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#chasing the thrill
pangur-and-grim · 3 years ago
Why are wendsday and pangur enemies?? D:
it’s not a solid Enemy-ship! the kids have a complex relationship
Wednesday constantly tries sleeping near her, but quite cautiously (facing away, all his back fur spiked up). sometimes she’ll groom him, but mostly they interact via him dashing about gleefully & her attempting to catch & slay him
it’s fun for them both, but when Pangur catches him, she CATCHES him, because my small white child is a monster. luckily Wednesday is a fast lad ✌️
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llamagoddessofficial · 9 months ago
On that latest post about the imposter au and their game if hide-and-seek; are their any close calls that really get MC scared? Where she can hear them just outside the door or wandering in the room she's just praying they don't find her... and who's the first to get their hands on her again?
The closest call for her was when Sans called her out.
She was hiding in the vents again, where she could quickly and quietly get from place to place around the ship. She’s human, after all, the last place they’d think to look for her is in the vents- the only reason she knows they can be used like that is she was desperate to escape a room while the guys were approaching. She was in one of said vents, crawling under the admin room...
When she heard footsteps entering the room above her.
She froze, terrified, extremely careful not to make even the slightest noise... ALL the guys gathered there in admin, discussing where they know she’s recently been, how they think they can lure her into somewhere where she can’t escape from... a trio of alien murderers just a few inches of metal away from her. She felt like she didn’t move the whole time they were talking, not even a finger, not a muscle, her limbs locked and her heart thundering, waiting for them to leave and sick to her stomach and hoping and praying they didn’t go through the vents.
Eventually they left, after what felt like an eternity but was most likely a few minutes, agreeing to split up and monitor different parts of the ship. The footsteps left the room, she heard the sound of the door closing... she let out a little shaking sigh and allowed herself to relax...
“i know you’re there, pet.”
Immediately, her breath was stolen- Sans was still there. Just above the vent, close enough for his foot to kick open the vent cover, close enough to just reach in and grab her if he wanted to. And he wasn’t just talking into thin air... she could hear the smile in his voice, she knew he had her exact location pinned. Hiding was her only advantage and she just lost it.
“... don’t worry. i’m not gonna rat you out...” Such a soft voice, like he was comforting a frightened animal. “that wouldn’t be fun. i’m rather enjoying this little hide-and-seek game of ours. but i can’t guarantee the other two are as patient as i am... so if you can, in the future, try not to breathe so loud.”
His footsteps, moving toward the admin exit, walking overhead... and just before the door, he paused.
“... you have ten minutes to move before i tell them i heard something in the vents. good luck.”
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yinses · 8 months ago
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relationship headcanons
gojo satoru x instructor!reader
rating: t
a/n: we all obsess over gojo, now it’s time for him to simp over you
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— you’re a teacher over at the sister school and have been rivals with gojo since before your own graduation. you’ve come close but have never bested him, so you’ve put all your frustration into raising the next generation of sorcerers to be stronger than his class ( and ofc to take out curses)
it’s all seriousness for you but fun and games for gojo. not everyone simps for him, believe it or not. the man is challenged on the daily but it’s less of an annoyance when it’s you. maybe because you don’t call him out for it. there is no boisterous demand for a showdown or obsessive rivalry. you bide your time and out your efforts into your students where it matters the most.
he can tell you want to make a bigger point. that the entire jujusu kaisen institution doesn’t need to rely on him to solve their problems. you truly believe that you can bring stronger comrades to the table. the goal of besting him was just a side objective
— you’re attractive. he’s attractive. there is no denying it. maybe under different circumstances he might have already taken you to bed by now but the chase is more thrilling. he’s known you for over a decade now but he doesn’t know the intimacies of your past. it’s a gamble how many people you’ve dated or what your experiences are like, but he does know he definitely has a chance.
the sexual tension is always there. more prominent for gojo because honestly he finds you determination so fucking sexy. the man is dominant but to be pinned down by your thighs ascends him. he has your number and is never not in your inbox. you rarely respond but he knows you read them, especially since he squeezes little updates about his class progress in between romantic poem quotes and blasts from the past.
you never answer his facetime calls but occasionally you’ll indulge a regular call, if only to voice appease him enough to stop him from filling your voicemail box. as you’re preparing dinner in your kitchen, he’s going on and on about little things that shouldn’t matter. but he doesn’t really have anyone else and it shows.
the man is an open book. confessing sprinkles of his frustrations around jesting stories about his cute little students and the bakery he now coined his favorite just two kilometers from his house.
sometimes he reminisces about school. about how visiting the sister school to see you was his favorite part of the semester. but he also delves into his own small class and how he misses the shenanigans the use to raise yaga’s blood pressure frequently. sure shoko is still here but geto- fuck, the guilt cracks in his voice. you don’t say anything still, what could you anyway to a man you shouldn’t adore baring his soul to you? but before a decision can come to head he’s swapped back to his usual self.
‘so that bakery has this delicious tiramisu. why don’t you let me eat it off of you one of these days? i love dessert in bed.’
across the city, gojo smiles so hard his cheeks sting when you hang up on him, shoulders more at ease than they’ve been in days.
— he never shows up for his meetings with yaga, god forbid there be a special invite from the croaking old bastard. but fuck- if you’re there? the man is on time just so he can secure a seat next to you.
you know this guy manspreads. thighs wide enough to align them with yours. you’re not jumpy, reading easily between the lines as you give him a curt glance from the corner of your eye. it’s a useless scold, because you only recieve a cocky grin.
god and does it egg him on. this man feeds on crumbs of your attention. his arm lounging comfortably along the back of the couch, fingertips dancing along the edge of your shoulder and tickling the collar of your neck.
it’s the fact that you’re consensual to it all that keeps him going. sure you bite back and huff with your cute little irritated pout- but you never say no. and that’s all the fuel he needs.
he can hear everyone just fine- like they’re sitting right there. but catch him leaning close, shoulders knocking together while he whispers in your ear. he’ll ask you to repeat things he definitely did not miss. ask you to explain things he obviously comprehends. you roll your eyes but coddle him anyway if only to cure your own boredom.
bonus: off to the side, miwa watches the two adults conspiring, foreheads just a breath away from tapping. she’s rooting for gojo if only for the benefit of seeing him around more. she’s been wanting to ask you to invite gojo-sensei to guest speak for months.
— fighting with you is basically foreplay. he’s never been so intimate with his infinity, absorbing every punch and jab. not enough to hurt terribly , but it’s physical contact from you and he won’t pass it up.
he’s supposed to be showing off for his students. itadori, his biggest fan, front and center as his own personal cheering squad. he can beat you but not demolish. you actually bring a challenge, which is why the two of you are often a treat at the exchange event.
gojo wants nothing more than to pin you down when the two of you grapple close for comfort. he knows he can get away with a nice hard grind or two, even thinks you’ll let him.
but his inner thoughts are his own downfall when you manage to get on top instead. not that he’s complaining. his infinity is strapped tight to his body, just barely keeping you at bay as you try to force your limbs to keep him in place.
this is bad. so bad because you’re leaning close- the hair from your sloppy bun whispering at his cheek. and your face is right there, near enough that he could flinch and you would be touching.
it’s entirely too intimate for a fight between instructors at a public event but damn he’s willing to let his guard down. besides what the fuck is he supposed to do when he can feel your mouth moving against the barrier.
‘is this how our first kiss is going to be? just you, me and the infinity?’
jesus fucking christ if you thought he was strong enough for that. it may as well be ‘pass go’ for gojo. because one second you’re held up by the invisible void and the next you’re tasting something sweet.
he’d just eaten a pack of chocolate covered cherries.
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So I’m rereading The Lightning Thief and idk, there’s a lot of things I forgot
Nancy Bobofit
“For the first time, I realized something. Gabe had hit my mother. I didn't know when, or how much. But I was sure he'd done it. Maybe it had been going on for years, when I wasn't around.”
^ and this is why the fandom hates Gabe
Percy sent Medusa’s head to Olympus
after they sent it back Sally, not Percy, petrified Gabe with it
someone actually bought petrified Gabe
Grover wanted to search for Pan even though no one had returned in two thousand years
Percy and Annabeth used to be friends and nothing else
the thrill ride o’ love
Percy blew up the side of the Gateway Arch (and then jumped off the side not really expecting to live, just wanting to lure the Chimera away from the mortals)
Sally as good as died in the fight with the minotaur
Riptide is the only sword Percy is comfortable with
Percy spent his first few nights at CHB in the Hermes cabin
Crusty’s Water Bed Palace
Percy tricked Crusty into getting in one of his beds, tied him up, and chopped his head off with Riptide. He was twelve.
Persassy Percy said (on TV) that Gabe’s appliance store would give every person in Los Angelos a free major appliance
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your-yandere-kiss · 2 years ago
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Run Away // Yandere! Dabi x Reader.
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Oh! It was cold!
The night was freezing cold against Dabi’s skin, an icy wind ripping through the dark night as he ran and ran and ran…he was running after her, of course. She’d escaped...again. Out into the darkness, Y/N ran and ran, screaming and crying.
What a beautiful sight! What excitement! With a twisted little smile, the villain thought of his darling little prey…
Was she frightened, he wondered?
Heart thumping and jumping in her chest, fear pumping through her veins like a poison! It’s telling her to run, run, run and never stop because if she does...if she fails...if Dabi catches her once again...oh, who knows what he’ll do to her!
Did she really think she could really get away?
It must seem like some kind of a miracle, her escaping from him like this. Certainly she knew that Dabi would never let his little darling go but, oh, she just had to take the chance, didn’t she? Little Y/N simply had to try to run away!
