his father.”

“And I am very proud of my son,” he replied, “He, uh, he only recently had his helmet ceremony. And it got interrupted in a – he – let’s just say there is nothing I would not do for him. A world without him is no world for me.”

“And that is all that matters,” you reassured him, your heart skipping a beat while your head tortured you with images of what he would be like as a father of your children.

“Did you sleep well?”

You shook your head slightly, shaking off the question of whether he would mind being the father of your future children, “I did, though I am a bit sore.”

His hands immediately appeared at your side, gently helping you up as if soreness rendered you incapable of carrying your weight on your legs. You snorted, feverishly trying not to think about how the heat of his body seeped through your clothes, “Alpha, it is not that bad.”

“I like it when you call me alpha,” he rumbled, not seeming the least bit worried about his concern for you, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arms around you properly, “You did it last night … maybe you can do it tonight too.”

Your core felt molten at the thought of being in his arms for the rest of the day and you were sure he could see how your chest was heaving in excitement. Though as much as you wanted to, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that made you hesitant.

“I am not sure if I can leave again,” you spoke out loud, “It … Would you truly be okay with me joining your clan quarters for the night again?”

“I don’t think it will come to that conversation at all,” Paz said, his hand sweeping over your back, “The council has decided,” he announced quietly, “We will make our way to Mandalore by nightfall. And if you are comfortable with the thought, I'd like to share my cot with you.”

The ship offered no privacy.

While Paz did have his private room – the one you had spent the previous night in – getting all clans onto one or two ships, meant having to share and rethink the limited space available. As a sign of respect to the clan leader, Paz Vizsla offered Sluice his room and she accepted.

This meant that Paz, along with his fellow warriors, was assigned one of the bunk beds. And one of them meant one of 64 in a large narrow room with too high ceilings and four bunks stacked on top of each other.

The worry in his voice was clear, even through the helmet, when you helped him carry his personal belongings (including a very soft blanket you distinctly remembered cuddling into), assuring you that you could change your mind. But the thought of leaving Paz had not occurred to you once and when you pointed out that several calmers had joined their alphas in the large room and none of them seemed to mind, his shoulders had visibly relaxed.

“We will find privacy in other corners of the ship,” he had promised you, his voice low and deep and sending shivers down your spine.

Only you had not expected him to find privacy so soon.

You were walking down one of the abandoned hallways of the ship, trying to get a feel for the layout so you would not get lost on your way to the cantina again. The negotiations had been postponed once more and with Paz in his polished armour, bent over a strategy table, you decided to flee the cockpit so Chants could not see just how needy you were for your alpha.

Your alpha.

You smiled, the warm feeling in your chest expanding until your entire body felt warm and cosy, thrumming at the thought of him. Could it be that Paz Vizsla really was your alpha? You had never expected to find what some of the elders had called true mates: a person – an alpha – that was just perfect for you and for whom you were perfect. And while you were not sure if you were truly someone that he would want forever, you were getting surer and surer that he was that someone for you.

You were just about to turn a corner when a hand closed around your upper arm and drew you back. Instincts kicked on and you squeaked, flinging your leg back to try and kick back into your attacker but they turned you around so quickly, you had no chance. Within moments, your back was pressed into the cool metal wall behind you, with no option of escape. And a blue helmet entered your vision. “Paz,” you gasped just before his hand came down on your throat. He was not wearing his gloves, which meant he must have planned it all beforehand. You wondered when. And how. And if he spent more time thinking about you than you thought (an idea that filled you with an immense sense of hope) but all thought evaporated when his thumb brushed over your scent gland.

Fuck, you were needy for him.

“Is that okay?” he checked in, his voice rough. His helmet came down against your forehead and you could sense him looking at you so intensely you felt like you could never hide from him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together when his fingers twitched on your throat. He was so in control of you, of the situation, it felt like you could flood your underwear just upon his command.

“You're not wearing gloves,” you whispered.

He hummed, his thumb scenting you again, “No, I wanted to feel you.”

“O-okay,” you gasped, writhing against him. His thick thigh slipped between your legs and your toes were barely touching the floor when he angled his leg just so. He made you dangle, the only things holding you being his hand on your throat and his thigh on your pussy.

