#can I consider my blog a safe space | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adnauseum11 · 2 months

Text

Permanent Change of Station (John Price x Reader)

You goad John and make a revelation.

2.6k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

Feedback Welcome!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, master list is pinned to my blog.

‘John! Slow down, you absolute muppet.”

You are practically panting, tugging hard on his hand after having to trot alongside his long strides for most of the way home. He finally seems to hear you and his next step is shortened, scaling back to a speed that allows you to pull even with him.

“Sorry, love.” He acknowledges, his tone still brusque.

“Are you alright?”

Now that you can catch your breath a bit, you’re concerned, John’s dragging you down the street out of character. You march beside him for a moment and he seems to chew your question over before giving the most unbelievable answer possible when you arrive at the front door.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You sigh, watching him fiddle with his keys. As you wait beside him you take in his body language, your slowly sobering brain working overtime on the puzzle that is John Price. The tension hasn’t left his body and his shoulders are tight. The set of his jaw is stern, his expression pinched. You wonder at his full-bodied reaction to some mindless drunk idiot, unsure if the change in his normal demeanour is your relatively new relationship status or something else. You decide to push the boundaries you used to stick to, instead of backing off.

“John, you dragged me two blocks. What’s going on?” You follow him into the front hallway, shrugging out of your coat.

“Not a fan of his hands on you, is all.”

John answers, half turned away from you, the lines of his body still stiff with unspent energy. He’s hanging up the coats while you step out of your boots, watching him for clues.

“Jealous? Of that guy?”

You can’t help the incredulity in your tone and are rewarded with a sharp look from John.

“Not jealous. Concerned for your safety.”

He answers, facing you again. You are reminded of the size difference between you, and how much restraint John usually shows when he puts his hands on you.

“My safety?”

John stays silent but his eyes are locked on you, the intensity not having left his face in the slightest. Your half-sober brain finally puts the pieces together, catching up with your mouth. John’s primed for a fight that isn’t coming, his body wound tight to react to a threat no longer there. Oh.

“Are you sure, John?”

“Your safety is my business, especially now.” He’s still terse, his hands going to his hips as he stares you down, not enjoying the implications of being considered jealous over some pissant.

You can’t tell if it’s the beer still running through your veins or some inner swell of confidence but you sashay away from John, plucking the buttons of your work shirt open as you go. You’ve already decided the best course of action, whether he realizes it or not.

“I’m safe, John. Are you going to be able to let it go, now?”

He’s watching your hands, following you down the hallway without any conscious thought.

“Sure.”

He answers with one word, not convincing you at all. His back is still straight and the tension is still visible in his body, even at a few steps from him as you are now.

You look at him with a raised brow before dropping your shirt into the hamper. John watches you wiggle out of your work pants, standing in your underwear giving him a disbelieving look. He stands arms akimbo, focus intent, sucking up all the air in the room.

“Not very believable, handsome. Want to know what I think?”

You pick your way over to him, your heart thrumming against your breastbone. You’ve poked at John before, but he’s usually in a better head space to take your prodding. You hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew, his mood not so forgiving now.

“Hmm?”

“I think you need to burn off this energy.”

“You complained at having to walk fast, darling.”

John’s tone is sardonic and dismissive, but his eyes don’t leave you. You can feel the hairs raise on your body, anticipation spiralling through you.

“Not like that, I think you need to fuck me.”

“What?”

John’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth. His eyes darken though, a nod to the desire simmering between you all night that even he can’t will away.

“You heard me.” You step into his space, your fingers walking up his stomach to follow the curve of his ribs. You grab two fistfuls of his shirt over his pecs, tugging him down so you can speak directly into his ear. “C’mon John, fuck me.”

It’s as if you have flipped a switch in the man, his hands wrapping around your biceps tightly, stepping into you and directing your body backwards into the wall with a thump. His hands lack the tenderness they normally have, now grasping and greedy, squeezing the softness of your curves as he pins you in place.

“You make me fucking crazy; you know that?”

John’s breath is hot at the base of your neck, making your belly swoop with lust. His gravelly voice is low, sending shivers down to the base of your spine as it washes over you, your fingers spreading over his belly. You’re trying to get your fingers under his shirt when John yanks it up between his shoulder blades, throwing it. You only get a moment to press your palms against the wiry hair of his warm belly before he’s jerking you around, making you face the wall.

His palms pin your shoulders firmly, the unspoken message clear, don’t move. You make a small questioning sound before you can feel the whiskers of his face and his hot mouth on the base of your neck. His hands stroke down to your bra, undoing it to make way for his mouth, working down the vertebra of your spine. You can feel him kneeling, his knees on either side of your feet and his hands tugging your thong down, his whiskers and mouth in the small of your back. Your thighs clench together of their own volition, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps at his touch. His teeth closing on the globe of your ass makes you gasp and twist, a hand landing in his hair. A dark chuckle and he grips your wrist, removing your hand as he stands, spinning you around to face him again.

Before you can say a single thing, he’s got your face between his palms, claiming your mouth with his lips and tongue, shutting any higher brain function down. Your hands wrap around his forearms, steadying yourself against his crowding body. He’s moving you again, your legs wobbly from the rush of desire coursing through you. John follows your stumbling steps, steering you into the bathroom as he devours your mouth, drinking in the small needy sounds you can’t help making. You’re panting when he breaks away, his hands bold on your body, twisting you around again, this time to face the mirror.

You can see your own kiss swollen lips, cheeks and chest flushed, nipples tight in the reflection. John’s face is dark with intent, one hand curling over your belly to cup your slit, his fingers sliding over your slick curls, his other landing on your back, forcing your forward. The pressure of his fingers coupled with his insistent pushing has the air leaving your lungs in a moan, and your hands scrambling for purchase on the sink counter. The little bottles of face cream and serum you had lined up scatter as you awkwardly brace yourself, John snugging his still clothed erection against the curve of your ass.

“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you. You’re going to watch.”

John is hunched over you, speaking lowly into your ear, making your thighs clamp around his hand. Your face is inches from the mirror in this position, bent over the counter, and you watch your own pupils dilate as John slides a finger into you up to his knuckle, sending you onto your toes.

“Oh god –“

Your next words die on your lips, replaced with a throaty moan. John’s finger is rocking into you as he frees his twitching cock, the blue of his eyes a faint ring around his blown pupils. He presses the hot length of himself against your ass, trapping his hand between your thighs and the counter. The muscles of his arm dance as he works you over, adding a finger as he glides through your slick walls. The moment you find some purchase to grind against him he eases off, sliding his hand from your body to your frustrated whimper. You can see the tell-tale flush of his arousal working down his throat in his reflection, his eyes tracking your body’s movements in the mirror.

“Hold still.”

He orders darkly, and you obey, watching as he focuses on tracing your soaked slit with the flushed tip, making you gasp and bite your lip, your gaze meeting with his in the reflection. His hot eyes bore into yours as he presses into you, the stretch making your eyes widen and a whine build in your throat. The intensity in his eyes as he buries himself in you steals all thought, making you mindlessly arch your back and press back against him as best you can. He only gives you a moment to process before he starts moving, the weight of his thrusts driving your thighs into the counter. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow but your focus is completely on the drive of John’s blunt cock, filling you over and over again, his hands gripping your hips.

He sets a steady pace, his heavy thrusts forcing you to slap a palm against the mirror to keep your face from crashing into it. It gives you some purchase to push back against him, making him growl lowly, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

“You like that, hmm? You take me so well, darling, you feel so good wrapped around me.”

John’s rambling, his low voice more of a rumble in his chest, his palm insistent on your back again. The drag of his cock through your wetness, paired with the sinuous movement of his body in the mirror and his velvet voice is making you feel drunk again, caught spinning between sensations. You can hardly string together a reply, your words slurred as you fight to keep yourself from colliding with the mirror.

“Yes, John, just like that, fuck –“

You break off, John’s insistent fingers on your hips tugging you back to meet his thrusts. He bottoms out making you both moan, your body clenching around him. You can feel your slick arousal leaking, coating John’s hot flesh as his thrusts pick up speed. Your hair brushes the mirror as you lose your focus to John’s insistent cock, and then he’s threading his fingers through it, tugging your head back, the pull a counterpoint to his thrusts.

The moans he’s pulling from you are only raising in pitch, bouncing in the bathroom’s acoustics as you get caught between sensations. Each jolting thrust tugs your hair by the root, sending wave after wave of tingles through your scalp and back down your spine to your pussy. You whine as your muscles involuntarily clamp down on him, an answering guttural groan torn from his chest at the pressure.

“Oh shit, that’s so good, don’t stop.”

