#idk why these books touch my heart like no others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bizbat · 2 months

Note

your jason todd hcs are sooooo good omg!!! do you have any hcs specifically for when he has a crush on the reader, like how he might act, specifically if the reader is oblivious and really doesn’t think that she’s his type / thinks he’s joking if he says anything flirty?

When They're In Love - Jason Todd (Crush Edition)

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms + Pet names used for reader.

~ You can find part one of these hcs here, and part two here.

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ These can be read as a sort of part three/prequel kinda.

~Fic at the end.

~ Tw for : Blood, Knives, Needles, Vomit. (All slight)

~Thank you for asking! Hope you enjoy, sorry this took so long :(

You would never know that Jason has a crush on you.

For the most part, he wont talk to you any differently than he will anyone else.

Maybe he won't jokingly insult you, or be super sarcastic around you, but I think that's kind of as far as he'd go.

Unless you're a close friend or family member, you'd probably have no clue he had a crush based on the way he talks to you.

But the little actions and things he does for you are so obvious.

He's the type to hold open doors for you, all the while staring other people dead in the eye as it shuts in their face.

He somehow always just "randomly" has your favorite snack on hand, or a whole collection of books by your favorite author.

I think he'd be touchy, unless he knows you don't like being touched.

If you like or don't mind it, he'd have his arm constantly thrown over your shoulder, always be leaning against you, always resting a hand on your hip.

If you're shorter than him, he does that super annoying thing where he rests his elbow on your head.

He is so lame omg.

But bc he's kinda like this with everyone, no one would fault you for not understanding his hints.

He's like the opposite though.

You said hi to him this morning? You must be in love with him.

You smiled at him today instead of Dick? He's already planning the wedding.

What's that? You said he smells nice? Have his babies. (If you can/want to)

Our delusional king.

He doesn't think you don't get his flirting.

He'd think you're fully aware and are flirting back.

Again, our delusional king.

You probably won't get it until something really serious happens and he comes to you instead of Bruce or Roy.

He'd probably try to get into things you're interested in.

Listens to all your favorite songs, reads your favorite books, etc.

And he's not subtle about it bc he is in fact, a loser.

He'll recommend a song by your favorite artist and then be like "idk why but this just reminded me of you lol"

LOSER. Can you guys tell i'm a big believer in the "jason todd is secretly a massive loser" agenda? Cuz I am. :|

And then he listens when you go on rambles about how great the things you like are and how much they mean to you.

I said he'll do things just to hear you talk about them, and I think he'd do that when he has a crush on you too.

He just loves your voice and likes hearing you talk.

He smiles at you so softly when he thinks you aren't looking.

You could be bumming out and he'll look at you with heart eyes like yeah, future spouse right there.

I don't think he'd be a big user of social media, but if you were, he'd get a whole account just to like and comment of your pictures.

user94820860038466 commented: You look very pretty in this picture.

Comments like an old man bc he has very little understanding of the internet.

He'd probably help you take pictures and fight with other people in your comment section if they're too down bad or creepy.

He doesn't strike me as the jealous type bc once again, he's so delusional he pretty much already thinks you're dating.

Nicknames nicknames nicknames.

Calls you so, so many nicknames.

Angel, doll, sweetheart, maybe even babe.

He constantly talks about you when you aren't there.

Lian and Roy know so much about you before they even meet you.

He'd do anything for you.

The store is actually about a mile in the other direction, but yeah he can get you your favorite drink.

He does not like that food at all and the owner of the store despises him, but he will not return to you empty handed best believe.

He was actually going to wear that hoodie today, but it looks so much better on you you should keep it!

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

It's just like every other night in Gotham City. It's cold, and wet, and it smells like smoke and garbage that's been left out in the sun.

The only barrier between you and the chilled, musty air outside is a single sheet of glass; the fire escape window of your fifth floor apartment. It's comforting. The glass is, of course, bulletproof, and the seal around the sill is tight, so no gases ever manage seep in. It pays to have a decent landlord, especially in Gotham.

It's funny, but you really never think about that window. You mostly keep it shut and locked, except in the summer, when you can smell your neighbor in the building next door cooking all types of delicious aromatic dishes, or when it's just too hot and you decide the risk of heatstroke is greater than the risk of airborne psychosis. It never occurs to you just how well it keeps you safe, just how well it keeps things out.

It occurs to Jason, though. In fact, it's the only thing on his mind as he's gripping his side, frantically trying to prevent too much blood from seeping out of his body.

He'll probably chastise himself later for not being more gentle or respectful, but he's lost too much blood to be thinking straight. With his free hand, he bangs on your window, praying that you're A) at home, and B) not listening to music. He's not too worried about the first one, he knows you never leave your lights on when you're away, but the second one, he's not too sure about.

He bangs, and bangs, and bangs on the glass, a loud, thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk that immediately rouses your from your sleep. You jump up from your spot on the couch, an open book falling from your lap as you dart into your room to grab the knife Jay gave you for protection, before returning to your living room, keeping your back to the wall.

You hold the blade in front of you, nervously gripping the hilt as you listen to the banging, making sure to stay just out of sight as you cautiously creep closer and closer to the noise. It isn't until the banging dies down that you finally get close enough to see the cause.

You gasp at the sight, dropping the knife and trying to tug the window open, before mentally yelling at yourself to unlock it. You drag the weakened behemoth of a man into your apartment, carefully placing his upper body on the floor in front of your window and removing his helmet. Your hand moves to his side, firmly pressing down on his wound, as you stare at him, mouth agape and eyes flooding with concern.

He laughs, a dry chuckle that just sounds like it hurts. "What took ya' doll?" You wanna smack him, but you can do that when he's not bleeding all over your hardwood floors. You tell him to wait, as if he could go anywhere in the state he's in, before rushing to grab the emergency kit he forced you to keep.

"Let-ngh- let me do it." He groans as he attempts to sit up, trying and failing to pull the tweezers from your hand. He doesn't even have the strength to sit back up when you gently push him back down. You clean his wound, all while he holds back winces and groans. You don't hold back, focusing on cutting and cleaning and stitching and wrapping, berating Jason for coming to you of all people.

"What d'ya mean? Of course I'd come to you?" Jason manages between harsh breaths. "Who else would I go to?" He seems genuinely confused, you're his girlfriend, you always come to him when you need help. Why wouldn't he come to you?

"Oh, I don't know, Jason, maybe Bruce, or Roy, or literally anyone else with training to handle this kind of thing!?" It comes out mean, but through his pain he can tell it's coming from a place of true care. You're worried. One of the strongest, most skilled people you know is bleeding out on your floor and you're panicking. Of course you are, you've never had to sew someone up, or dig a bullet out of someone, or try to hold down bile from the heavy smell of blood.

Your hands are shaking like crazy. This isn't a slight graze you can put a bandaid over and seal with a kiss, this is a life threatening wound on someone you care about, and all they've been doing since they came to you is make stupid fucking jokes and try to take things from your hands.

Jason can tell it's getting to you.

It should be the other way around, what with him bleeding out in your living room, but he quiets down, gripping your wrist with his non-blood covered hand. "Hey," He gently strokes your skin with his thumb, repeating himself when you don't move your eyes from his wound. "Hey, look at me Y/n." It's just stern enough to make you obey, without sounding like he's mad at you. "It'll be okay. I'm in good hands." Jason smiles at you, tired and reassuring. It calms your nerves just enough for you to finish sewing his wound shut.

You sit back when you're done, taking in your work once you wrap his stomach with gauze. Jason turns just enough to catch a glimpse, smiling up at you with his stupid, charming smirk. "Not bad, doll. Told ya you had it covered." He lays back, smiling up at you as he lays his head on his arm, the one on his non-injured side. Though he doesn't seem to bothered by the end of it all, you can't say the same.

He takes in your features, your tired, glossy eyes and your pouting lips. It makes his smile drop. You look away, your sad eyes not meeting his own. "I . . . what? What's wrong Y/n?" Jason winces, moving to rest on his elbows to get a better look at your face. "Was it the blood? Or the- was it the window? I'm sorry about that, by the way." You shake your head no at all of his suggestions, taking a breath before turning back to face him.

He can feel his heart hurt at the sight of unshed tears in your eyes. "I . . . I was scared Jay." He pushes himself all the way up when you take your lip into your mouth. He ignores the pain shooting through his side when he pulls you into his arms. "Hey, hey, hey, scared of what? I'm okay. You did good." Those tears finally spill when your arms wrap around his waist, loose as to not further irritate his wound.

"You could've died Jay, a-and I wouldn't be able to-to help you! I can't help you!" You sob into his shoulder. He holds you tightly, pressing his lips to your head as he rubs your back. "Please, please don't cry. I'm okay now, you helped me. I'm all better now." He rocks you both gently, trying to console you. "Sides, if I was gonna die, I'd be happy if it was with my girl."

What?

You freeze in his arms, and he knows he said something wrong. He just doesn't know what. His brain moves a mile a minute as he tries to figure out what it was before you get even more upset. Though, his brain completely shuts down when you stare up at him with those cute, confused eyes. The tears have slowed down, and he's at least thankful for that. "Your . . . girl?" Now he's confused too. "What-what do you mean by that?"

He has to do a double take. "What do you mean? You're my girl, like . . . girlfriend, you know?" Every second that passes only confuses the two of you more. "I'm your girlfriend?" "Ar-aren't you?" You blink at him. Were you? Are you? "Am I?" Somewhere there was cognitive dissonance, Jason just doesn't know for who. "Yeah, we're dating, I thought?" Though, he doesn't feel so confident about that now.

"Oh," You feel your ears grow warm, for the second time now your eyes don't meet his own. "I . . . I didn't know that." You wish you could hide right now, but he's still got his arms wrapped around you. "I mean, unless you don't want to, then-then I'm sorry-" Jason feels maybe even more embarrassed than you as he finally drops his arms, grabbing his helmet and moving to crawl back out the window he came in through. His bullet wound is completely forgotten by now.

He stops when you grip his jacket, shyly staring at the floor as you speak. "No! I w-want to." Your eyes darty up to his, before losing confidence and dropping back to the floor. "I want to be your girlfriend," It comes out a whisper, and when he's silent for a beat too long you worry he's suddenly changed his mind.

"Good. Great. Yeah." He drops back to the floor, sitting cross legged beside you. Internally, he's doing backflips in his mind. "Cool." Later on, he'll ask more questions, but for now, he's satisfied. "Yeah." You shyly play with your clothes, twiddling your thumbs as you sit in silence. You feel like a little girl who just admitted to her crush that she likes him. "Are you-" "I didn't-" You interrupt each other, both of you gesturing for the other to continue. It's a bit of a fight, but Jason makes you go first.

"I was gonna ask if you were hungry. I have some, um, pretzels and stuff. If you want." Jason nods. He follows you into your kitchen, where the two of you quietly and contently eat the iron rich foods you looked up. "What were you going to say, by the way?"

Jason looks up from his plate, the haphazardly prepared meal helping him feel better, though his heart feels pretty good right now anyways. "I didn't know that you didn't know. I thought," he laughs nervously. "I thought, we were dating this whole time." He laughs again when you shake your head. "I didn't know! I thought . . . I don't know, that I wasn't your type, or something."

That's probably the most surprising thing he's heard you say today. Okay it's not, but it's the thing that most catches him off guard.

"Of course you are! You're so sweet, and cute, and nice, and pretty, and you smell really good, and you're funny, and I like your voice, and the way you d-do things . . . and . . . other stuff." Jason stops himself before he can ramble for hours about every single things he loves about you. You wouldn't mind if he did, though. You hide your pleased expression with your hand.

"Me too." It's quiet, but no longer shy. "I like all that "stuff" about you too."

#bizbat #dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd headcanons #dc headcanon #red hood x reader #red hood #jason todd #dc x reader #lian harper #roy harper

437 notes · View notes

kaciebello · 2 months

Text

Bring a scythe to a sword fight

Masterlist

Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem)

Percy Jackson x Hades! reader (platonic)

Summary: The reader is gradually suspicious, not believing Clarisse is the lightning thief

Warning: Angst?, no use of y/n

authors note: Idk, I kinda blacked out writing this, sorry if it does not make sense. English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only :(

Word count: 1.6k

Ever since Poseidon claimed Percy and he was moved to cabin 3, the camp became lonely. He eats at his own table, gets to choose his camp activities, and calls ‘ lights out ‘ whenever he feels like it. The other campers think he's a monster magnet now. Most people avoid him, and even Clarisse stays clear of him. Only 4 people in this camp don't seem to be afraid of him. Grover, they often pick strawberries together. Annabeth, who took it upon herself to teach him ancient Greek. Luke, still gives him sword lessons, although they are now more of one-on-one sessions. And the girl Luke seems to have heart eyes for. She mostly hangs out around them when they are training. Such as now.

Luke, was not going easy on him, as always. But Percy was still on his feet, meaning he was improving. Or that is what he believed in before Luke managed to tap the back of his knee and make him fall. A frustrated groan leaves him when Luke's sword touches underneath his chin.