And you did not want to have it any other way.

You did not have to see him to know he had a very amused grin on his face. “You like my armour,” he stated, his legs shifting and you squirmed, “Let’s see how much.”

“Wh-What?”

“Ride my thigh, omega,” he instructed, his fingers flexing around your throat, “When I step foot onto our home I want to have my armour marked by your come.”

“Don’t – don’t you want to fill me up again?” you asked, trying to tease him even though you felt like you were in no position to tease at all. More like begging. Was it too early to beg? “Or – or have me cockwarm you?” you added as an afterthought.

“Who says I cannot do all of these?” he chuckled, bumping you on his leg so high it put pressure on the part you needed most, “After all we still have at least a dozen hours before us.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you somewhat steady. Almost immediately, you slipped your fingers to his cowl almost immediately and Paz did not stop you when your fingertips managed to find his warm skin, brushing over it until you found his scent gland.

“I don’t see you grinding yet,” he said instead, angling his knee even higher and you squeaked, “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”

Of course, you did. And he knew it.

With your dress hiked up over his leg, you could feel the coldness of his beskar through your underwear. And what might have been a turn-off under normal circumstances, with Paz towering over you, shifting his leg again as a reminder of his presence, you found that it turned you beyond belief.

You started moving your hips slowly, though you felt like you were failing miserably at exuding any kind of sex appeal. With your feet having no real contact with the ground and Paz fixing your head so you would not lose his gaze, you felt anything but graceful. But he did not change his stance, nor his grip on your body. While he kept one large hand on your throat, his thumb consistently brushing over your scent gland, the other wandered to the cleavage of your dress.

As soon as he started pulling the delicate neckline down, baring you to his eyes so slowly, your breath got heavier until it just got stuck in your throat. You wanted to please him, stars, how you wanted to please him. And you knew that he liked you, knew that he found you beautiful and yet, at this moment, it was only his mumbles “Stars, you’re so beautiful” that had you release your breath.

And worry about other things.

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they’ll only see my back,” he replied, his fingers playing with your tits and tracing over your pebbled nipples, “And if they tried to see anymore, they will have to deal with the consequences.”

Something in his tone, the possessive undertone, paired with his scent, caused a fresh wave of arousal in you. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds, the wetness gathering on the delicate fabric. There was something slightly humiliating about your position like this, out in the open, and yet you could feel no shame.

Not when Paz made you feel like the most beautiful omega ever to exist.

Soon, you grew more confident in your movements, grinding properly against the hard beskar plate. It was so unforgiving and Paz just kept on playing with your tits, gently plucking at your nipples like it did not make you tremble in his arms. “Could play with these all night,” he murmured, “One day I am gonna have your cock warm me all naked so I get to take my time. Just going to play with these until you’re blind from pleasure.”

You wanted to remind him that the last time he took his time, you had ended up being unable to speak and move. (Though the sleep afterwards had been fantastic.) But the words got stuck in your throat when his hand left your throat (and, regrettably, your scent gland) and pulled your panties aside.

Already, you could feel how drenched you were but could not find it in you to be embarrassed. Instead of ceasing your grinding at the thought of someone accidentally passing by, all you could do was hope that his finger might catch on your clit. They did not. Though knowing that he stared at where your folds left races of wetness on his made you even hotter. Your breaths grew heavier, the knot in your core tighter, and as you thought about cockwarming him until he filled you up again and again, you lost all inhibition.

Tightening your arms around his neck, you hoisted yourself up and closer to his chest. The proximity allowed you to pulse your hips and stars, did it feel good, the way your folds and your clit bumped over the texture of his thigh plate. You wondered how the design came to be – and although you were very sure that this particular situation hadn’t been considered when forging it, you still sent a silent thank you to whoever had made this piece. A few thrusts later, the beskar had warmed with your touch and with your increasing arousal it also became a much easier glide.

“Look at you,” Paz rumbled, clearly pleased, “Marking me for everyone to see. Grinding yourself on my armour like it is my cock.”

His words sparked a sudden idea. The kind of idea that made your heart race and your brain fuzzy but something in your chest told you that Paz would love it just as much as you.