You manage to pant out, your voice needy and your eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, inches from your own face in the mirror. Your inner muscles are starting to flutter, a tell-tale sign of your impending orgasm. John doesn’t break his rhythm or let go of your hair, slapping your ass, the sting bringing you onto your toes. Your body bears down on him in surprise, making you push back on the mirror and John hisses, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Fucking hell, look at me.”

John orders, his voice dark and his face intense. You drag your gaze from his flexing body to his eyes, suddenly feeling like you are being swallowed whole. Goosebumps break out, unable to look away as John’s thrusts turn slightly frantic, the wet sounds of your flesh meeting getting louder and more insistent. His grip on your hair brings you back onto your toes, your back arched and hips canted. Your hands on the mirror leave smudges as they slip, your body coiling taut and fighting for release.

“I want to watch you cum around me”

His voice wraps around you, pouring into your ear and going straight to your pussy. He smacks your ass again roughly, and you jerk, your head bobbing and your hair tugging in his grip. He doesn’t relent, staring you down as he bucks into your body, his eyes two dark pools of desire, sucking you in.

“Cum for me, love.”

The authoritative snap of his command does something to your insides and your eyes widen as your orgasm slams into you suddenly, making your fingers curl against the glass of the mirror. John thrusts deep, releasing your hair to grip your hips tightly as you shudder, clenching around him as you cum with a rattling cry, your body tensing below his. He rides out your pulsing orgasm for a few heartbeats, watching your eyes finally flutter closed before he pulls out, making you whine. He strokes himself tightly until he spills thick ropes of cum on your lower back, hissed curses drifting over your slumped shoulders. There’s nothing but panting moans and the weight of John sagging against you, the world narrowed to the two of you as you struggle to catch your breath.

It takes John a moment to gather himself, your own legs feeling shaky as you lean your weight on the sink counter. He lifts and you feel him stroking a cloth over your back a moment later, cleaning you up.

“You alright, love?” His palm slowly smooths up your spine, squeezing the base of your neck.

You hum an affirmative and John’s hands wrap around your arms, pulling you upright again and turning you to face him. The fiery intensity in his eyes is gone, replaced with warmth as he searches your face for a moment. Satisfied with whatever he sees he kisses you, wrapping you in his arms when you sway slightly, still unsteady.

“Will you shower with me?”

You ask, and it’s John’s turn to hum an affirmative, wrangling you close enough to turn the water on. You press your cheek into his chest, leaning into his solid body as the steam starts to accumulate in the room. You try to swallow the emotion suddenly clawing up your throat but John sees your face as he disentangles from you so you can get into the shower.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s following you in, letting you stand under the water while he frowns down at you. You try to shake your head and dismiss it but he’s not having it, cupping your face to make you look at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Darling-“

You realize he’s not going to let it go after a moment and bite your lip, gripping his wrists tightly, wishing you were a better liar. This is not how you pictured having this conversation. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape this without making it a bigger issue though.

“John – I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s breathing your name, a smile stretching across his lips, genuine delight taking years off his face.

“You know I’m in love with you too, darling. I’d do anything for you.”

You can feel his smile against yours when he kisses you repeatedly, and can feel the satisfaction in his touch when he derails the shower in short order, unable to keep his hands to himself.

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @itr-00 @batw3nch @writeforfandoms @chloepluto1306

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #john price smut #captain price #this work has smut #falling in love #john price x you

285 notes · View notes

bogkeep · 6 months

Text

being in aroace education mode has me all fired up...... one thing i talk about a lot when given the opportunity is Deconstructing How We Think About Relationships - in short, if we put all of our relationships with other people into a pie chart the 'romantic partner' slice is likely to be a very small slice but gets a disproportionate amount of Relationship Infrastructure compared to other categories, such as vocabulary, rituals, attention and narrative scaffolding - entire systems such as dating / finding "the one" / break-ups / the relationship escalator, etc. on the flipside, 'friend' is such a vast category consisting of a plethora of different relationship, all ranging from Friendly Acquantaince to Extremely Close Childhood Friend You Share Everything With, but we have a lot less language and structure for how we think about these relationships even though many of them can be deeply important and intense to us.

the line between romance and friendship is really blurry, maybe even non-existent, but it feels like the way we think about these categories is that Romantic Partner is this one very specific, formalised box of a category, while Friend is a vast and vague landscape where anything can happen - and it's on this free real estate we have built structures like Queerplatonic Partner. the concept has probably existed since forever, along with many other different types of relationships throughout time and cultures, but it's our current attempt at having a Word for it.

are you with me so far? i want to write a blog post about Deconstructing Intimacy.

just putting a CW here that i'm going to say the word sex a lot and touch on the topic of sexual trauma.

one of the very thorny things about This Whole Topic is that sex and sexuality is extremely political. we just do not live in a world where there's any neutral ground to stand on regarding sex. every demographic comes with a lot of assumptions and expectations and moral judgement tied to sexuality. some demographics are desexualised, some are hypersexualised, some are Both At Once, and in addition to that there's lots of stigma, moralizing, pathologizing, and lawmaking. just a whole mess.

so all of That makes it kind of impossible to fully Dethrone Sex. and by dethroning sex i mean stripping it of the baggage it's accumulated in our cultures. Sex Is A Thing You Can Do With Your Body (And Your Mind?). this does not have to make it any less or more meaningful to you than what it already is. what each person considers intimate is very individual. many people find hugging completely inconsequential and will hug anyone at any time, and for some people a hug is A Lot. For some people, sex is a very fun and casual activity, and for others it's Sacred and carries a lot of meaning and a very close bond. sex is intimate - it requires trust and vulnerability.

it is not the only way to achieve trust and closeness, nor the only thing that requires it.

whenever i take the bus somewhere, i trust the bus driver to take me there safely. i put my literal life in a stranger's hands, but it's a very casual affair i don't think about too much. it's not an act of intimacy, just someone doing their job.

i think the way we talk about sexual assault as the evillest most horribly irredeemably worse-than-death thing, and sexual trauma as a unique kind of trauma amongst traumas, is... indicative. and please do not get me wrong, SA is a horrible thing in every way. it's a violation of trust, vulnerability and personal space. it's an abuse of power. those are the things that make it so horrific - but it's not unique.

an abuse of power, a violation of trust and vulnerability, can happen in so many different forms. emotional abuse, non-sexual violence, medical abuse, et cetera - i don't think it's possible to place trauma into a hierarchy from least to most bad. trauma can be incredibly complex and it's different for everyone. if one day the bus driver on a whim decided to drive off a cliff, i think that would severely fuck up my ability to trust other people to drive me around. if i trusted someone with my innermost thoughts that i have never shared with anyone else, and they used them to be cruel to me, that would severely impede my ability to connect with others.

i just... don't think it does anyone any favours to separate sexual trauma from all other trauma - making it seem like sexual trauma is The Worst Trauma Possible You Can Never Heal From, and on the flipside, make it seem like Well Your Non-Sexual Trauma Cannot Possibly Be That Bad.

TRAUMA TOPIC ASIDE, i think the concept of intimacy has a tendency to get flattened into just the one kind. there are many, Many ways for people to be intimate, many activities that require some form of mutual vulnerability or physical contact, but it seems like we're just very used to placing Acts of Intimacy into the Sexual category. kind of like a venn diagram where the two circles are Sexual Intimacy and Non-sexual Intimacy that are largely overlapping. but what if, instead, it's more that Intimacy is a really big circle, and sex is just one of the circles within it?

the way i think this slots into the whole Relationship Infrastructure thing is that We Like To Categorize Things. if we see two people being very intimate in a way that's not explicitly sexual, it's tempting to think ah yes they are in love AND they're having sex, OBVIOUSLY, because they are clearly capable of having that level of trust and vulnerability together. but what if they're not? does that devalue their relationship? does it make them any less close? these are very chewy questions to ask even without bringing shipping discourse into it, and i would prefer Not To because sexuality is political and there is no right answer.

another way this flattening can be frustrating is all the times non-sexual intimacy is treated as Sexual By Proxy. let's say, for example, you're telling a story, and all forms of intimacy within that story get read as metaphors for sex, despite your actual intentions. there's nothing wrong with using metaphors for sex, especially since Sex Is Political and sometimes we gotta be clever about the storytelling - but it can get very messy if people read sexuality between characters who don't have that, especially characters between which it would be very problematic to portray that. we gotta be able to tell stories about all kinds of close relationships, and surely it should be possible without bringing freud into it at every turn.

intimacy is context-dependent, i would say. a moment of vulnerability can be platonic or romantic or sexual or maybe something else depending on a situation and all the factors involved. human connection is an boundless spectrum, not just a couple boxes.

did any of this make sense? they're just my Thoughts, i'm not a scholar on this i just

#too long for twitter #aro ace tag #asexuality #aromantic #and look. i too am a proponent of calling things gay (complimentary) without it being Explicitly Gay in a sexuality sense.