“Giving up?” Luke asks and moves the sword away, extending his hand to Percy. He takes it and gets up. Percy can't help but curse a little.

“Don't worry bubble boy, Castellan is just a show-off, you're doing great.” Says the girl, who was sitting on a rock this whole time, nose in some sort of book he did not recognize. Scoff leaves Luke as he puffs out his chest. Percy picks up his sword and turns his whole body to the girl.

“I'm not really sure of that.” He says, hesitant.

“Trust me, once you take one of the other campers you'll be alright, Lukes is just hardcore when it comes to it.” She says, putting her book down and getting up, stretching her body.

“ How about we give Percy a break. Why don't you fight me? a little spar?” Luke says and walks to the girl, offering a sword to her. Her face twists in disgust and pushes it away. Laugh just leaves his friend before he turns to Percy in the fastest way possible.

“ She claims I'm hardcore, but the truth is, I've never seen her with a sword in her hand,” Luke says, smirking when he hears the girl scoff. Percy's eyes widen.

“You don't fight?” He peeps out, higher than he wanted to. She just shook her head.

“I'm a healer, I don't fight. And I certainly don't play with swords” She says and flicks her hand. Luke rolls his eyes when she sticks her tongue at him.

“How do you survive capture the flag?” Percy asks, he's still not sure he understands the game. He also notices his friend now sitting down and decides to sit down on the floor as well. She, again, shakes her head.

“ I don't play, I stay in the med tent.” She says sitting down next to Luke. Although to Percy it looked like Luke dragged her to him more. He wondered if he could also do that. Just not play. Although Luke probably wouldn't let him. Percy spaces out, not noticing the older campers sitting now a little bit close to anyone's liking, giggling. He also does not notice Annabeth heading their way. But in his defense, she could have been wearing her Yankee cap, he would not know. Her voice snaps him out.

Turns out she was not there to laugh at Percy's poor fighting skills, nor was she there to spy on his progress. Luke was needed, ‘counselor duties’ she said. Completely ignored the fact the other two campers there were technically counselors of their cabins too. Luke told them both he would see them at the bonfire and followed Annabeth back to the camp. Leaving the two forbidden kids alone.

“Ya know,” she says. “I could beat him.”

“What?” Percy turns to her.

“I could beat him up in a sword fight, I just chose not to.” She says getting up, and picking up her book. Percy just gives her a confused look and she sighs.

“ You could too, with time I mean.” She extends her hand to him and helps him up. “We are children of the big three, Percy. There is a reason why they promised to stop having us. You and I, by default, can be the strongest people here. Even someone like me can beat the best swordsman in the last 300 years in his own game. You just need time.”

Till now Percy thought he was the only one. I did not accrue to him that she may understand. Now that he thinks about it, Percy can count on one hand that he has seen her interact with other campers, not counting Luke of course. Percy now realized he wasn't alone in this lonely life of Poseidon's son. She is, kinda, his family now too.

—

“ We know who’s the lighting thief.” Says Percy on the other side of the Iris message. She and Luke were just in Chiron's office discussing what to the with the other campers, as they started to take sides.

“How do you know?” “Who?” They say simutainlusly. She looks at him weirdly for a second, thinking that that's not an appropriate question. Percy and Annabeth ramble about meeting Ares, he says something about Ares knowing who the lighting thief is and protecting him.

“ His favorite daughter. Clarisse is the lighting thief.” Luke finishes Percy's thought.

“Nonsense, Clarisse would not do that.” The girl defends her. She may not like the girl very much, but her being the lightning thief is ridiculous. Luke just gives her a pointed look and promises to tell Chiron. Percy turns to say more, but the iris message ends. Luke looks at her softer than he expected.

“ I don't think we should tell Chiron anything.” He says and takes her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and they swayed from side to side. Nodding in agreement.

“ If we go by their deductions, it could be anyone. I mean think about it. You would not be in the clear either. Who else than Hermes's son, the god of thieves, to steal the lighting bold.” She was just saying her thoughts out loud. However, Luke's hug tightens. He narrows his eyes and she can see the anger that shows up whenever someone mentions his father.

“ I did not mean it li th-”

“ Or you, who better than a daughter of Hades, someone who hates both Poseidon and Zeus.” Luke cuts her off. His eyebrow rose, wanting to see her reaction. She sighs and wraps her hands around his neck. Her comment was not meant to hurt him, but she knows she went overboard and decided to stay silent. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging a bit. His eyes close for a minute. She went to play with the camp necklace hanging on his neck. When he opened his eyes again, the hatred was gone.

“Come on, I'm sure someone needs medical assistance.” He says and makes his way out of the office.

“The Apollo kids can do that.” She says but follows him nonetheless. A laugh escapes him. They stop at the outside porch. He turns to her with soft eyes, some would say lovesick one.

“Ya know, there is one thing I did steal,” he says. She just gives him a confused look. “ Your heart.”

A smile spreads on his his as she groans. He turns around and walks down the little porch. She stops him when he gets to the bottom.

“Luke.” He turns to her with a hum.

“Whose side are you on?” She asks him, looking down at him from the top of the stairs. He was hesitant to answer, so she continued.

“ Percy or Zeus?” He just smiles, takes her hand, and helps her down.

“ I don't side with gods.” He says.

—

Before Luke could strike Percy something blocked his sword. When he looks up he sees her. Before he can react, however, a dagger is thrown his way and he dodges it. Looking that way he sees Annabeth take off her cap. This is not how it was supposed to go.

“Annabeth…” He breathes out. They were not supposed to be here. He was supposed to recruit Percy. He was gonna recruit them later.

The girl helped Percy up but kept him behind her scythe. Standing in the way of any danger that could come his way. When Luke turns to her, she points her scythe at him.

“Come on, sweetheart…” he tries, but by the look on her face, he can tell it is not gonna do anything.

“ You need to leave,” She says, her face hard as stone. Luke could not read a single emotion from her. He tries to take a step to her but she swings her scythe at him. He blocks it with ease. He knows she does not want to fight. He knows that the swing was a warning, to keep him away. He knew she would never fight him.

So when he swings it does not come to his surprise she only defends herself. Never playing offense. To others, it may look like they were just dancing, old partners getting together for a spar. It was when Luke felt the wind from the portal he realized she moved him away from his original position. He knew that Annabeth and Percy would tell Chiron right away. She was allowing him to escape.

She stood in front of him. Scythe in a thigh grip. Her eyes reminded him of a momma bear defending her cubs. With tears in his eyes, he turns around and leaps into the portal. In his mind, he promises to go back for all of them.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #luke castellan angst #luke castellan au

435 notes · View notes

crystcrm · 1 year

Note

i share ur struggle.. i ACHE for gepard or welt content so hopefully i could request for something like that? im js gonna throw a bunch of ideas and you can choose whichever

relationship hcs (what he’d be like, how does he show his love etc)

sleeping together (take this whichever way you want)

cooking together in the kitchen (im a whore for this stuff idk why😭)

bedroom hcs (kinks, fav positions, literally anything i need it so bad)

KISSING IN THE SNOW W GEPARD😞

anon i hope you know this ask gave me like 5000 braincells. like suddenly i am THINKING. it's so insane how one little ask full of random blurbs gave me so much life to write even just the smallest things.

literally welt and gepard are my two faves rn, i'm fr just waiting for jing yuan to come out. jing yuan my beloved <3<3

but anyway, as for this little ask, i think we'll ease into the hsr content with some fluff ( i am all due for it anyway, i have Not been writing and i also need the fluff because my god does life hit hard ) so sit tight >:)

love and cherishing you ♡ ;; various x gn!reader headcanons

content;- sfw , fluff , headcanons list , how some hsr boys show their love for you ♡♡ , overall just really fluffy because i need toothrotting stomach ache inducing head swirling sweet fluff sometimes... , nothing about getting together but just general hcs on what they'd be like in a relationship , reader is nooooot...? the trailblazer but could possibly be interpreted as such if you squint

characters inc:- welt yang , gepard landau ( includes post-belobog arc content, not extremely spoilery but take note that i chose after the jarillo-vi conclusion to open up more opportunities >:3 )

together with welt yang . . .

welt has lived life longer than perhaps anyone on the express, being from another world and used to living as the first ( second generation ) herrscher of reason, a herrscher that sided with humanity. he didn't expect to get sucked into another adventure, one where he'll meet many companions, see unbelievable sights or even... fall in love.

he's an old soul, yet his heart still has a grand passion for what he does. the fire within him burns, and perhaps, you stoke the flames. a motivation unlike any other to show you the wonders of the galaxy— of every world.

his love is not the most openly shown, an old man can be embarrassed sometimes. especially in the face of his family of the astral express. his affections for you are for you two only. his touches, his words, the little things that make sparks fly are all special and meant for your ears and eyes only. be it in the privacy of his room, or late nights when everyone else is fast asleep, he'll always find a way to make his love for you known when nobody else is looking.

time together with you is always time well spent. he enjoys it perhaps just a little more than going on adventures with everyone. you could be doing anything, and he wouldn't mind simply sitting in silence together with you. it's comforting, relaxing. it's moments like these where he gets to unwind with you. it's essentially a recharge— he doesn't even have to hold you ( but if you'd like that, he'd be more than happy to ).

he used to be an artist— an animation storyboard artist. his skills on paper would definitely outmatch the rest of the crew. he already likes to have his experiences captured in little drawings in his notebook. well, you happen to be one big, long lasting experience. one that he can't wait to see what more comes while experiencing it. you swear that you can catch him gazing at you every other day, and you always see his pencil moving across the papers in his book. inside are sketches of you in all your beauty, how he adores you, even complete with little notes about the things you like.

he wishes to show you the world, all there is to be seen across the entire galaxy. he will be there, to guide you, to accompany you. it's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the crew, but really, this is the closest thing to a date you've ever gotten. taking in the sights of new worlds, creating new memories together, and maybe getting tossed in a bit of trouble along the way. sure, it may be tiring or troublesome, but he wouldn't want to face it with anyone else.

those that come across him know him as welt yang, but this is the name he has inherited. he doesn't tell it often, perhaps, but at least you know him. the real him. he's not just welt to you, but also joachim. it is something he entrusted to you, who he is, who he once was, who he shall become— everything about him.

he adores you, and all your entirety. you are like a burning star in the galaxy above, one that burns with him.

together with gepard landau . . .

gepard, captain of the silvermane guards is a busy, busy man. between his duties as captain and his daily life, he does his best to find time for you. his lack of charm is exactly what makes him charming, some may say. he's no nonsense, stubborn, "famously uncompromising" ( as his sister claims ) with an unmatched loyalty. it sounds horrendous, but perhaps that's exactly why you love him.

you tell him he should prioritise his duty first and foremost, he is an important figure in belobog, after all. and he does, he stubbornly commits to it. even if he can see in your eyes that you're hesitantly letting him go again. it's in these rare moments that he gives you a small, warming smile and a gentle embrace— he tells you that he'll do his best, for the preservation of belobog, for its people— and most importantly, you.

bothering him on patrol isn't one of your favourite activites, there are definitely more enriching things out there, but you still do it from time to time. usually, it's when the nights are a little colder and you can't seem to sleep. it's the same old thing, each and every time. he tells you you should get home, but not after a quick walk together with him. you'd chat about the little things, and he'd even shyly try to hold your hand in such a moment. after that, he personally escorts you back to your residence, and never forgetting to leave without a kiss goodnight. it may be a simple kiss on the back of your hand, or you might get up for a quick kiss on the cheek. you don't know what you do to him.

gepard doesn't strike me as a type that knows a lot in this area. he was born and raised as a noble child, and then went straight into becoming a protector of the city he grew up in. he'd feel a little flustered at a few things, the ideas and thoughts that come to him while together with you. he's even more embarrassed as he goes to his sister for advice on how to deal with such emotions. he reads books, fiction of romance that he does best to turn into your reality. it's not perfect— he's still clueless on what's a really good date— but he's always trying harder just for you.

it's not often that he gets free time, but once he does, he's quick to seek you out... after his sister of course. for many good reasons, actually. other than the usual check in with his sister he loves so dearly, she is more helpful than most others despite her teasing. serval is a big source of support in his relationship with you, not to say you two can't handle it yourselves. he's just rather clueless about love as a whole sometimes, and she's there to give him a little nudge in the right direction. thanks to her, gepard brought you flowers once, and he does it every so often.

never underestimate the lengths he'd go for you. he may be constantly out there in the front lines trying to combat the antimatter legion and the fragmentum, and he may be busy with training the guards or some other silvermane business, but he would always keep you in mind. you're part of his motivation, and you've grown to be the biggest part of it. you could tell him it's nothing important, if you ask for something, like a favour or likewise, but because it's you, he'll put it right at the top of his priorities. you are his priority.

dates are difficult, especially when you're captain of the guards. walking around with him attracts more attention than any other thing, but it doesn't stop him from inviting you out. the luxuries of belobog would be easy for him to indulge in, as a landau and as captain, but truly, simply spending time with him is enough. your favourite dates are ones where you freely walk aimlessly in the day, perhaps after a bite to eat. fresh snowfall is light upon the city streets, unlike the eternal freeze. you find it hard to resist temptation, letting yourself be swept off your feet for a sweet kiss in the everlasting winter snow.

gepard landau has an immense lack of charm. he's stubborn, he's uncompromising, and maybe even a little dense or a little blunt. but the brighter side of these qualities always show around you. he'll find a way to see you, and he won't rest until he has. his lack of knowledge in this department has him cutely flustered from time to time, but also has him doing unknowingly romantic things. he loves you, and he wants you to know that.

