#HELLO I WONT SURVIVE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In 2020, 27% of US Tumblr users had an annual household income of over $100,000.

#HELLO I WONT SURVIVE

nicolasturniolo · 4 months

Text

NICK MATT AND CHRIS IN A SAM AND COLBY VIDEO ITS HAPPENING

#HELLO I WONT SURVIVE #sam and colby #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo

7 notes · View notes

crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 8 months

Note

hello! i’m love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?

which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?

and… can we get to know you better? a little biography?

Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)

i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!

i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious

mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.

she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........

ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.

all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not

which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.

please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways

if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be

wintersberg

mithan

lethan

winterfield

wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash

i enjoy making joke comics far to much

if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be

lethan

winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)

sorry 😭

leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new

the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)

i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often 😭 it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper

it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious

sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay

and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its

im vietnamese and live in texas

i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing

i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here

thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!

#ethan winters #crumbessage

445 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 10 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter I : Apollo

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: The creation of myth.

Content Warnings: Dominant Din Djarin; Unprotected sex; Creampie;Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Overstimulation; Spanking; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hello, friends, and welcome to the new story!

A few notes: We are starting prior to season one’s canon, and I am doing what I want and making it so that Din already knows about the Force and the Jedi. I make free use of canon and the timeline in whatever way I see fit to suit my own horny purposes, sorry. If things aren’t canon or don’t make sense pls don’t tell me. I am naught but a fragile flower who wilts under harsh criticism.

Please note as well, that I do describe the FMC as having two different colored eyes although I do not specify what color they are.

Also, I will be updating the tags as we go along so as to avoid spoiling too much too early on.

Thank you and enjoy!

Word count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

PART I

CHAPTER I : APOLLO

Is it a god inside you, girl?

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

The first time you meet, he’s sitting in the corner of the shithole cantina on the shithole backwater planet you currently find yourself on: Nevarro. Sometimes you were wont to flight – in search of a nowhere place in the middle of a nowhere part of the galaxy to lose yourself. And the barren landscape of the volcanic planet, a broken star of red, the only interruption in the black field of ash, no wind, no life, no sound; it provides the perfect environment for getting lost when necessary.

And then one day, unexpectedly: him. He is a shining, metallic, mountain of a man.

Mandalorian.

Whenever you’d felt too suffocated, strangulated, in need of a moment, a breather, a reprieve from the reality of what you were… what you are becoming – this place is enough of nothing to be just the perfect something. When you’re not busy flitting from planet to planet, sector to sector, looking for something to fill the gnawing void within you. Before landing here, you’d been on Sorgan for a time. It’d been… nice… peaceful, or whatever approximation of peace you could partially recognize after an existence such as that which you were currently trying to run from. A temperate climate, kind people, but after a while, you’d happened upon a community one day, and they’d been so… so together, so familiar. Happy, they’d be so openly, unabashedly, uncomplicatedly happy. It was simple, and it had made a terrible lance of poisonous jealousy roil through you. Jealousy and anger and bitterness and a loneliness so painful that you’d had to flee, as far and as fast as you could from the reflection of all your envy and shame. And so you’d come here instead, to Nevarro. A more barren, emptier sort of place – better suited to your ilk.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” you croon up at him, smoothly sliding into the booth he’s currently occupying in the furthest dark corner of the cantina, only the gleaming silver crescent of the curve of his helmet visible from the other side of the room.

This is the first of many lies you will tell him.

No response. Only the dark, yawning pit of his visor faced slightly away from you.

The stark curve of his helmet gleams brightly. Beautiful. He looks strong, thickly built. His shoulders, so broad. The armor adorning his torso is beaten and worn, and yet, there’s something so… what’s the word? Lived, perhaps, about the facade of him. This is a creature who has lived – who has seen things, who has battled and survived and most assuredly killed.

Maybe a little like you, but good. For this you know with certainty about Mandalorians – a flash of a pained scream, beskar crumbling beneath the force of you, for not even what could be considered the most endurable alloy in the galaxy could withstand something of your nature, blood, so much blood, and the sound of such defeat as you do the unforgivable– they are good and honorable and worthy – great warriors. But perhaps, on the surface, with a face of shared, painful history, of survival, maybe there are some things between the two of you which could be called similar.

“I’ve always been curious, though… Always wanted to meet one.” You sidle closer to him. There’s something about him, the weapons, the breadth of his shoulders, the silence, which starts a chilled little shiver of fear that flashes and coalesces into something hotter and wetter deep in your belly, the closer you get to him. And the feeling of it – of apprehension, of standing in the presence of something other, something that could perhaps best, even you, it is exciting and arousing and different to everything else you’ve ever encountered.

Still no response.

“You’re hard to come by now. Not many of you left, right?” A curdle of shame and regret hidden beneath your wry tone, “A girl’s got to get extra lucky to find something as interesting as you nowadays… something as pretty too.”

He does react to this, finally, and a little shock of victory fizzes in your belly at the fact that he’s at last deigned to give you even a semblance of his attention, for you are desperately in want of it, as he turns his helmet the fraction of an inch in your direction at the sound of you calling him pretty. So, it seems even a Mandalorian is victim to vanity.

“Oh, so you can hear under there,” you quip, “I was beginning to worry…”

And then his voice, deep, and of potentially the lowest and smoothest baritone you’ve ever heard, comes through the modulator, “I can hear.” Clipped, and even maybe, a little cold.

“And he speaks too!” He flexes open the fingers of the gloved hand that lays on the table. You’re annoying him. “How exciting.” You cross one knee over the other, elbow propped up on the edge of the table and chin cupped in your palm, looking up at him. He’s tall, even sitting. Your joint presses into the hard muscle of his thigh, and you feel him scoot just the tiniest bit away from you. You have the uncontrollable urge to snap your teeth at him. You must surely be at least half his size, especially with all that beskar covering him. Don’t act so scared, big, bad Mandalorian. I’m just a little girl. You don’t know what I actually am.

Helmet now turned entirely in your direction to keep an eye on you, he says, “What are you?” Or… whoops, maybe he does know.

You ignore his question. “You know, I met a whore once – who claimed she’d fucked a Mandalorian. Is it true you just pull out the important bits and get on with it? Seems a bit cold, no? Even for a paid fuck?” He jolts a little at your vulgarity, and you flash him a wide grin, wriggle one delicate eyebrow provocatively. “No game?”

He turns his body to face you more fully now too, his thigh pressing into yours once again as he takes you on directly. Perhaps a warrior's instinct that can sense he is not in the presence of something to be trifled with. The helmet cocks slowly to the side. Silent, silent. Not one for many words this Mandalorian, although, it seems you’ve provoked him now.

“What are you?” he says again, voice measured.

“How do you mean?” You let your voice end on an upward lilt, and he shifts minutely, as if agitated at your uncooperativeness.

“You’re not– I don’t–” The helmet tilts the other way as if inspecting you, and you cut him off before he can finish.

“Oh, so many things.” You roll your hand on your wrist in a fluttering wave, tapping your fingers quickly against your thumb one by one, flexing a muscle you’ve not allowed yourself to use in a while and repressing it, all at once. You’re watching him so closely you see the small pivot of his neck to glance at your hand, and then back to your face. “Who can keep track anymore? So many strange creatures roaming the galaxy after the fall of everything. The Empire. We’re all just madly careening around as whatever the moment requires of us, aren’t we?” He’s quiet, still inspecting you, and you feel his gaze like a brand on the skin of your face. Like fire, like something that you remember from a nightmare, and that you think should be painful, but now only feels exciting. “So, what are you, Mandalorian? What does the present moment require of you?”

He goes silent again, and you watch the subtle downward tilt of his helmet as he inspects the length of you. You wish you could see if he was ogling the tight swell of your breasts beneath your dark clothes. You tilt your head side to side, smile big at him again, and you’re pretty sure you hear an agitated little huff of annoyance slip through the modulator.

And then: “I’m not interested.” He turns back to face away from you, both fists now firmly planted on the table’s surface, clenched into tight balls of clear annoyance. “Go away.”

Oh, he’s funny too. You throw your head back in a quick laugh, “Did I offer something?”

Silence.

“Dirty mind, Mandalorian.” You drag the vowels out to irk him just that extra bit more. “What? Just because I made one little mention of a whore means that, I too, must be peddling my wares?” And you knock your knee into his beskar clad thigh again. He scoots a smidge away from you, and you follow him, laughing again. Oh, you really should stop provoking him, but it’s just turning out to be too much fun. And you’d been watching him for weeks now, every time he came in here for a new bounty puck. You’d so wanted to talk to him, had snooped around to find out he’s in the Guild, and now you finally are. It was just too much for a girl who had too much time on her hands, and too many ugly thoughts she’d rather forget, roaming around in her mind, to look away from a moment of distraction such as this.