437 notes · View notes

karmaz3r0 · 2 months

Text

Currently in class but I just wanted to show this.

How does Dream apologize better than Wilbur soot for something he hasn’t even done?

And he’s right.

Wilbur shouldn’t be afraid to say Shelby’s name, and he’s a fucking coward for that.

Again, if it hasn’t showed enough, this is NOT a safe space for Wilbur soot defenders. DNI if you are a defender. DNI if you want Philza and Tommyinnit to speak out immediately too.

Billzo has stated he’s watched his friends be manipulated by Wilbur, Tommy was most likely one of them considering how close they were.

And let’s not forget, Wilbur PUSHED the family dynamic on the other sleepy bois. Tommy looked up to that man. He saw him as a brother. He was there for that GROWN ASS 27 YEAR OLD MAN when his lazy ass couldn’t get out of bed. Let’s all remember that Tommy is currently 19 as well, let that sink in, they met when Tommy was around 14-16?

That’s when you’re the most impressionable, especially since Tommy had looked up to him since before they met. He had to have been around like 16-18 when he was out here fucking taking care of this man in his mid (now late) twenties.

Whatever you may think about the creators that don’t speak out right now, I’d just like to say that the ones who were the closest to him are gonna have a hard time with this.

And stop spreading around proof of Wilbur’s red flags from Tommy’s videos. Knowing how these situations can be handled, he could be beating himself up over the fact that he didn’t see something sooner. Don’t even say “oH wElL hE sHoUlD’vE” he was a fucking kid, a kid brought up by the internet. Don’t go pressuring him either, he got surgery about a week ago.

With that in mind and finally out of my system, support Shelby Shubble, give her all the love and support that you can right now. She is brave for speaking out.

My blog is a safe space for victims, for people going through it right now. My heart goes out to the victims who have spoken out, and the ones who have lost their voice. You all deserve love, you deserve better than what the world has given you.

I wish you all a good morning, good afternoon, and a goodnight.

#fuck you #wilbur soot

294 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months

Text

savior

words: 1.1k

warnings: sexual assault (by strangers), attempted r/pe, mentions of a gun

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you walk nervously down the street, clutching your bag tightly to your body. it wasn’t your intention to be out after dark, in fact, you were trying very hard to avoid it, but your study session ran long and the sun had set behind the buildings.

you think about calling rafe, you know hearing your boyfriends voice would help calm you down, but you don’t want to bother him too much, especially considering you’ve only been away from him for a couple hours. you decide against it, knowing you need to fully concentrate on the street around you as you head back to your car, cursing the fact that the busy streets that forced you to park so far away from the library are now completely devoid of people.

you press yourself closer to the brick wall of a building when you see a group of three men on the opposite side of the street, hoping you can be quick and silent enough to slip by without their notice.

“hey, pretty lady!” one of the men shouts out, voice slurred and clearly very inebriated. you hope for a foolish moment that the one shouting was the only drunk one, and that his friends would control him, but when they move across the street towards you, you know you’re in trouble.

“please, just leave me alone.” you whimper, pressing your back flat against the wall.

“you?” the man questions. “you’re far too sexy to be left alone.” one of the man grins, stepping right up into your personal space.

“here, i have money.” you begin to search through your bag for your wallet, cursing the big textbooks making it hard to find anything.

“we don’t want your money, cutie.” the only man who hasn’t spoken yet pipes up.

“please.” your bottom lip quivers. “please, i just want to go home.” you try to hold back the thick tears that are threatening to spill.

“i don’t think so.” the man grabs your breast suddenly, making you scream, hoping someone, anyone is around to help you. you squirm as they tug at your shirt, trying to move away but the other two men grab your arm.

“get off me! get off me!” you shout, squeezing your eyes shut as the main attacker rips your shirt open, exposing your bra.

“shut the fuck up!” one of the men yells in your face. you cringe when you feel his spittle against your cheek.

tire squeals make your eyes pop open, looking down the street as a car races in your direction. the men notice too, looking away from you as the truck speeds up, squealing to a stop right in front of the sidewalk.

“get the fuck away from her!” a familiar voice yells, and you let out a sigh of relief at your savior.

“fuck, he’s got a gun! run!” the mans hands let go of you, and you drop to the ground, crumpling against the brick wall. you whimper softly as you hear their footsteps pound down the pavement.

“baby, fuck, are you alright?” you feel rafes hands on your shoulders, trying to angle you to look up at him. you launch yourself forward, sobbing into his chest. rafe wraps his arms tightly around you, sitting down and letting you crawl into his lap, rocking you gently as you let out all your tears.

“baby…” rafe says softly once you’ve calmed down a little. you look up at him, face wet with tears. he presses your lips together, thankful to have you safe.

“how-” you sniffle. “how did you find me?” you ask. rafe chuckles lightly, pulling his phone out, showing you the find my iphone he has pulled up. “i got nervous when it got dark, so i came to get you.” rafe explains, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“thank you.” you say, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head against his body.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t here sooner honey.” he rubs your back. “they never should have touched you.” “it’s okay, you saved me.” you say. rafe frowns, looking at your tugged open shirt. “you saved me from the worst of it.” you say.

“let me get you home.” rafe says, standing up with you still in his arms. he takes you right to his truck, setting you in the passenger seat. he frowns at your exposed body, tugging his sweatshirt off for you to put on.

he makes sure you buckle up before closing the door, running to grab your bag before heading around to the drivers side.

“my car…” you mumble as rafe takes off.

“we can get it in the morning. besides, you won’t be needing it, i’ll drive you wherever you need from now on.” rafe’s hands are tight on the steering wheel, “you never should have been out by your own anyways.”

you frown, knowing rafe is blaming himself right now. “hey,” you say softly, reaching across and placing your hand on his bicep. “it’s not your fault.”

“i should have been a better boyfriend.” rafe grunts, shrugging your hand off.

“stop, rafey.” you say. “it’s making me feel worse that you’re blaming yourself.” you tell him honestly. rafe pulls to a stop at a stop sign, taking the deserted roads as an opportunity to lean across the center console, kissing you gently. “i’m sorry princess, i just want to keep you safe.” “i know baby.” you grin, giving him a peck on the lips. “that’s why you got to me when you did.”

rafe nods, giving you another kiss before turning his attention back to the road. you don’t mean to, but you’re asleep by the time you get home. rafe smiles gently at you, closing his door as quietly as he can before walking around to your side, unbuckling you and picking you up.

you wake while he’s carrying you inside to your bedroom, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to make it easier for him to carry you.

“let me get you changed into pajamas.” rafe says, setting you down on your shared bed.

you nod, letting him take his own sweatshirt off your. he frowns again when seeing your ripped shirt. “i’ll buy you 100 new ones.” rafe says. you just nod, knowing it would make him feel better.

he takes the ripped shirt gently off your shoulders, before removing your bra. he rushes quickly to your pajama drawer as you let out a yawn. he redresses you in your pajama shirt, but you stand up and change your own bottoms while he changes himself.

“come on baby.” rafe says, sliding under the covers. you lay down against him, letting him press his chest into your back. rafe places a hand against your stomach, slipping it under your shirt to feel your skin.

you feel rafe shake gently behind you, pressing his lips against your neck. “it’s okay.” you tell him, putting your hand over his. “i’m here, rafe.” he squeezes you impossibly closer to his body. “i’m safe.”

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron one shot

377 notes · View notes

codemiracle · 6 months

Text

ㅤㅤ✧ Welcome to the Church of the ‎ ‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ‎Hypercode. ✧

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

world.startSimulation();

// ✦⋆ What is the 'Church of the Hypercode'?;;

The church of the Hypercode is a Yandere-centric blog. Expect some dark content, sensitive topics, blood, etc. If these themes affect you mentally in any way, please don't interact, keep yourself safe. I won't post extremely suggestive art or flat-out NSFW.

// ✦⋆ What are the rules of the Church?;;

Minors are not allowed, this place is not a safe space for you, please don't interact with the posts if you're under 18. Any discrimination, homophobia, transphobia, racism, or any sort of hateful ideologies will NOT be tolerated. Keep the comments and asks as respectful as possible, this is a safe place for anyone who loves Yanderes! Yes, you're free to make fanart for any of the characters on this blog.

// ✦⋆ What are the current projects?;;

The current project I'm working on is the visual novel called 'Dies Irae'. Post about the VN Lore here. Post 1 with the two first characters: Yuuta and Yotsuya. Post 2 with the other two characters: Tatsuya and Kurosaki. Post 3 with the last romanceable character: Seth.