With surprising determination, you surged forward and attached your mouth to the sliver of skin you had freed. His skin was warm and salty under your tongue as you sucked on his scent gland. His taste exploded on your tongue and you moaned, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Paz grunted, his body slamming you into the wall, punching the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips and taking control of your movements. You could feel his bulge against your leg and knowing he was as affected by your pleasure made your heart flutter.

It did not take long for you to completely come apart in his arms. With his cock straining against his codpiece, your clit rubbing over his thigh plate your almost-but-not-quite exposure to anyone who might walk by, it had only been a matter of time.

You moaned against his neck, shaking in his arms as your walls clenched around nothing, wishing for his cock inside you.

“You're doing so good for me,” he growled, “Mark me, sweetheart. Do it.”

Your teeth just barely grazed his scent gland when you had the realization that, yes, this was what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to mark you, you wanted to mark him.

You wanted this man to be your alpha.

Another wave of pleasure rolled over you, making you whimper in the cold silence of the hallway. Your entire body just sagged into him, completely pliant for the man in front of you. And Paz was there to catch you, holding you up against him.

“Good omega,” he whispered, as he slowed your movements, gradually working you down from your high, “You are amazing.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against his neck, brushing your nose over his scent gland, “You smell amazing.”

“Cause I smell like you,” he whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone sees.”

“They won't though,” you slurred, your tongue still heavy in your mouth, “Cause you won't let them.”

He paused, his hands brushing from your shoulders to your hands. Slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours as if he were afraid you would run away if he were to touch you too soon. With him standing in front of you, his leg no longer between yours, gravity did its thing as your dress fell over your legs, hiding the sticky mess between your legs. Though your expression and scent probably gave it away to anyone who looked at you for more than a fleeting moment.

“Yes,” he said warmly, “I won't.”

Smiling through the haze, you rested your head against his chest and he let you. Being hugged by Paz made you feel secure in a way you had never experienced before. His arms tightened around you and he started to slowly sway from side to side, humming a melody you did not recognize.

“How are you so comfortable?” you asked in a mumble, trying to smooth your cheek against him through the cold beskar was nothing like the warmth of his skin.

He did not answer directly but you did notice a change in his scent, something that you hadn’t noticed before. You breathed in deeply, trying to decipher where this scent of woods and sweetness had come from but Paz interrupted your thoughts, “Will you let me accompany you to your bunk?”

“Will I?” you scoffed, your voice still sounding weak to your ears, “You have to, alpha, you’ve got a tendency to make my legs tremble.”

“Say stuff like this and I will make them tremble again.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A promise, love,” he chuckled, “It’s a promise.”

You were not sure what you had expected when the entire Mandalorian population got cramped onto one ship, but it certainly had not been a board game championship.

“Hm, I could get used to that,” Paz murmured in your ear, his hand on your back, “Getting Ragnar to bed, having a nice drink to finish off the evening, sitting you on my cock and beating that annoying alpha in every single game this ship has to offer.”

You smiled against his neck, not opening your eyes. You had spent the last few hours just ... dozing. It was kind of scary to think about how quickly you had gotten used to this strange man but when you had settled for the evening, it was not even a question where you would spend the last few hours of the day.

As soon as the large alpha had sat down at one of the little play tables, so had you, straddling him with your chest against his and he had gotten an extra blanket from somewhere, muttering under his breath how he knew you got cold easily.

It made your cheeks heat up in a different way.

But now here you were, his cock nestled deep inside you and your face in the crook of his neck. Getting to touch even the tiniest sliver of skin felt like a privilege and the fact that he allowed you to do so in front of many of the other warriors made it feel even more intimate. Paz did not mind you scenting him. Quite the opposite, actually, he seemed to relish in it.

The previous night he had spent the time just like this, sitting you on his cock with a rumble in his chest. Only that time he had been able to reciprocate the scenting in kind. Whenever you had drifted awake (multiple times since some couples just could not keep quiet), his mouth had been on your neck, raining lavish kisses upon the sensitive skin until you squirmed in his lap. He had been awake every time you had drifted off and every time your eyes fluttered open beneath the blindfold. He had been still yes, quiet too, and smelled incredibly comfortable but his hands, his hips slowly working you open until you had muffled your gasps into his chest and come on his cock. And then he had traced his fingertips over your scent gland until you had fallen back asleep.