#crysts.corner #trailblazer.cryst #welt yang #hsr welt #welt x reader #hsr welt x reader #welt yang x reader #gepard #gepard landau #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #hsr gepard x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail

2K notes · View notes

fushigurro · 6 months

Text

𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙍 𝙀𝘼𝘾𝙃 𝘿𝘼𝙔.

𝗠𝗘𝗚𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / established relationship, mommy kink (reader referred to as mommy/momma) / hand job / unprotected piv sex / riding / creampie / 2.5k words

the people have spoken!!!! i posted a poll because i needed help deciding who to write mommy kink for first, and my darling megumi ultimately came out ahead. this is like one of my fave kinks of all time so just know that this is not the last you'll see of it. also this might be somewhat ooc idk but fuck it we ball!!!!

He’d been quieter than usual today, and you hadn’t been able to figure out why.

It was in Megumi’s nature to be rather brooding and reserved, but you’d noticed an excess of antisocial behavior ever since he’d woken up this morning. You’d checked in on him, of course, but when he repeatedly insisted that everything was fine, you simply let it go lest you push him further into irritable territory. You would’ve preferred him to be on a more agreeable wavelength since you both were meant to be meeting up with friends later in the day.

His apathetic demeanor didn’t change, however, even in the midst of good food, fun games, and beloved companions. It didn’t cause any of the others any concern seeing that it was rather typical of him, but you knew Megumi well enough to know that something was still booking beneath the surface, regardless of his denial.

He’d subtly clung to your side the entire time, sulking and waiting for the moment when you’d decided you’d had your fill of entertainment and were ready to go home. That moment hadn’t come fast enough, however, and he found himself growing increasingly impatient.

When the others had become distracted, Megumi took it as an opportunity to push his agenda. Standing next to you, he leaned in close, lips only a few inches away from your ear to keep any eavesdroppers from listening in. “Can we go now?” he mumbled, jaw clenched and voice colored by a somewhat irritable tone.

The smile on your face faded, and you turned your head to look over at him. His expression, though still rather neutral, had a sincere and pleading aura that you couldn’t ignore. You’d decided right then and there that it was time to take your leave.

You placed a kiss against his temple and softly said, “Yeah, baby, of course. Let’s go.”

Much to your friends’ dismay, you’d quickly made your departure and drove home in silence, thinking of ways to hash things out with Megumi once you both arrived home.

Now, closing the door behind you and setting your things down, you watch as your boyfriend quietly pads off to take a seat on the couch, acting as though nothing peculiar had happened at all. You follow behind him and stand with your hands on your hips, peering down at him with a curious gaze.

“So…” you start, “you gonna tell me what’s the matter?”

He looks up at you, expressionless. “Nothing. I just wanted to get out of there.” Megumi sighs when you take a seat next to him. “I got tired of listening to Nobara’s big mouth.”

“You’re used to Nobara’s big mouth,” you reply, not touching or smothering him, but rather speaking softly and maintaining boundaries. “And besides, you’ve been acting off all day, even before the party.”

He doesn’t respond or even look in your direction, so you place a hand under his chin and guide him to meet your gaze. “So, tell me… what’s wrong?”

Your eyes force his to soften almost immediately, but then he responds by gently jerking away with a small scowl and the hint of a blush dusting his cheeks. After a moment, he speaks again. “I guess I was just… hoping we could spend the day together. Alone.”

Your heart swells with both glee and guilt, wishing you’d known before dragging him off to a busy get-together. “Megs, you should’ve told me. We could’ve skipped out.”

“You were looking forward to hanging out with everybody.”

“Yeah, well… I still would’ve cancelled,” you reassure him with a whispery voice, brushing your fingers through the hair against his forehead. “I love those guys, but I love you more.”

Megumi’s blush grows deeper now even as he stares ahead with stoicism, trying to ignore your affection and his own vulnerability, but you don’t let him. You take it upon yourself to slide into his lap, giving him no choice but to face you as you grab his chin and stroke it with your thumb to gain his attention. “Do you hear me? I love you.”

He gulps at the seriousness of your words and then utters with a down-cast gaze, “I love you too.” This makes you smile and lean forward to press a quick kiss against his lips. Little do you know, you’ve already been making his cock twitch all evening, and this moment is certainly no exception.

“Good,” you say, pressing another little kiss to the tip of his nose. Your sweet words and closeness has suddenly become overwhelming for him, and Megumi can’t help but lean in for another kiss now that you’ve teased him with your familiar taste. It’s soft, but it catches you by surprise given his previous attitude, and it suddenly dawns on you when you feel the way he clutches at your hips that this must be what he’s been waiting for all day.

Megumi often has trouble expressing his wants and needs—some days more than others—so it wasn’t unheard of for him to bottle things up until he couldn’t hold them inside anymore. You’ve always tried to urge him to be more open with you, but it’s a work in progress, and sometimes all you can do is be there for him in the moments he decides to let his walls down. This is one of those moments.

You can tell he’s holding himself back as he kisses you slowly, fingers trying not to dig too harshly into your skin, but you want him to know that he has full permission to ask for what he wants, so you deepen the kiss and move to press your body in closer to his. Megumi accepts without protest and meets your enthusiasm now that you’ve paved the way, licking into your mouth and shuddering when you grind down in his lap.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” you ask after pulling back for air. He hesitates for a moment and then nods once with a blissfully innocent look in his eyes despite the way his chest heaves up and down and his cock hardens beneath you. It felt impossible to admit to you earlier that he just wanted you all to himself, but now he regrets not having done it sooner.

You don’t tease him for it, don’t make him feel guilty or inadequate for his lack of communication, but rather tend to him with every bit of love you think he deserves. You give his lips another kiss, then the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and finally up to where your breath lingers just below his ear. You suck there and feel him tense up, fighting back a hiss of arousal now that you’ve gotten him so worked up with your diligent attention.

Kissing different spots along his throat, you wiggle back enough so that you can reach down and palm at the bulge in his pants until his hips twitch responsively. Then, slowly, you begin undoing the button and zipper with a warmth to your voice. “You’re so good for me, Megumi,” you say as you slip your hand into his pants and apply a pressure that makes his breath hitch. Then, you continue lowly in his ear, “Mama’s gonna make you feel better, okay?”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before you’re tugging at the waistband of his pants and briefs, his hips raising up instinctively to assist you in pulling them down until his cock springs free and streaks his belly with precum. Your words mixed with his obvious arousal causes Megumi’s cheeks to heat up with embarrassment, and all he can do is throw his head back when you rub the tip of your finger across his leaking slit and bring it up to your mouth for a taste.

“Mmm… my beautiful boy. Wish you would let me know when you need me to take care of you.” You feel his fingers grip at you with more intensity as you speak, and he gasps when you drool down onto his length and wrap your hand around it, letting your saliva mix with his pre. “But it’s okay—I’ve got you now.” You stroke him once, then twice, and Megumi has to grit his teeth to keep from cumming right on the spot. You never fail to have him unraveling when he gets like this, and although it’s borderline humiliating for him to get so wound up, he can’t deny that you always make it feel incredible.

His eyes are squeezed shut and jaw clenched as you continue to slick his cock up and stroke it in your fist, working him closer to an orgasm with every second. Even with the building pleasure, he’s as quiet as ever, save for the soft sound of his breath and the occasional stray grunt, so you decide to prod at him a bit.

“Look at me, baby,” you command gently, stroking his cheek with your thumb until he opens his eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on; tell me what you need.”

Megumi swallows and breathes, staring into your eyes. “F-feels good…” he says breathlessly, hissing when you thumb beneath the sensitive head of his cock. “Need you to—ah!” A shiver runs down his spine as you pick up your pace and force the words out of him. “Need you to—fu-uck, mommy… fuck me, please.” It tumbles from his lips with little grace but enough desperation to make up for it. There’s already a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and you know that you simply can’t deny his request.

Rising up from his lap, you shimmy out of your pants and let them fall to the floor before retaking your seat, his briefly neglected cock twitching at the sight of your wet cunt. You balance on your knees and bring his tip to brush along your folds only a couple of times before starting to sink yourself onto him, not keen on teasing or making him wait despite your own lack of prep. You know he needs this, so you’re going to provide.

Megumi releases his first real moan at the feeling of you sliding down onto him and surrounding him with your walls, squeezing each inch with your warmth and selflessness. He trembles when you're fully seated, the stretch heating up your core and causing you to clamp down in a way that already has him once again fighting off an orgasm, but he uses every ounce of concentration to keep from releasing so soon. You can tell that he’s struggling with the intensity of it all, so you sit still like this for a few moments to let him soak in the sensations before you start moving.

Without saying a word, he leans in to hide himself away in your neck, feeling safe tucked in against you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He’s desperate for release, yes, but he’s even more desperate to simply feel you close. He’s already as deep inside you as possible, prodding at your womb, but the depth only increases when he gets to hold you tightly, feeling you against him even through all the layers of clothing that keep you apart.

You place a hand at the back of his neck to offer him more security while he mouths at your skin, then you press a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m gonna start moving now,” you warn him, and he nods, pulling his head back with what looks like tears welling up in his eyes. It makes your heart thump. “Cum whenever you need to, okay?” You’re hardly worried about yourself; you just want him to get as much pleasure out of this as he can, and to not hold himself back for your sake.

Megumi looks at you appreciatively but feels almost pathetic at how needy he is; however, he feels safest when he’s with you, free from harsh judgement, so he does his best to listen to what his body tells him. You rock your hips against him and it feels like heaven for him to slide against your walls, feeling you in the most intimate way possible. It’s almost like the first time all over again, the emotional rawness of it consuming him and leaving him so sensitive that he might as well be a virgin. Every time you strip him down to his fundamental self, there’s always something cosmic about it.

After giving him a few slower rolls of your hips, you start to pick up the pace and use your knees to rise up and down, bouncing yourself on his cock and earning a lovely whimper in return. Megumi’s body relaxes more now that you drop yourself onto him and offer him the most magnificent of pleasures, leaving him wondering why he ever feels the need to hold himself back from you. It’s harder to leave behind old habits than one might think, but you’d consider moments like these to be the markers of significant progress.

The fire in his gut is growing with each second of you squeezing around him, and the wet, rhythmic sound meeting his ears makes Megumi even more flustered than before. He wishes this were one of the times in which he could hold out and use his stamina to make you feel infinitely good in return, but with the way his balls tighten and heart gallops in his chest, he has no choice but to give in to his own pleasure like you ask of him.

“‘M’gonna…” he starts, not fully saying the words, but you know exactly what he means regardless. His breaths are coming more quickly as you keep moving your hips, and every sign is pointing towards his release.

“That’s okay, baby—you can cum.” It only takes your words and a couple more strokes before he’s whimpering and shooting his load inside you, arms tightening around your waist to keep you in place as every last bit of seed pulses out of him. Megumi presses his forehead to your chest and trembles out the remainder of his orgasm, happily letting you stroke his hair and coo at him while the pleasure incapacitates him.

“Good boy. Mommy’s got you,” you whisper into his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. You hold him there for as long as it takes for him to float back down to earth and go limp in your arms, feeling the wave of relaxation wash over him. Even after he’s come to his senses and looks up at you with hazy eyes and the path from a single tear staining his cheek, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get him to let you go long enough to clean you both up.

So you decide that it can’t hurt to sit here like this for a few more moments, letting your grumpy boy enjoy his bliss while you get the satisfaction of holding him in your arms like no one before you ever has.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #my writing.#re: megumi fushiguro

556 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 2 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.

The two of you, like grief and the mountain.

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.

A friend, indeed.

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.

“What’ve I told you?” He barks.

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.

Your desire.

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String.

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#TCC fic #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader

188 notes · View notes

risenwrites · 1 month

Text

Warnings: Suggestive, mdni, vibrator, established relationship, fluff, Law might be ooc but idk

AU: Modern

A/n: This started out ad a brain worm not long after midnight lol but it turned into this. I feel like the ending is a bit weak but I've never been good at writing endings 😔

Law stared at the tiny black remote in his hand that you had given him. Although he wasn't entirely sure what this remote was for. He glanced up from the small pink device, looking at you for any sign you'd tell him what this was supposed to be. When all you did was flush a brighter pink, he sighed softly and looked back at the remote. Slowly, his thumb brushed over the top button on the remote. He didn't press it, but you still shivered in what he could only assume was anticipation.