“Stop,” and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

You snicker. “Stop what?” in a sing-songed lilt that you know must be grinding his gears. Poor, shiny Mandalorian.

“Whatever it is you’re doing – speaking to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something from me.”

“What could I possibly want from you?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Who’s the one peddling their wares now, Mandalorian, hmm?” He says nothing now, and you know you’re pushing him, you can see the vibration of his restrained agitation in the lines of his thick arms, but there is something needling and annoying and obnoxious inside of you that wants his attention, that wants to incite him. And so you make a mistake that perhaps, is not a mistake at all, but a call for something more, for a reaction from him because as you slowly start to lift a single finger up towards the curve of his helmet, you say, “Tell me, what do you have to offer?” At the same time, he pivots and snaps up to grasp the thin of your wrist in a bone crushing grip as you’re about to make contact with the smooth surface of the gleaming beskar helmet. And you know you were asking for it, that you should never have even insinuated that you were going to touch a Mandalorian’s helmet, and that this is only your own doing, but as his harsh strength makes contact with you, so unexpectedly, he’s so fast, that you’re caught almost entirely unaware, you react on pure instinct. A reflex so embedded into the deepest and most poisoned recesses of your mind, that despite the fact that you know this is the last sort of reaction you should exhibit, that above all else you needed to keep this part of yourself hidden and secreted away from the rest of the galaxy, you can’t help yourself when, at the moment that his crushing strength slams your hand back down onto the table, twisting painfully so that you’re crying out in shock and hurt, you weren’t going to do anything to him, you just wanted to touch a little, you can’t help it when you let go of the reins on your power, and you feel the Force snap out of you like a band of rubber, to crack out and wrap around his arm and rip his painful grip away from you. Another inviolable tendril shoves against his chest plate to push him back. His movements, too abrupt, too unexpectedly aggressive to give you a moment to temper your reaction, to give you a chance to remind yourself that this is not one of your painful, dark memories, that you’re free, you’re free, you’re free, and suppress your reaction to not reveal yourself.

The two of you pause for one long moment, him by force, and you in shock and fear and slight nausea as you pant breathlessly. It’s been a long time since you’ve lashed out like this, since you’ve used the Force in front of another person, and the sensation of being perceived, of being seen for what you truly are is disequilibrating and terrifying and sickeningly liberating all at the same time.

One thick arm of his is held up and pinned against the back of the booth the two of you are ensconced in, hidden from prying eyes, at least. His legs start to shift restlessly, seeking purchase or trying to kick out, and you pin him there too, lest he try and hurt you again.

“I do not like to be handled so,” you admonish him, clicking your tongue. You can feel the seething fury rolling off him. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I am not going to do anything to you.” He’s got a blaster strapped into a holster at his thigh, and you’re sure his vambrace is hiding several other nasty tricks up his sleeve. You eye them both. “If I let you go, are you going to try and hurt me again?”

“No,” he growls out.

“No,” you mock back, but release him anyway, letting an impenetrable wall settle between the two of you. He immediately goes for his blaster, and you block his reach which has him furiously growling and lurching towards you, only to be met by the invisible Force impeding his attack. He spits a frustrated volley of curses in a language you can’t understand, but that you’re fairly certain is Mando’a.

“Ah, ah, no blaster,” you tut, and he settles, going suddenly, shockingly still, watching you watch him. “You really are quite poorly mannered and surly.” There’s a part of you that is still slightly unbalanced, heart beating painfully against the cage of your ribs, but you’re trying to hide it behind a wry smile and light tone. Echoes of pain and hurt and cruel and unyielding hands molding you into a thing that was just as cruel and unyielding. You cannot tolerate being handled like that anymore, and you feel contrite that you’d provoked him into doing so. Sometimes it is still difficult for you to remember how it is you’re supposed to behave around other people.

And then something you weren’t expecting, for he says, “You’re a Force weilder. You’re a Jedi.”

You let out a barking laugh. “What do you know of the Force?”

“Are you?” He presses.

“Yes, but no, definitely not that, no.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing. Or… whatever the opposite of a Jedi is, I suppose.”

“The opposite?” He shakes his head, “I don’t–”

“Hmm…” you cut him off, turning to make sure the two of you still haven’t been noticed. “Not anymore. I don’t use it anymore.”

“Oh, no?”

“Well… you’ve gone and ruined that now, haven’t you?”

“You started–”

“All I was trying to do,” you interrupt, “Was make nice. I’d always wanted to meet a Mandalorian,” Lie, “Haven’t you ever heard of a little flirting? And I fear, now, you’ve painted them all in a very poor light,” Lie, “Look at how rude you’ve gone and been, when all I wanted was to be friends,” Another lie, “A shame…” you heave a big sigh, “You really are very beautiful.” Truth. That fist clenches again, and you cock your head to the side, getting one last good look at him. You feel suddenly sad, you don't want to go. You’ve enjoyed this brief moment you’ve gotten to talk to him. Even if you’d gone and pissed him off and ruined it all now.

“It was nice meeting you, shiny. Even if you were an abominable beast about it.” You give him a nod of your head, and a quick two fingered salute before you’re sliding out of the enshroudment of the booth and slipping out the back of the cantina, into the dark alleyway, leaving him behind.

The last glimpse you catch of him out of the corner of your eye before the door shuts behind you, is the sight of him scrambling out of the booth and starting towards the door to follow after you.

A glutton for punishment, then, so it seems.

You flit through the dark, dirty alleys, scampering from shadow to shadow. The city streets around you, gone quiet now as the sun over Nevarro sets quickly, and you can feel him hunting after you. He’s strong, and you can almost feel the heavy weight of his life force even at a distance, almost as if the goodness and honesty of his character is a presence of its own, sentient in a way. And he’s angry, and you can feel that too, charging after you, provoked, even if he does it on entirely silent and measured feet. You can sense that ravenous curiosity and frustration at being bested and evaded pressing up against you, chasing after you. As if there were some dark red thread connecting the two of you from spine to rib bone, leading him to you, pulling him along your trail. You tiptoe the lines of the shadows silently, making your way through the winding city streets, feeling him getting closer and closer, trying to confuse him, even as he gains on you anyway.

And then he’s there.

You feel a massive hand, strong and sure, clamp around the back of your neck, but his touch is measured this time – he’d heeded your warning. His other hand wraps around the bend of your elbow, twisting your arm back behind you, and then he’s kicking open the nearest door, what seems to be some sort of storage alcove, the space dark and humid and mildewed, and pushing you inside. He shoves you away from him once you pass together into the darkness, and you catch yourself on the edge of what feels like some sort of table or workbench.

You laugh breathlessly. Overwhelmed by the thrill of the chase, of the feel of his hands on you, the surrounding darkness, the sound of his own panting breath through the modulator of his helmet. You hope he’s just as overwhelmed, disequilibrated, as you are now.

“Oh, you again?” you laugh, turning to face him, bracing yourself back against the table. All you can see of him is the silver crescent of the curve of his helmet, the outline of his wide shoulders in the dim light of the moon seeping in through the cracks of space around the door. He is a steel giant.“Did you forget something? Need me to hand your ass to you again, Mandalorian?”

“You’re a fucking brat. Anyone ever tell you that before?”

You gasp mockingly, “Me? Never.”

“Why is it that everything you say sounds vaguely like a taunt? Like you’re trying to provoke me.”

And, oh, he sounds just so unbearably serious and put out by you, that you pout, forced to match his serious tone with one of your own. You force the smile to leave your voice, “Maybe because I am,” and your voice goes quieter, softer, because again, truth. There is something about him that incites provocation, you want him rattled, come undone. “Maybe I want to see what happens when a man made of metal loses control.”

“I can’t – I don’t–” His voice, even through the modulator, is its own flavor of foreplay. “I don’t know…” he says again, whispers it, his tone seeping through the helmet, entirely uncertain, or at war with himself.

He takes one menacing step forward, made even all the more intimidating by the vast difference in your heights, the sheer breadth of him, the darkness wrapping around him so that all he’s made into are slivers of gleaming silver flame here and there. You feel the whisper of one leather covered finger skim lightly over the outside of your right forearm, another soft touch to the left side of your waist, and you shiver all over.

“Not a virgin? Your Creed lets you fuck?”

“No.”

“No, what? Use your words.”

Silence. Stubborn, silent, tin can.

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Whores?”

A grunt.

“Aha! Gotcha.” You start to toe your foot forward, bending your knee to make contact with him when you find his leg, tilting slightly away from the table so that you can slide your thigh between his legs. “Is that what you want me to be for you?”

“No.” Fucking monosyllabic–

“Then what do you want from me? Why did you follow me?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t lie.”