You wondered if he had not slept because he was nervous or perhaps because he just did not need to. You knew of a few warriors in your tribe who had made it a tradition not to sleep the night before a big battle or a trial, instead mulling over strategies and meditating until the time had come.

Briggs called them idiots.

But Paz was not an idiot.

Not with the way he carried himself so securely through the ship, how he participated in the training session, giving pointers to the younger warriors. And certainly not with the way he argued in the cockpit, discussing the best route to go to Mandalore and the strategy for how to reclaim it.

And definitely not with the way his hand was gently stroking your back, how his chest rumbled whenever you pressed a lazy kiss to his scent gland and how he made sure you were comfortable, checking in with you every time he shifted.

“You comfortable too, sweetheart?” he asked you, inclining his head so the side of his helmet was resting against your temple. The proximity allowed you not only to bury your face in his neck but also to hear his real voice – a fact that made your heart skip a beat, “Getting some rest?”

You hummed, too lazy to speak but chose to kiss his neck instead. The stretch made him shift inside you and you whimpered. He had come inside you once already and refused to knot you. (“The first time I knot you won't be in a room where everyone can see just how pretty you come for me,” had been his exact words and you had been too excited by the prospect of him knotting you to understand the implications of the rest of the words.) Which meant that there was a growing mess between your thighs, a mix of your juices and his seed and where other alphas might have found it uncomfortable, the reminder that he had filled you seemed to make Paz even harder than before.

“I’d be concerned if I had to ask my calmer if they are comfortable,” Axe Wove’s voice grated on your nerves and you wondered not for the first time if it was really necessary to be nice to him or if it would suffice to just keep Bo-Katan happy, “You wanna switch, sweetheart?”

You had not even registered that he was speaking to you until you felt Paz tense underneath you, his scent getting an acid note that made your nose twitch, “Say that again.”

“You heard me,” Axe Woves hissed, “Perhaps your omega would actually be satisfied if she were with me.”

You squeaked when you were simply lifted off Paz’s cock, his hands gripping your waist just a little bit too tight for comfort. He was angry, you could gather as much. But was that truly reason enough to kick you out of your favourite spot when you had just started to doze off again?

With trembling hands, you fought to close your robe as fast as possible. But when you finally looked up from fiddling with the belt, it was already too late.

The tell-tale buzzing of the vibro blade cut through the tense silence in the room and you knew shit was about to go down.

“Alpha,” you started to rush to his side but were kept on your spot by a pair of arms that were not your alpha’s.

You turned around angrily, ready to chide anyone who dared to keep you from trying to calm your alpha. Because that’s what he was. Your alpha.

“You know you cannot intervene.”

“Chants –“

“Everyone is watching,” your friend reminded you urgently. You knew he was right. That did not mean you had to like it though. Anyone going to stop a fight between two Mandalorian warriors had to be ready to fight themselves. And apart from your lack of clothing or your body still being disoriented from sitting on Paz’s cock not even five minutes ago, your lack of training did not lend itself to try and stop whatever was going on.

A roar was going through the crowd as they gathered to see what was going on. You caught glimpses of Sluice and the Armourer watching the fight unfold – Sluice looking just as displeased as Briggs, wherever he was, you were sure – and you grew restless. Paz making you fight made you nervous, the thought that there was even the slimmest chance that he could get hurt made you sick to your stomach.

However, after a few minutes of watching Paz fight, you found you did not mind seeing him throw and avoid punches. There was something very attractive about the way he strong-armed his way through the fight. Both men were capable warriors, that much was obvious, but his display of pure strength reminded you of your moment in the hallway and your raging heartbeat calmed down.

Paz could take care of this. He could take care of himself.

It was only when the silver-armoured man – Djarin, you thought – stomped into the circle, gripping Paz by the back of his neck and pulling him away the same way that Bo-Katan Kryze pulled away Axe Woves, finally putting distance between the two alphas.

You took that as your chance to intervene. Chants had no chance to stop you as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried towards Paz. His chest was heaving and his hands kept clenching by his side and you could smell his anger even from several steps away.