Thank god you were an open book sometimes. At least now he had an idea of what was happening.

"... What is this?" he asked, wanting to confirm his guess.

Hearing you stutter out nonsense had him look at you again. You were nervously fiddling with your fingers and rubbing your thighs together, confirming his suspicions without needing to say anything. A slight frown tugged down his neutral expression, but you seemed too caught up in being flustered to notice.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to do anything like this yet," he commented, snapping you out of your flustered state.

You're eyes widen a little; then you look away with what he could only describe as embarrassment and a little shame on your face. "Yeah, I know..." you softly begin to answer, "but I felt terrible for putting that boundary about not doing anything related to sex."

Law felt his heart melt, wondering if he had unintentionally acted harshly toward you since you set that boundary about a month ago. "You really shouldn't," he said softly. "I overreacted when you told me you didn't feel ready. It's okay to set boundaries. Especially if it involves something you don't feel ready for," Law explained, hoping he sounded comforting instead of reprimanding.

"I know it's just..." you started, nervousness lacing your voice, "I set that boundary more to keep myself from breaking my beliefs and personal code rather than not feeling ready, if that makes any sense. Because even though I don't want to have sex or anything outside of marriage, I want you. I want you so bad it sometimes hurts. Late at night, I fantasize about the things I want to do with you, the things I want you to do to me, and sometimes I-I touch myself while thinking about you and those things," you confess and ramble shyly.

Law stared at you, genuinely shocked to hear you confess something so lewd. A gentle pink dusted across his face as he looked away while covering his mouth. When he glanced back at you, he saw how your eyes widened, clearly worried you had said something wrong.

Damn it, why did you have to be so cute?

"So you bought a vibrator as a sort of compromise?" Law asked, lightly pressing the top button, watching how you tensed up.

A slight smug smirk appeared on Law's face as he pressed the top button several times. He watched your face shift to one of surprise and pleasure. You whimpered and pressed your legs together in an attempt to deal with the vibrations deep in your core.

You quickly nodded, starting to fidget with your fingers again with your eyes locked on the remote in his hand. "Y-yeah... if that's okay," you answered.

Law took a step closer and placed a hand on your face only to gently put his thumb in your mouth to press down your tongue, whispering, "Trust me, it's more then just okay."

©this work belongs to risenwrites, do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

#risen.writes #trafalgar d law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #law one piece #law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n

133 notes · View notes

peeponastick · 7 months

Text

Touch My Soul, Pt. 1

Uchiha Itachi x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.6K

Rating: This will be a NSFW 18+ multi-part fic. Part 1 doesn't have any outright explicit content tho. Part 2 here

cw/tw: SPOILERS, mentions of sexual harassment (Hidan is a skeevy perv), emotional turmoil, angst?, sexual tension (but nothing actually happens sorry to edge y’all), major eye contact, like way too much eye contact reader and itachi are basically eye fucking each other 90% of the fic, dramatic asf I can't help myself im sorry

Idk what im doing This is my first time writing and really being on tumblr in general, please let me know if I missed any tags or if you have any advice!!

not canon at all (but SPOILERS!!!!) pls humor me, everyone in the Akatsuki is alive and led by Madara/Tobi

Synopsis: Madara, the elusive figurehead of the Akatsuki, is an ambitious yet paranoid man. That’s why he has you, as a security measure, given your secret jutsu that allows you to see into people’s souls to confirm their true intentions. When Itachi Uchiha shows up to join the Akatsuki, what will you see behind his obsidian eyes?

Exhausted. Another cross-country mission with pain in the ass Hidan was just what the doctor ordered for your repressed rage and depression living in basically a wet cave with the rest of these jerks. You tried your best, you really did, to not let any emotions slip through the cracks of your cold facade. Some of them had better qualities than others, but none of your fellow Akatsuki members were people you felt particularly amiable towards.

Most of them viewed you as Madara’s stone-cold right hand, his own personal weapon. He trusted you more than any other member, and that fact alone was enough to instill a certain kind of fear in the hearts of every other Akatsuki member. And you know what, good. The more you kept your distance, the better.

Though your body ached with fatigue upon returning to headquarters, your senses immediately picked up a foreign energy hanging in the air– a presence. Not ominous per se, but definitely a palpable and strong chakra signature.

Leaving Hidan’s perverted requests to join him for some “one-on-one post-mission relaxation time” behind, you made your way to Madara, the chakra getting stronger the closer you got.

There he was.

Your breath hitched as your eyes set on a statuesque man standing across from Madara, his tousled, raven-black hair draped around his stunning face and strong shoulders. A lifetime of stress and hardship left evidence of weariness across his features, and yet his eyes still sparkled with a fierce softness, framed by a set of beautiful, thick lashes.

He was so... pretty. Your eyes dropped down to his lips, then his chest downward as you began to drink him in, feeling flushed with an unfamiliar warm tingling the longer you studied him.

He glanced at you with his penetrating eyes, your cheeks burned at being caught in your lustful admiration. Without a doubt, it was Itachi Uchiha standing next to Madara, a solemn look spread across his delicate face.

You’d seen him in the bingo book before, but all the talk you had heard didn’t compare to standing in the same room as him. It was intriguing, though, for someone with such a reputation, and clearly such immense power, his energy didn’t feel threatening or overbearing to you.

Madara raised a hand to Itachi, finally pulling your gaze away from him, before walking over to you.

“I’m sure you’ve completed the tasks assigned to you, y/n, correct?” Madara asked rhetorically.

You had never failed him, it was important for you to maintain your position in his eyes. Your usual self would have made a sardonic remark about your disdain for working with Hidan again, how a pet rock would have been just as helpful with none of the sexual harassment. But, with the third party in the room, you simply nodded while maintaining your cold, detached demeanor.

“Good, I have another task for you then,” Madara commanded lowly in his deep, chilling voice, pointing his chin in Itachi’s direction.

“This is y/n,” Madara announced, gesturing in your direction as you followed him towards Itachi.

“She’ll just perform a little security check if you don’t mind, nothing personal. I am interested in your usefulness, but I just like to be sure of who I’m working with, I’m sure you can understand. After all, ‘clan killer’ doesn’t exactly have a trustworthy ring to it, now does it?” Madara taunted.

Itachi’s beautiful, brown eyes glinted with an undetectable emotion before connecting with yours, and again you began feeling the wave of heat washing over you.

What was this?! Some sort of jutsu he was using on you?? No.. my god, had it really been that long since you’d been attracted to someone?

Snapping out of your embarrassing realization about your pitiful sex life, you cleared your throat as you pulled yourself together to perform your special jutsu. Your specialty was energy and emotions– detecting, reading, transmuting. This made you very handy to Madara, after all, knowing what’s inside someone’s soul makes it much easier to manipulate them and offer them what they want to hear, in exchange for whatever Madara wants or needs.

Your secret jutsu was something you dreaded performing. You were incredibly sensitive and receptive to energy, so oftentimes it would leave you completely drained and horrified— seeing all of the vile things people have done, let happen to others, things people buried and hid deep within themselves. It was a lot to witness and take in, and have to maintain your icy demeanor on top of that, lest Madara begin to question you.

After weaving the hand signs, you hid the nerves buzzing in your body as you approached Itachi to place your hands on either side of his lean, muscular shoulders and touch your forehead to his. By the power of your jutsu, you were transported into Itachi’s soulscape, where you’d be able to confirm for Madara upon exiting, Itachi’s true intentions and trustworthiness as an Akatsuki member.

Given what you had heard about Itachi, you braced yourself upon entering his soulscape, but were totally unprepared for what you saw.

Time stopped as you and Itachi stood under an endless blue sky painted with magnificent rolling waves of white clouds. The sound of rushing water caught your attention as you looked behind you to notice you were standing several paces away from the edge of a breathtaking waterfall. The cascading water plummeted down the carved earth into pools of emerald green.

Peace. You felt peace standing in this supposed monster’s soul? Itachi stood silent, his eyes intensely watching you as you began to take in more of your surroundings. You’d never seen or felt anything like this, this energy was so.. pure.

Taking a moment to gather all the information flooding your senses, you turned to look at Itachi as tears pricked your eyes. Your heart broke as you began to fully understand and feel the weight of what he’d been through– what he’d been forced to do, and how much of a monster he believed he was because of it. You felt a gut-wrenching familiarity that ignited an inferno in your own soul, pulling you to him like a magnet and calling you to embrace him and never let go.

“Itachi, I-” you moved close to him, your mind racing as you tried to process the truth, “I’m so sorry, for everything you’ve been through.” You delicately placed a hand on his cheek while looking deep into his gorgeous eyes. His demeanor softened as the emotions overcame the both of you.

“Y-You know?” he hesitantly asked, almost too scared to believe you were seeing the real him and not judging or looking at him with disgust.

Your brows twinged with sadness as you nodded, “Everything,” you replied, tears streaming down your pink cheeks.

He placed his large, warm palm over your hand as he searched your eyes for confirmation that this was really real and happening to him. He had always been expected to take on insurmountable tasks, things that made him question morality itself, all alone.

And yet, here you were, seeing him, understanding him, accepting him for who he truly was and not what he had done. The burden of his past finally being shared by an open heart, something he never could’ve imagined he deserved.

You reassured his fears without words, both of you lost in each other’s all-consuming gaze. You had never met before, and yet it felt like your souls had known each other many lifetimes.

You were standing so close to him, the heat of his flushed skin radiated his intoxicating scent, smelling of old-growth forest and clean musk. Every nerve and fiber of your being was lit aflame as his eyes dropped down to your plump lips. His soulful eyes returned to yours as he moved his other hand to gently push a strand of your silky hair out of your face.

You were entranced by his beauty, slowly blinking as you held eye contact with him, fighting every urge to taste his lips that were mere inches away. He equally was mesmerized by your beauty, his eyes scanned all of your features, trying to take you all in and understand what this all meant, how you came to be the you standing here holding him.

“Who are you?” his deep, gravelly voice purred, a gentle smile lighting up his face.

Panic overtook you as reality came crashing down, remembering that Madara was waiting in the real world for your answer. Though time operated much differently in your jutsu, Madara would certainly become suspicious if things took too long.

You placed your hands on either side of Itachi’s face as you held him close, a frantic look in your eyes.

“We’re out of time. Come to my room tonight, I’ll explain everything.” You hurriedly released the jutsu, and collected yourself so you could resume your emotionless facade so as to not draw suspicion.

You turned to face Madara, immediately detecting his impatience, “He passed,” you confirmed, “Sorry for the delay, there was.. a lot there.”

Madara stood silent for a moment before releasing a booming laugh, “Yes, I suppose given our Itachi’s history there would be quite a lot to sift through, y/n.”

He turned to walk past Itachi and beckoned him to follow as he began to discuss his plans for the Akatsuki and, eventually, the world. You stood frozen, body still processing all of the huge waves of emotions you’d experienced in your jutsu. A pit of anxiety began to form deep in your stomach knowing this fated meeting with Itachi meant it was finally time to begin your plan. To take down Madara and the Akatsuki from within.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If you read this far, thank you so much I appreciate you!! I hope you liked my first fic ♡ᵎᵎᵎ

154 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

a little banged up

steven grant x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral m and f recieving, mxf sexual intercourse, tiny dom behaviour from reader if u squint okay and maybe like voyerism? idk what to call it NOT REALLY BUT JUST STAY SAFE OKAY) swearing, mentions of blood, description of wounds

a/n: heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy okay this has no plot like i said, i tried my best i just luv him okay! i also love you! goodbye!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Steven! Come on, I know you’re in there!” You bang on your neighbours’ door for the fourth time today, and with each passing moment of silence, the dread in the pit of your stomach grows a little heavier. You keep pounding your fist on the door though, hoping he’s just still asleep.

You and Steven have been living across from each other for a couple of months now, and ever since you moved in you couldn’t help but be completely intrigued by him. He was definitely a little.. different, to say the least, but he was always sweet to you, opening a door or bringing a coffee by your place if he left early, and it only drew you to him more. It got to the point where every day when you passed in the corridor on the way to work, or got caught in the elevator together on the way home, he never failed to make you smile.

Which is why when his boss had called you asking if you knew where he was, you were a little too happy to cross the hallway and knock on his door. You weren’t sure exactly how his boss, Donna, had gotten your number, something about your number being scribbled on his notebooks at work, but she had seemed a little more worried than her typical angry tone. She told you how she hadn’t seen him in days, and no one could reach him.

Αs soon as you hung up, you realised you also hadn’t seen Steven in a while, your usual chats in the hallway dwindling in the past few days, and you hadn’t even heard him open his door. You were fairly preceptive of his schedule, both of you leaving and arriving around the same time, and it was also due to your not so tiny crush on him that you paid extra attention.

“Steven! Is everything okay?” You stopped knocking and pressed your ear to the door. You hadn’t ever been inside his apartment, but it was probably a similar layout to yours, so why was your heart beating so fast when your hand found the door handle?