“I want to fuck you.” Your cunt goes soaked and tight at his words, because yes, yes yes, this is what you were leading him to. Finally, he’s caught on, and then he’s planting a strong, broad hand to the center of your chest and pushing you back into the table, and pressing the hard, unyielding length of himself against you. He’s hard and swollen beneath his pants, you can feel the thick heft of him against your belly as he presses into you, and you bring your palms up to slide against the unprotected sides of his strong waist, sending him into a full body shudder as you touch him, helmet falling forward on his neck as he hunches over you, hands planted on the table behind. You can hear his labored, panting breath huffing through the modulator as you run your hands along the planes of him. He’s huge, pure muscle beneath unrelenting beskar, and if you weren’t the creature that you are, you’d feel slightly frightened at the unbelievable strength he’s made up of. He is a thrumming effigy of restrained power beneath your hands, different to that which makes you up, and you feel the strength of him once again, humming through the Force. His light burns so bright, almost blindingly. He’s strong.

You slide one of your hands up his chest plate, tucking your fingers into the top-most edge to bring yourself up and closer to him as he curves over you, bending you back into an arch over the table’s edge. Your other hand reaches for his wrist braced against the table, wrapping around it, so thick your fingers don’t meet, to tuck your fingertips into the space where his sleeve meets his glove, and at the feel of your bare skin on his, just there, just there, he growls, deep and savage in his chest at the same time that you let out a breathy, warbled moan. His other hand shoots up to grasp at the small of your back and press you into him, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. He’s burning hot, sweltering, and he slides his palm lower, tilting your pelvis into his as you hitch one of your knees up the outside of his thigh to his hip, and then your cunt is rocking against the thick length of his cock, and another breathless, pained groan from the both of you as you make contact there, pushing and pulling against each other. You want to taste his skin, his tongue, you want to kiss him, to feel him licking into your mouth. You pull yourself in closer by the hand tucked into his chestplate to press your face into the warm space between his helmet’s edge and the folds of his cowl. He smells so good, like leather and sweat and metal. Something earthy and musky, something that proves to you that despite the beskar, there is only a man of flesh and blood and want beneath.

His palm slides to grip the lush of your ass, rolling you onto his length harder, pressing deeper as if he could fuck you through your clothes.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, little brat?” he pants, ending on a stuttered groan as you hook your calf around his waist and press your foot into the small of his back to grind particularly sharply onto him, pressing your clit into the edge of his utility belt, “Please, just– just–” you gasp, head falling back on your neck. And then he’s spinning you abruptly and pressing between your shoulder blades so that you're bent entirely over the table, cheek smushed against the hard surface. That wide palm slides down the slope of your spine, squeezes your asscheek harshly so that you’re moaning out in lust or pain, you can’t tell.

“Was that a yes? Who can’t use their words now?”

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” you grouch, but then his fingers have somehow snuck their way up beneath your tunic and under the edge of your trousers, and he’s ripping everything down to leave you bare and unprotected from the sudden onslaught of that huge expanse of leather clad palm cracking down painfully on the soft skin of your ass so that you’re scrambling to find the opposite end of the table to pull yourself away from him. A pathetic little screech claws its way out of you, and he wraps the length of your hair around his fist to pull your head back and up, turning you into his own little bow string, head resting back on the hard pauldron over his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? I caught you, you’re mine now.”

“Fuck off–” You try, but he clamps his fingers around your jaw, squeezing the fine bones of your face to cut you off, his other hand in your hair gives a sharp tug that makes the tips of your breasts go hot and tight and your cunt clench around nothing. You can feel yourself dripping down the insides of your naked thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, shoving the thick of his fingers inside to press down on your tongue. You try and moan around him, protest or something, but you can’t help but run your tongue around the digits, tasting the smokiness of blaster residue, the tang of whatever he must use to oil his gloves. “Finally, some silence. I like you better like this,” he taunts you with an imitation of your previous words. He bends his head forward, “Get them wet,” he murmurs, voice soft and sultry through the modulator, and the moan you give him now is all desperation as you let saliva pool heavy on your tongue to coat the leather.

When he pulls them from your mouth, tugging your head back further so that you can look up into the dark tee of his visor as he slides his spit slick gloves between your thighs to press against your throbbing clit, your whimpered little mewl has a chastising tut filtering through the helmet, “Slippery, little thing.” He starts to press slow circles to the aching bundle of nerves, sliding down on every other swirl to press gentle, teasing pressure to your clenching opening. “Did my chasing do all this? Do you like being hunted, brat?”

“Not–” you moan as he presses down hard on your clit, then back to the mouth of your cunt, giving you just the tip of his finger, “Not a brat,” you struggle to get out.

“No?” He starts to press two fingers inside at once, both of you groaning in tandem. “Maker – fucking tight–” He scissors his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist to fuck you open, making room for himself inside of you. “Don’t know if I’ll even fit in here.”

“No,” you groan, low and drawn out, and then, yes, whispered breathlessly, one of your arms reaching back to hold onto the wrist of his hand still twisted in your hair, trying to find purchase on anything to anchor yourself with. Because the stretch of just his two fingers inside of you – you can hear the slick squelch of your wetness as he starts to fuck them in and out of you slowly – is so unexpectedly obscene. You had not expected to find yourself in this position with any man, especially not one like this – had not thought you were yet ready to be touched by another person. Not so soon after– “Please – m– more. I want–”

“You think you’re ready for my cock, little one? Have I stretched this tiny cunt out enough?”

“Yes– yes. Just do it.”

“Fuck–” You listen to the wet little pop as he pulls his fingers from you, and the clink and shuffle of his belt and armor as he pulls himself out of his clothes, and then he’s shifting behind you as you brace against the edge of the table. The burning hot blunt tip of his cock skimming against the round of your ass, and you feel him spread his feet wide, bend his knees, and then his cock is there at the slick mouth of your cunt, and he’s thrusting up and into you on the downward roll of your hips, and Maker, he’s deep like this. Suddenly, twin strangled groans of pain or relief ripping from your throats in tandem as he grinds deep, deeper, for a moment. You feel the heavy kick and throb of his cock inside of you, and he is too big, too thick – he forces you to take it anyway. Stretching you in a way you’ve never been before, your eyes smart, forcing your body to make room for his inside of you, it leaves your breath to stutter out in a weak little puff of shock.

And you moan, using the palms of your hands against the edge of the table to grind yourself back onto him while his hands clamp tightly around your hips, his fingers so long they almost meet at the center of your belly beneath your navel.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. That’s so good.

You can’t tell which one of you is speaking. You can't even tell if you’re still breathing. And then he starts to move.

You knew he’d fuck hard, from the first moment you’d seen him, you knew.

He pulls his hips back, the slick wet, the grasping walls of your cunt trying to suck him back in, and then the scorching slide of him pressing back in, in, in, grinding again, those long fingers pressing down on your belly so that you feel him from the outside too.

“Harder,” you beg, because of course you want more. You are a creature made of greed and hunger. You always have been.

“Quit. You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given,” but his hips slam back in, a savage growl punctuating the movement.

He gives it to you almost brutally, without pause or thought, fucking punched out breaths and whines from you.

“Shut up,” he spits on the end of one particularly deep, harsh thrust that’s followed by a high pitched mewl from you. “You want every piece of shit on Nevarro to find you split open on my cock like this?” Your head lolls back limply on his shoulder, the wet slap of his heavy balls against your clit overwhelming the sound of your thoughts. You can’t speak, your brain is currently being jostled within the confines of your skull by the force of his cock splitting you open. “No? Then be a good girl, and be quiet,” his voice, rough, even through the modulator is almost drowned out by the wet, obscene sound of him pounding into you.

He brings one of his hands back up to your jaw, turning your head slightly so that your nose is almost smushed up against the chrome of his visor. He wants to look at you. The hard beskar of his chest plate rubs harshly against your back on every push upwards of his hips, and you’re sure that’ll hurt later, but right now you just can’t seem to care. You can feel the humid, warm air of your panting breath, foggy against the gleam of his helmet, and you bring one of your hands up to the wrist holding your face, holding on for dear life, sanity, you’re not sure what. Your other hand twists back into the hanging fabric of his cloak so that you can pull yourself more tightly back into him as he slows his thrusts, making them longer and more drawn out. “Yeah– like that. Settle… good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut. Too much, too much. It should hurt. You wanted it to hurt. Not gentle, you don’t want it gentle.

“Harder,” you whine, plead.

“No. How I say.” He rolls his cock into you over and over, your slick sliding down your thighs, the backs abraded by the plates of beskar over his own legs. He’s so deep, so big it hurts so good. Even if you want it harder, it still hurts so good. The hand at your face slides down to rip open the fastening of your high necked tunic, reaching inside and under your breast band to pull out the heavy aching weight of your tit and pinch your nipple, rolling it between his strong leather clad fingers – more high, desperate mewls that have him groaning deep in his chest. You’re sure if your face wasn't so close to his you’d never be able to hear them through the helmet, low and rumbly and so delicious.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs low, cupping your breast to plump it up, massaging it in his palm.