Dabi chuckled darkly to himself, wondering what she might think if only she knew the truth: he’d let her run.
There was nothing the villain loved more then a good chase. The thrill, the fear, the excitement! It was wonderful! He could still remember the first time he’d chased her...oh, how he’d loved it! Her screams echoing through the air, hot tears running down her cheeks...running, running, running, as fast as she could but he’d caught her!
He’d taken her!
Right there in the darkness of the night, Dabi had forced himself upon her...an it was a delicious as he’d dreamed it would be. The heat that burned deep inside of her, the wetness that grew between her legs, her pathetic begs for mercy...But, of course, he’d never give her such a thing. Darlings didn’t deserve mercy after all...and they didn’t deserve freedom either.
With a loud, wicked laugh, Dabi rushed after his screaming, sobbing darling! The chase was on and it was exciting!
She ran.
Bare feet pounding on the cold ground, heart racing his her chest, screams of terror ripping into the night air. Would she make it? Would she escape him?
He laughed.
Racing after her quickly, bright blue fire bursting from his palms, his horrible laughter mixing with her terrified screams. Oh! She wouldn’t make it! She would never mistake! Dabi would never, ever let her get away from him!!
Closer and closer he got, shouting after his little darling all the while. His harsh voice echoed into the darkness, bursting through the dark night as blue flames burst and engulfed. She screamed with every attack, Dabi’s fire leaving scorched marks behind...the telephone pole, the lamp posts, the phones box on the corner…
Gone, gone, GONE! Just like she would be too!! Dabi laughed and screamed, quickly catching up to his darling.
“Come here!”
“Y/N!”
“You run and run...”
“Get back here!”
“Y/N!”
“But you’ll NEVER escape me!!”
“GOTCHA.”
He caught her.
She screamed with fright as Dabi pulled her into his fiery grip and he laughed, a wonderful wicked feeling filling his chest. The little bitch was his, his, his, and damn he loved it! Their cries, fearful and wild, echoed together in the night as the villain claimed his darling.
~
Oh! It was hot!
Dabi’s hand took a harsh hold of you and, as it did, a searing pain ripped through your body. Fire burned and fear bubbled and, with a strangled scream, you fell to the ground. He was laughing at your pain and your fear and…
His fire was everywhere.
The world around you was engulfed with burning blue flames, devouring everything and turning it all to piles of smoking ash. The sight of the fire reminded you of your own burns, the ones Dabi had so carefully created upon your skin...hand prints and hearts and his name.
His hand was wrapped around your neck.
Squeezing, tightening, burning! You struggled to scream or even breathe, gasping for air as Dabi choked you. Oh! How he loved to do this! Knowing that you could not even breathe without him...he said that it always made him hard and that memory made you shiver.  
His body was pressed against you.
Trapped between the rough ground and Dabi himself, you fought and struggled as he laughed, his breath brushing against your face. You could feel his scars and skin and bits of metal...and his hips, thrusting into your ass as the villain pressed you to the ground. You choked and whimpered and he laughed again, a cruel cold sound.
“Fight all you want, baby...” He rasped, “it won’t do you any good!”
Heat traveled all over your body, both in and out of you. Your skin burned as Dabi ran his hands along it, gliding along your breast and belly and thighs, touching you so roughly. He burned your clothes away and left you naked and he cackled at your cries of shame. Oh! You hated it! Deep inside though, something else burned, something thick and sickening and shameful.
Pleasure.
Need.
Want.
You began to sob pitifully as your body begged for Dabi, your very core burning as your mind screamed, “no, no, no!” And he laughed, hands groping and grasping as he whispered darkly into your ear.
“What a little slut you are...”
“Begging for it.”
“Hating it.”
“Loving it.”
“MY little slut!”
You told yourself it wasn’t true. No! It wasn’t! You didn’t belong to him, you didn’t want him but, oh, you did...you did...already you were slick and wet for him, a heat building up inside of you as Dabi toyed with your cunt. Teased you. Used you in a way that you so shamefully loved.
His hands groped.
Squeezing your breasts and thighs, slapping your ass as you cried out. He didn’t care that you were scared...that you were crying...that you were exposed. No, all he cared about was touch, touch, touching you!
His fingers teased.
Twisting your nipples until that were sore and burning, running along your scars and burns, digging into your thighs...and your pussy. His fingers found it and tormented it until you were wet and slick and so, so hot!
His teeth bit.
Digging into your soft skin and leaving bruised, bleeding marks all along it. His teeth dug into your neck and shoulders and you screamed, skin breaking and blood dripping and a horrible, wonderful heat beginning to burn within you.
His touch was twisted, hot and horrible at the same time. You moaned in pleasure and screamed in fear all at the same time, crying and whimpering and losing yourself in something so dirty...here in the darkness of the alleyway, you found yourself being used and abused by a monster. Anyone, you realized, could come and see this. See you naked and pinned to the dirt, being used by this horrible villain.
Would they be disgusted? With you or with Dabi?
He was a monster but you...you were moaning. Whimpering. Gasping and wriggling beneath his body as his rough fingers played with your poor little pussy…
Would they try to help you? Did you want it or…
Or did you want him?
His touch, his kiss, the pain and the pleasure of it all...his cock! Lost in your own twisted bliss, you had not even realized that Dabi’s thick, aching cock had been freed until he forced it into you. You screamed into the night, his hard cock plunging into your aching cunt as you did.
“N-no!”
“No?” he rasped, laughing a little at your weak cries. “Don’t you want my dick? Don’t you just love it, darling?”
His calloused fingers teased your throbbing clit still, creating a burning hot pleasure...a slickness...oh, fuck, you were so wet! So hot! A weak moan slipped through your lips, half lidded eyes gazing at the world around you...darkness. Fire. Dabi! Moans grew louder, filling the air with sound of pleasure and passion.
“It certainly feels like you want me!” He said as you moaned again.
One hand gripped your hair, yanking back on it hard and causing you to cry out...in pain? Or passion? The  other still played with your abused body, teaching your cunt and clit as you cried and moaned aloud.
“All slick like this...little slut!” Dabi hissed. “You can run, run, run but you can’t run from the truth darling.”
His hand...his lips...his teeth...his cock! Fuck, fuck, fuck! He was still laughing as he fucked you, voice dripping with disgust and adoration as he tormented you.
“You want me.”
His cock was pounding you. Fuck, fuck, fucking you hard and it hurt! Bruises and burns and bite marks were sure to litter your abused body, both fresh and old, by the time Dabi had tired of his horrible, humiliating little game...
“You need me.”
His fingers were teasing you. In the end, it wasn’t the pain that your thought of...it was the pleasure. The burning, bubbling pleasure of being filled and fucked by Dabi’s hard dick. You were so full and so...so...
“You LOVE me.”
And it was all too much. You were drifting away into some dark, hot, horrible place...a place where you forgot about everything Dabi had done to you. Kidnapped you. Hurt you. Humiliated you. You forgot about it all and focused only on the pleasure and passion and the disgusting beauty of this moment. He was fucking you! Using you, kissing you and it was something! Something real, a feeling so sweet that you could let it consume you…
Like fire.
Blue, burning fire. Let it burn. Let it fuel you. Let it fill you. Let Dabi’s fire bring you to that dark, hot, horrible place!
“D-Dabi! Oh!”
In a moment of both shame and pleasure, you came. Juices dribbling from your pussy, pathetic cries echoing in the darkness of the city, your body burning and shaking...you came for Dabi as he laughed, a deep dark chuckle echoing in your ear.
“Pretty little slut!”
Slut...his slut...Flipping you over onto your back, you cried out as Dabi pinned you down to the dirt once more and forced you to look at him into his blue, burning eyes...you whimpered as he fucked you, hips pounding into yours as he dick drilled your wet, aching pussy...and you looked on into his eyes. So blue. So beautiful. Just like his fire.
“Say it!” he hissed. “Say my name!!”
You moaned once more, nearly drowning in this disgusting, wonderful as Dabi fucked you even harder, cock pounding your abused little pussy as you screamed and screamed for him.
“Dabi!”
He gave a raspy laugh and...he kissed you. It was a hot, hard kiss, just the way Dabi was. Nothing sweet nor gentle, but a cruel kiss. You kissed him back, moaning blissfully into his rough lips as you did. His dick throbbed inside of you, hot and hard and so, so good. As he kissed you and bit your bottom lip...he came.
“Dabi!”
With a deep cry of excitement, Dabi filled you with his seed.
Pumping you full of his cum, the villain laughed at the sight before him: a weak little darling, fucked into stupidity by his fucking cock. You looked so pretty! All bruised and burned and fucked! You were, he though, a perfect little darling.
His darling.
And with that, he dragged you back home. Naked and shaking, you shivered in Dabi’s arms as he dragged you into the darkness. You were crying again, tears rolling down your face as fire began to bubble in his hands. Oh! You were ashamed! So ashamed at yourself...and at this feeling inside of you. Not the pleasure and the heat. But the happiness of being in his arms, of being kissed by him. The love...the love that you felt for him.
Love was that dark, hot, horrible feeling that only Dabi could give to you. Love, love, love...you fucking loved him.
“Don’t you get it,” Dabi asked as he dragged you away, “you’re NEVER leaving me.”
He kissed you again.  
It was hot and hard. Cruel. Just like he was. Never gentle, never sweet, never the loving man you had once dreamed of...no, Dabi was just like his fire. You loved his fire.
You loved him.
And you kissed him back.
You hated him. You wanted him. You fear him. And you loved him, horribly and deeply...you loved him.