You were worried, that must be it. You hadn’t turned the handle, assuming it was locked, but you still thought to announce yourself.

“O-Okay. I’m gonna try to come in.”

Your eyes widen when the door easily swings open, and you quickly shut it behind you. Holy shit. You were in his apartment. It wasn’t exactly how you had pictured the moment, more specifically in your mind he would have invited you in after a perfect first date, maybe kiss you sweetly as he made you a cup of tea. But here you were, alone, standing in a giant pile of books and trinkets strewn on the floor.

“Steven?” You call out again, and allow yourself to take in the rest of his place. It was organised chaos, stacks of books so high you were surprised they could stay up, and a mix of random items, dishes and clothes thrown wildly in piles. You take a couple steps, extending your neck to look around to where you know his bathroom is. The curtain to the shower is closed, but no one seems to be in there, and you figured if he was in there he would have said something - or fallen over in a rush and alerted you, knowing Steven. The bed in front of you is a mess, blankets heaped up in a corner, but that isn’t what stops you in your tracks.

Was it sand? You lean down to touch it, and it was definitely something like that, the fine grains falling through your fingers as you squat down to look at it closer. Watching it fall, you see the two foot prints facing the door imprinted in the circle that surrounds his bed frame.

You push yourself up and stand, looking further into the apartment. At this point you were almost positive he wasn’t here, unless he was hiding in the floor, but your curiosity was getting the better of you. Walking over to his desk, you can see the open book under the light of the lamp, and skimming it you see a couple of names of Egyptian Gods you recognise from conversations with Steven. He got so excited when you showed even the slightest interest, so you paid as much attention as you could every time he spoke, even though all you could think about was leaning just a little bit closer -

You freeze when you hear a loud thump coming from the bathroom. You checked there, didn’t you? The curtains were closed, but Steven would have heard you if he was in there, right? Unless something has happened. Oh god, you didn’t even think he might be hurt, you just assumed he was out, or forgot about work or something.

“Steven? Is that you?” A groan echos into the main apartment, and you move fast, sliding into the bathroom and ripping the curtain back, gasping at the sight of him. “Oh my god! Are- what happened?”

His head flops back, hitting the tiled wall making him groan again, and you drop to your knees and slip your hand behind him to soften the blow. It seems like it takes him a minute to recognise you, or even realise where he was, but he smiles a half smile and says your name when his eyes find yours.

“Got m’self into a bit of a spot, ‘aven’t I?” His accent was thick and a little slurred, and you were worried he might have a concussion, the small cut on his head leaking trace amounts of now dry blood. “What ‘ave I done now?”

“I’m not sure. Looks like you hit your head?” Your fingers come up to lightly brush over the cut on his head, and he sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering closed. You don’t know how you hadn’t noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but its as his muscles flex when you let your fingers ghost the side of his face that you physically have to tear your eyes away form ogling him.

“I don’t rem - were we together? Did we-”

“No! No, I just - your boss called me - a few times, actually. Asked where you were, yelled a bit. The usual, but I was worried. I haven’t seen you in a while, Steven. Are you alright?” You let your eyes scan his face, and you can see the usual bags under his eyes have gotten a bit deeper, and his hair is all messed up. He was also wearing extremely tight jeans, which you definitely would have noticed if he had worn them before.

“I’ve had a real bad go of lately. Donna’s gonna have my head.” He sighs, and you feel the air leave his mouth under your hands, which you still have wrapped around his face.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s get you out of the tub first, yeah?” He smiles a little and leans into your hand before pushing himself up using the edge. “You okay?”

“Brilliant really.” His tone is light and he doesn’t sway or get light headed when he stands, so maybe he just fell asleep. That doesn’t really explain the cut, though. One problem at a time. “I am really sorry about Donna, she’s not always everyones cup of tea.”

“It’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He steps out of the tub and your hands go out to help him. As soon as you connect, his head comes up and your eyes meet, and for a second you think he might pass out again. His eyes lose focus and he has a hint of a smile on his face as he stares as you. “Steven?”

“Oh! I- um. How did you get in here?” Your eyes widen a bit at the fact you have to admit you kind of broke in. “Sorry! That was completely rude. Thanks for all this. I promise it’s not as strange as it looks. I don’t think.” You laugh as he loses his thoughts staring at you again.

“You left the door open. I knocked for a while, but like I said, I was kinda worried! Missed our little chats in the elevator so I though I would come check on you.” You smile and walk with him into the apartment, heading towards the closest chair, letting him sit down and watching how his muscles strain in those damn jeans. You need to get a hold of yourself, but seriously, where did they come from?

“I saw you this mornin’, didn’t I? I always remember seein’ you.” He sits forward, looking up at you from the chair as you step closer.

“I haven’t seen you in 2 days, Steven. I think you might have a concussion. We should probably take you to the hospital.” He flinches and looks in the mirror to his right. He seems a little more out of it than usual. Sure, Steven has this adorable confusion about him in general, but this seems like something a little more. You hear him mumble something while staring at his reflection, and he shakes his head.

“S’ alright. I can - just need to stay awake, yeah? Tea? Do you want tea?” He stands up but you dont step back, and he freezes his movement when he feels your hands come up to rest on his bare chest.

“You need to relax. I don’t know what’s happened, but you need to just sit and take a beat. I’ll make some tea, and we can figure it out together, okay?” His lips part slightly and you can feel his heart slamming under your hand, a searing heat of excitement rushing through you at the thought of having any kind of effect on him. He blinks at you a couple times, then just nods and lets you push him back down on the couch.

You move through the kitchen swiftly, Steven funnily keeping a lot of things in the same places you do, with your identical layout you get two cups of tea ready in no time. Bringing one to him he is still staring at you, almost in a trance as he takes the cup and watches you walk into the bathroom. You open up a cupboard and find the first aid kit, bringing it back out and placing it on the arm rest.

“Oh days, you really don’t have to do that. I’ll clean myself up in a bit I-”

“It’s fine. I want to help.” Your hand comes under his chin and he looks up at you, face relaxing into the dopey smile you recognise from your meetings in the hallway. “May I?”

You gesture to his lap and he nods eagerly, quickly placing the cup of tea next to yours on the table and shuffling back into the chair. He lifts his hands on to the arm rests, and you smile at how adorable he looks, so unsure of how to handle the situation. You want to take it slow, not completely sure where his head is at, and you aren’t expecting anything from this, you just want to help him; to be close to him, whatever that meant.

You sit down and hear him suck in a small breath when you drop your weight. He was deceivingly muscular, legs easily supporting you, and the abs you could now see from a taller angle were defined underneath tanned skin. You reach across and pull out a small gauze and some wound cleaner, dabbing a bit on.

“This might sting a little, okay?” He nods and squeezes his eyes shut, and you resist the urge to lean down and kiss him, his face screwing up in preparation. You make quick work of it, cleaning away the dried blood and gently cleaning the actual wound, which is a little deeper than you thought. Throwing the gauze on to the table you find some steri-strips and bandage it as best you can, trying to sooth Steven as he twitches underneath you when you touch a sensitive spot.

“Ouch. T’s a bit stingy.” He breaths and you laugh.

“Sorry about that. It’s actually a little worse than I thought.”

“So whats the diagnosis, Doc? Will I make it out with my head?” You giggle, and the arm behind you moves closer, you can feel the ghost of its touch on your lower back, and it sends shivers up your spine. With his attitude seemingly a little better and his eyes focusing in more, losing that hazy glow from before, you think he’s just overwhelmed. So no concussion, which meant that the way he was looking at you wasn’t from a head injury, but a genuine gaze. You bit your lip to ground yourself before you spoke.

“Nope. This is the end. You had a good run.” He sighs, and you put the first aid kit on the table, your hand unable to resist the temptation to rest on his chest. You can see him tense each muscle as your fingers touch them, his breathing stammered.

“Not a terrible way to go, then.” He looks up at you, and you lean your face toward his, feeling his breath on your face.

“Are you feeling any better?” You let your hand run lower, pressing your forehead to his as your hand stops on the belt wrapped around his jeans. He nods rapidly, and you smile at him, looking up through your lashes. “Missed you around here.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll - I don’t want to go anywhere, I swear. Sometimes I just - lose track of time.” You giggle again, seeing how flustered he is just under your touch. You hope he can tell you are feeling the same nerves, although you might be better at hiding it than he is.

You have always had a crush on him, ever since your first little interaction, and it soon became the best part of your day, seeing him around the building. You take in a deep breath and close your eyes as the silence hangs in the air. You drag your free hand up to the back of his neck.

“Is this okay?” You ask and you can hear him swallow.

“Y-yes. Anything you do is okay, very much so.” His eyes are wide but he keeps his fore head pressed to yours, arching his back a little so he presses closer to you.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes squeeze shut just for a second before he answers.

“God, yes. Please.” You are smiling when you press your lips to his, and he responds instantly, the soft feeling of him moving against you sends shockwaves through your body. He was as sweet as you pictured, and you took whatever he gave you, kissing him slowly and letting his hands come up to hold your face to his, using your own to tangle in his hair.

You swipe your tongue on his bottom lip, asking for permission and he opens for you, ever the pleaser. He fits so perfectly against you, and you wonder how you could ever stand to kiss someone else when he was right there, just across the hall.

One of his hands drops from your face and finds your hip, tugging and pulling to bring you closer. You take the hint, thankfully the chair was big enough that you could fit both of your legs on either side of his so you were straddling him much closer that before. You move your hips to get comfortable, and his grip on you tightens when you hear him moan in your mouth.

“Darling, sh-should I-”

“Shh. Just relax. Let me take care of you.” His mouth is open and a strangled sound comes out as you grind against him, and he tries to say your name but you just kiss him again. His arm wraps around your back and holds you as tight as he can, and you can feel the familiar static feeling in your stomach every time you move your hips against him, arousal building by the second.

“This feel good, Steven?”

“Yes, y-yes, yes, ye.. God.” He’s losing composure by the second and it’s the single hottest thing you have ever seen. His eyebrows are furrowed together, and every time you move your hips his eyes open on instinct, only to close again when he feels your lips connect with him.

You want to see every tiny reaction, hear every noise he makes, and every time he says your name it only fuels your fire, so when you slide off of him you aren’t surprised when his eyes shoot open. A flash of disappointment washes over his features, only to be replaced by curiosity as he sees you on your knees in front of him.

“What’s wr- oh. Oh god.” You waste no time in slipping those fucking jeans down and taking him into your mouth, him already being painfully hard just from you sitting on top of him.

You gently suck on the tip of him, letting your tongue swirl around him while you stare at Steven, not wanting to miss a single second of how he looks at you. You take your mouth off him and make sure your looking him in the eye as you spit down his length, one hand coming up to stroke him gently, and his entire body shudders in the chair.

“You taste so good, Steven.” You can see he’s trying to say something, but all that comes out is strained gasps and moans as you take him back into your mouth.

You feel him hitting the back of your throat and your eyes roll back at the knowledge of him being so deep. Your hand twists gently around the part you can’t take into your mouth and you set a slow pace, wanting to draw out his pleasure for as long as possible.

“Sh-Shitshitshitsh- aaah! Feels i-incredible I-“ he manages and you take him out of your mouth, running your tongue from his base to swirl around the tip again.

“Relax. You can come whenever you want.” You go to put your mouth on him again, but the hand that tangled in your hair pulls you, a light tug stopping your intended direction.

“Wait! I want- want to…” His hand comes around to cup your face and bring you back up to him, your hands falling to the side and pushing off the floor. When you reach him, he kisses you softly on the mouth.

“Want to what? Tell me.” You whisper in his ear, and you swear you can hear him whimper, the pooling arousal between your legs only gaining momentum. You drop one of your hands between you to stroke him slowly.

“Can’t th-think when you do that-t.” He stutters out, eyes closing again and you kiss along his neck as his head falls back.

“C’mon, you can tell me.” You feel his hard swallow against your lips and you smile, loving that you have him this out of it so quickly. You never imagined how good he would look doing it, though, and if he doesn’t touch you soon you think all the build up might cause you to explode. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want this to end. Not yet.” He splurges out, the sentence coming out so fast you only just make out the words. Your face comes up in front of him and he instantly takes the chance to kiss you again, both of his arms wrapping around your back, holding you.

“It’s okay, really. I’m not going anywher-“ you don’t get the chance to finish because he kisses you again and in one motion you are in the air, hearing his belt and jeans hit the floor. His arms come underneath both of your legs to wrap around him as he moves you. Your eyes are closed until you jolt forward a little, nearly slipping out of Stevens grasp as he trips trying to step out of his pants. You laugh into him and he drags his lips away to shake the last clinging bit of denim off.

“Bollocks. Stupid bloody things.” Finally he steps out and you can feel him smiling underneath your mouth.

“I like them.” You whisper and you feel the muscles in his neck tighten under your hand.

“Oh! I’ll- i’ll keep them around then, maybe?” His voice goes up an octave as he walks with you, tilting his head as he searches your eyes for approval. You just smile and kiss him again, both of you falling backwards onto the bed.