“What? You can see?”

“Yeah– fuck yes, I can see.”

“Not fair,” you whine. It’s so dark in the little room he’d pushed you into, you’re not even going to get to take a good look at his cock before this is all over.

“You don’t need to see. You just need to be good and take it.”

“Do you ever kiss?” you ask him suddenly. Irritated by the fact that you’ve not gotten to ogle him – or kiss him. If he even does that.

Another deep roll of his hips, a tight squeeze to the swinging globe of your breast, “No.”

“That’s a shame.”

And he responds immediately, voice subdued and even, underneath the helmet, despite the fact that you feel like he’s cleaving you in two. “Maybe next time,” he says. His palm slides down to your belly then, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades to fold you over the table, hands moving to wrap around your hips and lift you up and back onto his impaling cock so that the tips of your toes are left skimming the ground beneath, your fingers scramble and claw for purchase against the wood of the table. You can feel the wide tip of his cock punching against your womb on every thrust in and stars flash behind your eyes, mouth hanging open pathetically.

There is nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. Like he wants to split you in two, like he wants to make sure the shape of him is branded into the center of your body so that you’d never forget this. The sticky sweet coil of your orgasm starts up low in your belly, and you feel molded in his image for one second, pushed out of yourself to stand on the sidelines and look upon the sight of your much smaller form draped over the table and being fucked into so savagely by this silver blade of a man.

And then: they’re fucking bare, they’re fucking raw, and it has been so, so long since he has felt the touch of another person, someone else’s skin on his that was not bestowed upon him in violence or with the barrier of a sheath between. It is an almost overwhelming feeling, that of your hot, soaking wet cunt pulsing around him, you’re about to come for him, he can feel it. The fluttering of your inner muscles, delicate thing that you are, your thighs shaking as you struggle to push yourself back on to him to get it harder, deeper. He is, almost, made faint with the feeling. And those eyes… you’ve got the strangest multicolored eyes. One enshrouded entirely in darkness compared to its bright counterpart – as if one had forgotten to take that last step into the light. You’re fucking beautiful and–

You snap back into yourself. No, no, no, stay out of his head. Stay out of his head. Focus. You push yourself up again so that your back is against his chest, and he bands one tremendously strong arm around you, gripping your breast tightly. You feel him bend his knees framing your thighs to change and deepen the angle, and then he’s pounding right into that tender, devastating place inside of you, and your cunt twists and floods with your orgasm, electric shocks of pleasure numbing your fingers and toes. You can do nothing more than let him do with you what he will. Your toes aren’t even touching the floor.

He presses as deep as he can, grinds for a moment, and then he folds you over the table once again and presses down harshly on the small of your back with one heavy palm as he pulls his cock from you and finishes himself off. You listen to the wet thwack, thwack, thwack of him pulling on his cock, and then the searing hot spurt of his come is hitting your ass and the exposed seam of your fluttering cunt, a savage growl ripping through the modulator as he squeezes all of the air out of you with that unyielding hand. You’re like a pressed flower between the pages of a book – wilted and frayed, but still held in the image of that which you once were. At the last spurt from his cock he brings his hand to your ass, spreads you apart to rub his spend into the tight furl of your ass, and then further down into your throbbing, overly sensitive clit. All you can do is cry and whimper weakly, still trembling from your own orgasm. “T– too much, nooo,” you whine pathetically.

“Easy – easy, settle.”

You feel him fall to a crouch behind you, pulling you apart with both hands by the meat of your ass to look upon the sight of your blushed, fluttering hole. Messy, little cunt, you hear him whisper. He rubs his come into your trembling thighs, over your swollen clit again, inspecting every vulnerable inch and crevice of your sex, and then he’s pushing two of those thick fingers back inside of you, the passage made slick and fucked open by your mingled come. “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. You try and wiggle away, tears of oversensitivity brimming beneath your lashes, I can’t, I can’t, you think you whisper, but he’s inescapable. He clamps one hand painfully over your asscheek, keeping you spread apart for his inspection, the other one buried deep inside of you so that his fingers are hooked against your g-spot where he presses over and over, quick and relentless, his fingers almost vibrating inside of you until your vision is going white hot and a buzzing sound rings in your ears, and you’re crying for what you think might sound like mercy or something equally despeerate. “Yes, fuck, yes. Just like that.” Your answering sob does not prompt him to abate, for he keeps his fingers pressed against that spot inside of you until you’re leaking an embarrassing amount of wetness down your thighs, until the rippling throbs of your orgasm have finally settled. You feel his head fall forward, the beskar of his helmet pressing against the space where your asscheek meets your thigh, and he holds there for a second against your burning hot skin, the scorching soothed by the cool metal.

You can’t stop shaking, you feel, suddenly, like you might cry. You were not prepared for something of this intensity, to be touched like this, and now that it’s happened you’re left reeling. You don’t even know his name. And now you’re sure he’ll go away to wherever it is that Mandalorian bounty hunters run off to, and you’ll never see him again, and you’ll have to live with the memory of this forever. And something like this… amidst all the other horror that lives within you, you’re sure that the intimacy, the fervor of this, will make it hurt all the more, even compared to all the rest.

He uncoils behind you, rising up to his towering height. You listen to the rustling of his clothes, and then he’s smoothing a large palm over the slope of your trembling back and reaching down to pull up your trousers, tucking your breast back beneath your tunic, righting your clothes for you without commentary. When you think you’ve finally caught your breath, or can at least pretend you’ve done so, enough to push yourself up from your position over the table. Your eyes feel pinched and hot, your heart beating so hard, almost painfully, within the confines of your ribcage that it feels as though your bones are rattling beneath your skin, knocking together in the imitation of a death rattle so that he’ll surely know that you feel two paces away from falling apart entirely.

“You’re… Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” Voice stilted.

“No more than I wanted you to.”

He’s silent for a moment, uncomfortable. You can feel the sensation of him pulling away, getting ready to make a run for it. “That’s not–” he cuts himself off. “Do you– do you spend much time on planet?” He’s awkward, uncomfortable now with this unnecessary notion of seemingly required small talk.

“No.” Lie. You like Nevarro, you spend more time here than anywhere else.

“What’s your name?” It shocks you that he asks, for you know he’d not give you his if you asked it of him in return, but for one infinitely painful, insanely uncharacteristic moment, you want to tell him. You want to give him your real name desperately, tell him who you are. But if you were to do that, then you might tell him what you are. And then he’d hate you, and the memory would be ruined, and you have so few good ones, that this one must be protected at all costs.

So instead you say that which you have no real desire to say, do what you have no real desire to do, and make sure that he thinks you’re not interested, that you have no desire to ever see him again. Maybe next time. Your heart gives a surprisingly painful pinch, your eyes growing hotter by the second. “This was just a fuck, don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Your voice is so cold, so uncaring. You hate the way you can make yourself sound sometimes. You sense him snap with tense shock, and he nods once, succinctly. “Very well. Thank you… for this. I suppose.”

You lean back against the table, trying your hardest to appear as unaffected as you can. You turn your face to the side, roll your cheek over the hill of your shoulder. “It was my pleasure.”

He turns to go, his cape snapping with the sharp abruptness of his movements, and he pulls open the door of the little storage room letting a flood of moonlight sweep in to shed light on the construction of this memory you’re assembling brick by brick to preserve in your mind for as long as you possibly can. Your eyes sweep over the length of him ravenously, trying to catalog every single detail of him, the incredible breadth of his shoulders, the silver gleam of his beskar helmet, the sweep of his cape, the arsenal of weapons strapped to his body, lethal. He turns back to look at you for one moment, the yawning darkness of his chrome visor, “Don’t get killed, Mandalorian. There are so few of you left now.” And truth, truth, truth, for it would be a shame beyond imagining for a creature such as this, something so strong and beautiful and other, to perish when so few like him remain. He pauses to take you in, as well. You wish you had the courage to ask him what he sees when he looks at a thing like you. The tears are right there, and you hate them and feel weak and disgusted, but also relieved, and you could fall to your knees, in this moment, to thank the Maker that you still possess the ability, the heart, to cry, to succumb to something as trife as tears. You hope he cannot see them. The helmet cocks to the side for one second, perhaps he too is cataloging you to his memory. He nods once, and then he’s turning and gone away into the night. The door snicks shut behind him, and you’re alone once again.

You pause for a moment, hoping that relief will come. He’s gone, you got what you wanted from him. You should be glad. But there is only the screaming thought of wait, there was still more, there was still more that I wanted from you.