(AHEM...I’ll just take my shameful self elsewhere. And thank you to the requester!) 
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virghogh · 24 days ago
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・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚ ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚
fire sign astro observations☄️
・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚ ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚
This is my first time doing an observation post! These are just some things I’ve noticed about fire energy, some of these are very general statements and the specificities of the rest of someone chart can affect them. Take what resonates <3
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🔥Fire mars’ are always naturally into activity/sports/exercise etc. and are usually pretty good too
🔥Leo and Aries are much more competitive when it comes to their activities
🔥Sagittarius mars/energy differs from the other 2 in that they’re often the ones with dumb luck and talent in sports etc.! Not always but, sometimes they’ll just be surprisingly good at whatever activity/sport they’re doing
🔥Sagittarius mars/energy is also less competitive than Leo and Aries. I’ve noticed with a lot of sag ppl that they care a lot more about having fun than winning or playing by the rules!
🔥For most people with prominent fire or a fire mars, activity and sports are a big part of their life from a young age. But even if the fire mars is placed in the 12th house or a “mature” house, or it doesn’t come to them at a young age, at some point in the natives life they will come to love activity
🔥While water moons are moody and have intense emotions, they’re very protective of them. Whereas fire moons (mars a little bit too) can actually have very volatile emotions because to them the only option they have is to express it. They’re not moody, but they’re very sensitive and emotional and it comes it quick hot flames, but is quickly extinguished by their own tears. But these outbursts can be really destructive to themselves and others
🔥I’ve seen some people mention this before and I want to add it because I’ve noticed it too, prominent Sagittarius natives can actually be very d*pressed often because they never feel fully free, they’re always longing for something more, and they’re too aware of their own mortality
🔥Planets in the 9th house can create a similar energy, longing for understanding the world but also being aware of your own time limits
🔥Sag and Scorpio or 9th and 8th planets in a chart can make someone think a lot about life, death, and everything in between
🔥Leo placements aren’t as loving as people think, they’re not the same as a sign like Libra that likes everyone. Leos have strong values and they don’t just like anyone, but when they find the people they like it’s ride or die
🔥People with planets in the 1st house are usually really competitive even if it’s a more passive sign, they just might not be aggressive about it
🔥People with mars/planets in the 1st house, with other personal planets in 12th, can make them interested in the military/war amongst other mars/Aries themes
🔥Leo moons are more outgoing than Leo suns
🔥I feel like I’ve noticed that when the sun is in leo, is when leo is the most versatile. Depending on the houses and other planets, leo suns can actually be very introverted
🔥This one might be too specific but people with a lot of aries and sag in their chart and no Leo might struggle to keep long term close friends because they are excitable, chase thrills and just get bored easily, they don’t cut people out of their lives necessarily. They can still keep a long term friendship with them but the level of closeness might be hard to maintain, they might constantly make new friends because the exciting part is first meeting people
🔥A passive mars sign in the 5th house can make that person more likely to make the first move or pursue people
🔥Leo and Scorpio in big 6 makes someone very alluring to other people, but also someone that has a lot going on inside. These people have very sharp intellect and senses and deep thoughts. These people are also highly compassionate
🔥Leo placements are really into aesthetics
🔥Fire placements will almost always take on “provider”, “protector”, “care taker” roles even if they like the idea of the reverse
🔥I’ve caught quite a few leo mercuries in lies, sometimes it can be big lies or even random little lies, it could be because they just want to leave an outstanding impression or tell an impressive story, they’ll say anything just to get a reaction or create a big picture
🔥Fire placements in air houses is like fanning a fire, it makes the energy bigger and it’s harder to concentrate their attention but they have many areas they can direct it in
🔥Fire placements in water houses add to their emotions, they’re more sensitive but it does water down their short temper. They’re still expressive but they feel very deeply and the deeper parts of their thoughts and emotions stay protected
🔥Fire placements in earth houses is like suffocating a fire. Not in a negative way, but in a controlled and focused way. It gives them practicality and goals. More patience, less outbursts, but it can be restrictive and they might be more prone to destructive breakdowns instead of quick outbursts
・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚ ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚
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"I don't know. Just a feeling. Annabeth, come with me-"
"Are you kidding?" She looked at me as if I'd just dropped from the moon. Her cheeks were bright red.
"What's the problem now?" I demanded.
"Me, go with you to the ... the 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?"
“Who's going to see you?" But my face was burning now, too. Leave it to a girl to make everything complicated. "Fine," I told her. "I'll do it myself." But when I started down the side of the pool, she followed me, muttering about how boys always messed things up.
~The Lightning Thief
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wordsfromtheheart0 · 2 years ago
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When I was younger I didn’t understand why people formed destructive addictions. I didn’t understand why people did drugs that ruined their minds, smoked until their lungs were black, drank until they couldn’t see and think straight, stayed up all night watching porn, or had meaningless sex and kisses with strangers. I’ll be honest, I looked down on them and pitied their lack of self-control. But I’m older now. My innocence is shot. Now I understand. All of these things fill the hole that haunts you like a ghost wherever you go. These habits don’t get rid of it, not even close, but for a while it fills the dark, heavy, and maddening void. It makes you feel something other than the hellish emptiness. So your life becomes one of obsession. You obsessively chase those highs and thrills because without them, you just feel numb. And if you know what it is like to feel nothing, you understand why people destroy themselves to escape it.
// 8:47pm //
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tsunamiwavesurfing · 4 months ago
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motherfuckers be climbing canyons and skyscrapers chasing adrenaline rushes and thrills when all you need to do is almost slip in the shower. those 3 seconds of hyper awareness and elevated heart rate. unparalleled.
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quelsentiment · 11 months ago
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The Thrill of the Chase by wordsnnotes (aka me)
T, 15k (in progress)
Pairings: H&L + side Ziam
“What about Harry Styles though?” And there it was. Louis had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Of course Liam would ask Louis about him. “What about Harry Styles?” he repeated, feigning confusion once again. “Well, he’s all the rage right now. Of course, since it’s his first Tour and his first real try at road racing, it’s a little early to tell if the hype is justified. But aren’t you worried he might be a threat to you and your control over the race?”
Self-proclaimed cycling boss Louis Tomlinson is hoping to win the Tour de France for the third year in a row, but he's threatened by up-and-coming prodigy Harry Styles, who's after the yellow jersey as well. Having a new rival shouldn't perturb Louis that much, but said rival is quite attractive, extremely sweet, and has a way to get under his skin. It's gonna be an eventful three weeks for sure.
Read on AO3
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gveret-fic · 2 years ago
Supercorp: "Lena, there's no time to explain but your answer to this next question could very well determine the fate of the universe: Can I have a smooch?"
The whole universe narrows down into a fewburning points of awareness in that moment. The delicate pressure of four of Kara’sfingertips against her arm, the pinkie too light to feel at all; that direct, earnest,somewhat wild eye contact that feels precarious but utterly unbreakable; theslightly elevated breath between them, escaping from barely parted lips, cooledby the distance and setting fire to Lena’s nerves—it’s as if time freezes justthen, Lena’s life flashing before her eyes like in a cheap TV drama, teeteringright on that treacherous margin between fantasy and reality. Truly the mostridiculous, farfetched, over the top manifestation of blatant wish fulfillment.
Of course Lena says, “Yes.”Of course her voice breaks on that single most monosyllabic of words.
And Kara’s face lights up. Like it does whenpresented with enough dinner to feed an army. Like it does when a family she’srescued is reunited, unsteady and shivering but strong and whole. Like it doesafter a very good, wholehearted, unselfconscious sort of hug. “Thank you,I—I’m sorry we—Thank you, Lena.”
She brushes her fingers over Lena’s cheek,grazing over her lips; a brisk, confident motion, almost impersonal. Lena’swhole body throbs. Kara tips Lena’s head back with that same efficiency,knuckle and thumb trapping a triangle of warmth between them against the skinof Lena’s chin.
Lena’s lips part as her eyelids slide closed,involuntary, helpless with anticipation. Kara lets out a breath, and Lena hearsit, crisp and ragged against the pulse in her ears, but she feels itmore than that: against her lips; slipping warm and ghostly past.
Kara is close enough to kiss. Not byaccident, not by some goofy happenstance. Kara Danvers is close enough to kissbecause that’s what she’s going to do.
The first touch isn’t much of anything atall; an experimental, simple press of lips, that same workmanlike approach. Itsends a thrill from Lena’s scalp right down to her toes. She closes her lipsagainst Kara’s, a hint of a taste she knows could burn her down. Karawithdraws.
Lena tries to tilt her head, thoughtlessly chasingafter that thrilling contact, but Kara’s grip is light, gentle, and unyieldingas ever. Lena moans.
Kara doesn’t mind, though, maybe. She mustn’t,because then she’s back, head angled and another implacable hand cupping Lena’sjaw and that hot, controlled, impossible mouth.
Lena closes her eyes, and allows herself tobe engulfed.
When Kara pulls back, dragging Lena’s breathalong with her, she almost looks like she’s blushing. But then—no, she isn’tblushing, she’s glowing­, emitting very literal light and warmth tomatch the way she’s lit up Lena’s body.
She flares hot and blazing for a moment,yellow, almost red, like fire, and she grins at Lena even brighter than the sun,and then she’s gone.
.
.
It wasn’t really a kiss. It was the best kissof Lena’s life, the best thing in it, likely, but it wasn’t real. Oncethe sparkly pink haze settles down and Lena’s nerve endings stop sparking likelivewires, she realizes it right quick.