It's still an early project, please be patient. // ✦⋆ Will you post NSFW artwork/can I support you?;; I have a Patreon where I publish all my NSFW artwork, I do normally 2 to 3 drawings per week, if you're considering subscribing make sure to read CAREFULLY the pinned post on there, I'll appreciate all the support I can get!

// ✦⋆ About me;;

My name is Chrona! You can refer to me using he/him/they/them pronouns, I'm bisexual (With a female lean). I'm 20 years old and... if it's not obvious by now, English is not my first language, so sorry if I make any mistakes.

The church welcomes you.

world.announce("Brand new paradise.");

✦ side acc: @bunnygirllover45 (yes that's the actual username, and I don't feel ashamed about it I love bunny girls.)

hashtags:

#the code answers #seth ask #yuuta ask #kurosaki ask #yotsuya ask #tatsuya ask #dies irae vn

324 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

Text

Welcome to my blog!

Minors DNI – The content on this blog is for adults (18+). By following or engaging with this content, you are agreeing that you are 18 or older. (I will block users not respecting this boundary.)

Safe Space – Feel free to drop into my ask box, DM me, leave me comments…I am very friendly and love to chat!

Requests – open. [Task Force 141 Imagines ONLY]

Taglist – If you want to follow my work and be there right when it goes live, please consider joining my taglist. (You are responsible for making sure I can “@“ you when I tag a post; blank or empty blogs will not be accepted)

Community Labels - This blog is Community Label compliant. All content that is graphic in nature will be put behind a Community Label. If you wish to view mature content, please adjust your settings.

Who am I? – Poppy. she/they.

ao3 // taglist // personal tumblr

Missed Hints (Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader)

Misunderstanding (Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader)

Mint & Stone (Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader) ... coming soon

Rainy Reunion (Aragorn x Female Reader)

Burnt Bread (Éomer x Female Reader)

Gentle Dark (Haldir x Female Reader)

A Sudden Spark (Éomer x Female Reader)

An Unexpected Catch (Boromir x Female Reader) ... coming soon

Untitled Captain Rex ... coming soon

Untitled Din Djarin ... coming soon

Untitled Hunter (Bad Batch) ... coming soon

Dark Knowledge Masterlist (Miraak x Hermaeus Mora x Female Reader)

Ink & Needle Masterlist (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader)

Dangerous Pursuit Masterlist (Captain John Price x Female Reader)

Imagines & What If Main Masterlist (Task Force 141)

Untitled RH Task Force 141 Rock Band AU ... coming soon

Untitled Simon "Ghost" Riley Post-Apocalyptic AU ... coming soon

Winter 2023 Collection Masterlist

Fluffuarry 2024 Masterlist (Star Wars Edition)

masterlist banners: created using Canva profile picture: taken & edited by gloomwitchwrites profile banner: taken & edited by gloomwitchwrites (oracle cards from Threads of Fate)

#the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit smut #lotr fanfiction #lotr smut #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim smut #cod smut #cod fanfiction #call of duty smut #call of duty fanfiction

228 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 10 months

Note

So I stumbled across your blog earlier and you have TASTE fren! Your fics are always so great! But i also wanted to drop this bug in your ear: We’ve seen farmer/cowboy Reiner. But what about ✨Professor✨ Reiner? Hear me out! He teaches either Biology or Anatomy and Physiology for nursing/med students, something that’s very detailed and nuanced. He’s not normally a harsh grader but when he notices that you, his favorite student, is getting distracted by something, he decides to give you a hands-on🤭 lesson to help you bring your grade back up

omg hey love!! welcome, I’m so glad you found it! I appreciate the love 🫶🏾 and this gem right here cause lawddd! What?? Professor Reiner?? This might just awaken something in me (including a very bad kink) but I got you:

content warning: black!fem reader, 4 year age gap, plus size coded, (also really nerdy), classroom sex, fingering, pet names (pretty girl, love, sweetheart, sir), praise kink, reiner being so unintentionally hot (god help me), squirting, cum shot

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*: ･*:｡.･*: ･*:

professor!reiner, the late-twenty something instructor who taught anatomy at the local college was by far your favorite instructor on campus.

professor!reiner, who struggled a bit with social anxiety preferred smaller classrooms settings but it never shrunk his desire to spread his knowledge. Earning a masters in anatomy and a minor in pathology was always fascinated with medicine and wanted to help others reach their dreams.

professor!reiner, who first spotted you in his night course was instantaneously smitten. Not so much romantically at first but because you reminded him so much of himself as a scholar. Shy, reserved and not one to stand out in the crowd. Causing him to keep a watchful eye on you.

professor!reiner, always dressed in his designer button downs, gold wristwatch, wire rimmed glasses and khakis looked more and more handsome every time you saw him. He had such a soothing aura about him. From that deep voice to his gentle teaching style; always ensuring that his students had a safe space to learn. Whether they were a freshly eighteen year old kid navigating the world and college life or the single mother who’s trying to go back to school to better herself. He applied the same amount of grace and attentiveness to everyone. But it was something about you that had him much more involved��

professor!reiner, who always made it his mission to praise your efforts and how intelligent you were, noticed a dip in your grades after your last test became extremely concerned.

“Miss (L/N). Would you mind staying after class? I don’t want to take up too much of your time but I’d like to discuss your most recent test if you don’t mind.”

professor!reiner,who had his sleeves rolled up, sat on the side of his desk holding a sheet of paper with a red circle and the number ‘46’ inside of it. He’d pinch the bridge of his nice and push his glasses up to his forehead.

“Miss (L/N), I have to say..this isn’t like you at all. You’re normally the top student in my class. Also, you’ve been spacing out, falling asleep during my lectures. Is something going on? You can talk to me..”

(Y/N), who had actually been toiling with something for about a month now was hesitant to tell him what exactly was going on. Out of fear that he’d be disappointed. But eventually came clean..confessing that you had been cheated on; which was even more so sad considering the fact that it wasn’t even an official relationship. Thus leaving you in a slump, in many ways. Not taking care of yourself the way you used to, lacking motivation in your classes and everything.

“I guess you could say I just haven’t felt like myself. I know it’s pretty stupid and definitely no excuse. I apologize, Mr. Braun. I’ll try harder.”

professor!reiner, who was livid seeing you in this state. Knowing that someone had hurt one of his students and one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

professor!reiner, who took your hand and caressed it instantly made you feel at ease. Letting you know it was okay to feel that way after such a betrayal and that this guy didn’t deserve you whatsoever. That it also wasn’t worth squandering your bright future over..he hated seeing you in this state. So much so, he offered to show you better..

“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting around crying over someone so stupid. You should refocus your energy.” “I’m trying..I just can’t seem to clear my head. Can you help me?”

professor!reiner, who knew exactly what you needed planned to make that pretty little mind go completely blank when he waved you over with two fingers to sit atop his desk.

professor!reiner, who you were insanely attracted to, made your heart (and other things) thump the closer you got. “No need to be nervous, it’s just us.”

professor!reiner, admiring your beautiful figure decided to trace a hand up your exposed thigh and arm, gently biting at his lower lip. And you didn’t bother to stop him because this felt like a dream. Even parting your legs a little wider on instinct.

I feel like I know exactly what you need…” mouthing as he leaned up to your ear, kissing around your lobe..making your legs quiver.

professor!reiner, who was proficient in more than science decided to help you reset you mind by letting you ride his fingers. Snatching your top down to show your breasts and massaged your nipples before sucking them. All while shoving his fingers into your panties.

“You’re soaking, sweetheart…is this all for me?” “Would it be wrong if I said you make this happen all the time?”

professor!reiner couldn’t wait to give you what it was that you were missing, unsheathed his cock and began to stroke it while still working you around on his digits. Telling you to move closer so that you could swirl your tongues around each others mouths. To only shortly thereafter, impale you on his dick. Ten times bigger than your so called ex.

professor!reiner, who couldn’t stop grunting into your ear as his head rested on your back, bouncing you up and down as you clawed at the desk.

“God, you feel amazing, love…f-feels so goddamn warm inside of you. You’re too good to be crying over him..he’d never know what to do with you, baby..” placing kisses down the curvature of your spine.

professor!reiner tried not to do too much but couldn’t help himself to bend you over and give you the best backshots you’d ever had..

“Like that, sweetheart? Is that your spot? You’re creaming so nicely..” “Yes, right there! Thank you, sir!”

professor!reiner couldn’t last much longer when you uttered that name, ushering you to your knees to bust his nut all over your beautiful face. Swiping a thumb along your lips as you licked them.