You only look down for a second to admire him, completely naked and crawling on top of you, but you can’t resist finding his eyes as he trails his hands down your torso, stopping at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” You nod as he starts to pull the fabric up and over your head, goosebumps following his touch as your skin is exposed to the cool air. You shiver, but it’s not the cold that makes you react, it’s Stevens hands, explorative and curious as they smooth over you, wandering back down your stomach and under your back as you arch into his touch.

He looks up at you for approval as he bows his head, curls tickling your chest as he kisses you there. You just say his name and thread your fingers through his hair, careful not to pull too hard. He goes slow, and you would think he was teasing if he wasn’t Steven. You know him, though. You know he is just taking his time, wanting to enjoy every part of you he can.

He hooks his fingers into your pants, pulling them down with your underwear. Suddenly you feel a little insecure, and you try to cross your legs over, hiding yourself as much as you can. Stevens hands come to your hips, kissing each one before sliding off the end of the bed, dragging you down to the edge by the backs of your knees.

“Is something wrong? We can stop I- are you okay?” He is noticing how you are bent at a weird angle, trying to hide how very exposed you are to him.

“No! Please don’t stop. I’m just, ah, it’s been a while. Nervous, I guess.” You try to smile. You want this, god do you want him to, but it’s just been so long since someone has done, well, that that you can’t help but be a little insecure. Especially when it’s Steven between your legs, all perfect and hard and beautiful.

“You are bloody gorgeous.” He says, and his eyes are kind of glazed over as they scan your body, chest heaving under his watch. “I’ll do whatever you want to do. Just tell me, okay?”

He moves his face away slightly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable but you instantly miss the heat of his breath on your skin. You shake your head and pull a little on his hair, making a sound similar to the ones he was making earlier although higher pitched and maybe a little more desperate.

He slides his hands down your thighs, and gently pushes them open, trailing kisses along the inside. You open yourself further to him and he takes the encouragement, shifting his weight to get comfortable before his tongue finally meets your centre.

He starts slow, looking straight into your eyes as you gasp his name. It’s like he’s reading your mind, moving at exactly the right pace to make you comfortable, but also building that same pressure from earlier, sparks shooting up your body. You shiver again and his hands keep rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

“Is this okay? Please say it’s okay.” The vibration of his words only increases the warmth spreading across your cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed and you let your head drop back, allowing yourself to enjoy every second of him.

“God, yes Steven. Feels so g-good.” You can feel his smile, and he moans into your core as he quickens the pace. When he adds a finger, curling it inside of you, you see stars, and you cry out and arch your back. “Fuck!”

“So pretty. So, so pretty.” He murmurs into you, his accent coming through strong as he strings together compliments, and he takes your most sensitive spot into his mouth, the pressure effecting your entire being.

Everything feels light and warm, and you swear you start floating as Steven adds another finger inside of you, easily hitting that spot. You know your so close, your orgasm making you start to twitch. Steven slides his free hand across your stomach and holds you down, preparing to fuck you with his fingers and tongue no matter how much you squirm.

His strength surprises you and you sneak a look at his arm, muscles flexing as he easily holds you in place. You can only look up for a second, and you see Steven looking right at you, and the sight is the last thing you need.

You come, harder than you expected, white hot pleasure making your toes curl and your stomach flex. His name is the only thing you can say, the only thing you can think of, so you shout it into the quiet of the apartment, and you feel Steven moans with you, never ceasing his perfect movements.

As your mind floats back into your body you feel the loss of his mouth, and you go to pout when he surprises you again, already having climbed back on top of you. He kisses you harder, more needy. You can feel his hard length against your thigh, and knowing it’s just for you takes all that relief from your orgasm and spins it into need, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you to fuck me, Steven. Please.” His forehead presses against your own, and he sounds like he’s struggling to breathe, eyes finding yours through his lashes.

“God, yes - I mean yeah- yes okay. Fuck.” His eyes are blinking rapidly and he looks down between you, letting out a desperate sound just at the sight of you both, naked and as desperate for him and he is for you. Your hands come behind him, one drawing lines up and down his back and the other pulling the back of his neck down to kiss him.

You feel him line himself up with you, running the tip through your folds just once, both of you keening at the feeling of one another. He keeps kissing you, tongues and teeth clashing as he slides into you. You hear him sigh, and your nails dig into his back as he rocks inside of you.

“You feel- Jesus, incredible darling. Is this good?”

“Mm. More. Please.” He laughs into the crook of your neck and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy to think you made him laugh even now.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay, whatever you want.” He speeds up, hitting you harder and faster, his hidden strength evident in how hard he was slamming into you. Both of your moans are echoing in the apartment, which is why your so surprised when you hear a ringing in your ear.

It takes you a second to realise it’s a phone, and the sound is coming from the pillow under your head. You reach up and pull it out, recognising the name flashing across the screen.

“You gonna get it?” You whisper and it’s obvious Steven hasn’t noticed it, his eyes closed and completely focused on you. You bring your hand to his chin and make him look up at you.

“Huh? S’ fine. Forget about it.” He shakes his head against yours, and you stop meeting his thrusts, an idea clouding your pleasure for just a second.

“Sit up.” The phone keeps vibrating in your hand, but he does what you say, blissed out and under your control. He slides out of you and moves up, leaning his back on the backboard of the bed. His hands never leave you, sliding up to your hips as he comes up next to you. You keep the phone in one hand and straddle him, already missing the feeling of him inside you.

“Oh god. Oh whoahhh-“ he moans as you sink onto him and his head falls onto your chest. You nearly completely forget what you were doing, but when the phone starts vibrating again, his hands tighten on your hips.

“Sh-she won’t stop calling ‘till you answer.” His eyes widen, and he begins to shake his head, but you push yourself up and drop back down on him, and he actually whimpers before sliding one hand up your forearm, fingers fiddling with the phone. “Play a game with me, Steven.”

“I-You want me to…” You look at the phone in his hand and he nods, looking up at you to make sure it’s what you want. You kiss him, smiling a little at how easy that was, and he looks down at the name, eyes rolling and head falling back, half in annoyance and the other in pleasure as you roll your hips again.

“Answer, and if you can keep quiet about where you are, I’ll let you come inside me.” You lean next to his ear to whisper the last part, it feeling so dirty that you can’t look him in the eye. He shudders underneath you as you continue to roll your hips, and he just keeps nodding over and over, pleasure completely taking over his mind.

“H-hello.” His voice cracks as he brings the phone to his ear, and he looks up at you and bites his lip. “No I- I know. Yes, she found me.” You assume that is you by the way he smiles a little, eyes drifting to where you sink down on his cock, and the hand you put on his face muffles a small moan that comes from him

“An accident - yeah. That’s it. No, just a little-“ you drop down on him again and he lurches forward, chests pressing together. Your second orgasm is building so fast, and when Steven drops his free hand to circle your clit, it’s you who has to cover your mouth. “A little banged up at the moment.”

Amongst the overwhelming feeling of pleasure building under your skin, you can’t help but laugh at his ironic response. A lazy smile is mirrored on his face, and when you roll your hips again he’s seemingly had enough.

“Okayyepgottagobye.” He rushes out and clicks the receiver, throwing the phone into the wall next to you.

“Steven!” You laugh and he kisses you, both arms wrapping around you and he finally starts to fuck up into you, your body shattering under every thrust.

“How’d I do, darling?” He croaks in your ear and you struggle to get a breath in between your moans.

“So good. So good.” He fucks you harder, holding you and moving you up and down so that even though you are on top, he’s doing all the work. He hits you deeper every time, and you know you can’t last much longer. “God, Steven! Please cum inside me. Oh shit please, please…”

“Fuckin’ hell. C-c-“ Whatever he was going to say is lost when he feels you tighten around him, cumming for him for the second time today. Your body is on fire, every fibre of your being absorbed in the feeling of him, the smell of him, of just him.

You feel him go with you just seconds after, his thrusts starting to falter as he looses himself in pleasure. You open your eyes so you can watch him fall apart underneath you, everything about him making your heart flutter.

Your breath was uneven and you could feel Stevens was the same, and he held you close against him. He was kissing your shoulder as you folded your body over him, and he gently shimmied you both down, sliding out of you and pulling you against him as you both laid down on his bed.

“Are you okay?” You ask, face dangerously close to his, and he just leans forward and kisses your nose, making you blush.

“Never felt bloody better. Practically a new man.” He cuddles you close, your legs intertwining. As you shift, you hear a rattle at the end of the bed, and your eyes catch on the chains, leading to a small cuff. Was that…

“Oh god. It’s really not what it looks like. I swear it’s not a-“ his voice drops an octave and he whispers, even though it was just the two of you”- a sex thing.”

You burst out laughing at how red his cheeks go, and he just buries his face into the covers, your hand coming up to hold his face against yours.

“I wouldn’t really mind if they were.” He swallows hard and you can’t stop laughing, kissing him through gasps.

“I sleepwalk, you see. I know it’s a bit left field, but swears it’s a- ah. Wait, what?”

“Nothing at all. Sleep. You need it.” You see his eyebrows furrow, but you just nuzzle into him, his strong arms keeping you snug against his chest.

“Alright. Sleep. I can try, I guess.” He curls up, making it impossible to tell where you start and he ends, and you drift off to the sound of his heart beating in time with your own.

When you wake, Steven hasn’t moved an inch, and you don’t want him to , so you just watch how peaceful he looks, all relaxed and sleepy. You think about how many times you had imagined this, and you hate that you wasted so much time sleeping alone when he was just across the hall.

As much as you loved your chats in the elevator, his little stories and how his eyes lit up when he spoke; the way he looked underneath you will forever be etched into your brain, and even though your apartments were identical, there was never a place you felt more at home than here.

Tangled in his arms.

#moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #steven grant x oc #steven grant smut #moon knight x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel tv #steven grant fic

3K notes · View notes

mitsvriii · 2 months

Text

out of touch

alhaitham/reader/kaveh

angsty fluff; more in notes, apart of "two people one heart"

notes: reader’s job has something to do with designs; not specified but goes along with that, some of it was rushed?? if the pacing is weird that’s why, reader is smart, no bimbo reader in this fic, kaveh is a himbo tho let’s be fr, the song’s meaning is about being misunderstood/disconnected in relationships so just trust the process with the pacing of that in this fic yet again, i did NOT expect this to exceed the word count in my head but the thoughts y’know, young al haitham’s characterization is different from present/in-game, not THAT familiar with his backstory but screw it we ball, idk how akademiya classes work bro 😭, screams into the void the PACING 😿, open ending 🤧, i actually hate this so much LMAO, turned out to be more platonic than romantic aiya,,,,,,

You could hardly believe that Kaveh and Al Haitham had managed to live together in high tensions for so long, especially since you had moved in with them and witnessed their antics. Financial decisions in your job weren’t exactly something that would lead you to have enough money to support yourself until you could make more. This is exactly why Al Haitham offered you the choice to stay at his house, or in his tantalizing words, “just one person helping someone else out of the goodness of his heart”.

Kaveh wasn’t the happiest person when Al Haitham offered you to stay with them, although it slipped your focus at that moment. It started grabbing your attention when you would often hear their hushed but harsh whispers when you tried to doze off at night, or the not-so-subtle glares they threw at each other over meals. You wondered if it was because one of them simply didn’t want you in his company or if you had done something wrong, but you soon found out that wasn’t the cause.

To put it simply, it wasn’t the fact that you had moved in or the fact that you were disturbing them at all, it was that they seemed to be in some sort of competition for your attention, or forgiveness. It was a small theory that you tested when you asked one of them to hand you a pen while sketching out a design. It would be absolutely correct to say that they both acted like two cats after a toy trying to hand one to you first.

It wasn’t just that occurrence either, ever since then the two of them seemed to have this little competition between the two of them to try to do as much as they could for you, despite your multiple inputs against it.

You supposed that maybe it was their way of saying “sorry”. Asks of service. You suppose that maybe rooming with two people who you had certain history with them didn’t help with their little competition of who would earn back your forgiveness first.

Kaveh and you had been friends since you were kids, ironically. After his father’s death, Kaveh had sought to spend more time with you rather than his mother. But in the end, you couldn’t blame him because she was quite a mess and wouldn’t even bother speaking half of the time, which wasn’t something you minded because she sounded so hoarse and blank that it made your ears hurt. You and Kaveh both enrolled in the Akademiya at the same time, you went into Vahumana while he went into Kshahrewar.

The first time you met Al Haitham was later on in the year when you were still having migraines over research reports and the struggle of having to memorize information out of twenty books at a time in the Akademiya instead of the source of them being Kaveh and Al Haitham themselves. You knew little about him other than words from the students' scattered whispers about him.

Apparently, despite being a kid on the quieter side, he was extremely intelligent and had enough knowledge stored within him that he could go toe-to-toe with Amurta’s know-it-all. You two were in different Darshans so it was no surprise that you didn’t know him all that well at first. However, he seemed to know some things about you.