Kara didn’t kiss her because she wanted tokiss her. She kissed her because, for whatever cruel but likely karmicallyjustified reason, she needed to. She even said so, right from the outset.
This wasn’t a real kiss. Real kisses don’thave a purpose, serve no function other than pleasure, the expression of affectionand desire. This was a kiss to save the world.
Cold. Calculated. Utilitarian. Perfect for aLuthor.
.
.
It’s an alien virus, Kara explains. She’dcontracted it three weeks ago, and ever since then her powers hadn’t workedright. Until last night.
Lena refuses to beat around the bush. “Whya kiss? Why me?”
“Well, um, the only source we’ve foundfor this thing is in an ancient text in a language that’s no longer inuse,” Kara struggles to explain, gesturing stiltedly. “We’veconsulted this planet’s, I mean, the leading alien linguists worldwide, but wecould only really translate some rudimentary instructions for a treatment.Luckily, there were also illustrations, and they were a bit more, um.Explicit.”
“Explicit… kissing?”
“Uh. Yeah.” Kara laughs nervously.“I can show you. If you want.”
“I’d appreciate it. And any informationyou can spare on this virus.”
“Oh, yeah! I bet you can help. Don’tworry, it isn’t transmittable to humans. I would never expose you to somethinglike that, Lena,” Kara says intently.
Lena softens. She knows, of course she knowsby now that she and her wellbeing matter to Kara, but the reminder never failsto warm her. “I know,” she reassures. “But, to my secondquestion…”
Kara grimaces, avoiding eye contact. “I’msorry. That was asking a lot, wasn’t it? I probably shouldn’t have donethat.”
She had been braced for something like this,certainly, but Lena still finds herself struggling to conceal bruised feelingsand crumpled hopes. “You shouldn’t have?” she asks carefully.
“I really wasn’t trying to—to takeadvantage,” Kara bumbles, wringing her hands in an absentminded fidgetthat might well twist steel beams. “I’m not—it’s not—sexual.” Thatword in hushed tones, like a primary schooler. Like a straight girl. “Ilove you, you know? I don’t like using you. It’s just, the world was kind ofliterally in danger, and I needed a quick fix…”
Lena remembers fingers at her chin, directingher head about, hot breath on her skin, a frozen moment of searinganticipation. Quick fix. “I see.”
“And you—you—” Kara’s fingertipsturn white from digging into her other hand, a grip that would tear through concretelike paper. “I don't—I can’t say why. J'onn—the minute J'onn read thewhole thing, he took me aside and, um. He was pretty sure it had to be you. Andby pretty sure, I mean very sure. More like dead certain. He had that intensebut considerate look, you know?”
Lena is quite convinced she doesn’t.
“It doesn’t mean I—it doesn’t meananything,” Kara says a little pleadingly, offering the words like acomfort. The shitty, jagged, barbed wire sort of comfort that lodges in theheart of hopeful idiots and tugs.
Lena swallows down all the pieces of herheart and falls back on a businesslike demeanor, her most rudimentary façade. “Therewere extenuating circumstances,” she says with a magnanimity she doesn’tfeel. “I understand.”
Kara’s face twists again, and then lifts. Shefinally meets Lena’s eyes. “It won’t happen again,” she vows, quietand certain and clearly embarrassed.
Lena wants to reassure her, wants tocontradict her, wants to grab her stupid beautiful face and kiss her again.
Instead, she nods. And Kara relaxes.
.
.
It happens again.
Lena is fiddling around with a particularlystubborn spreadsheet when Kara crashes into her office, injured and bleeding, waversfor a moment, and crashes into Lena’s desk. Her paperwork goes flying.
“Motherfucker!”
“Hi, Lena,” Kara gasps, trying valiantlyto pick herself up. “I think—I think I need some help.”
Lena walks around the remains of her desk togrip Kara by the arms. One of them is painted red from a wound in her side.“You don’t say.”
“I’m so sorry to ask this of youagain,” Kara says, ragged and sincere. “Lena. Feel free—feel free tosay no.”
Lena laboriously wrestles Kara onto her feet,drags her over the couch and shoves a Capri Sun in her hand. “Of courseI’m not saying no. You’ve left a trail of blood all across my office floor.”
“Whoa! Did I?” Kara looks aroundand jumps a little, as if the freely bleeding gash in her side is news to her. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Youscared me.” She sees Kara open her mouth and holds up a finger. “Uhp!Don’t apologize.”
“Thank you, Lena.” Kara says itlike a sigh, and deflates along. She looks—bad. Gray around the edges.“I'm—I swear, it’s not that—it’s not that I want to kiss you, Ijust—”
Lena’s breath hisses sharply through herteeth. It’s one challenge after another today. “Kara,” she says,sweet and dangerous. “Shut up, would you.”
“‘Kay,” Kara says so immediatelyand in such a small voice that despite everything, Lena can’t help smiling.
What can she do, she really is in love withthis doofus.
They meet just a little off center, Kara blurryand uncoordinated, her lips grazing Lena’s chin with Lena almost getting amouthful of nose. It feels almost… exploitive, kissing Kara like this,something unseemly in sharing a moment as vulnerable as a kiss with her alreadyso defenseless. Supergirl, dragged down from the sky and into the arms of aLuthor.
But Kara braces her hand around the back ofLena’s neck, and she dives into their kiss with the sort of magnetic,energizing fervor that Lena is endlessly mystifies by but which seems to comeso naturally to Kara, and—as their lips fit together, like seven differentkinds of magic, she once again begins to glow.
Kara draws back slowly, and Lena watches withlidded eyes and wavering breath as Kara’s skin knits back together, her eyessharpen, her whole being shimmers; Lena’s half expecting a wind, summoned outof nothing, to gently blow away her hair.
I did that, Lena thinks, and maybeglows a little, too.
“You’re really good at this,” Karabreathes, lips still red and glistening. She sways closer, thumb tracing a carefulhalf circle across Lena’s throat, eyes fixed on her mouth. All at once, shedrops her hand and leans away. “Not that I like—”
“Yes,” Lena cuts her off sharply,irritable at being yanked so unceremoniously back to earth. “I know, thankyou.” She softens, against her better judgment, sweeps a loose curl ofgolden hair off Kara’s glowing shoulder. “Stay safe.”
“I will. Thanks to you.” Kara iswearing her dopey, blissful post-kiss smile. Post-power up, Lenacorrects herself. As Kara hasn’t yet failed to mention, it has nothing to dowith the kissing. “My hero.”
Lena watches her shoot up into the sky, ablurry, shimmering dot, the imprint of her thumb still burning against Lena’sthroat, and tries very hard not to let those parting words sink all the waydown to where they want to go.
.
.
Kara sends her scans of the alien texts.Scans of the alien illustrations, too.
Explicit is indeed an apt word for them.
None of the beings depicted have anythingparticularly analogous to human genitalia, but the intent is quite clear.Unambiguous, but tasteful, in a way. There’s a certain tenderness to them. Itseems obvious that this is an embrace between two (or more, it’s reasonablyhard to tell) individuals who care for each other. Certainly on the… classierend of deeply outlandish erotica.
It also seems apparent why the DEO had deemedkissing to be the less risky option.
Cold comfort, however, when Lena feels atrisk of losing herself entirely.
.
.
It becomes a sort of deranged, destabilizing,electrifying routine.
The feeling of rightness when their lips fittogether, Kara’s tongue in Lena’s mouth, her hand warm and rigid in Lena’shair. The indescribable rush of witnessing firsthand the magical transformationof Kara recharging, as she shines with power and energy and delight, andknowing Lena was its catalyst. Going home alone, slipping into her neatly madebed with a vibrator and headphones and trying her very hardest to imagine anyfucking thing else as she comes.
Lunch the next day, with Kara no longer tryingto convince either of them that this won’t happen again, with the tension ofthe mutual knowledge that it will, that it has to, that neither of them feelsabout it the way that they should.
The unspoken,unavoidable new closeness between them, awkward and strange and exciting, reshapingtheir relationship in ways Lena can’t yet articulate, and absolutely wouldn’t,if she could.
It goes on, and Lena adjusts. She’s quitegood at adjusting. This is just another type of longing.
They stop waiting for Kara’s powers to fadecompletely; Lena would rather not see Kara bleed if she can help it. They mightshare a kiss every four or five days, now: in between meetings, at the end oflunch, early in the morning through Lena’s apartment window. If this arrangementbegins to resemble something Lena knows very well the name of, if she hasstarted relying on it like she does on her weekly therapy sessions, if sheneeds to change batteries much more frequently nowadays—well. She tries not todwell.
.
.
It’s been two weeks since their last kiss, arather unusually long while. Kara is starting to look a little pallid, but shedoesn’t mention it, and Lena doesn’t push. It isn’t that kind of relationship.
Not the kind of relationship where peoplecommunicate, Lena thinks darkly.
But then Kara tells her a bad a pun, and laughsat her own joke, lighting up all on her own—
Whatever kind of relationship this is, Lenawill take it, and thank the stars for being gifted the opportunity.
.
.
Lena receives Alex’s alert during herpost-all nighter power nap. She rides the DEO car in an unpleasant combination ofgrogginess and sharp alarm, and arrives at the military proving grounds just intime to see a gray shape pick up a red and blue figure and throw her right outof the sky.
Kara slams straight into an old concretewall, sliding down in a shower of debris.
The green dot that’s likely J'onn rushes oneof the assailants up above, the black dot that must be Sam bodily dragging twoothers through the air. Lena wrestles out of her heels, chucks them aside and headsfor Kara in a dead sprint, only pausing to cower away from a rain of shatteredglass.