“How’re feeling, pretty girl? Think you can focus now?” “Yes sir, much better.”

539 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

WIBTA for getting someone kicked out of our school's theatre program???

i (18x) have this friend (18f) i'll call whitney. we met through the school's theatre program and have known each other for about 3.5 weeks.

for a while i really, really liked whitney!! she was super cool and funny and i wanted to be friends with her!! but the first time we ever hung out outside of rehearsal, she made a joke about how i was vulnerable and easy to manipulate due to my mental illness and how she would love to be my shitty boyfriend and treat me terribly. i know she meant it as a joke and it WAS funny in the context of the show we just did, and i didn't take offense (it was true), but i kept thinking about it for a while and what a weird thing it was to say to someone you don't know very well.

last night she invited me back to her dorm and i went and we talked for a few hours. everything was normal at first and she was super cool. then she told me that she used to run a proana blog on tumblr where she had 5000+ followers and posted "tips and tricks." that would ALREADY be bad, but then she told me she's never actually had an ed. she just thought it was funny to see how many people would interact with her posts. as someone who used to have a pretty severe ed, and still does to a much lesser extent, i was really triggered and on the verge of tears. i tried to redirect the conversation a few times and when whitney wouldn't change the subject, i had to call my roommate to come save me.

i really don't want to be around her in the future. she consistently makes me uncomfortable. i was considering bringing it up to some of the members of the exec board of our theatre troupe, who are my friends; however, nothing she ever said was IN the context of theatre or related at all to the program, so i feel like she never violated the "making people uncomfortable" policy of the troupe. she just happens to be a shitty person OUTSIDE of theatre. and i know theatre is one of her safe spaces that i really really don't want to get her kicked out of for no reason. but at the same time, i don't want to have to make the choice between a) not doing theatre or b) spending all my time around her when she says shit like this.

(also worth noting that we're in college so rules about what a person in the program can or cannot do are much less strict and much more up to the exec board's, and college's, discretion as opposed to high school theatre where all extracurriculars are regulated by the principal.)

WIBTA if i talked to the exec board about her??? i feel like i'm overreacting but this seems like really shitty behavior

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

190 notes · View notes

simonrillleyyysss · 4 months

Note

GIRL YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD!!!!

honestly, I feel really comfortable on this blog so I wanna thank you for that. on top of me being a brown girlie, I ADORE pink and girly shit which is seen as really "weird" and "uncool" nowadays especially since I've gotten many comments from people saying how my clothes look ugly on me because I'm "too dark". so I wanna seriously thank you for giving me and many other feminine and pink-loving girlies (that are thirsty for pixelated men) a safe space!

I saw that your req is temporarily opened and I was wondering if you could write fembunnyhybrid!reader x kyle garrick. I LOVED your other versions paired with other characters and would love to see your take with my boy Gaz (hes so underappreciated it's sad ✊😔

LOVE YAAAA!

you are so sweet anon! thank you for your kindness and support🫶🏼🫶🏼 im glad you can consider this a blog you can come to for any request without being shamed, i love u!

i enjoy writing hybrids, and gaz, so i love ur request!💞🎄🎀

garrick loves his little bunny!! loves how your frizzy ears perk up whenever he calls you babe or love, how your nose scrunches when he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you over to him so effortlessly!

‘you feelin’ alright, babe?’

your nose scrunched, cheeks puffing out and tail flicking up and down for a moment as his fingers moved to scratch your ears.

‘mhhmmm, feeling alright..’

loves how easily wound up you are, and how easily flustered you can get!! you’re so sensitive, too sensitive for your own good :(( so why not let your boyfriend help?? always fondling you and squishing your cheeks, cooing about how cute you are!!

he loves to show you off, putting pretty clips in your hair to show off your fluffy little ears or getting s big, pretty bow and tying it around ur tail!! loves watching you giggle and bounce up and down on your feet, tail flickering!<33

‘you like it, love?’

‘s’so pretty! thank you, kyle!’

‘course, anything for my girl.’

if the guys are over? he’s bragging about his little bunbun! sitting you on his lap as soap crooned over you, playing with your hair and poking your nose in intrigue, gaz’s hand laying on your lower back—gently tickling your hip!!

‘she’s a stunner, isn’t she?’

‘aye, gorgeous wee’ thing.’

he might even get you a cute little ribbon collar and tie it around your neck with a bell, brushing his hand through your hair and letting you burrow your face in his chest, hands squeezing at his chest!!

lets you ‘nest,’ wants treats? consider them on your bed, with blankets and other nibbles, drinks? no problem, let’s you sit in your bed and nap or snuggle next to your stuffies, watching your show or doing your nails for him!!

breeding kink, but that’s for another time

#bunny!reader #bunny!reader x kyle gaz garrick #gaz kyle garrick #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick fanfic #kyle garrick x reader #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x bunny!reader #gaz x y/n #kyle gaz garrick

137 notes · View notes

jewish-vents · 1 month

Text

(Post this anonymously, please!!)

I am an artist with an 8k+ follower blog which I have been active on for over 12 years. I've always felt safe here and have considered it my internet home. After October, watching the amount of people in my fandoms and artists who I had admired and found community with who immediately went full-in on a very black and white, aggressively conspiratorial and antisemitic brand of pro-Palestine activism, my idea of community here and my place in it was totally shaken. It was like I had put on a pair of glasses that allowed me to see the latent radicalization that had been going on around me, and the pervasive antisemitism that exists, unacknowledged, in nominally pro-social justice leftist spaces.

The loneliest part is that it feels like, with few exceptions, only other Jews can see it. Even the gentile friends who i love most and who would unquestionably stand up for me are just not attuned to the dogwhistles enough to see 95% of it. It's like living in a bubble reality, unable to take these glasses off, while everyone else goes on as if everything is the same.

Yesterday, I logged in, and saw image attached from a gentile artist i'd followed for months, who had never before given me a reason to feel unsafe. Their tags read "don't come in my inbox to debate this, i have no interest and will not change my mind." I wanted to cry from frustration- this person likely has no understanding of how revoltingly antisemitic this post was because they have no understanding of the complexity of what "zionism" actually means, and, as they've made clear, they have no interest in learning or being told they're mistaken. There are so few of us (Jews) here- how the hell are we ever supposed to combat this? The worst part was that it had 98 likes, and zero replies suggesting that any of them saw a problem with this or disagreed.

I myself never really understood zionism before this- I am ashamed to say that I took a lot of the twisted definitions held by gentiles in my progressive social media spaces without question, and thought that because I believed in Palestinian self-determination, I must be an anti-zionist by definition. It took the "glasses" coming on in the time since October for me to fully learn and to understand that while the nuances of the term go deep, to the majority of my people, basic "zionism" means belief in Jewish-self determination in Eretz Yisrael, and that when many gentiles say "Zionist," they just mean "bad Jew."

In all of this mess there's one thing i'm grateful for, and it's that, even as i've lost community in unfollowing/blocking previous mutuals and acquaintances who've shown their incuriosity and prejudice, this shakeup has driven me to find community with other Jews on this site and a greater curiosity about and sense of belonging in my culture in the real world. I can't be mad that my eyes are open, because i've only lost community that wouldn't accept me as I am, and am gaining community that does, that shares my struggles and that sees the world in ways compatible with my values. When I look at my activity tab and see notifications from my mutuals now, I feel safe knowing that I have been honest, shared the truth of me, and that they have chosen to stick around, whoever they are. I love you all.

#jewish vents #submission #antisemitism #antisemitism on tumblr #antizionism #october 7 #i/p

94 notes · View notes

theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

Text

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 17 - Why do you run, only to let me catch you? Din Djarin x Reader

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: PiV sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining, grogu being a sessy bitch, blood, addiction mentions, addiction, oral F&M recieving, Whiny Din Supremacy.

Graphics made by me Thank you again to @beefrobeefcal @clawdee and @pastelnap for beta-ing! Read on AO3 Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Why do you run, only to let me catch you?

Your relationship – if you could even call it that – with Din Djarin is a complex one, and one you love to hate, or hate to love. It’s been too long now that those lines don’t really exist anymore. There’s a passion in your chest reserved only for him, but to call it love would be a disservice, what you shared with the most feared bounty hunter in the system is something much more than that.

But it’s been at least a Standard Year since you last caught a glimpse of polished Beskar, a sight that set your heart racing like a jump to light speed. You’d heard of his exploits alongside Bo-Katan , and that of his adopted son Din Grogu, and how the three of them took down Moff Gideon and reunited the Mandalorian people.

But, as much as hearing those feats make you somewhat proud of the Beskar clad menace, it only makes you yearn for him more. You’re lost in thought when the droid in front of you snaps you out of it.