You let yourself sink slowly to the ground, hand braced against the edge of the table he just fucked you over, lest your shaking legs give out and have you planting face first into the dirt. You fold your legs beneath you, tuck your wild hair gently behind your ears, your movements measured, trying to breathe deep and slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Don’t cry, there’s no reason to cry. But shouldn’t we be glad we can still cry? Isn’t it a sign that not all is lost? That there is still a part of us that feels enough to shed tears? This should be a good thing. And so you let the tears fall. You fold yourself over as small as you can, one hand pressed over your hot, leaking eyes, another over your mouth to keep your sounds contained, and you sob as quietly as you possibly can. It was so good and you’re crying and you’re alive and you’re free. You are free, and you should be glad of this. Cry, cry, but cry for your own victory, for your own freedom, for the chance to cry. This is what victory feels like. This is what it is to be alive.

And so, here is your truth: It is a difficult thing, to shed the facets of the dark side after you’ve lived with it for so long. To be a Sith is to forsake all connection, all peace. There is only passion to strength to power to victory to the Force, but it is always alone. Always against someone or something else. So, yes, it is difficult to shed the facets of the dark side that have made you the thing you’ve been for more than half your life, since the time you were stolen from your cradle, your parents slaughtered, and spirited away into the shadow of a cruel and unforgiving master. What is it to know exactly how your life will play out, to see everything, to be so aware of what you will be – and to still be lost? Part agony, part madness. The pieces of you that are secretive, that like to hide, to run, these are especially difficult to let go of, and you are so, so interminably sad, you live in it. It’s all you feel you are now, after the dark, after the fall of the Empire and the Sith, after escape, after freedom, after you’d so forcibly ripped its claws, that were so deeply sunk within you, out by sheer force of will, by sheer force of desperation, you worry that it’s taken a piece of you with it, your soul. That it had eaten a piece of you. That you don’t have one anymore.

You don’t even know his name. And even if you’re certain he would not have given it to you, for one moment, you feel an incredible lance of regret that you did not give him yours.

But then: a person without a soul could not cry.

And so this must only be proof of the fact that you must still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must.

And you think: I am not unfamiliar with this half life – there is a wound inside of me – dark and putrid and festering. But perhaps my tears will heal me. Seal the wound closed.

You feel lonely – worse, you feel strange. Once, you were terrible – now you are only yourself. So you cry for the passion of the moment, for the way he made you feel, for the loss of a name, for the truth of freedom.

Chapter II

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new fics!

#TCC fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #the Mandalorian

543 notes · View notes

loving-august · 1 year

Text

๑𓈒 ' . 𑇛 BAKUGOU'S BF DUTY !

— college au, modern au, a bit suggestive, profanities (bc of him lol), pet names, female reader

— HELLO HELLO NEW FORMAT ?!

๑𓈒 ' . 𑇛 REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED !

— being bakugou's girlfriend has its own pros and cons, just like the old saying goes: 'it's a blessings in disguise'. You really couldn't of its really true because he is katsuki bakugou. the moment you accepted his feelings you knew what you were getting into.

— first of all, you just bagged the smart, handsome, and a wifebeater body man in campus. yeah fuck rizz you both want passion 🤨

— bakugou will definitely wait for you until your class ends. hw eill be checking up his phone from time to time until you came out from your school orclassroom then grabs your bag and carry it on his shoulder as if its nothing. he would listen to your stories on how things happened in your day and adds some shìtty remarks here and there. AND! he loves listening when shit is about to go down.

— after exams, he would treat you to some fastfood chain or literally anywhere to make your stomach leaps in happiness. he loves the way you smile as you tasted the food onto your mouth. this man will spoil you rotten to your favourite foods to eat. go argue with the wall i dare you 🤢

— he will make an album on his phone all for you! he can't possibly blame you tho, he's that smitten for you even though he would not admit it. his ego is higher than the eiffel tower duh 🌝

— expect a sudden kiss from him! this man wont survive if he wont get any kisses from you. man needs to gassed up with your kiss or else he would be treating everyone a lil bit more harsh so goodluck to kirishima tho bless him. with just one kiss and way baam yes ma'am he's all giddy hehe.

— physical contact! he loves sneaking his hands on you waist, claiming you literally to anyone. and he loves it when you link your arms around his arm or hold onto him. it gives him reassurance that you're his and only his alone.

— expect a make out with him. he's hungry and you won't deny how he makes you feel good while kissing you. and also he loves it when you're beneath him btw

#๑.made by aug #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader

965 notes · View notes

worstvideogamesong-poll · 2 months

Text

Worst Video Game Song Tournament Quarterfinals Match 4

Buying Goods at Palmira - Evergrace

youtube

VERSUS

Title Music - Manic Miner

youtube

FIGHT!

I would recommend listening to as much as you can of each song before voting, but how you choose is up to you! Remember to be civil in the tags and replies!

Propaganda under cut:

Buying Goods at Palmira:

"EVERGRACE SWEEEEEEPPP I don’t even think the OST is bad I just love the game so much"

"wow hello instruments. [Buying Goods at Palmira] sounds like my sister and i messing around in wii music. badly"

"#if you guys dont vote evergrace im disowning you all #by god i will manifest an evergrace sweep of this whole tournament #evergrace: ost of all time"

Manic Miner Title Music:

"#but then i heard [Manic Miner Title Music] #just 2 seconds probably #and now the only emotjon that occupies my brain is fear #legit maybe i wont be scared when it wont be dark outside but like i dont think id survive listwning to the whole thi g"

"#however bad you think manic miner is gonna be you are VASTLY underestimating it"

"#seriously [Manic Miner Title Music] hurts #but it's also so funny"

92 notes · View notes

solarwoniii · 1 year

Text

reaction to you sending him nudes out of nowhere ! zb1 legal line

nsfw, suggestive, crack, smau ! includes jiwoong, zhanghao, hanbin, matthew, taerae and ricky

includes ; mature/sexual themes, pet names, mentions of bdsm and punishments, uhmm daddy kink is mentioned in jiwoong's

a/n ; girl idk what this is i was so bored pls enjoy

taglist ; @hunbun07

jiwoong ;

📨jiwoong ; babyyy hi

📨jiwoong ; did u have dinner yet ♡

📨y/n ; yes i did !!!

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨y/n ; urs is waiting for u at home

📨jiwoong ; WOW.

📨jiwoong ; I WAS BEING NICE. WAS THE RANDOM ATTACK NECESSARY 😤😤

📨y/n ; no it wasnt im sorry daddy 😔

📨jiwoong ; WOW.

📨jiwoong ; WOWOWOOWWOWOOWOWOWWOW.

📨y/n ; sooo am i getting tied up today orrr 😶

📨jiwoong ; JUST tied up?????

📨jiwoong ; U ARE GETTING SO MUCH MORE THAN JUST TIED UP

📨jiwoong ; GET URSELF READY U ARE DEAD

📨y/n ; i am ready 😋🤪

zhanghao ;

📨zhanghao ; BAAAAAAAAAAAABE

📨y/n ; yes

📨zhanghao ; hi 😊

📨y/n ; hi 😊💗💗

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨zhanghao ; oh.

📨y/n ; 😘

📨y/n ; how screwed am i

📨zhanghao ; very screwed ! 😊 hope ur excited to get ur guts rearranged 💗

hanbin ;

📨hanbin ; bbg 😔😔😔

📨y/n ; EXCUSE YOU SUNG HANBIN.

📨hanbin ; IM SORRY

📨hanbin ; i miss u sm UGH i have a meeting soon i dont wanna gooooooo

📨hanbin ; can i have a photo of u so i can survive 😔💗

📨y/n ; ofc u can here :)

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨hanbin ; NAH.

📨hanbin ; U FOUL FOR THAT

📨hanbin ; NOW I HAVE TO SIT THROUGH MY MEETING WITH THAT IN MY MIND

📨y/n ; have fun at ur meeting baby 😊😊😊 love uuuu

📨hanbin ; U SUCK

📨y/n ; suck what 😶😶

📨hanbin ; FUCK U

📨y/n ; pls do 😊

📨hanbin ; OH MY GOD

📨hanbin ; I HATE YOU SO MUCH

matthew ;

📨matthew ; BAE

📨y/n ; BAE

📨y/n ; HELLO

📨matthew ; hiii

📨matthew ; i miss u :(

📨y/n ; :((( i miss u too

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨matthew ; .

📨matthew ; ure so mean.

📨matthew ; im never speaking to u again i hate u

📨y/n ; oh ok

5 MINUTES LATER . . .

📨matthew ; uhm so

📨matthew ; im still not speaking with u

📨matthew ; but are there possibly more from where that came from 😖😞

📨y/n ; hmm

📨y/n ; possibly

📨matthew ; OMG

📨matthew ; if u send me another i will speak to u again !!!

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨matthew ; YAYAYAYAYAY

taerae ;

📨taerae ; BABY did u see the food i left for u in the kitchen ??

📨y/n ; YES I DID THANK UUU I LOVE U

📨taerae ; 🫶🫶 im finishing a few more papers rn as soon as im done ill get omw home

📨y/n ; oh

📨y/n ; is that going to take long

📨taerae ; a little bit 😞😔 im sorry

📨y/n ; would u like some bribery

📨taerae ; huh ?