But it did not scare you. Because deep down you knew that no matter how big he was, no matter how angry, Paz Vizsla would never even think of hurting you.

“Alpha,” you whispered and the crowd went quiet, “I mean, uh, Paz.”

Taking a stand in front of him you hoped that he was focussing on you instead of a raging Axe Woves behind you. And your heart skipped a beat when his hands gently pulled you against him. He was aware of you, he noticed you, he did not care more about the fight than you.

“He said that I could not pleasure you,” he grunted and you moved to his side.

“I heard what he said,” you smiled, your hand gripping his while you rested your chin against his upper arm, “And it is obvious to me that he does not know what he is talking about.”

That seemed to relax him a little because you could see his shoulders drop and his fingers intertwined with yours. “No?” he asked, tugging you closer, “Are you sure, omega?”

“I am very sure,” you replied, feeling a little breathless, “No one ever made me feel like you do, alpha. Cherished and safe and wanted and … and –“ loved “– appreciated the way you do.”

“Can I let you go, Vizsla?” his friend asked, his tone neutral though you could swear you detected a hint of exasperation in it, “Or will you try to start another clan war?”

“Fuck off, Djarin,” Paz said, clearly not offended at the other man’s accusation, and shook his friend off but keeping his hold on your hand, “’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other man scoffed but left anyway, disappearing into the crowd that kept dwindling away now that nothing of interest was going on. But a few eyes remained on you and you suddenly became aware of how little you were wearing and how much you were being watched.

“Can we leave, alpha?” you asked, thumb brushing over his wrist and you loved how his head tilted to look at you. How he seemed to be so focused on you, you never need to worry he was in danger of ignoring you. “To … I don’t know to where, just … somewhere we’re alone.”

“I can take you to bed, omega,” he suggested, his hands falling to your hips, “I can … I could hold you close and scent you again. We got the curtain and the blindfold and our own little space. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a dream,” you smiled in relief, already dragging him in the direction of the bunkroom, “Please take me to bed, alpha.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 11 hours

Text

Banana Split

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You get an ice cream.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Last one for the MK bingo! I didn't quite get to finish the board (the other fics are just not in a good state to post, maybe I'll sort them out one day ^^)

Warnings: finger sucking, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 638

It had started with a playful argument about banana splits when you were in Kaspas.

You weren’t quite sure how the discussion had started, just that the aforementioned desert had been on the menu and Steven and Marc had gone at it.

Their bickering was always playful, a kind of sparring match that they seemed to partake in mainly for sport, and not so much for actually arguing about a topic.

Seventy percent of the time you were pretty sure that they only took opposite sides so that they could continue quarrelling.

Steven had said that banana splits were invented in the UK. Marc said USA. Steven had gotten up the Wikipedia page. Marc had gloated about how he was right. Steven had countered with, ‘yeah, but it does say no one knows for sure, doesn’t it? So it could have been anywhere.’ Marc had complained Steven was a sore loser, and ‘that everyone that could have been credited with inventing it was from America. So he wins.’ Steven had added, ‘Technically, you can’t invent a food.’ Marc, his tone dripping with exasperation, ‘Oh, getting technical now, are we? Because you’re a sore loser?’

It had carried on from there.

Somewhere in between laughing you hadn’t quite been paying attention to your own ice cream sundae and some of the strawberry sauce had worked its way along the spoon and onto your fingers. You’d tutted and wiped it with a napkin, and hadn’t thought much more of it.

That was until later when you were walking through the park with Steven and your fingers kept brushing together and sticking. The sauce, even though on inspection you could see absolutely no trace of it, was there on some microscopic level. Catching and fusing your fingers together. You tried to wipe your skin clean on a spare tissue, and then your trousers to no avail.

The sensation was driving you close to madness. The constant irritation. The unending catch and pull. You couldn’t stop them from sticking without holding your fingers apart at a weird angle that started to cramp your hand.

You needed to find a toilet, a sink, hell, even a puddle. Anything to-

“Love? You okay?” Steven frowns sympathetically, looking down at your hand.

You nod halfheartedly. “Fingers are sticky.”

“From the sauce?”

You nod again.

He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening in that sweet expression. “Poor love.” He kisses your cheek, knowing about and understanding your detest for the sensory experience.