“Miss?”

The chaotic roar of the casino comes back to you in a flash, you’d been deep in your own thought spiral you had cut out everything but the image of a silver-clad predator from your mind as you yearned for the thrill of the chase.

The table is looking at you expectantly as you realize you’d slipped off into a daydream, it was your hand. You study the purple skinned Twi’lek opposite you with a smirk, he’s hiding it well, but he’s panicking. You look back to your hand. You’re currently holding eight cards, between the minus 6 modifier and the rest, you’re sitting pretty at seventeen.

You could stand, and hope that your opponent goes bust but there’s no fun in playing this game safe. Especially when this is all the thrill you live for now that your cat and mouse days with Din Djarin are over.

You let your fingertips hover over your side deck, drawing out the moment as you eye up the ten-thousand credit pot on the table. You close your eyes, snatching the card from the deck and you can’t keep your poker face up when you draw a three.

The Twi’lek across from you swears and stands with such force it spills his Spotchka cocktail over the table and you quickly scoop up the credits, protecting your winnings from the hazy blue liquid. The casino hushes around you and you look up from your pile of riches to see what has everyone on edge.

Then you see him.

Shining Beskar, tattered, flowing black cloak, blaster on his hip as the lacquered black T of his visor bores into you. Your blood runs cold, then burns hotter than the binary suns when you see him. A broad smile stretches across your lips. You’re not dressed for a fight, nor a chase, with ridiculously high heels and a tight sequined, green bodycon dress that was not meant for running. Time seems to still as you drop the credits back on the table. The clink of metal-on-metal deafening in the otherwise silent casino.

Mando tilts his head to the side, just enough to issue the challenge. You take a deep breath, formulating your escape as you see him reach for his blaster.

I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.

Those first few words uttered to you as he had you pinned over the bar of a cantina on Tatooine replay in your head as you wink at the Beskar-clad menace. Heat pools in your core as you remember how it felt to be pinned by such a strong, confident man.

You kick off your heels, snatching them up before diving through the crowd. You’re sprinting through the main hall, bare feet slapping against the smooth flooring, making you slip and slide as you hear the unmistakable spur-like clink of metal on metal as Mando gives chase.

You barge through the chaos of Canto Bight, drinks fly as you blindly frisbee a tray at Mando, he bats it away with ease as he breaks into a run, forgoing the initial long, loping strides. You dash through the service entrance, following a waitress before the security door closes. The sound of Beskar pounding against Durasteel as Mando collides with the door has you grinning in premature triumph.

You slip through the halls, ducking confused looking waiters, a Bothan swearing at you as you make your way through to the back door. You break out into the neon-glare of the city and immediately slow your pace. You slip your heels back on and try to blend in with the denizens of Canto Bight.

The streets are packed, holographic screens of kids racing on Fathiers illuminate the facades of the various casinos and hotels. It’s a big race, you should know, you’ve got a lot of money on Skystrider tonight.

Maybe I’ll get lucky a second time tonight?

You think to yourself as you lament the credits you had left behind. You just know the Twi’lek you beat would have taken the winnings in the confusion.

But there was a bigger prize at stake now, one that you were determined to win.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

Mando’s modulated voice growls from over your shoulder. You don’t react, keeping up your purposeful stride as you weave in and out of the throng of bodies. The clink of his suit loud in your ear, you can feel his presence behind you like a heavy weight on your back.

“Was starting to think you’d forgotten about me Mando, way to make a girl feel unwanted.”

You purr as you feel a gloved hand brush the small of your back, you stop abruptly, making Mando crash into your back and you cry out. You give your best performance, letting out a terrified wail that has people turning to look at the way you cower away from the Mandalorian.

“Help he’s assaulting me, please!”

You turn on the spot, clutching at your chest as you back away from him. Mando halts as his visor scans the now antagonistic crowd around him. You wink and poke out your tongue as a man steps between you.

“Hey, tin-can, leave the lady alone.”

“She’s quarry, get out of my way.”

The man looks over his shoulder at you and you give him the waterworks, eyes pleading as you fight to keep the smile off your face.

“Heard that excuse before, just because you’re some hot shot Mando doesn’t mean you can treat a lady like that.”

The other man squares up to Din and you almost hang around to watch the pissing match, but you know you must take every advantage you can get. You take a tentative step back, Mando’s visor tilting to watch your movements as the other man keeps blustering on about honor and some other chivalrous shit. You blow Mando a kiss as you slip your heels off again.

The world blurs around you as you sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, neon lights, steam from exhaust vents, people of all races and creeds whipping by as you feel your lungs burn and you step on something sharp, but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.

You hear blaster fire behind you and wince a little at the fact you might have just got an innocent man killed.

There are no innocent partygoers on Canto Bight.

You think to yourself as you reach the spaceport. Your entire body trembles from overexertion as you stumble into the hangar that houses your X-wing. Your definitely, legitimately sourced X-Wing, and definitely not the one you won from a Sabacc game with a gullible young pilot.

You chuckle to yourself at the memory, opening the cockpit of your fighter until you look around the hangar and see a Mandalorian Class Gauntlet in the next bay over.

That wasn’t there when I landed.

Your stomach drops and you hear a soft modulated huff from the hangar door. Your head snaps up and you see the silhouette of the bounty hunter illuminated by the vibrant, neon rainbow of light bleeding in from the street.

You throw your heels onto the floor and launch yourself into the pilot’s seat, you begin your pre-flight checks but none of the lights or displays come online. You sigh, laughing breathily as you realize he’s done something to immobilize your ship. You have no idea how he knew this was yours, you’re pretty sure it’s still registered under the name Antilles.

You let yourself catch your breath for a moment as the clink of Beskar grows louder with every step. You try to think of a way out of this, some distraction, or final gambit to worm your way out of his clutches, but it’s futile. You’re backed into a corner.

“Alright, you’ve got me. If I promise to be good, could you forgo the carbonite? I break out every time.”

“I’m not stupid, you’d just find a way out of your restraints and gut me in my sleep.”

You shrug, you can’t blame him for that, you did shank him in his sleep the last time you promised to be good when he caught you on Endor. You can still hear the howl of pain as you disappeared into the undergrowth as he pulled the vibroknife – his vibroknife – out of his thigh.

“Fine, but I’m not moving, you’re dragging me onto that ship. I winded myself with all that running, and I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You babble as you look down at the crimson liquid pooling in your cockpit. You chuckle as you feel your head spin, fractals of light crack like shattering Transparisteel across your vision as you let your head loll back onto the headrest.

“What are you-?” Mando asks as he climbs the ladder attached to the cockpit, “Dank Farrik!” He swears as he hurries to pick you up. You laugh to yourself, bemused by the way he seems to care about whether you were hurt.

“Thought you could bring me in hot, or bring me in cold?” You slur as you wrap your arms drunkenly around Mando’s neck, leaning into the cool Beskar of his chest. You breathe in the scent of Beskar, oil, and something like citrus as your vision fades to black.

~*~

You blink awake to a brightly lit hold. You hiss as the white light burns into your eyes, the sound of air recyclers humming all around you a telltale sign you were on ship, likely out of atmosphere already.

“Kriff.”

You groan as you close your eyes, you guess you’re on Mando’s ship, the Gauntlet you saw in the hangar most likely. You take in slow, steadying breaths as you try and figure out your next move. A small gurgle from beside you has you rolling your head to the side, slowly opening your eyes to the sweet little face of the little green kid Mando drags across space with him.

“Kiddo!” You cry and the little guy lights up at the sound of your voice. His large pointy ears perk up and his mouth parts open in joy as he scurries over to you, hopping up on the cot with ease and burying himself in your side as he coos softly against your chest. You smile as you feel something thin and rectangular slip under you on the cot.

“Missed you too buddy, old man’s still dragging you around the galaxy with him?”

The kid hums in a positive affirmation as he babbles away. You get hints of intention from him, like ghosts of thoughts brushing against your mind as he “talks” away at you.

“Grogu?”

Din calls from the cockpit and you sit up in the cot, the impromptu reunion with your secret best friend cut short as you watch Din freeze in the doorway to the hold.

“Get away from him.” Din’s voice is impossibly low, even through the modulator. You’ve never heard him this pissed before.

“Hey, he was the one to instigate this mutinous friendship, not me!”

You frown at the Beskar menace and cross your arms over your chest, Grogu, as you have always known him, follows suit. He plops himself down on the cot next to you and crosses his tiny little arms across his chest before grunting unhappily at his guardian.

“What do you mean friendship?”

“How many times have you gotten me this far Mando, and left me alone in your ship while you slept or got supplies?”

“How should I-?”