She doesn’t spare a glance upward, not whenKara is small and immobile and so unnervingly earthbound. As unnatural as afalcon laid out on its side in the middle of the road.
Lena struggles to her knees beside her in herstupid tight fucking skirt, palms Kara’s dusty, bloodied face. If only they’drecharged before this, none of this would have happened. “Shit,”Lena mutters, tasting bile in her throat. “Kara. Come on. Come on,darling. Look at me.”
She smoothes away Kara’s hair, rubs vigorouslyover her shoulders, her chest. Kara’s eyelids flutter, head lifting bypainstaking degrees. “Mrrm,” she mumbles, like a big, injured, capedcat. “Oh… Hey, beautiful.”
Lena lets out a wet gasp of a laugh.“Thanks, charmer. I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
Lena bends forward, eyes already slippingshut when she’s halted by a palm to the face.
“Nooo,” Kara moans, feebly rollingher head side to side. “No no no. Nuh uh. No way.”
Lena bats the hand away, annoyance and anxietyclashing. “Kara, what the fuck? You almost died up there. Please.”
“It’s not fair to me,” Karamumbles.
“It’s not fair to you?” Lenarepeats incredulously.
“It’s trizvialising my feelings,”Kara explains, equally earnest and absurd.
“Wh-what?”
“’S Alex says.” Kara shakes herhead again. “’S not healthy.”
“Well, I don’t think getting beaten to apulp is very healthy for you either!”
Kara keeps stubbornly shaking her head, thenlets it droop down against her chest. Anxiety rises thick and suffocating inLena’s throat, but when Kara lifts her head back up, there’s a new clarity inher eyes.
Kara wipes her nose on her forearm, smearinga bright streak of blood across the right side of her face. “I can’t kissyou anymore,” she says plainly. “Because, I figured it out. Why it’syou. Of course it’s you. Lena. I’m hopelessly in love with you, you know.”
Confession done, Kara sags again, a superheroshaped balloon leaking air. Lena can see her own fingers bunched in Kara’suniform, white-knuckled and pushing hard to keep Kara propped against the wall,but she can’t feel them at all. A bright, impatient, staticky feeling hasovertaken her body.
Her voice bubbles up out of nowhere. “Kara,you fucking idiot.”
Kara blinks at her sluggishly. “Wuh?”
“You shitty… fucking… jerk!”
“Nooo, I’m nice!”
“You are not nice! You have beenkissing me stupid for weeks and telling me it meant nothingto you!”
“Well, I—I was lying!” Kara proclaims.
Lena ignores her entirely. “And I wentalong with it, again, and again, and again, like a self-destructive piece ofshit, soaking up every little scrap of misplaced affection, because I don’tthink there was ever a time when I wasn’t pathetically, desperately in lovewith you.” She lets go of Kara to muffle a sob in her hands, and Karaslides down a couple of incongruously comical inches before catching herself onher elbows. “God.”
Kara laboriously pushes herself back up,reaches for Lena with clumsy hands. “Shh. Shhh. C'mere.” Kara pullsher closer, makes uncoordinated attempts at wiping the tears off her face,settling her hair. Lena can feel it get messier. She leans into the touch. “Lena.Lena. Don’t cry. I am a stupid idiot jerk, you’re right.”
A sniffly sound of outrage escapes Lena. “No,I’m not! You are the most incredible, courageous, brilliant woman in thisuniverse! Don’t you ever say that to my face again!”
“Uhhh…” Kara’s stupid wonderfulface makes a stupid wonderful little O. “Okay.”
“I love you so much,” Lena sobs.
Kara is nodding vigorously now. “Minetoo. Me, me too. Allll so much.” She grimaces, stops nodding. “Lena,I think, I’m a bit cun—concussed? Maybe?”
Lena laughs a little hysterically. “Abit! Yes.” She wipes roughly at her eyes, grips Kara by the shoulders,takes in a noisy breath through her nose. She’s going to have to do thisagain. “Shit. All right.”
“Sorry,” Kara tells her, for themillions infuriating time these past months.
Lena fixes her with her sternest look, Lillianflavored. “I’m doing this because I love you, got it?” She would giveher a shake for good measure, except Kara is a solid slab of granite and alsoterrifyingly hurt.
Kara’s grin blooms wide and goofy andbloodstained: perfect. “Really? Cool,” she says, and Lena kisses her.
She tastes like dust and blood and the saltfrom Lena’s tears. Tastes like fear and pain and heartache—but triumph, too,and determination, and love. Love. Kara loves her. Kara loves her, and thiskiss—this fake fucking kiss that has a function, that isn’t real, this will betheir last. The next one, the next one is going to have no purpose at all. Thenext one will be decadence, self indulgence, hedonism epitomized.
Vow made, Lena opens her eyes to the nowfamiliar glow of a well-kissed Kara. Kara, whose reinvigorated arms around herare currently the only thing keeping Lena from dropping fifty feet onto theasphalt below.
Seems even a fake kiss is enough to cause abit of spontaneous, unconscious flight. Quite gratifying, really.
Lena licks her thumb, rubs at the dryingblood on Kara’s face and wipes it off on her shirt sleeve. “Go get 'em,”she says.
Kara giggles. “Yeah.” She glancesdown. “Um. I’ll just, put you down first.”
She tightens her hold around Lena’s waist,gently floats them down. Kara’s hair settles around her like a halo. She letsgo of Lena with a last lingering touch and steps back.
“Actually, you know what?” Karaturns back sharply, snakes an arm back around Lena’s body and cups the back ofher head in the other. “Not yet.”
She kicks off and they soar once again,spinning once, twice in the air as Kara nudges her nose against Lena’s andlaughs, short, exuberant, and captures her lip in a kiss.
Their previous kisses had been characterizedprimarily by either control or disorientation. This—this is nothing like that. Light,and honest, and focused; this kiss is pure exploration. Lena gives into it,like a solution blending with another, molecules fitting into each other’sspaces, unpredictably increasing density.
Kara draws back and laughs again, a warm explosionthat can’t be contained. “Did I get that right?” she asks.
Lena can do nothing but nod.
How Kara can misunderstand her so completelyfor months and then read her mind in an instant is beyond her. But she lovesher. And finally, she can show her.
So she does.
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americaneldritch · 3 years ago
Text
CTHODIAC HORRORSCOPES
The wisdom of the Cthodiac derives from heliocentric divining conceits which are, in turn, based on ancient geocentric principals; essentially, this chart serves as a guide to better understand which of the gods are not paying any attention to you at all. The prophetic power of the horrorscope applies to all, equally, because everyone is the same. Brief, selfish & wretched; barely sentient. You would be predictable even without the use of the stars that just so happen to anticipate your every action. It’s all purely symbolic, of course; there’s nothing to be learned, and nothing to be gained.
Cthulhu (21 Jan. –19 Feb.): your dreams don’t mean anything, ignore them. That is not dead which can eternal deny.
Dagon (20 Feb. – 20 March): though you find comfort in your depths, you will be lost if you do not brave the shallows. Ignore the worms, they’re always traps.
Sheol Nugganoth (21 March – 20 April): you shall be praised, & revered. Use your station to deminish others. Take advantage of their insecurities in order to further your own agenda.
Hastur (21 April – 21 May): you will the life of the party, and you shall be the death of it as well. It’s alright to laugh at your own jokes, even if no one else does. The final punchline looms.
Nug & Yeb (22 May – 21 June): your duality is tearing you apart. Let it. Become modular. A killer in the night, a shepherd in the morn. Diverse arts compound to a reconciliation of false binaries.
Tsthoggua (22 June – 22 July): the Dweller at the Threshold has his eye on you. You will never see behind the veil that he protects, but the Dweller can be consumed. Put him inside of you.
Ulthura Yon (23 July – 22 Aug.): bathe in the light where you can find it. The darkness is illimitable, and warm rays are scarce. If a hand should feed you, bite it hard enough that you would eat again.
Ghatanothoa (23 Aug. –23 Sept.): there will be fools. Guide them in their natural progression towards dust. Patience will release you from your prisons. Yog Sothoth (24 Sept. – 23 Oct.): you are the gate, and the key. Be mindful who is let inside. Chaos and disorder will beseige your most carefully laid plans. Defy entropy with novelty.
Yig (24 Oct. –22 Nov.): your greatest detractors will writhe at your feet when you reveal your truest self. Mind your affect on others; those who would surround you would become you.
Nodens (23 Nov. – 21 Dec.): Do not mind the hours, or the wake of ruin that succeeds you. Chase your thrills to the highest realms of heavens, and to the darkest nadirs of cthonia.
Nylarthotep (22 Dec. – 20 Jan.): just keep doing what you’re doing, you fucking maniac.
Originally published in American Eldritch: Deus ex Gothica. 
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notbecauseofvictories · a year ago
I know it was from two days ago, but if you're still doing it - tarantism, Sarah and the Goblin King.
 tarantism —the urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. 
Sarah doesn’t figure it out until well after it’s begun. 
She blames college, where everyone (or at least it seemed likeeveryone, at the time) went out on Friday nights, and then Saturdays, and there was always Sunday, for the truly devoted. They went out—to either afrat house or the handful of bars and clubs that didn’t bother to card. Whenhalf the class of 1992 is out at the Bop Shop, grinding to “Groove is inthe Heart,” it was easy to miss, easy not to question why Sarah Williams was therewith them. She had assumed they all felt that same electric current running under their skin, an unending urge for more, more, to keep losing oneself among bodies moving in time, flashing lights. She’d thought it was alljust…human, youth pulsing up through her blood like sap during spring.