“Here.” He takes your hand carefully, so as to not push your fingers together. “These two?” He points to your middle and forefinger.

You barely get a chance to nod, your mouth open to speak, but the words die in your throat as Steven sticks your fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

For a brief moment, all thoughts drain out of your head. Your mind completely blank. You try not to stare, you really do. Your breathing hitches at the slide of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the way his eyes have closed. A spark of pleasure rushes down your spine.

You really, really shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much.

He finishes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and smiles innocently.

You stay staring.

“Better?”

There is a pause before you remember how to speak. “I… erm…”

“Oh don’t worry!” He beams. “Strawberry sauce is vegan,” he waves a hand dismissively, but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.”

You grab his arm, your skin burning with a deep heat, and begin to march him towards the park exit. If you didn’t get out of there in the next minute you were going to have to find some bushes to fuck him in.

“Love?”

“We’re going home.”

“What? Why?”

Oh, he’d find out why.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world @eyelessupdates @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant x reader #x reader #steven grant x you #x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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bonesandthebees · 2 days

Note

I did recently reread Glass Divine, and MAN

I looove love love that Phil characterization <33 so much. He’s so silly. The “I was TRYING to talk to my wife >:( what is going on??” Scene lives in my brain

The crimeboys took the show obviously but phil served in every single scene he was in. I am curious if anyone else knows he is married to Kristin — or even if he officially IS married to her, or just devotes himself to her?

But also it would be just like Phil to just. Never explain to anyone who his wife is. Or make up a new ‘how we met’ story every time anyone asked questions.

awww thank you, I love glass!phil he really is such a Guy. local religious terrorist, guy who thought it was a good idea to teach an orphaned kid how to destroy the government and worship death, wife guy to the extreme. love him.

technically speaking, phil is not married to kristin. but he has a very close and personal connection with her that very few acolytes of Death have ever had. he's in love with kristin in the way a man loves his god/goddess, and since phil has devoted his entire life to serving her he views it as a marriage of sorts and offhandedly will refer to her as his wife, although it's more of a joke than a serious thing

basically, he's married to kristin in the same way some people say that nuns are 'married' to god

#ask #anon #through a glass divine

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lulu2992 · 6 months

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Last month, I also watched the Walt Disney Animation Studios’ 100th Anniversary short film Once Upon A Studio, and I loved it.

It’s not the story I liked most; it was nice and cute, but nothing revolutionary or unexpected. What I loved was seeing and hearing all these familiar characters, especially the 2D-animated ones, again. I’m a fan of hand-drawn animation and really miss it, so I was happy to experience it once more, even if it was only for a few minutes.

I love traditional animation because it’s always felt more magical and “personal” to me. I missed seeing a character on screen and thinking, “I know who drew you”. Here, when Louis (The Princess and The Frog) appeared, I recognized his original supervising animator Eric Goldberg’s work. I also knew that impressive shot of Peter Pan and the Darling siblings flying around the building could only have been animated by James Baxter (his brain works in 3D; I don’t know how he does that but it’s always mind-blowing). And as a fan of Mulan, seeing her not only being animated by Mark Henn, whose style I think is unmistakable and who was her supervising animator in the 1998 movie, but also holding hands and singing with Snow White (the first Disney protagonist) and Asha (the latest Disney protagonist) was quite special and moving.

What’s also great is that you can tell they tried to remain as faithful as possible to each movie’s original visual style, which means characters, for the most part, really look like they’ve just come out of their respective films. Graphically speaking, the numerous protagonists all have their own identity (it clearly was the artists’ goal, and I think they achieved it), but the whole thing still looks surprisingly coherent. The vast majority of the original voice actors are back, which is a very nice touch as well.

I don’t know, I just think the care, skills, and passion of the people who worked on Once Upon A Studio were palpable, and that felt good. Their attention to detail is evident, and as someone who grew up watching hand-drawn animated movies and truly loves the artistry behind them, I appreciate that.