You never questioned it, but you honestly had an idea that Kaveh may have rambled about you to him. You knew that Al Haitham and Kaveh had spent some of their spare days together and often spent time in the library in their spare time, but knew little about what their conversations consisted of.

A wish that often came across your mind was that you had spent more time with the two of them when you had your breaks instead of getting ahead in your work or going out to do things within the city. But the past was in the past and no amount of daydreaming about what could’ve been would happen.

Gradually Kaveh soon introduced you to Al Haitham in the library when you were on one of your breaks, the latter of which only nodded his head in greeting before going back to his writing. You brushed it off as one of his “antisocial qualities” before joining the two of them at the table in the library. Time faded as your days at Akademiya came to an end, the three of you growing closer together, though good things never lasted for long it seemed.

Kaveh seemed to get more distant as the years grew by, leaving you and Al Haitham to discuss possible scenarios of what happened. That seemed to be the unspoken question that hung on your lips but never came out. The thought had crossed your mind to ask Kaveh’s mother, but you didn’t want to stir up that hornet's nest if she had something to do with it.

It wasn’t until the next week that Al Haitham had sought you out to ask what exactly was happening, and he didn’t seem to take I don’t know for an answer, either. Apparently Kaveh had blown up in his face over a project, most likely the result of the buildup of his stress over the past few days, and so went their newfound friendship. With a sigh you were off to talk to Kaveh, who explained his reasoning with angry mumbles and refused to elaborate further. He didn’t talk to you until two weeks before graduation.

His mother wanted a fresh start. To move, to get out of Sumeru, wipe out the past; a clean slate. That included leaving him behind, too. Although you understood that he was hurting, it wasn’t a good excuse to hurt you and Al Haitham emotionally, either, however you didn’t bring that up because it was a somewhat miracle he was talking to you now.

He claimed he needed space so soon after the three of you graduated you didn't exactly stay in touch. You sought out to at least send each other letters but the only one that returned them was Al Haitham in all his glory. After a while, though, he too soon was busy with his own things. You didn’t question it and moved on yourself, too, the world wasn’t going to stop for you. But the three of you were now roommates so it was only a matter of time before the three of you talked about the big elephant in the room, right?

Right?

taglist: @keiiqq, @luvrkise, @hotanina

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#al haitham x reader #kaveh x reader #al haitham x you #kaveh x you #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst

61 notes · View notes

ellilyre · 28 days

Text

I finished ToA not long ago and I wanted to write down some thoughts/scenes that stick with me

(in chronological (ish) order, watch out for spoilers)

Theres an italian girl at camp ! It means Nico gets to practice and speak italian ! (which probably haven't happened in about 70 years)

Will introducing Nico as "my boyfriend". I already knew they would be canon, but reading that line felt weird /pos

Apollo sees Solangelo and think of himself and Hyacinth

That night when Kayla and Austin disappeared and Apollo left to look for them, it probably was the first night Will ever spent alone in his cabin

Apollo's insane body dysmorphia. He's a god, he can always take the physical form he is the most comfortable and confident in... Until now. He is stuck in a body that isn't his, he feels ashamed, when he sees certain traits in others he find them charming or pretty, but when it's on him then it's disgusting. He complain that everything is this body's fault (ex. he wouldn't have been touched by the Eurynomos if it wasn't for his chub.)(I could go on for hours)

Lityerses ! I love that guy. Idk why i love him that much. He is my best guy.

Apollo's reaction to Commodus' name. His flashback of him. So painful he was physically sick.

Apollo talking Helios out of killing them, because he just want to be free, not to hurt them.

APOLLO ATTEMPT TO KHS TO STOP THEM ?? IM A SUCKER FOR SOME GOOD PAINFUL SELF SACRIFICE.

Jason. I'm not talking about Jason. I can't speak about Jason.

Frank and Apollo ! They are so fond of each other !!!

Apollo heard all of Frank's prayers when he was unclaimed and wished he could've adopted him.

And Frank respecting Apollo as a god although he is *vaguely gesture at Apollo/Lester*

Reyna saying aloud that she doesn't want nor needs romance. It's so rare to see aromantic representation and Rick did it so well.

Literally Apollo singing his way out of situations.

FRANK'S SELF SACRIFICE!!! (He already had one of my favorite character development before that)

APOLLO KILLING COMMODUS ??? why do never talk about that it's one of the best deaths I've ever seen that was BADASS AND FULL OF EMOTIONS.

Apollo slowly dying out of poison and the Dodona Arrow doing everything it can to keep him conscious.

I hope Dakota didn't get killed off just to give Lavinia the role of Centurion. I love my boy Dakota, and his death felt kind of meaningless, except for her rank up :/ also i feel like it doesn't suit Lavinia. Some ppl are strong and good and trustable but just not made to order others. (ill prop make a full post about that)

Dionysos confirmed to be an annoying little brother!

Nico. How does Rick manage to always give him more issues. Leave the kid alone.

When Will glows, Apollo is genuinely impressed and tells him how proud he is.

Nico destroying Nero's door with his giant zombie bull. That was cool.

When Apollo gets stabbed in Nero's tower and think it's the end, he prays "Zeus, Artemis, Leto, anyone"

And in general the few parts he talks about Leto, he's such a momma's boy and I love it.

When Apollo left for Delphi... I was fully expecting Meg to go with him. I was so worried that he went alone while already feeling that weakened from the previous events.

DODONA ARROW. FOREVER IN MY HEART.

Artemis is here when Apollo wakes up. She's by his side, she's the first person to tell him he succeeded, she hold him while he sobs...

The first thing he does is to greet his horses :) and then to see his friends.

When he gets back to the Dodona bush ! To tell them all how brave and heroic the Arrow have been !

I could spend hours talking about the character developments of Apollo, Meg and the Dodona Arrow (i love the arrow so much you have no idea) but its for another day

There's many things I didn't talk about, but the post is already long enough. I love those 5 books, and Apollo is an amazing narrator.

I love the Arrow of Dodona with all my heart.

#when ill finish tsats ill maybe make the same kind of post #writing down all my most memorable thoughts #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #nico di angelo #will solace #trials of apollo #apollo pjo #toa #meg mccaffrey #frank zhang

43 notes · View notes

soulsdivinity · 1 year

Text

PAC: What Do You Find Romantic? ✨💜✨

Choose a pic to discover what you find romantic in a relationship 💜 Remember that time is fluid. Take a deep breath before choosing your pile, choose a photo with your intuition (the one you can’t look a way from)💜✨

Disclaimers

✨Hi ! This is a general reading!! If something doesn’t resonate, that’s okay!! It’s a message for another viewer. Nothing resonated? Feel free to choose another reading💜

These readings are not to be seen as legal, professional or medical advice✨ You are responsible for your actions

Please do not plagiarize my work, or post it elsewhere 💜

enjoy your reading

feedback is appreciated

book a reading w us!

Sorry I lost the pic of the cards in my photos 😭 it’s too far back I can’t find the right ones. 💜✨🥲

Pile 1

Lol random but I heard a Megan the Stallion lyric “money make me C**” and the first card to flip was the king of pentacles. So you enjoy being spoiled with money or a man/partner with financial stability. You also find sexiness romantic. You appreciate sensuality outside of sex. You find lips to be attractive. At times you can become hypnotized by someone’s lips, it makes them look dreamy. You find soft, tender, touches, caressing to be very sweet.

The idea of a one true love lives in your heart. It could be that you are waiting for the right person to have sex with. For you that level passion is reserved for someone you love. You find it romantic when a masculine person courts you instead of diving right into sex. You love the fantasies of being wined and dined. I think overall you find security to be romantic. Mentally, emotionally, physically, and financially.

No chaos, no drama. You love healthy compromise and wish to grow with a special someone. You want to be vulnerable, you want to be openly expressive and grow a healthy ego. You want a partner who is like your best friend. You want someone who loves you for who you are. You imagine picnics in the park, soft kissing, gently holding hands, soft sunlight. You enjoy someone making time for you and carving you into their day. You believe a little healthy competition is cute. You would like to race your lover, play basketball, be more playful. You also find site seeing and exploring to be romantic! Romance is tied to your self expression. The more open you are to giving and receiving, the healthier, stronger, and better the relationship will be in every aspect. You’re pretty well rounded! Good job pile 1! This is mindset people want to achieve! 💗

-a

book a reading?

Pile 2

This pile is more about attraction. It’s like “the type of person I could fall for.” You like someone who is like yourself. They have an ambitious attitude, they are physically healthy or considered fit. Idk why I’m getting the vibe that you already like someone. This reading feels like it’s about the present or upcoming situation. You like someone who is strong but they don’t know it. You attract beautiful people or you’re attracted to soft beautiful people who have angelic faces. Maybe even a strong body and a cute face. Like Wonho from Monsta X. Like a soft beefcake, but only you get to see their tender side.

You also like someone a little dangerous, unpredictable, mysterious and maybe a bit androgynous. I feel like you’re a curious person and that means you like to think outside the box. You want someone who’s not afraid to look deeper within themselves. You like people who can help you out of your mental fog. Someone who can help you see situations, thoughts and emotions clearly. They give you a different perspective. Not 18+ read but I’m just gonna say it. You like someone who’s good in bed and has a large sexual appetite. They’re strong but have a gentle hand. You both will nurture each other. You want someone to stick up for you or help you make better decisions based on what’s best for you. You have each others backs.

Coming home to someone you love is very romantic. The perfect lover who belongs to you. Someone who is reliable, strong, innocent minded, someone who can raise your kids and turn a house into a home. You like someone who is good at managing their finances, it proves they know how to care for themselves. This way you can keep doing your own thing. I’m also seeing that you find petite or soft bodies to be graceful, youthful and heartwarming.

I think you’re interested in worship as well. Your partner worshipping you is romantic bc it completes your fantasy. You’re a “king”and you have your “queen” to rule with, to love and also serve you. It could be vise versa (queen has her king / divine masc has their divine fem ). You or this person loves to be worshipped. Kind of traditional don’t you say ? Lol 😂 careful tho, at times you just want someone to control!

Some cards were left in the box by accident so I think there’s more to you that people don’t quite understand yet.

I forgot to take a photo of your cards pile 2 !! I used Angel Tarot by Travis McHenry 😯

-a

book a reading?

Pile 3

You find obsession romantic. You want someone who can’t live without you. You want someone who’s constantly in their head about you. Deadass, like you want them to be stuck on you, CLINGY. You want someone who is open to group sex or someone who has options but they choose you.

It could also be that you want a “leader of the pack”, someone who is powerful in their own right but trusts you to lead with them. You want someone loyal to you, someone you can trust, someone prideful as well. Chivalry is romantic to you. You may be attracted to gentleness as well, or a calm, mysterious, sensual vibe.

You’re attracted to the shadow side. You feel like the more concerned they are with you the more passion there is. And I’m certain you attract these types. You could also be a homewrecker… no, more like a seducer? Like a mermaid calling men to the sea to claim them or an imagined image of a woman in a hypnotic fire.

You find chaotic love romantic. You find the fear of losing someone romantic, that’s why this energy is so anxious. You kinda like having someone on their toes. You want someone crazy but also someone sane with good intentions behind their feelings. You want someone to WANT you, earn you. You want someone to think of you as royalty. You find it romantic when someone comes running back to you no matter how much you hurt them.

You also find it romantic when someone gives you everything. I think your love language is gift giving and receiving and acts of service. You want someone to worship you like a god? I’m getting a feeling of awe, like the overwhelming feeling you get when you feel divine energies. It’s unbelievable. You find it romantic when someone is jealous over you. You want someone so possessive and jealous they size up the people around you. You want someone who watches you. You like them super possessive but still gentle and subtle? Very quiet about it. You like them having a flip side. Not gonna lie tho sometimes you like when they get a bit crazy and it turns you on!

You find it romantic when someone understands your ways. You like relating to your person as well. You want to be an all powerful couple. You find it romantic when someone surrenders to you even though they are top dog. They will always come back for you, they can’t stay away from you.

-a

book a reading?

LUCKY YOU! You get $5 off any @angelguides reading that’s $20 and up! Just book with the code ANGEL5 - expires January 20th 2023

#tarot readings #tarot reading #future spouse tarot #future spouse #twin flame #soulmate #love reading #divine feminine #divine masculine #divine counterpart #daily tarot #love tarot #fs reading #18+ messages #psychics #lightworkers #future partner

572 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 4 months

Note

I bring to thee more of my brainrot....