(Her tendency to think and speak in nature metaphors probably should have been her second clue. It wasn’t.)
So shedoesn’t notice until afterwards, when her friends settle into theirlives—wives, husbands, children, jobs and careers—and Sarah Williams is stillgoing to clubs. Still chasing the thrill under her skin, the sort of high that only comes when she’s in the crowded dark, full of bodies moving to a beat. If you corner her, she can give you the whole dissertation: therise of house music and the fall of the disco scene, particularly as it relatesto EDM. Her PhD came with a mix CD. She’s written multiple articles about the sound of The Ballroom,evolving past its Berlin roots and Harlem influence. If it’s got rhythm, SarahWilliams has listened to it, has formulated strong opinions about it, and then probably argued with more than one of her friends about it and how weird she can get with music.
Her typical answer is to tip her chin in that imperious way she has and say, “Dance is one of the oldest art forms humanity has. What’s weird about wanting to understand that?”
(The fact that she can make her face go strange, her eyes hard and glittering and remote in a way that makes people uncomfortable, should have been another clue.)
Shetruly thinks this is normal, up until she doesn’t. Until he’s there. 
It’s a cold night and she’s at Xliber, moving to a veryordinary synth-pop mix—nothing too cutting edge, the DJ is pedestrian, but she can feel the bass notes reverberating up through her skin and that’s enough. She downs a shot and then moves through the slender spaces left between grinding couples, imagines herself collecting all their gathered heat, that wanting, on her fingertips as she passes. 
She’s just sinking into the rhythm when she inhales, and tastes something metallic and earthen—something apart. Sarah cracks her eyes open, but there’s nothing but bodies limned in the house lights, moving in time. Still, she can taste it, crushed green and metal dropped onto her tongue like a tab.
(For all her clubbing experience, Sarah has never actually tried drugs—never felt any desire to when there was a rhythm, a driving beat, a melody, a thrum.)
(Again: she missed a lot of signs. Don’t hold it against.)
Slowly, she comes to stand, stock still—uncharacteristic for her, in the midst of a dance floor. She’s still trying to figure out where the metallic-green-earthen taste is coming from when a hand grips her waist, spins her, forces her hands up and her fingers splayed. She is dizzy and reeling but then there’s Jareth, the same shadow that has been haunting her nightmares since she was fifteen. 
His grip is much more solid than any dream could be.
Sarah has to lean in, very close, to shout in his ear: “Goblin King!” And then, because she might as well: “Well met by moonlight!”
(She really should have realized.)
When she draws away, he gives her a quizzical look, made harsher by the flashing club lights. When he leans in, he smells overwhelmingly of the green, it’s dizzying. “It is a new moon, Sarah Williams. It gives no light.”
She laughs but the sound is eaten up by the bass. 
She’s not surprised the Goblin King is a good dancer. She waltzed with him in the mirror ballroom, certainly, she also remembers the way he moved. His hands, the roll of his hips when he walked. She’s been doing this long enough to know there are two types of good dancers: the innocent and the very, very experienced. Ballerinas suffer to look like they’re not suffering, as though grinding down their metatarsels is as natural as breathing—but the uncoordinated college freshman getting drunk for the first time and losing his shit is no less beautiful, for all the difference in ability.
Jareth the Goblin King is somehow both. He dances like the ballerina, right up until he doesn’t—until the DJ shifts over to a something Sarah’s never heard before. It’s all horns, or strings, or something between them and a wet, heavy beat that makes her think of a pulse. Sap rolling up through trees. Then the Goblin King is all uncoordination, and strangeness. He moves as people do not move, and bends as human limbs, bodies, are not meant to bend. She can only watch him, circle in inextricable orbit and see. 
(She knows then.)
Afterwards, when the music shuts off and the lights come up, Jareth the Goblin King walks her home. By the weak light of the dawning morning, he looks more like a man than a…a whatever he actually is, though he laughs when she tells him as much. 
“And you look like a girl, Sarah Williams,” he says, smirking with a mouth painted dark-blue as midnight, or maybe a bad bruise.
“I am one, yes,” she says.
“No,” he answers. “You have not been either girl nor anything like one for a long while.”
His smirking expression gives nothing away, no matter how long she stares at it. “What do you mean by that?”
“My people…” He pauses for a long time, almost a whole suburban block with its split-ranch houses and dark windows, but then the Goblin King ducks his head. Clears his throat, tries again: “My people love dancing, did you know?”
Sarah makes a soft, noncommittal noise.
“Yes,” Jareth says. “We used to take—well, not just children. Fiddlers and harpists and pipers, dancers, lovely girls and handsome men. We were so jealous—of music and the ability to surrender to it, to move and make more music, that way. My people can imitate, can sing songs already written, can dance a dance that has been laid out for us, but all else…”
Sarah stares ahead of her. “What does this have to do with me?”
She feels his eyes on her. “You are the only human to have ever defeated the Labyrinth,” he says, sounding astonished that she had not realized. “Did you think it left you unchanged?”
“Humans like music and enjoy dancing too,” Sarah says dryly, “that’s not proof of anything.”
But in the cold air of six A.M., her breath fogs. She’s thinking about all the stories she’s read, the fairy dances and fairy rings, twelve princesses waltzing holes into their shoes; all those otherworldly céilí and even just Jareth, gathering her in, his eyes rapacious as he spun her through a glittering masked ball.
“I don’t want it,” she murmurs.
“Too bad,” Jareth answers smoothly, a hardened certainty in his voice. It’s not cruel, just---clear, a deal already made, her name signed on a dotted line she can’t remember but is nevertheless carved into stone. Or something. She’s tired and mixing metaphors.
When she looks at him, he’s watching her face, undisguised interest there. “What?” she asks, taken aback.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me it isn’t fair.”
Sarah snorts. “It’s been too long for that, Goblin King. Grant that I might have found some perspective, since I was fifteen.”
They come to her front door much sooner than she anticipates---ten league boots, she thinks, and when she laughs to herself, he smiles. “Hardly ten leagues, Sarah Williams,” he answers without her asking.
“‘Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down’?” she asks, but he only looks bemused. 
She swallows, tries again: “So what does this mean? For---why come tonight? Why come to me?”
“Those are three different questions, Sarah Williams.”
“The traditional number, right?” she asks, not quite teasing. It’s a cold morning and her fingertips are starting to tingle and go numb; it seems so commonplace, such a human sensation, that she clings to it. “Three questions, three wishes, three brothers or three sisters, three---”
The look he gives her is so full of undisguised fondness that she falls silent, suddenly tongue-tied.
“Well, then,” he sighs, and counts them on his fingers. He is still wearing the gloves she remembers, black as the quickly-fading night. “First, a hunger that will not be sated. My apologies for it. Second, a new moon is kind, and hides weakness and trespass alike. And third...”
He doesn’t touch her. But his hand makes an abortive, fluttering movement---as though to caress her cheek, before his better sense intruded. “Third,” he says lowly, “I think you know, Sarah Williams.”
"Lovers and---and madmen, have such....seething brains,” she stammers, unable to come up with anything more. His mouth curves sharply, something that a person unacquainted with him could confuse for a smile.
“Yes. Exactly,” he says. His fingertips do not brush her skin as he withdraws. “Good night, Sarah Williams. Perhaps you might save the next dance for me?”
“Perhaps,” she says. Her fingertips are cold, numbed, but the lock digs into the flesh of her palm almost painfully as she watches him go. And then he is gone.
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littlefreya · a year ago
Okay, so, from that anon ask about “wolffish behavior” and so on... saying “chase me” and just taking off running but if he catches you he gets you, if you know what I mean. And it gets him really worked up and then when he catches you (you try your hardest but he always, always wins) he just throws you right over his shoulder and takes you to the bed, or maybe just takes whatever he wants from you right there...just, primal, slightly sweaty, adrenaline high Henry 🥵
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Quick Warnings: MaleDom, Role Play, Chasing. Henry likes to play these wicked games where he chases you around and you provoke by putting up a fight. Obviously, he catches you and if it takes him more than usual it’s because he is letting you get far to prolong the chase. 
Tonight it gets a little bit out of control. He comes home in a mood, he hasn’t seen you in a week and all he wants to do is fuck the living hell out of you. He doesn’t speak when he sees you, just gazes at you with icy blues and you know already you better run. 
What begins as a playful game around the house becomes a blood-thrilling chase. You step outside to the yard and end up running through the woods while Henry is on your steps, you can hear his husky gasps and his heavy steps on the wet ground. 
It lasts but 4 minutes and you’re on the ground. The noise of fabric tearing is sharp in your ears and you can feel the slap of the threads as they leave your flesh. His knees force your legs open, his denim coarse against your flesh. 
“Don’t move” he threatens, his voice dropping one octave below, his face severe. He is getting into his role and you’re submitting with fear and excitement. unlike him, your behaviour is no act at all.
You remain frozen as he unbuckled his belt, exposing his endowered erection. 
He crouches above you, dwarfing you with his bulky form. One hand lines his cock at your sleek and the other wraps around your mouth. 
“Don’t scream too much, don’t want the neighbours to hear”
You are not ready to the hard shove inside you, splitting through your walls, as aroused as you are he is thick, stretching you violently and settling deep in your warmth despite your body’s resistance. You bite into his palm, body arching but he presses your torso down and growls in your ear. He wants you completely detained, his little prize, his prey. 
He fucks you raw, like a touch starved animal, his groans desperate, the fabric of his jeans burns your skin as he moves in and our with vigour. 