“Twenty-seven times, twenty-eight if we count the time I had you tied up-.”

“Naboo doesn’t count.” Din hisses as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms so that you are all in some strange, mirrored standoff.

“Fine, but my point being, kiddo’s curious, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“I am not.”

“So, you don’t remember when we played Don’t wake the sleeping Nerf and covered you with forty-six different pieces of junk from around the ship, including the Darksaber?”

“What are you-?”

“Oh, kriff kiddo, he really did sleep through that.”

Grogu laughs, an angelic little sound that makes your cheeks burn with how much you’re smiling at him. Mando stands there, rage rolling off him in waves as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Mando?” You ask, your tone softer this time as you realize you’re more likely to push him away if you keep teasing him.

“What?”

“You ever figure out my real name?”

“Your real name? No. Why?”

“Just curious, you got my puck on you?”

“Of course.” He grumbles, as if it’s insulting for you to have even asked, before bringing up the holographic image of you. Four statements swirl around the image, and you smile as you read them off in your head.

Whyte Phantom – Thirty Thousand Credits – Exclusive contract.

The final statement is a name.

“Wanna see my identity card?” You ask rhetorically as you pull it up from the datapad the kid had slipped you before his dad came in. Din’s head tilts at the sight of it, before turning to look at Grogu who is pointedly looking anywhere but his dad.

Din grumbles something under his breath as he steps into the hold, head dipping low to read the datapad.

“But that’s? You’re?”

“I put the bounty on myself, yup.”

“Why?”

The question catches you off-guard, you don’t really know yourself, other than you thought it would be a way to ward off the crippling despair you felt every time you walked through the streets of Coruscant. To combat the loneliness in your soul that festers in the darkness of a post-Empire-pre-utopian galaxy. The galaxy that has war veterans dying of Spice addictions while places like Canto Bight prosper as if nothing ever changed.

You could say that, but you won’t, that would require inner strength you just don’t have. So, you quip instead.

“Thought it was kinda hot, having one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy chase me?”

You flash him a practiced, perfect smile and you wait for the anger to come, bracing yourself for violence or harsh words.

“Fine.”

The Mandalorian walks over to your cot and picks up Grogu, moving wordlessly as he scoops him up and takes him up into the cockpit. You curse to yourself quietly as you rub your tired eyes. You were so close to telling him the truth, revealing yourself to the most closed-off person in this damned galaxy.

You lie back down on the cot and take a look at your foot. You smile at the smooth skin, no doubt the kid has healed you with his magic little claws. You can almost hear the conversation between them, Grogu would have insisted on using the force to heal you, Din would have argued against it, you deserved to heal slowly for being such a brat.

You feel Grogu’s mind brush against yours and you get two clear feelings flash through in your mind, his dad, and the intention to speak.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, kid.

You think back, pushing your intent towards the cockpit. Grogu simply responds with a second, stronger intention, talk to him.

You sigh to yourself as you feel his little brainwaves dim as he clearly drifts off to sleep. You rub your hands over your eyes and decide to look for the fresher, and some clean clothes.

~*~

An hour later you hover outside the cockpit door, trying to decide if you should go in or not. You’re about to press the call button when the door hisses open in front of you. Mando charges through, seemingly not noticing you until he’s crashing his chest plate against your nose.

“Son of a Wompa!” You cry out as you feel your nose pop, blood gushes down your face and onto the soft cotton shirt you’d fished out from the storage bins. You stumble backwards and feel yourself pitching backwards, your head spinning as you wait for the inevitable crash of your body on the metal grating.

But Mando saves you from the fall, pulling you up into a loose embrace as he stops you from hurting yourself further.

“Maker, you’re a menace.” He grumbles through the modulator as his hands linger on your biceps.

“Yeah, well maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Kriff, this was a mistake.”

Din growls as he releases you and turns to walk back into the cockpit. You curse inwardly as you catch his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” You growl, guilt and frustration making your stomach turn, “Please, can we talk?”

Din looks over his shoulder at you, giving you the perfect view of the profile of his helmet. Not for the first time you wonder what he looks like under there.

“Fine.”

You expect him to pull out of your grip – which he does – but what you don’t expect is the way his gloved hand falls to rest between your shoulder blades, steering you back towards the cot. He expects you to sit but you gesture for him to take a seat instead. He sits up straight, broad hands splayed on his knees as he follows you with his visor as you pace in front of him.

“So, I put the bounty on my head because I needed something in my life that wasn’t death, pain, suffering, or losing my mind to the poisons of gambling, Spice, and liquor.”

“Go on.”

You pause, looking down at the crimson spill of blood on the stolen t-shirt. You drag the back of your hand across the wet smear on your top lip and let out a soft sigh.

“I ran circles around the first six bounty hunters, and it was getting boring, I was considering calling it off,” You continue pacing, wringing your hands on the hem of the t-shirt that barely covers your ass, “Then, you come along, Din kriffing Djarin, one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

Din is silent but you see him shift, sitting up a little straighter at your harsh words of scornful praise.

“And the chase began, you were always so close, often a step or two ahead, and it was like I was breathing fresh air after having only ever known the stale, recycled air of a space station my whole life.”

Din turns his head, the action jarring as you realize he’s avoiding your gaze, you can almost imagine him blushing under that helmet and the thought alone makes heat flutter under your skin.

“And by the fourth time, on Coruscant, you became my own personal blend of Spice.”

You stop pacing, waiting for Din to say something, anything. He sits, still looking away from you and you shake your head. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you’ve kriffed up yet another thing in your life.

But this was by far the most pain you’d ever endured, spilling your guts to a man you had no right feeling anything for. It feels like your skin is positively charged, tremors rocking you as you fight the urge to cry, your chest tight and painful as you feel the binding sting of rejection heavy and constricting.

“Look, just forget it, space me, drop me off at the nearest system, whatever. I’ll get your credits transferred now. You won’t have to see me again.”

You pull up your datapad and through blurry eyes you close the contract, the credits transferring instantly. You turn away, making for the fresher once more, you need to set your nose and clean up. You also need to cry, and you weren’t going to make yourself look any more pathetic in front of him than you already had.

Your skin is on fire, nervous sweat beading on your brow as your skin itches and tingles. Pain rocks through your body as you force the sobs down, just a few more steps and you can cry before wresting your bleeding and broken heart – or whatever is left of it – back into submission.

A Spice addiction can’t be that bad surely?

You joke morbidly to yourself as you reach the fresher door, it slides open just as you hear the spur-like clink of Beskar behind you.

“Wait.”

You halt in your tracks, heart threatening to burst from your chest as you feel him looming behind you. Two armor-clad arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against him, the cool press of Beskar on your flushed skin is blissful.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His voice is so soft, barely above a whisper that you almost miss it through the modulator.

“What?”

“Let me fix your nose, then we should talk, for real this time.”

You turn in his grip and look up into the glossy black “T” of his visor. You can’t see his face, but you can see the way his chest is heaving, the way his arms are wrapping around you like the moment he loosens off you’ll disappear.

Can you blame him?

You think to yourself as you realize that every time you managed to escape, it was harder and harder for you to leave. Not because you had grown bored of the chase – no quite the opposite – you were afraid that with every time you left the chances of him giving up on you grew. One day he was going to stop coming for you.

And for a year he did.

“Ok.” You say softly as you let him steer you into the fresher, he hoists you up before setting you down on the edge of the Durasteel sink. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in the back of his belt before readying himself.

“This’ll hurt.”

Din warns you as he lines himself up in front of you. He slots between your thighs without hesitation, and you regret not stealing a pair of his boxer briefs to slip on under the t-shirt. You had thought that was crossing a line into his privacy. But now, as your bare, embarrassingly wet core is but millimeters from his crotch, you really wish you had.

“Ready?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Din braces himself a little closer again and you hiss through your teeth as his strong, warm fingers snap your broken nose back into place.

“There you go,” his modulated voice is soft as he cups your cheeks with his impossibly broad hands, his fingertips ghosting your hairline as he turns your head back and forth with meticulous care for his handiwork, “Should heal up just fine.”

He starts to pulls away from your face, but you capture his wrists in your hands. You gently pull on his wrists and guide them to your hips. His chest heaves as you hear his breathing speed up through the modulator and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel the heat prickle over your skin as your drenched core presses against his crotch. You gasp as you feel him twitch in his flight suit against you.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done on Naboo.” You breathe as you gently unclasp his cloak, fingers trembling as you pull down the neck of his flight suit, baring a thin strip of tan skin. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a delicate, feather-light kiss to his exposed skin.