#I mean there certainly are things to say about disney as a company #but I think their artists are passionate and that you can feel that in the short film #technically speaking it’s really really good #once upon a studio #eric goldberg #mark henn #james baxter #too bad glen keane wasn’t here #mulan #they did you justice girl #you deserve it I’m so happy #disney #walt disney #traditional animation #today is hand-drawn animation appreciation day on this blog apparently #sorry with everything that’s happened with far cry (laserhawk not included) I almost forgot what it was like to feel respected as a fan :’)#even in french most of the original actors were back! they usually don’t care that much!#shout out to paolo domingo for coming back 30 years later just to record like one second of dialog for aladdin haha

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ramenwithbroccoli · 28 days

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guess who finally made a fanbot after 2 years in the musical robot fandom

meet Janka!

above: Janka in to versions - a bare mechanism and a 'friendlier' folk attire

created in 1921 and commercialy released in 1936, named after a character in a famous song, Janka was intended to be the first fully inteligent record-playing machine for personal use. With her creator, Stanisław Lasota, basing its design on popular barrel organs, she was equipped with many different accesories to make her blend in with the enviroment. The most popular one was a folk-based look, inspired by traditional clothing of people of Łowicz, but many different options were available, with some owners even sewing it clothes of its own.

above: bare mechanisms, the mask sold to make Janka less 'intimidating', the most popular folk variant, a "night out" variant personally crafted by one of the owners

Although the company producing record players promised all of them would be able to change the songs by the voice command, it seems that only the original prototype of Janka retained that function. That's why, while the other copies went on to become just a fancy gimmick, Janka's value skyrocketed, providing Lasota with a great sum of money that allowed him to retire early and comfortably. After his death in 1937, the original designs were found. It seemed that there were no differences between the commercial versions and the prototype - except for the material that the top of the table was made of. In the original, an undefinable green matter has been used, that studies have not been able to replicate. It is suspected that the substance, mixed in with molten glass, was a gift Lasota brought back from one of his travels.

above: diagram of the functions of certain parts

Once an unique antique, original Janka lost value over time. The amazement over her ability to change music at request and memorising entire symphonies after playing them once disappeared, replaced with annoyance, and sometimes even horror, as it seemed the machine gained a mind of its own.

Owners reported music playing in the middle of the night, suspicious movement and the needle skipping over certain words in song, forming a new message altogether. After the last owner, Jerzy Sójka, claimed "the goddamn machine, [it] has a mind of its own, [it's] the devil! devil is speaking to me!", the fate of Janka had become unknown. Many suspect that it has been abandoned in a basement or an attic, with some even claiming they still hear her song being played at night.

#when oc lore in your head so good it gives you the ability to draw #the story of janka has been conveyed with one smartphone a pen with a touchscreen tip and a dream #not even sure if that still counts as a fanbot. we strayed so far from the path 😭#BUT SHE DOES PLAY MUSIC! just not her own #she also technically can only speak by compiling the words from the songs she played so she really likes word-heavy ones with lotsa lyrics #also technicaly can't see? but she does get acces to camera later so she's not that disadvantaged. at least she can hear alright #spg fanbot #my art #original character #oc #janka #fanbot

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svtskneecaps · 6 months

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oh also also, baghera getting increasingly french at the end of the timer was so fucking funny and i love her so much, like when her and phil fought and phil killed her and her accent thickened until she abandoned words and made french noises CHEF'S KISS reminds me of when she played outlast w cellbit slime and jaiden and got progressively more french as the night wore on, genuinely had a blast hearing her progressively dropping more and more swears in french

also reminds me of something i THINK i remember, think it was her who said during brazil she kept accidentally speaking french to people because of how close she felt to them

#qsmp #baghera jones #debated on making this post bc i wasn't sure if people would think i was making fun? i'm not trying to; to be clear #it's something i've noticed w baghera in particular and really really love #(personally i trend to a southern drawl; i am not from the american south)#i genuinely really like it #idk if your first language is french and you think this is disrespectful i'll delete it just say the word #mine is english so idk how shitty we can be :( i know we can be awful #((tbh i usually kick Myself if i can't understand an accent bc i'm the damn native speaker i should be good at this language))#((like this is My Fault for not parsing i'm the one who knows what these words MEAN; COME ON))#these went on a tangent but in my defense it's technically 4 am here (daylight savings)#also i was watching team red. the entire event. and then until this very moment.#this speaks for itself i think #shut up vic #block game brainrot