You hurt him back, nails biting into the muscles of his arms, drawing blood from his perfect skin. Henry lets a blood-chilling roar and removes his hands to grab at your wrists and pin them next to your head, at the fee of your screams.
But you know you both won’t last long, he bottoms out inside you, grinding your cunt and you come intensely at the sensation of his cock swelling between your tight walls. Henry follows into ecstasy, calling out your name and gasping as he shoots a thick stream inside you.
This is your favourite game. 
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imaginedreamwrite · a year ago
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Breakdown Part 3
“Sometimes you have to give up on people. Not because you don’t care, because they don’t.” – Neetu Khatri Kajal
---
Steven Grant Rogers was a man who had watched his best friend since childhood, make many, many mistakes.
Bucky has always been a little reckless, even in childhood. He was always the first to jump headfirst into anything dangerous, anything daring.
He lived for thrill. The thrill of the chase when it came to chasing after women, the thrill of a heart stopping, stomach dropping roller coaster at the fair every year.
Any thrill, any time, Bucky would dive head first. He didn't think, didn't question himself, he was all in.
It is what made him join the army fresh out of high school. The thrill is what made Bucky pursue the special forces, striving for something that would get his blood pumping in a way that was exceedingly dangerous because Bucky thrived off of it.
After Bucky left the army, he applied to the force in their hometown, quickly becoming sergeant, with little help from Steve. From one thrill to another, Bucky's recklessness had gained him a reputation as a man of great bravery and inner strength.
But that great bravery and strength had also caused Bucky to develop a psyche. The praise he received from the people he met had inflated Bucky's ego, made the man who was such a thrill seeker arrogant.
And in his arrogance, Bucky had made the greatest mistake of his life.
In his arrogance, in his pursuit of a thrill, Bucky had began an affair with his partner, the rookie. Bucky had began sleeping with Natasha Romanoff, the newest member of the force, any and every chance he had.
He was unapologetic in his pursuit of the redheaded rookie. He enjoyed her fire, her free spirit, the confidence he exuded. Bucky was attracted to her free nature.
Steve, as an outside observer, thought Bucky was going through something that made him want freedom. Maybe he felt too restricted by the wedding band on his left hand, maybe he missed the days when he could sleep with any woman he wanted, when he wanted. Maybe Bucky had grown irritated by the domestic life he had been living for 7 years.
Steve didn't know, he didn't want to know. But he had to tell you.
He tried to get Bucky to break it off. He pleaded with his lifelong friend to not screw up one of the best things to happen to Bucky. He begged and pleaded with Bucky to think about what he was going to lose, what he could lose.
“I will, Steve.” He falsely promised. “I’ll break it off.”
Steve watched for weeks as the relationship between Bucky and Natasha changed, and the rift between you and Bucky grew. What was once just a crack, was now a cavern.
“You need to tell her.” Steve tried again, he had to convince Bucky to do right by his wife.
“I will Steve. I promise.”
Weeks. Weeks of Bucky hiding away from his wife, weeks of Bucky taking overtime shifts and sneaking off on his breaks to have an affair with Bucky's wife.
Steve dropped his head into his hands, groaning into his palms. This was going to destroy your lives. It was going to destroy your trust of Bucky, it was going to rip your family apart. The affair, the cavernous divide between you and Bucky, would break you. It would break Sarah.
“Shit,” Steve lift the phone from the receiver, dialing your number, “Bucky you idiot.”
Steve remembered the day you met Bucky. Steve remembered it so clearly, because Steve knew you before Bucky did.
He knew you from the little diner you were working in while getting your degree. Steve knew you, he had feelings for you before Bucky even came into the picture.
He was a rookie at the police force, a shyer man than he was now, he was working himself up to ask you out to dinner. He had found the place by means of work, after responding to a call made of an attempted robbery. You were on the dinner shift, one of the waitresses who was witness to the masked man coming to rob the place, and Steve was the responding officer.
You were such a sweetheart, wide eyed and full of hopes and dreams of moving to the west coast. Any time he had come in after, you would spend more time talking with him than you would actually doing your job, and that had gotten you into trouble more than a few times.
Of course, once Steve started talking about you to Bucky, his lifelong friends interest was piqued. And in a matter of moments that Steve would later deeply regret, he had lost you before he even had the chance to have you.
For 7 years, Steve watched your marriage with Bucky going through the motions of ups and downs. For 7 years, he had been there with Bucky and you, acting as a best friend, an uncle to Sarah, a confidante.
He was there as a best man for Bucky and your wedding. He was there after Sarah was born, he was there for every one of Sarah's 5 birthday parties. Steve was there when you announced you were expecting another baby.
Steve was there for it all. He was there as a single man, he was there with his wife of 4 years, now divorced, he was there for you. For Bucky.
And now, he had to make the devastating choice, he had to do what Bucky couldn't. Steve couldn’t let you suffer, he couldn't let you be oblivious, hoping and waiting for Bucky to come back to you as a faithful husband, when he was slipping further away.
“Steve?” Your voice drifted through the speaker of the phone pressed against his ear, a faint sniffle following. “What’s wrong?”
“Doll,” he winced at the endearment he shouldn’t have let slip, “can you come down to the station? I need to speak to you.”
Was he prepared to be the one who broke up both of his friends marriage? It should’ve been Bucky. Bucky should’ve been the one to tell you that he was being unfaithful. Bucky should’ve been the honest one. Bucky should’ve gotten onto his knees and begged for your forgiveness for hurting you, for breaking your vows.
“Its about Bucky, isn’t it?” the wavering in your voice told Steve all he needed to know.
“We should talk, sweetheart.” His second endearment was followed by your quiet acknowledgement.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
---
Steve didn't miss the sharp inhale of breath or the trembling of your bottom lip as you wrapped your arms around yourself.
He stood in the doorway of his office, moving attention away from your baby bump, which was now visibly protruding from your middle, to the man you called husband, and he called best friend.
Bucky was standing in the bullpen with Sarah, her hand tucked in his. Her blue eyes that were identical to Bucky's, were wide with. Excitement and wonder, her brown curls bouncing as she whipped her head back and forth. Her excitement was radiating to the other officers in the bullpen, their glee at seeing Sergeant Barnes ‘little princess’ could nor be overstated.
A frown crossed Steve's face when Romanoff entered the picture and bent down to greet Sarah. The smile on the rookie cop's face was gentle and welcoming, almost as if she was being introduced to her lovers daughter for the first time.
Steve knew what was happening. As captain for their precinct, he knew. He knew everything.
And he was sad. He was worried and sad for Bucky. He was worried that he was being foolish, that he had too many hands in too many cookie jars, and one day, it would be his ruin.
“Bucky what are you doing?” he mumbled under his breath, questioning where his friends head was at.
Did he not realize what he was doing? Did he not understand what he had to lose? What he could lose? What he was throwing away?
As Steve turned to walk back into his office, he stopped, eyebrows furrowed.
“Y/N?” He called for your attention.
When you lift your head, Steve was greet by the sight of your red puffy eyes, your trembling lip and weepy breaths. A Kleenex was clutched in your right hand, the glint of your wedding ring on your left, catching the light.
You had been leaning against the wall, the faint smell of vomit, fresh and acrid, making Steve wince lightly. He placed his hand on your shoulder, stirring you out of whatever thoughts were circulating in your head.
“M-my marriage is o-over.” You stuttered and stumbles over your words as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.
You wiped your nose on your sleeve, the snot darkening the dusty rose of your cardigan. When you lowered your right sleeve, you wiped your eyes with your left sleeve, a whine leaving your lips. You were heartbroken over the declaration of your broken marriage, something not worth saving in your eyes.
Steve moved his hand from your shoulder to your back, rubbing small circles into tour sweater as you cried, as you unleashed every emotion you had bottled in.
Grief over the loss of Bucky, though it was not physical loss.
Pain from heartbreak.
Fear for what would come next.
“B-Bucky is c-cheating on m-me. I-I can f-feel it.” You went to wipe your nose again after you sobbed painfully, but Steve stopped you.
“Come to my office,” Steve almost wanted to add a third endearment, but now wasn't the place, “we can talk in privacy.”
Steve placed his hand on the small of your back as you both made your way to his office.
As you passed the bullpen, Steve glanced back toward Bucky and Sarah. Your daughter was resting on his hip, her arms wrapped around his neck. Bucky was speaking amongst the officers in the bullpen, Sarah looking tired as he spoke.
Steve's attention was stolen by officer Romanoff, her hand resting on Bucky's arm as she laughed at whatever he was saying. The smile on her face, the look on her face, was one of lust and love.
Officer Romanoff was in love with Bucky. And like a woman in love, desperate to have the love she craved, Natasha would have no restrictions to what she would do to have Bucky.
“T-tell me I-I'm w-wrong.” Your whole body was shaking as you cried desperately, as you cried with great loss. “P-please Steve…”
Steve cleared his throat. He shift in his chair. He did anything he could to avoid telling you what he knew.
“Please…” when you begged a second time, he had no choice. He couldn't let you suffer.
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” another endearment slipped out, but Steve ignored that, “I can't. I can't tell you that you’re wrong.”
He moved his attention toward the bullpen, Bucky and Sarah gone to the back. Natasha had also gone. Together? Possibly, but at this point did it matter?
“You k-knew? D-did you know?” Your cheeks were red, your eyes puffy.
You were so desperate for answers. You deserved answers, you deserved better than Bucky could give you.
“I caught them. I found them. They…he…” Steve shook his head. “I told Bucky he needed to tell you. He deserved to tell you himself but he's-"
Your heartbroken cry, your sobbing had stopped him from speaking anymore. You had buried your head into your hands, your body shaking from the force of your cries. Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the painful whimpers and whines coming from you, had sprung tears to his own eyes.