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨taerae ; IS THAT MY SHIRT

📨y/n ; 🤪 maybe

📨taerae ; @??@?@?@??1!?!?@??@?@/.?>@?>@>?@?>?@>?1.>?@

📨taerae ; I AM

📨taerae ; ON MY WAY

📨taerae ; RIGHT

📨taerae ; NOW

📨taerae ; AS WE SPEAK

📨taerae ; IM COMING HOME

📨taerae ; TEN MINUTES

📨taerae ; ILL BE THERE

ricky ;

📨y/n ; HOW MUCH LONGER

📨y/n ; UNTIL YOURE HOME

📨ricky ; an hour

📨ricky ; WHY

📨ricky ; IS SOMETHING WRONG

📨y/n ; YES

📨y/n ; im lonely 😔

📨ricky ; oh

📨y/n ; WHAT is me being lonely not enough for u to care 😔💗

📨ricky ; no not really

📨y/n ; WOW

📨y/n ; OK

📨y/n ; THEN I GUESS I WONT SHOW U THE REST OF THE PICS I TOOK TODAY

📨y/n ; *attachment ; one photo*

📨y/n ; THERES THREE OTHER PHOTOS

📨y/n ; BUT YOURE BEING MEAN SO YOU DONT GET THEM 😡

📨ricky ; NO

📨ricky ; IM SORRY

📨ricky ; PLS

📨ricky ; I CARE SO MUCH THAT U ARE LONELY AND I LOVE U SO VERY MUCH 💗💗💗

📨y/n ; 🙄

📨ricky ; NOOOOOOOOOO

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 jiwoong #zb1 zhanghao #zb1 hanbin #zb1 matthew #zb1 taerae #zb1 ricky #zb1 smut #zerobaseone smut #zb1 fluff #zb1 drabbles #zb1 smau

444 notes · View notes

hyunjin-amore · 4 months

Note

Hello :)

I have been literally obsessed with One Piece for quite some time and I unfortunatelly run out of new one shots to read. And I saw you are taking requests... If you have time or if you are willing to write it I will be more than happy if you could write anything smutty with Luffy x fem reader were they are in an established realtionship. (also if you could maybe add a little age gap where Luffy is around 19 and reader is slightly older). But since I know how life can be hectic I dont want to pressure you and it is completely fine if you wont write it.

Have a nice day/night :)

A Love as Strong as the Sea

Hello and hope have nice night or day as well!!

Warning: smut, slight age-gap

Summary : Luffy and Y/N, two members of the notorious pirate crew known as the Straw Hats, have a strong affection and friendship that are examined in this article. The couple declared their love for one another after surviving a terrifying ordeal on a desolate island, and they haven't been apart since. Luffy and Y/N have a love story that is both adventurous and deeply felt, fueled by intense intimacy and deep knowledge of one another. The unshakable tie between them is evident as the sun sets on the Thousand Sunny, with their love burning as brightly as the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy and his sweetheart, Y/N, were lying in their cabin together as the sun was starting to set on the Thousand Sunny. Their love had only gotten deeper during the nearly a year they had been together. Luffy, who is currently 19 years old, has always had a deep romantic attachment to Y/N, a 23-year-old member of their pirate crew. But they didn't talk about their feelings until they were stuck together on a remote island and had to rely on one another to survive.

And they were never separated after that. Luffy enjoyed feeling every inch of Y/N's smooth skin as they lay in bed together, running his fingertips over her entire body. His touch made her shudder, her body reacting excitedly to his every motion. They could only speak to each other in a language they understood. Luffy would place his head on Y/N's chest and let her stroke his jet-black hair as he relaxed, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

However, the vibe between them was different tonight. Luffy knew that Y/N felt the same way since he could feel the need blazing within him. He leaned in closer and kissed her deeply and passionately without saying anything. Their bodies were pressed close to one another as their tongues moved in perfect accord. Y/N was compelled to run her hands over Luffy's thick chest, feeling each crease and rip in his physique. His strength and drive had always drawn her in, and this only served to increase her desire for him.

Luffy withdrew momentarily, his eyes brimming with need and affection. Above all, he wanted to demonstrate to Y/N how much she meant to him. He didn't say anything; he just reached to her waist and pulled her up so she was on top of him. Y/N straddled him, her legs coiled around his waist, her naughty smirk directed downward at him. Luffy drew her close, his hands holding her hips as his intense gaze blazed into hers.

Their bodies eventually found a rhythm as they moved in unison and explored each other in the most personal way imaginable. Each of their passionate, loving gestures was a proclamation of their feelings for one another. Luffy's hands were free to move over Y/N's body, caressing and teasing her in all the appropriate spots. He could feel her edge drawing nearer and nearer, and all he wanted was to push her over the brink and watch her fall fully into his arms.

And when she did, Luffy was unable to contain herself any longer as he let out a loud groan at his name. Their hearts pounded in unison as they reached their climax simultaneously, their bodies engulfed in pleasure with a last thrust. Luffy couldn't help but feel appreciative of this stunning woman who had captured his heart as they lay entwined in each other's arms as their breathing gradually returned to normal. And as they fell asleep, he realized that they would always and forever confront obstacles together, no matter what.

Despite their different ages, Luffy and Y/N's love was unwavering. And at that precise moment, their unshakable bond which was stronger than any age gap could be was all that mattered.From that night on, their passion for one another grew stronger with every day, and their love only grew from then on. As they sailed off on their next journey, they realized that the only thing that mattered was that they had each other, no matter what lay ahead.

97 notes · View notes

zenxvii · 4 months

Note

hi! I enjoyed reading the few imagines you have of kyungjun a lot. Could I request one where Kyungjun survives in ep 8 thanks to reader? comfort & fluff plss

Ofc!! Here it iss, with a plottwist😻

character: kyung-jun x fem!reader

kdrama: night has come

!!: thoughts are in italics

🫶: comforting girlfriend

y/n pov

I didn't want to go to the meeting about who we should vote. Both Kyung-Jun and Jin-ha are very important to me. I didn't know what to do anymore. I texted the group that I was going to see them both and then message me for the vote.

I walked thru the corridors and knocked on the door before entering. "Jin-ha." I breathed out sadly and watched his sad eyes. "You believe me don't you?" He asked me as he got closer. "Of course." I told him and wrapped my arms around him. "I'm so sorry." I said and tried to keep myself together.

"I don't want to die." He told me as he gripped my shirt. "I know..I know." I tried to reassure him that everything would be okay. "I don't want to vote for you, but I don't want to vote for him either." I continued.

"I hate this game." "So do I."

We hang out there for 20 minutes, just talking and thinking about our friendship. We laughed and almost cried too, it was all a beautifull night. But the time had come, it was 11.15pm and we both knew there was a person who to visit too.

"I'm sorry." I said again as I stood up with Jin-ha. "It's okay.* He told me once again and hugged me. "I won't blame you for voting me, it's okay. I know you love him." Jin-ha told me and I felt my eyes watering. "You actually are the best friend I could ask for."

"Thank you." He said, we now making eye contact both almost crying. "If I don't make it, you better wait for me with Seung-Bin in the after life." I said jokingly with a light shove. "We will, Kyung-Jun would kill us if we let you wander there alone." He joked back and I let out a chuckle with few tears.

"I promise we'll see again." I told him before leaving the room with tears. I looked at my phone time now 11.20pm. I rushed towards another room knowing who would wait for me there. I ran and ran, I reached the room and just barged in without any warnings.

"Kyung-Jun." I called him and threw my arms around him. He pulled me closer and hugged me tight. "I missed you." He said and squeezed me slightly. "I know, I've missed you too. I visited Jin-Ha and now I'm here. Sorry I took so long to find you." "Don't worry about it." He said and we laid down on the bed just resting there. "This is a shitty night. I don't want to lose neither of you." I spoke up and held his hand. "I know. I wouldn't want to be in your position either."

And there time went on and on as we spoke and joked together. Then out of nowhere the door opened with Da-Bum opening the door. "Excuse me." He said and walked in. "I have Kyung-Juns phone. Now come with me." He told my boyfriend. Fishy.

Kyung-Jun and I hugged for th last time before they left. I sat on the bed. My phone vibrated and I took it out to see everyone had vothed for Jin-Ha. My heart shattered for my best friends, I knew Jin-Ha didn't do it. He couldn't have killed Seung-Bin.

I casted my vote for him with a small tear rolling down my cheek. "I'm sorry." I breathed out before getting up. I wandered all around the corridors not caring about night coming.

Until I heard a pang after another. Someone was violently banging something against a door? I questioned it so I walked closer to the sound and saw a dooe being blocked so the one inside couldn't get out. "Hello!" I called out waiting for a response. "y/n..?" A familiar voice said. Kyung-Jun!