You don’t know what to expect, but the soft, whimpering moan that crackles through his modulator is more than you bargained for. You arch up into him, nipples pebbling as the thin fabric of his blood-soaked shirt does little to mute the cold press of Beskar against your skin.

“Maker.” Din whines again as you latch onto his skin, laving your tongue over his pulse point as you pull the collar down further, you nip lightly at his skin as you grind your core against him. He slowly pushes up the hem of the oversized t-shirt and as his fingertips reach the swell of your ass. He grinds forward aggressively, and you can tell he’s fully hard now. He leans back and tilts his helmet to the side in a silent question.

“Didn’t think stealing your underwear was the right thing to do.”

“So, you just decided to go commando?”

“What can I say? I like the freedom, besides the synthetic silk of my thong was starting to chafe.”

Din swears in another language, you assume Mando’a, before laughing softly, he presses the side of his helmet against your cheek, and you are reminded of the way Lothcats headbutt to show affection.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You say softly as you slowly pull away, moving the collar back up to cover his tantalizing skin, “I just needed to touch you, just once.”

“I want you.”

You pull back and look into the deep depths of his visor and you nod slowly, you place your hands on either side of his helmet, nestling in the concave cheeks. He flinches and you feel his hands twitch on your thighs, but you shake your head slowly before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss over where you guess his lips are.

“Bed. Now.”

Din barks as he picks you up with ease, one arm wrapped around your waist as he strides through into the crew quarters. He uses his free hand to turn off the lights on the control panel next to the fresher door. The cavernous space is pitch black as Din lays you back down on the cot.

“Din what are you doing?” You giggle softly, anticipation making you giddy.

“Want to taste you,” Din murmurs as you hear the sound of Beskar buckles and plates sliding over one another. He sets them down gently somewhere near the bottom of the cot, followed by the soft sound of his flight suit dropping to the floor, “Need you.”

“Din, you have me.”

You feel him settle between your knees and Maker is he broad. Then you hear the soft hiss-click of his helmet coming off. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing the significance of him taking his helmet off in your presence.

“I won’t look, I promise,” You whisper as you feel him covering over you, his strong hands roam your body, mapping out your dips and curves.

“I trust you. You could have taken my helmet off many times over the years, and yet, you did not.”

His voice hits you like a long-lost melody, silken and sweet with a burning richness to it that makes you whine and keen up into him. Your hips roll against his length, and you gasp as his tip glides through your folds.

“Can I taste you, please?” You ask, suddenly feeling bold in the darkness.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Din suddenly sounds bashful, and you smile to yourself as he shows you the side of him you’ve only caught in glimpses when he thought you were out of earshot. The softness he shows Grogu, the care for his adopted son. This is different, unlike those interactions entirely, but the man beneath the Beskar is finally laid bare, for you.

“I want to Din, please.”

“Anything, take anything you want.”

Your heart swells and your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. You blindly reposition, careful to keep your eyes shut, until you’re kneeling between Din’s knees. You run your hands over the thick expanse of his muscular thighs as you gently, teasingly move towards his cock.

Your hands brush over neatly kept curls at the base of it, and you smile to yourself as you use your hands to blindly size it up.

“Interesting.” You hum to yourself and you feel Din shift under you.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too small?”

“Din, shh,” You coo as you cup his balls with one hand, making your way to the base of his shaft with your lips, “Just expected you to be painfully large, you give off some serious big dick energy strutting around in your Beskar like you own the entire Maker-be-damned galaxy.”

“So, you like it?” He huffs out, squirming at your praise as you flatten your tip against his soft foreskin, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, pressing your tongue against his slit, circling around his tip, lapping up the pre-come before sinking down his length.

He pants and whines under you as you feel him shift under you, he cups your jaw with one hand as he props himself up on his elbow with the other. You feel his eyes on you, you expect his night vision to be pretty good at this point, but you keep your eyes clamped shut.

“You’re beautiful.”

You groan at his praise and wish you could open your eyes, to look up at him as you choke on his cock. You sink all the way down, you breathe through your nose, inhaling the musky scent of his cock and you let out a soft whine as he nudges against the back of your throat.

“Kriff.” Din grunts as he trembles underneath you, his breathing is shallow as he twitches and whines at every particularly deep bob of our dead.

“Stop.”

He growls aggressively as he sits up, moving you off his cock before pushing you onto your back. He settles between your legs, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he buries his mouth in your dripping folds.

“So sweet.” He murmurs into your skin as you feel the coarse rake of facial hair on your outer folds. His lips find your clit and you cry out when his tongue licks a stripe up from your core to your clit. Everything about him is broad, his tongue laves over your swollen bundle of nerves and you near lose it.

“Din, kriff your mouth feels so good.” You pant as your hips cant up, you glide your fingertips in his hair, not thinking to check if he even had hair. You’re met with soft, damp curls that you immediately twist into your grip. You pull him closer, letting him devour you with abandon. His tongue is unrelenting as two thick fingers come to press against your core.

“Please.”

Is all you can say as you need him inside you, you’re already so close and you want to feel him inside you however possible.

“So kriffing tight.”

Din breathes incredulously as he buries his fingers to the knuckle, his lips find your clit once more and he sucks. You bite down hard on your lip as you fight the urge to scream. Pleasure assaults you like a solar flare, permeating every cell of your body in violent waves as you come hard around his fingers. You’re delirious as you sob through your aftershocks, his thick fingers finally stilling as you tremble from overstimulation.

“Can I have you, please?”

“Yes.”

You hear the lewd sound of him sucking his fingers clean before he crawls back over your body, wet fingers trail over your left nipple and you chase the touch, arching up off the cot.

“So pretty like this.”

Din hums softly as he rolls your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, making you squeal in overstimulated pain and pleasure as he lines up his tip at your core with the other hand. He eases in and you pant at the delicious stretch. He enters you with ease, yet makes your walls flutter and clamp around him as he fits you snugly.

“Kiss me.”

You plead. His lips crash into yours without hesitation and you moan into his mouth as he starts to move, rolling his hips into you like he knows exactly how you like it. You tease your tongue over his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to meet yours.

Your tongues meet outside of your mouths, sliding over one another in a lewd dance as his thrusts pick up speed. You’re both panting hard when Din seals his lips over yours. His tongue presses into your mouth as you dig your nails into his back. You press together, skin to skin, nails digging little crescent circles in the broad expanse of his back.

Your lips part only to gasp for air before you both dive back in for more, more, more. One of your hand moves to fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, the other drops to your clit. You want to come for him one more time, you want him to feel you squeeze him tight.

“Din, going to come.” You pant against his lips and he groans as he picks up the pace, railing you like it’s the last time.

“Come for me Cyar’ika, let me feel you.”

You do as your told, for the first time in your life, and you come hard. Pleasure seeps into your very bones as fire dances down your spine. Your clit throbs as you press hard circles into it. You feel Din stutter inside you and you feel him start to pull out but you hook your ankles around the small of his back.

“Come inside me.”

You whisper into the crook of his ear as you pull him deep into you.

“Maker!”

Din roars, no longer caring about noise it seems, as he pounds into you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’re whimpering in his ear as his desperate grunts and moans fill your own. He stills inside you, buried to the hilt as he twitches inside you, his spend coating your walls as you pant in his ear.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you?”

Din’s voice is heavy with concern, his breath fanning over your slick skin in soft puffs and you wrap yourself around him like an Ewok.

“No, no you’ve never hurt me, Din.”

You breathe as you nuzzle into his neck, you leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. You never want this moment to end.

“Come on, we need to shower.”

“Nooooo,” You whine, “Just a few more minutes, don’t want to lose you.”

The words escape from your lips before you can stop them; and Din huffs a short, barking laugh against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he pulls out.

“You can’t lose me, I’ve been tracking you for too long, I know you.”

“And I know you. Forever.”

You say, knowing those words in Mando’a means much more than in Galactic Basic. Din presses a soft kiss to your lips, neither acknowledging them nor refuting them. But there’s no rejection in his silence, just a mutual understanding that you are both in this for real.

“Five more minutes.”

Din grunts in submission as he settles on the small cot, pulling you against his bare chest as he places soft kisses to your hairline as you both drift off into the best sleep either of you could ever remember.

Tag list: @pr0ximamidnight @ktheunready @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @neverwheremoonchild @noisynightmarepoetry @casa-boiardi @xoxabs88xox @guelyury @its-nebuleuse @deadly-femme-bimbo @covetyou @christinamadsen @mirandablue1 @clawdee @youandmeand5bucks-blog @hiddenbabynyc @stevie75 @star017 @vabeachazn @darkheartgatita @patti7dc @pastelnap @beskarandblasters @jksprincess10 @beefrobeefcal

Join my taglist here

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me!

153 notes · View notes