GRAAAAAHHHHH AKADEMIYA DOTTORE AWOOOOOOOOOAWOOOOOOOO BARKBARKBARK

I wish i could transport myself to genshin so i can be with him at the akademiya...

totally self indulgent but... some random student just flirting with a confused reader and dottore looking at them from afar like an angry kitten about to pounce on some poor prey because HOW DARE THEY.... Reader is clearly leagues above them. Reader is HIS assistant, they have no need for such trivial things. Eventually he gets so mad he just storms up and pulls reader away, reader is so confused and keeps asking him whats wrong, once they notice his (obvious) jealousy they smirle and tease him about it (he is not pleased and starts putting readers books on higher surfaces cuz he's a lil shit)

IDK IM SO UNWELL... I really like jealous dottore... he is so down bad... - 🐓

One thing about Akademiya Dottore is that he won't admit a lot of his emotions. Yes, he'll admit how annoyed and irritated and pissed off he is. But he won't admit it when he's happy, when he's excited, when he's in love... when he's jealous.

Zandik has felt jealous before, such as annoyed that others are accepted but not him. But never jealous in this context. Which is why the feeling that gnaws at him when he sees another student so close to you is completely infuriating, annoying, bothersome, you get the point. He hates it. He hates feeling this way... it's utterly unbecoming of a scholar such as himself. And he also hates you for making him feel this way. Why have you done this to him? Why have you affected him so much, messing with his mind and body like this? He's supposed to be focusing on his research, but all he can do is keep sneaking glasses at you and the student. He gives in when he sees their arm sneak up to rest on your shoulder. Talking is one thing, but touching what's his? Oh no, the Akademiya's Outcast is standing behind you in a matter of seconds which obviously gives the poor student a heart attack.

Oh you tease Zandik so much for being jealous, it's honestly incredibly amusing,, you know he always gave the eye to anyone who dared to look at you for too long but jealous? This is completely new,, you didn't even know he had it in him. In a way it's rather enamoring... because he finally loves you enough to feel jealous over you. Before he couldn't care less about you,, so real cute stuff! (He makes you get on the ladder to get all the high-up books in the House of Daena as punishment </3 and flat-out ignores you if you keep teasing him,, he's not entertaining ANYTHING. He just tells you not to do it again.)

(It's just another thing he finds very tiring, is how smart you are yet how dumb you can be. Can you really not see how this buffoon is trying to flirt with you? It's exasperating really, to have to save you from these idiots. You should be grateful he's here to save you from such fools. This is his excuse whenever you try to make fun of him. As if you didn't save him from getting beat on multiple occasions...)

#smooches talks #🐓 anon #dottore love notes <3 #I LOVE JEALOUS DOTTORE #he gets jealous easy when he was younger but as he gets older and more secure he doesnt #but he still can! youve seen it when you started spending too much time with your harbinger friends #i honestly dont think i would survive in the akademiya but id do it for dottore

73 notes · View notes

jishyucks · 1 year

Text

only fools. ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: huang renjun x reader

‣ genre: FLUFF, sorta angsty? idk, co-leads to lovers? is tht even a thing?

‣ wc: 2.2k

‣ summary: Renjun's made one promise to himself ever since the play's production started: I promise not to fall in love with my fellow cast member. But after months of working alongside you, he finds that this promise was something he couldn't keep.

‣ warnings?: sorta sorta cheesyyy?, mentioned that reader's smaller than Renjun, Shrek (loml?jkjk) mention

‣ an: I finally wrote something after having writer's block for ten million years I s2g,,, tht being said I'm not sure if this is the best I can do but I do believe it's really cute ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) so I hope you enjoy it!

‣ tags: @mosviqu @sleeping-sirens

Dress rehearsals start in a mere thirteen minutes yet Renjun is sitting at the top corner of the football field’s bleachers in hopes that none of his castmates could find him.

He’s disappointed in himself because he’s being unprofessional. He knows damn well that if he did the same thing in the real world, it wouldn’t be accepted. Sure, it’s not acceptable now… the production is set for next week, yet he’s here wondering if he should even show up for rehearsals because of his own damn feelings.

Fuck feelings, he thinks, They’re stupid anyway.

Renjun kicks the edge of the seat in front of him and watches as the football team finishes up with their warm-up. He’s not sure how long they’ve been running in circles, but judging from how the coach yells for them to finish strong, he could guess it’s been close to fifteen minutes.

Fuck feelings, Renjun repeats to himself.

He feels like beating himself up over the very fact that he broke a promise that he made to himself at the beginning of the show’s production.

I promise not to fall in love with my fellow cast-member.

It was a simple promise that he thought would be easy to fulfill. Renjun was never one to develop feelings easily, which was exactly why he easily forgot the fact that feelings are something you couldn’t plan. Ever.

The reason it even came to existence was because his other castmate and best friend, Jaemin, had pointed out that this production was ‘romantic-full’—whatever that meant in his books—and that he was in some dangerous position of developing feelings for his co-lead.

He clearly remembers waving off his ridiculous reminders, simply because Renjun’s already been in countless productions and not one of them did he develop feelings for another cast member that could be deemed greater than that of friends. The idea was stupid.

But he made the promise anyway.

Just in case, he told himself.

Then this brings Renjun to now. With a broken promise dangling right in front of his face and feelings sitting rather irritatingly at the centre of his heart like a bullseye.

Renjun blames you for it all. For the way his heart beats around your presence, for the way the butterflies erupt at even the slightest touch of your hand, and the way he loses all composure the millisecond you smile his way.

Renjun doesn’t even know how it even got to this point.

But then again, it’s absurdly clear. The roles you both play, the late nights rehearsing just to get cues right, the impromptu hangouts after rehearsals… his relationship with you has grown over the past few months and he can’t really blame his heart for giving way for you.

In fact, it would have been much more worrying if he didn’t develop feelings for you. Especially since it was you. He would be a total fool not to fall for someone like you.

Nonetheless, Renjun’s frustrated over breaking the one and only promise he made for himself because now, after accepting these newfound feelings, he’s practically deathly afraid to face you. If he sees you now, he knows he’s going to make a fool of himself.

“Okay, bring it in!” The coach’s voice was rather loud despite him being twenty steps below Renjun.

He sighs and grabs a glimpse of the time. Eight more minutes until rehearsals and it was a good walk across campus just to get to the theatre.

There’s a feeling in his leg that was itching for him to stand up and go, but he ignores it, instead laying down against the warm metal seat before throwing an arm over his eyes to block them from the sun.

Renjun bangs his heels against the seat causing the whole bench to shake. He has to shift in his position so he doesn’t fall off. Then he groans and whispers a ‘what am I going to do?’ under his breath.

Because that was the real question. What is he going to do? He’s unsure whether to wait it out and let the feelings disappear on their own or take his chances with you—if you even reciprocate these feelings. He can’t just avoid you until the entire production is over because he is one of the show’s main leads. Renjun worked hard for this role and he can’t just let the understudy do it all for him because of his feelings for you were getting in the way.

Renjun knows for a fact that actors and actresses have gone through the same thing he’s going through… but how the hell did they manage to get through it?

He wonders if there was a book or YouTube video of some sort that provided him helpful steps on how to solve the situation in under 10 minutes—but one can only dream.

Renjun lets white noise overrun his head as he lays in a still position for who knows how long, feeling the breeze move past him gently. It was a cool breeze, but it balances out the sun that was beating down directly onto his skin.

Peripherally, Renjun can hear the sound of steps against the bleachers, but he quickly dismisses it, immediately assuming it was another student on their way up to isolate themselves like he was.

But, boy, was he wrong.

“There you are.”

Renjun’s heart thumps against his rib cage at the sound of your voice and he quickly sits up. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” His vocal pitch is three levels higher than usual, almost giving away the nerves that now have taken over his system.

How should he even act around you? This shouldn’t even be hard. He’s been around you almost every day for the past few months, and he’s an actor for god’s sake. He can simply fake it ‘til he makes it.

“And you don’t expect me to ask you the same thing,” you give him a look and wheeze, “You were supposed to be there like half an hour ago, y’know. You should be glad I volunteered to find you because they were going to send Doyoung and you know how scary he gets when he’s mad.”

When you realize that Renjun wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, you sit next to him with almost no room left between your shoulder and his. You wait for a short moment for Renjun to reply, but you’re only returned with silence and the groaning of sweaty men down at the field, “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Renjun waves off your concern and stands up, “Let’s get to rehearsal.” He shuffles past you and makes his way down the stairs. Renjun’s quick to reach the bottom, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re close behind.

“You’re lying,” you say when you finally catch up. It was blunt, but it was because you don’t have a single fibre of doubt in your body.

Renjun shakes his head, “I’m not lying.” When he notices that you’re catching up, he speeds up just a tad bit to keep you from gaining any sort of eye contact. He’s not even sure why he’s doing this when he knows that he eventually has to make eye contact with you during rehearsal.

“Yes, you are,” you retort, “Huang Renjun of all people wouldn’t willingly show up to practice late. There’s something wrong and you already know I’m going to try and get it out of you.”

Renjun chooses not to say anything, afraid that he’s accidentally going to give you hints of his dilemma. He focuses on the way his feet taked steps as you both find your way to the theatre.

“So, what is it?” You start, “Is it homework? Roommate problems? Nerves?… No, it can’t be nerves…” You’re practically skipping to keep his pace. He can hear you rambling beneath your breath and he lets you be, refusing to give in too easily.

When you’re returned with silence for the nth time, you switch gears and let out a loud, rather deep, sigh. “Renjun, I’m being serious right now. I know something’s wrong. And it’s not because you’re showing up late to practice on purpose, but it’s because you can’t even look me in the eye.”

“We’re going to be late,” he mumbles. Renjun’s walking so fast that he’s almost jogging.

“Oh, c’mon, as if we’re not already late,” you roll your eyes and reach for Renjun’s wrist, forcing the both of you to stop in your tracks, “We’re not going until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you,” Renjun repeats, “There’s nothing wrong. Now, let’s go.”

Renjun attempts to wiggle out of your grasp but you simply just tug on his arm to reinforce it, “And I told you that we’re not going until you answer my question. What’s wrong?” You sigh, “Renjun if you don’t tell me now, my head’s going to be preoccupied during rehearsal. Do this for you and for me.”

Renjun’s stuck. He’s not sure whether to tell you now, lie now and tell you later, or simply just not tell you (hard stop). All these options have one possible outcome in common and it was how he would possibly regret it all.

“If you’re trying to decide whether you should tell me or not, I vote for the first option,” you say. Renjun hates how you can read him like a book—well, except for his feelings for you. If you could, then this entire situation would have been easier to handle.

Renjun searches the empty hallway as if there would be an answer written bright and clear on the walls. He’s stuck and he needs to act quick. He doesn’t have all the time in the world anymore.

Then, his eyes land on your hand still holding onto his wrist.

Swiftly, Renjun slides his wrist down towards him. But instead of taking his arm back, he makes the impulsive action of intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand as if it were made of glass.

“What’s wrong is that I can only do this,” Renjun gulps nervously. He hasn’t made the effort to look at your reaction just yet, eyes trained on his hand holding yours. He’s slightly relieved that you haven’t pulled your hand back. But then again it could just be you in shock.

He gains the confidence to hold your smaller hand tighter before tugging you towards him. The two of you are practically chest to chest, so close that if Renjun simply leaned down, he could plant a kiss on your forehead. “This.”

Renjun’s heart is pounding right against his chest and he knows you can hear it. But he continues and brings his forehead down to graze your own, “And… this.”

Renjun pulls away and it’s like all of his confidence is sucked out of him, “…as stupid characters in that stupid play while I’m here wishing that it could be more!” A brief silence lingers between the two of you before he turns to leave, but you’re quick to yank him back by the elbow.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrow. Although it may come off as you being completely lost, you truly weren’t. You just wanted clarification and words that will confirm what you think Renjun is meaning to say.

A huff leaves Renjun’s lips and he searches the walls once again. He can’t repeat the same things he’s already done, so now he needs to resort to words.

“Y/N, we’re co-leads in a romance story!” There’s a hint of frustration in Renjun’s voice and at that point you can tell that this has truly been bothering him, “We practiced our lines together, hung out after, hell, I’ve learned the weirdest facts about you—that you open chip bags from the bottom because that’s where all the flavour is, how you take pictures of green onions in soup that look like hearts, that you’ve watched the second Shrek movie a bajillion times just to watch the fight scene at the end… Y/N, everyday for the past few months I was practically handed the opportunity to fall for you… and I would be a fool to not fall for you.”

Renjun lets his head fall forward and his bangs flop over his eyes, “I was planning on waiting until after the final show to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the hard work that everyone’s put into the production just cause of my feelings… but I guess my feelings won.”

He waits for you to reply, bracing himself for the worst ever possible reaction from you. Renjun’s already imagining a rejection—a gentle one, of course—but when he sees your hand reach out for his own, he feels a pang of hope sitting deep in his chest.

Renjun feels you hold his hand tight, squeezing it before using it to draw him towards you. He lets himself stumble forward before planting his feet right in front of yours. Your toes are almost touching, so you shuffle forward so that they are. With this gesture, Renjun finally allows himself to make eye contact with you.

There’s a sense of relief when he catches a proper sight of your face, a soft smile sitting upon your lips. And when you finally see that Renjun’s looking back at you, your smile grows ten times larger.

“Well, then I guess I’d also be a fool if I hadn’t fallen for you, either.”

210 notes · View notes