I treid to get the chair away but a hand stopped me. "Stop." I was told by this one man. "Da-Bum..why is he here." I asked him, both of us knowing well what I meant. "Just walk away, we both know you wont stand a chance against me." He told me with a glare. I stayed quiet thinking he was right. I could hear Kyung-Jun calling for me with baning on the door. "Do it quick please." I pleaded him

"Of course ma'am," He chuckled and waited me to leave. I walked away with a sharp pain going thru my heart. I didn't want to leave Kyung-Jun, but still I did.

Jin Da-Bums pov

I watched y/n leave with a pained face. What a smart girl. I opened the door and saw Kyung-Jun sitting on the floor. "Let the fun begin."

back to y/n

The clock striked twelve. And I just sat on the ground with my head in my hands. "I hate his game.." I mumbled. Then something shining captured my attention. I saw the axe lying on the floor. I can't leave him!

I got the axe and started to run where I came from. I came just in time to see da-Bum ready to kill my boyfriend. "Get away from him!" I screamed and swung the axe at him. "I won't let you kill him!" I shouted again. I Already lost my best friend, I'm not losng my boyfriend too.

"You crazy bitch!" Da-Bum called out and tried to stab me with his knives. I dodged him and swung the axe again, not hitting him. "Let me do my job!" He yelled charging at me again. This time cutting my left hand a little. "Not with this man!" I dodged his other knife and kicked him in his stomach.

I threw the axe away and jumped on him pinning his arms on the ground. "I'm the boss now. I'm telling you to leave him be or you'll be the one out next." Threatening him, but he just laughed. "You can be just so hot when angry." He said and smirked. Ew. "And you can be a pain in my ass." "Oh, how I'd like to be."

"God you're disgusting." I Shook my head "We both know you guys woulnd't work. You're a mafia and he's a civilian." He said. I knew hw was right, but I loved Kyung-Jun too much. "I don't care, as long as he's safe." "Stupid girl." He said and tried to get me off of him, but I stood my ground and kept him pinned.

"Struggle again and I will keep ypu pinned till the morning." I said and took a look at Kyung-Jun. He was just laying there. So peaceful, like nothing could bother him at the moment. "He's a bad guy, why would you even be with him." Da-Bum called my atettion. "He's good to me, he saved my life once." I told him and we locked eyes now him looking hurt. "But when he hurts oter people you just look away. You're no better than him." He told me now looking at Kyung-Jun.

"I'm sorry that he has hurted you Da-Bum. I'm sorry I didn't do anything about it. I'm sorry you had to go all thru it alone. I'm sorry I really am, but I won't leave him to be killed by you." I spoke and got off of him. "Leave or kill both of us."

He got up as well. His eyes searching for anwsers, but then he just left. He took his tools with him leaving me and Kyung-Jun there all alone.

I closed the door and leaned against it holdin my left arm that now had a cut on it. I needed to hide it from others, knowing they'd propably figure out I'm a mafia. But now I just closed my eyes for a moment before drifting off.

"y/n! y/n!" My name was called and I saw Kyung-Jun there, he looked scared. Not knowing what he should do. "Kyun-Jun" I called his name with a soft voice. "I'm glad you're still alive." I gave him a smile and got up. "We should go now." I told him and grabbed the dooor handle. "Are you part of the mafia.." He said and I let out a sigh.

"I wish I wasnt."

"Did you kill Seung-Bin." "No. I couldn't, that's why I was here. I couldn't let you die. I didn't want you to die."

"Thank you. Maybe in another universe we could be together again, and live old together, have kids and be happy. Dance in the rain, bake the cookies you always wanted to do. Just be a happy couple." He told me with pain in his voice.

"Oh how I'd love that. I'd love to dp taht with you, anything in the world I'd do with you." I turned to him with teary eyes and he just pulled me to a gentle kiss.

Right person, wrong time.

End😢

in another universe they'd be happy.

🏷️: @istanstraykidss

61 notes · View notes

shygirl4991 · 2 months

Note

Hello! Since the six splits are now complete I want to know how they would all react to aster (ive been readibng your fics all of them are awesom!)

Producer is crying watching SMG3 walking hand in hand with Aster "I knew we weren't good enough, everyone we love will leave us one by one and its starting with the person we love the most."

Ringmaster glares at the tall person kissing their lovely assistant he couldn't stand it, he reaches for his cane only to notice it missing. Parent was holding the cane nervously "Uh hey kiddo what do you plan on doing with that cane?" Ringmaster smirks "I just want to talk to them!" not liking the smirk Parent runs off with cane with Ringmaster chasing him.

Artist looks up from his favorite drawing spot seeing the pair on a date, he rolls his eyes and starts to aggressively start drawing. The only way an Artist can survive heartbreak is to vent art, he chuckles as he draw himself beating up Aster and winning over Three.

Prince frowns seeing his one true love with someone else, while he is heart broken over what happen he cant bring himself to hate Aster given how happy he makes Three. He makes a vow to protect Three from a distance and if Aster does anything to hurt his love he wont hold back to save him.

Parent starts crying seeing the pair as he wipes his tears "Im happy for you, while it hurts...im so happy you found happiness." Delinquent growls orange eyes flashing a slight yellow as he stares at Aster, he hated SMG3 he was a backstabber someone you shouldn't trust. But seeing someone else have him angers him, he wants to destroy the person holding Three close. He punches the wall leaving a hole "You fucker...i will show you who is better for that dumb ass."

#ask shay #six splits for fours #smg34 #shygirl4991 #alianarepasa #split au #smg4 splits au

42 notes · View notes

blueiight · 1 year

Text

at the risk of sounding like playa hater of the year or (worse!) repeating myself. i think ep3 w/ louis telling lestat off about jackson square & the scenes with jonah&louis truly sold me on the whole color conscious casting. i think ive talked about or at least mentioned the real history of lynchings , how black charas r typically depicted in a horror & how louis killing the alderman was playing off both of those things there b4 so i wont repeat myself too much in regard to that lol. itll be abt jonah+ louis scene here. n ep1&2 was great of course & this is by no means disparaging that. but seeing how louis + jonah interacted truly was .. a lot for lil ol me. like i think that sold me on the colo consciousness of this show bc it truly did feel like these were black male characters, not black characters w/ white faces or pawns for white guilt overcorrecting . like these are characters. keith powell, a black man, directed this episode and it shows. there was a lot going on there w/ the body language, flirting, the use of vernacular, that all set a stage in a few minutes for a true sense of past intimacy these characters once shared and how this scene is both a hello & goodbye to that. one: giving louis a ‘past love’ with some of the same sentiment as lestat’s ‘past love’ with nicki was definitely profound. (bc babette was definitely not that. tho i do think how jonah&louis meet in europe later will be inspired by that?). even if it was a few affairs in the dark the show did a good job with the implications of jonah+louis being once past lovers+shared confidants in their sexuality/race. and drawing upon how modern louis viewed this: while the domestic front simmered on [vampire] diet and sanctioned infidelity, the western front started receiving american troops… and city ordinance 4118 [jim crow law] ensured uncle sam’s money went in ‘the right hands’. hes saying a lot in those few sentences. the historical situation of ww1, a transitory time in western history that these black men (& vampire) are situated in and how they choose to survive going forward. jonah going to europe to fight the war as an ‘escape’ from the repressive regime u live under to be ur ‘truer self’ v. past!louis rly believing his newly bestowed immortality & companion in such can give u some more time to hold onto what he has , even as the clock strikes twelve. anyways got off track here all is this to say i rly loved this scene btwn jonah+louis cuz they felt like real black men from the deep souf flirting w/ eachother in the dark and that along w/ what louis said abt jackson square in the beginning of this same episode sold me on the color conscious casting bit. like these people know how to write complex black characters & how they maneuver in a semi realistic setting for real.

#yn.#iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #jonah macon #if i had to do a ranking of my fave eps #it alternates between 5-3-7 (in any order) or 6-2-4 #and any scrambling of such #no hate to the pilot #but its just. hm. ill come back to that feeling later

196 notes · View notes

dronarryfest · 1 month

Text

Well everyone, it's been a bumper final week for Dronarry fest! Here's your chance to catch up on everything you've missed before we post the masterlist. Thank you all to everyone who has been reading along - keep your comments and kudos coming!

[FIC] Snowdrift || E || 8k || by @wolfpants

London is drowning in snow, and Draco and Ron get more than they bargain for when they comfort Harry after - another - bad break up.