He felt helpless. There was no comfort he could offer you.
“Y/N,” the lump in his throat was making it hard to speak, “sweetheart I am so sorry.”
“W-what am I g-going to do?” You had managed to mumble through your sobs, your heartbroken cries. “Sarah…W-what is S-Sarah going to d-do?”
Steve rose from his chair, walking around the desk slowly. He came to crouch in front of the chair you were sitting on, his eyes briefly flickering down to your growing, visible bump. He reached out and grabbed one of your hands, pulling it away from your face.
“You are going to be okay. All 3 of you. Sarah, the baby, you.” The lump in his throat grew. “You’re strong Y/N. You'll survive this.”
“H-How? My-my marriage is o-over.” You wiped your eyes, but more tears fell. “I-I l-love him. B-but I can't…I can't forgive h-him.”
Steve didn't speak for a moment. He didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. How could he comfort you?
“I’m sorry.” He stood when you stood.
He enveloped you in a hug, your nails digging into his back as you unleashed a new wave of emotions. You held onto Steve the same way you’d hold a life preserver to save yourself from drowning. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
---
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allisas · 9 months ago
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The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Expansion Pack
Gear up for thrilling snow sports, relax in natural hot springs, and design your Japanese-inspired home in The Sims™ 4 Snowy Escape Expansion Pack*! Discover new ways to adventure—challenge your Sims to climb to the peak and bond with others in the world of Mt. Komorebi. From sledding and snowboarding to hot pot around the kotatsu table, there’s something to match every Lifestyle.
CHASE YOUR THRILLS
Test your Sim’s skill and endurance with activities on the mountainside! Grab skis for a downhill ride, strap on a snowboard to shred, or bundle up on a sled with another Sim. Prefer going up? Build their rock climbing skill and challenge your Sim to reach the mountain peak during daring, sometimes dangerous, excursions.
CREATE YOUR SANCTUARY
Whether you prefer the traditional details or modern touches of Japanese-inspired furniture and decor, you can incorporate shoji doors, windows and screens, tatami mats, and more to design a home that complements your life. Take your shoes off at the genkan entryway in the soft glow of paper lanterns overhead, or build your own rock garden outside!
FIND YOUR ZEN
Let your Sim’s worries float away in the natural hot springs, then unwind over hot pot around the kotatsu table or socialize while hiking through bamboo forests and snowy terrain. Bask in the serenity of mindful walks and soothing music to take control of your emotions and discover your inner zen.
DEFINE YOUR LIFESTYLE
Unlock new personality and relationship effects with the introduction of Lifestyles and Sentiments. Lifestyles manifest in response to your Sim’s actions and habits, changing their behaviors appropriately. Similarly, shared experiences inspire Sentiments and have a lasting impact on Sims’ relationships to each other, affecting their social interactions.
The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Expansion Pack arrives on November 13, 2020, for Mac and PC and at 10 a.m. PT for Steam, Xbox One, and PlayStation®4! 
*REQUIRES THE SIMS 4 (SOLD SEPARATELY) AND ALL GAME UPDATES. FOR PC, SEE MINIMUM SYSTEM REQUIREMENTS FOR THE PACK.
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b0n-chann · a year ago
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I’m so glad you guys love these one shots! I’ve always had a hard time writing multiple chapter fics because I either lose attention or get writers block, but being able to write little drabbles of my ideas has been great.
Andddddd well, I can’t really say I expected to be writing anything smut related at all but here we are. I swear when I started writing this one it wasn’t the direction I was planning on going towards at all 🙃
Cat and Mouse
Rating: M for dirty sexy Mando stuff and language (lol)
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It all started when you first joined the Mandalorian; this game of cat and mouse. Initially it had been to keep both your skills up, taking turns hunting and being hunted, but lately it seemed like he was always the predator and you were his prey. You run through the forest but know that it wouldn’t be long before the bounty hunter finds you. You always wanted him to. And he always did.
He taught you well, teaching you how to lose your trackers and how to use your environment to your advantage. It’s helped you numerous times before, but never with him. It was like a game of chess, but he always seemed to be two moves ahead. As much as you hated to lose, his chase thrilled you—and you knew, the longer it took him to capture you, the more primal he became.
You find yourself at a clearing and curse; rule number one: never leave yourself out in the open. You crouch in the brush and make your way back to the forest line, but catch a glimpse of shiny metal reflecting in the light. Hoping that he didn’t see you, you make your way back around, trying to sneak past him. You find yourself on the side of the clearing opposite of him and look back, trying to see if he’s still there. You didn’t have much a choice though, if he was still there then he knew you were too. You take a deep breath, count to three and run.
You try your best to make unpredictable turns as your run, hoping that your quickness is enough of an advantage to at least get some distance between you and him. The foliage gets thicker as you run and you are thankful for it; the trees would make it more difficult for him to track you down. It feels like you’ve been running for hours and you finally stop to catch your breath. You find a large tree to hide behind and lean against it. Your heart is racing and is so defeaning that you almost miss the sound of metal boots crunching the leaves on the forest floor. You calm your breathing but you know that he knows that you’re close. You squat down and peer around the tree, trying to find your masked hunter. You see him but his back is turned towards you. He moves slowly, deliberately; he knows his prey is near. You move as quietly as you can to the tree across from you, hoping to put more space between you and the bounty hunter but as soon as you make a move to the next tree he is on you in an instant.
You curse and break into a full sprint, willing your legs to take you further even though they are burning in pain. The chase is coming to an end though, the Mandalorian is closing in on you. You feel yourself fall to the ground as he tackles you; however, he maneuvers you both to fall on your sides, protecting you from taking the brunt of his weight.
“I caught you,” he says, “again.” He rolls you over, pinning you to the ground. His hands grip your arms on either side or your face. You stare into his visor, wondering what expression he has on behind the helmet.
“You always catch me,” you reply. Your chest is still heaving; from the chase or from his proximity, you’re not sure. You want so badly to look into his eyes, to see him. The electricity between you two is palpable. He places a hand over your chest.
“Your heart is racing. I can feel it beating even through my gloves.”
“You kind of have that effect on me,” you say bluntly and you swear you can feel him smirk behind his helmet. His hand begins a lazy pace down your body, enjoying the smooth planes of your abdomen before resting his hand on your hip. His thumb finds a bare area of skin there and he spends a moment caressing you, and you wonder how such a small movement can drive you wild. Your free hand caresses the fabric covering his neck and gods, you wished you both weren’t out in the open.
“So what do you want this time for catching me?” You ask, an elegant eyebrow raised. You know what you wanted him to do, but hearing him say such dirty, delicious things always set your body on fire.
He rolls his hips into you and you know exactly what he wants. “You love it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?” You respond with a noncommittal sound as you wrap your legs around his waist. He groans at your actions. “I want to take you right here, on the forest floor. I want to hear you scream my name out as I fuck you so hard and fast that you won’t be able to walk straight.”
His words shot straight to your core and you instantly feel moisture pool between your legs. The man before you has always been a generous lover but you loved it when he was like this—frantic and urgent, like he’ll die if he doesn’t have you. He roughly hikes your skirt up and he hisses when he feels how wet you are. “Gods you’re already ready for me, aren’t you?”
“Din, please,” you whimper as he pushes two fingers into you. He spreads his fingers and stretches you out slightly, preparing you for him .
“What I would give to be able to taste you right now,” he tells you, the need in his voice unable to be masked by the modulator. He pumps his fingers into you a few more times before he slips them out of you. You bite your lip, trying to keep the disappointment to yourself. “Fuck, you know what that does to me.” And you do, you know that habit drives him crazy with desire. He brings his fingers to your mouth. “Open.” You should be slightly shocked by his command, he’s never asked you to do this before, but you’re so high strung on lust and need that you open your mouth and suck his fingers dry. You moan loudly as you do this and the entire scenario is enough to send him over the edge.
“I need you now,” you hear him say before he buries his thick cock into you and starts a punishing rhythm. He’s on his knees, and thrusts roughly into you again and again as he grips onto your thighs. You have no doubt that they’ll be bruised later but you could care less. This position allows him to tilt your pelvis in a way that hits the sweet spot he discovered previously over and over again.
“Din, oh god, I can’t hold on much longer,” you cry out.
His rhythm becomes even faster at your words and you let out a loud moan when you feel his thumb press up against your clit. The combination of him rubbing the small bundle of nerves and him pumping his cock in and out of you is too much. “That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” he commands again. Your body complies as an orgasm washes over you. He continues his pace, not letting you down from your high, forcing you to come apart again.
You cry out in ecstasy, gripping on to him anywhere you can. You are barely coherent enough to realize that he’s slowed his pace to a lazy rhythm, letting you catch your breath. You feel him slip out of you as he rearranges tour clothes back. “Dyn,” you gasp out, “you haven’t...” he silences you with a finger to your lips.
“I want to take you home and watch you do this all over again. I want to be able to see you without anything obscuring my vision. I want to see your face as I come deep inside of you.” And just like that your body is on fire again, ready for him. He pulls you up and your knees buckle. He laughs as he leans down, putting an arm under your knees and throwing your arm around his shoulder. “I didn’t actually think you wouldn’t be able to walk back.”
You laugh and roll your eyes as you hit his shoulder lightly. “Yeah well, you did a really good job on the follow through.” He begins the trek back to the ship and you both speak in soft tones to each other about nothing in particular. Days like these were hard to come by but always gave you both hope that one day this could be forever.
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