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animangalover-writes · 5 months

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So I had a dream about wincest(being obsessed with each other as always lol)

I was half asleep when I wrote this so bear with me

So I had this dream where some monster essentially got to sam and manipulated his world into his like ideal world. And his ideal world was him being a kid again with Dean taking care of him, just them in this little house. The same perfect day played over and over again, like a time loop. And somewhere outside this house is the real Dean, caught a time loop of his own, as he continously breaks into this little house to try to get to Sam and free him. But this monster always gets to him first and catches him off guard. It's like he doesn't remember the last time he was in the house, like it always feels like the first time setting foot in it, because the creature uses the same move over and over to kill him(but like, he doesn't really die, its more like this world is its own little pocket dimension and every time dean dies he wakes up outside of it again). And ever time, kid Sam hears something, but the monster/kid Dean tells him it's ok and they ignore it.

By the way, the monster in my dream is basically like this black-grey sentient goop(think Venom) that can morph itself into anyone it wants, and is hanging in weird strands all around the house that Sam doesn't notice. But dean does, and even though he tries to avoid stepping in it, it always catches his foot and essentially Webs his hands and gun in place, disarming him, then slams him against a glass mirror or a wall hard enough that it kills him.

Anyway, somewhere outside of this loop, Dean is vaguely aware that this monster always catches him with the same move, and the only reason he dies every time is because the surprise attack makes him too unsteady to shoot it, and catches him at a point where his footing is off, so he's easy to take down. But every time he enters the house again, he forgets what he learned, and it takes him down all over again. He admits to someone unseen that the reason it takes him down so easily/catches him off guard is because he's alone, aka Sam's not there to help him.

At some point, Sam starts becoming more aware that something is off, and that things are too perfect.

This is where the dream gets kind of fuzzy, but essentially Sam becomes aware enough and, still as a kid, sees adult dean walking through the house and calls out to him, confused. This time, Dean sees Sam and looks utterly relieved and says "Sammy..." like he's so happy to have found him. But this distraction causes the monster to catch him off guard again. It catches his foot and grabs his hands in its weird goo, but Sam is here now, and he sees this creature for the first time. So he yells out to Dean to move a certain way that gives him enough leverage to shoot the creature(this was mentioned as something dean always knew would help but always forgot when in the house).

Meanwhile, the monster actively tries to get into Sam's mind again and tell him, as young Dean, that everything will be ok so long as he let's him kill this intruder who's trying to hurt them. Finally it stops working on Sam and he becomes his real age again.

Some fight happens in between that I didn't really get to see, but the outcome was this: they managed to hurt the creature by working together, now that Dean wasn't alone, he doesn't die and actually gets some good shots in. At some point, Sam rushes the thing and the only reason it doesn't hurt him is because it grew some sort of attachment to him during the whole thing, and so he's the only one that it would let kill it(feels like a metaphor for Sam and Dean's real codependent obsessive relationship).

Anyway I don't remember much after this so that's basically all I have, so yeah.(also ignore any typos, I didn't edit this. I just woke up)

#also after they kill the monster someone mentioned something about it only letting sam kill it because he was like the mother to it #and dean was the father???#i didn’t add that in cause it doesn't really make any sense but yk. it was a dream so.#anyway #i dont go here #ive just watched a few episodes and like wincest as a ship #so take this as you will #if i had enough creative energy i would write a fic about this in great detail #but i dont so #maybe one of you can write something about it #wincest #samdean #weecest? technically??#weecest #i was gonna tag other main tags but i realized that would attract the wrong people #so im keeping it to the shipping tags #proship #for good measure #aml dreams #aml speaks #if my friends see this. no you dont.#pinning this post so i can come back to it when i write the fic for it lol

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parablesystem · 2 months

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something very lonely about being a (mostly) non-fronting alter. you get to watch your system members build connections and do fun things and talk to people. but you don't really get to do any of that. you just watch it happen to other people

#and there isn't anything technically stopping you. but you still don't do it. or if you do try socializing or doing something fun #you do it Wrong. and people don't like you. because you aren't good at it #y'know?#parable speaks #plurality #vent cw #i guess. though this isn't really a vent

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