💭 Joining in the love for your established Dron here - oh my god. I loved seeing Draco through Ron's eyes, the way they were so in tune throughout all of this. You write atmosphere so well - I felt like I could see this unfolding. - dahlliances

💭 Absolutely brilliant, fantastic dynamic between the three of them, with poor old unlucky-in-love Harry (it wasn't serious 😭) and long-suffering Dron, loved the snippets about them getting together and the late night vibes, and the sex was just gorgeous, really soft and tender but scorching hot (also, let him show you what a real Weasley can do??? HELLO) <3 <3 - sweet_sorrow

[FIC] Stuck In The Middle With You || E || 18k || by @peachydreamxx

“You want a job here?” Ron finally asks, “Taking orders from us?” Malfoy nods shortly. “You want to be beneath Harry and me?” Amusement flashes across Malfoy’s face. “You could say that.” ~ The one where Draco Malfoy walks into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in need of a job, and Ron, and his co-partner Harry, decide they can show Draco the perks of working there.

💭 HELP MEEEE I FEAR I WONT RECOVER. Gorgeously hot, the POV switches were so fluid and well-done, I loved getting to be in each of their heads. Absolutely incredible! - citrusses

💭 wow wow wow what a stunning take on their relationship. i love the harshness of it at first, and the way they had to work through all of their feelings via sex therapy to get to the love they were all too afraid to give. the sex scenes were SO well thought out, and really didn't hold back on the Dom/sub. i loved seeing draco in a truly subby role, and following ron's journey, and then harry's compassion… really well thought out on all accounts. thank you so much for sharing this with us!

[PODFIC] Silhouettes by sweet_sorrow || E || read by @cailynwrites

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway? A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

💭 This is one of my FAVORITE Dronarry fics from last year, I'm so glad you decided to record it! Your voice is magnificent and the quality is amazing. I love how you did the voices, too! Thanks so much for sharing it, I have all the feels now 🥰 - Schmem_14

💭 This is top tier Dronarry for me. Thank you so much for recording it and reading a beautiful story so beautifully. - wolfpants

[FIC] Borrowed Time || E || 8k || by @the-starryknight

Harry woke in someone else's bed, sleeping beside someone else's lover. Leaning in is the worst possible solution, right?

💭 oh starry, this is simply gorgeous. I love harry's sensitivity, and his tender feelings towards them, like a bruise, not wanting to hurt them and instead hurting himself in the process. romantic and stunning and hot (and funny, too, esp. the roleplay near the beginning). I don't think you've forgotten anything <3 - thehoneybeet

💭 Gosh, this was such a wonderful and sexy read. I love the way you characterised all three of them, the way they’re so gentle with each other, the way they’re all so clearly smitten. “ I don’t think,” Harry started, “I could survive that.” - this is such a great line!!! I could not put this down once I started this. It was SO good. Thank you for writing this for us ❤️ - sleepstxtic

[FIC] All This On Display Like That || M || 4k || by @elskanellis

Draco is good at: hosting; drinking; drinking games; duelling; controlling himself when Harry Potter is around; earning a chance to ask undeniably fit Ron Weasley on a date.

💭 This is sexy, funny, beautifully paced DELIGHT. Thank you for that. Can’t possibly say how much I enjoyed it in sort of an evil, chin in my hands sort of way. 😈 - shealynn88

💭 Good golly gosh! You can’t see but I’m gleefully kicking my feet with how delightful this was to read. I remembered your snippet of Draco’s declaiming and I’m so delighted to finally read it in situ! This was so fun, so sweet, so descriptive, so sharply narrated - an absolute delight AND a triumph. Thank you! - rainstormradish

[FIC] Bike Dream || E || 27k || by @dodgerkedavra

Draco’s going to learn to ride a bike if it’s the last thing he does.

💭 god i love your writing. your worlds are so FULL. so much love and struggle and support and HAPPINESS!! i laughed at so many different points in this fic but i also absolutely cried, and those are my favorite kind of fics. thank you so much for sharing this!!! - pocket-lin

💭 Your characterizations are incredible- as always, such a treat to read your writing. Thank you for sharing!

#dronarry fest 24 #dronarryfest #dronarry #draco malfoy #ron weasley #harry potter #week 3 roundup

48 notes · View notes

autism-connoisseur · 9 months

Text

ive been yelling about this pesterlog in sids dms for 3 mins now hello

just.... so many things......

vriska wanted to fight jack to protect her friends. shes the only one in her group that god tied. its on her. ((so many trolls do this. feel like they have this task thats /theirs/. no one else can do it. no one can understand or shoulder the burden for them. the exact wording is "if not me, then who?" and isnt that just the perfect example of alternian society, expecting them to perform the impossible on their own, making them feeling like no one can help so they shouldnt even think of asking. thats why karkat as a leader and as a knight of blood does the impossible by keeping them together. everyone has always told them they CANT rely on others: the others are too weak, the others wont understand, the others are too good for you, you are too good for the others, etc. teamwork was something alien to them and yet karkat got them through the full game)).

if vriska goes fight jack, he follows her trail ((much like a dog would may i add)) and kills karkat and terezi. kills like half of her remaining friends, who are one of the biggest reasons shes fighting. she thinks of their safety before she thinks of her glory!! of course she wants to be savior of the universe, but she wants to be savior of her friends before that.

but most of all, killing jack means meeting the other session safely. means not having to hide anymore. means meeting /june/, and the other humans. means seeing their ways and behaviors so different from the trolls', yet something that calls to vriska. sure, karkat would fit better as a human, but her? could she fit as a human? could she be like a human, or a troll thats like a human, or even more of a human with a hint of troll? shes willing to give it a shot. and who best to try it with than her favorite human, the one who knows about her doubts about "the test", the one that doesnt understand the way she sees killing but tried to support and listen to her anyways, the one who doesnt judge her for being too much of a troll or not enough of a troll or for the things she did while trying to fit into her supposed place??

and none of that matters because if she challenged jack, she would lose. shed get her friends killed before he even bothered with her. and we dont even /know/ if she would win, or if shed survive even if she did.

none of that matters either, because on the alpha timeline shes dead. she laid her heart bare for june and now shell see and respond and it wont matter because vriska needs to die.

#crying again btw #pau liveblogs #act 5 part 2 #j egbert #vriska serket #spider8reath

80 notes · View notes

definitelynotshouting · 4 months

Note

hello!! i have thoughts about the hunger au worldbuilding <3

okay so

will Grian ever have an encounter with the Watchers in the fic (you dont have to answer ofc)?? but if he did,, what would his reaction be???

are they looking for him? did they just let him leave??

because- like. from what i can remember they didnt have any malicious intent towards him?? like Watchers function on a completely different moral level so they didnt mean any harm they DID harm him, y'know? if that makes sense??

also! do they Watchers love him in the sense of like,, parent child love? or do they simply view him as their offspring TM

now that im typing this out i feel like this is all very spoilery ish so you probably wont be able to answer it, but!!! i had to try >:)

-🐛

Hey bug anon!!! Dw i can answer these, thanks for asking!! :D

The Watchers wont be showing up in the main fic-- although theres definitely room for them to appear in future oneshots!!! That being said, uhhh.... Grian would NOT have a good reaction to seeing them again. He's got a lot of trauma surrounding them-- thats like, hardcore panic attack breakdown territory if he ever had another encounter.

And the Watchers are looking for him, actually-- community is such a big part of Watcher culture that its anathema to them that he'd ever even want to leave in the first place, and they worry a lot for his safety (considering hes both an integral piece of restoring their population, and because to them, striking out on your own is synonymous with death). They've been looking for him for years now, though by the time the fic takes place, that's tapered off from any active searching. These days, they only look where their feeding happens to take them (many of their colony assume he's dead, but some still hold out hope despite everything).

They didnt let him leave. Grian spent YEARS carefully watching them, cataloging their habits, learning how both they and his new body worked, before making a rapid and desperate escape. But they also didnt hold any malicious intent! Like you said, they just have a completely different moral structure, and ultimately, they were just following their customs. Community values dictate they stick together, so Grian's mad run for freedom took them all terribly by surprise, and was ultimately what gave him the leverage to successfully escape

I think the way Watchers parse the concept of love is very different from ours-- i hesitate to say they loved Grian if only because i dont feel like they define that feeling the same way Players would or even how we do irl. But they did deeply care. Juveniles are highly valued and taken care of by the entire community-- although Grian had the mind of an adult, not a freshly hatched juvenile, so that did make a slight difference in how they viewed him. I think a more accurate way to look at how they felt about him is that of a mentors and mentee relationship, where they taught him how to survive as one of them, and fully incorporated him as a member into their colony. He was genuinely cared for; in my head, i liken them to a well-meaning but very controlling family (though not a nuclear one)

Thanks again for the ask, bug anon!! :D it was nice to get a chance to talk about this!! I definitely want to write the Watchers proper at some point, so who knows-- maybe in a future oneshot, they might appear. Whether thats a pre-canon fic or a future one...... well, who's to say >:]

#shouting speaks #asks #grian #evo watchers #watcher!grian #hunger au #mcyt #txt

35 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

gameupadate2

Game Update

halfwayacrosscomic

Half Way Across

07-olivia-casta-11

Olivia casta

russianbear71

samsarajoe

Nonsense