#force sensitive!reader

[coruscanti-arabi]

Imagine...

Babysitting for Hera was always a difficult task, with a force sensitive Jacen who was usually accompanied by a very opinionated Chopper. It was made marginally easier by your - albeit brief - training from the small Jedi temple on your homeworld of Naboo that called to you before you joined the Rebellion.

But babysitting with Ezra was a whole different story. After years of missing Jacen's growth and development, he was determined to be the designated 'fun' uncle that everyone adored, which left you to be 'Bad Cop'.

Today, you sat on the floor of his Lothal home, relishing the peace as you meditate. A soft voice from the Jedi of old begins to speak but before you can decipher any more, a loud crash resounds.

Chopper whizzes past. Followed by a screaming Jacen and a cackling Ezra.

The latter halts once he notices your glare.

"Wait, What did I do?"

Before you can respond, he's dashed off again after Jacen, leaving you to sprint after him too, cursing him under your breath.

Later, you find Jacen curled up on Ezra's chest, collapsed in a pillow fort. The soft snores being a relief since the chaos of the morning, you silently snap a photo on your holopad, sending it off to 'The Ghost Chat'.

At that, Ezra opens his eyes - probably from the vibration of the holo on his wrist - and beckons you to lay next to him. You sink into the pillows as his free arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in close. The warmth radiates off of him as you rest your head in the space between his neck and shoulder. Ezra presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering an 'I love you'.

You just smiled with a mumbled 'I know' and buried your face into his shirt, listening to his heartbeat as you both slowly drift back into sleep.

[pxgeturner]

Thinking about kylo accidentally forming a dyad with the princess of a small neutral planet.

—🖇️

The connection was probably made the first time he passed by aaldar. The first time you two had interacted with the other’s world, you were in your garden. You were sitting at a flowerbed, picking a bouquet for you mother. Until you weren’t. Until you were in a painfully white room. But you could still feel the plushness of the grass beneath you. You stand up, and approach a nearby desk, you place the blossom of an aricula on it– a peaceful message that you were here.

The first time kylo saw into your world, he had just finished doing his rounds on the bridge, heading to see master snoke. Suddenly, he was in a softly colored bedroom, classically decorated, with a four poster bed and plants littered around the room. There was a vase of flowers on the nightstand, the same kind of flower he found in his study a few days prior. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vintage credit he found earlier that day white he was off ship. He placed it next to the vase.

It stayed like that for a week or two. The pair of you exchanging gifts of trinkets you found.

The first time you spoke to each other, you were reading a book, and he had just finished training. You were looking out your window at the garden, and he was looking out at his window, looking at the stars. That day you gave him the ribbon in your hair he gave you a pendant that used to be his mothers. From that day on your trading was supplemented by conversation an and quality time. You read together, talked for hours, fell asleep together. your maids and ladies thought you were either melancholic or sneaking out of the palace to complete some sort of secret mission. When you told kylo that he belly laughed, you heard him knock something over. He hadn’t laughed like that in years.

One day he stopped talking back. Radio silence. No heads up, no warning signs. He just stopped talking to you, cold turkey. It hurt and you felt so alone. He was your person, and he was just… gone.

And then you saw a man wearing your ribbon on his wrist.

[blxkstar]

I made a playlist for using the Light Side of the Force.

Using inspiration of the feeling of tapping into the light side, and feeling the Force flow through you. Please check it out!!

"The Force. What does it feel like?" "Have you ever been afraid of the dark? How does it feel when you turn on the light?” “I feel safe,” “Yes, it feels like that.”

[basket-of-radiants]

Why were you so disappointed by Rhythm of War?

This has been sitting in my askbox for years. I've taken several cracks at answering, only to get frustrated with the subject matter and burn myself out every time. I didn't like Rhythm of War. More than that, I didn't like it in a way that tainted my enjoyment of the entire series. And despite what it may seem, I don't actually enjoy discussing things which I don't like. I always want to talk from a place of good faith. Which is why now that my feelings towards the series are a little more positive, I think I can finally answer this.

I'm going to try to stay away from specific plotpoints and story beats for this post, because my goal isn't to nitpick (if for no other reason than it would take a week to write this post), I'm just looking to talk about my overall impressions. I think that might mean the only spoilers here will be structural? idk, if you haven't read Rhythm of War yourself then you should probably do that before looking for other people's opinions anyway. 

I liked Way of Kings when I first read it. I didn't love it at the time, but I liked it. Certainly enough to keep reading once I'd finished. One thing that made me a bit uncomfy, however, was the war against the Parshendi. They were this unknowable enemy which the book was not interested in knowing. An inhuman army. Their main purpose was to kill Kaladin's friends, or else be killed by Dalinar's armies. And yet the Parshendi, and the parshmen in the form of Shen, did show hints of personhood. And so it bothered me how Dalinar spoke so casually about how the Alethi had decimated their numbers, how the others used the war as a means to amass wealth and power. (It didn't bother me in a "this is a bad book" way but in a "these characters are bad people" way.)

One of my foibles as a reader is that when a book is very clearly treating one side of a conflict with more humanity, I tend to be a bit predisposed towards the other to account for that. And with the Alethi clearly being the invading party and superior military force, there was also some underdog favoritism. I didn't really like how the book treated the Parshendi. This is to say that going forward, the singers would be more important to me than any other through line.

So imagine my delight at reading Words of Radiance and meeting Eshonai, one of the Parshendi, who even gets her own point of view sections! They were no longer being treated as a faceless mass, we were getting to see things from their perspective as well. And it became plain to see the damage the Alethi had done to them. I couldn't really bring myself to root for Dalinar or really any of the humans against the listeners. I couldn't even bring myself to like most of these characters. I still enjoyed the book but once it became clear there wouldn't be a peaceful conclusion, let's just say that I wouldn't have wept for Dalinar and Adolin if Szeth had managed to off them. Like everyone in the book, I assumed that going forward all the parshmen would be turned into evil voidbringers in the everstorm and that the listeners were mostly dead. Except for Rlain, and Eshonai because I'd read or been told that book 4 would be Eshonai's book and thus had assumed she was fine. (Oathbringer spoilers, she was not fine.) So ultimately it was still a bit of a downer way to end the book. 

So imagine my delight at reading Oathbringer, where for the first time singers were being treated as people, full and real people, and where the human characters could no longer ignore or dismiss them. We met Khen and the others, common singers who were sympathetic and just wanted freedom from bondage. We see Venli grapple with the loss of her home. We see Leshwi and Moash connecting with and understanding one another. We learn of a history where singers were the original inhabitants of the planet. Parallel to this, Dalinar is having a truly excellent character arc about confronting one's past actions and acknowledging them to move forward and do better. I loved Oathbringer, for some years it was my favorite book, and I was excited as hell to see what came next. At the time, it seemed to me that there is a clear direction the story is going. Two books about needless war, and then a third where the main cast is forced to acknowledge the personhood of their enemies. This was so cool, all of my feelings from the previous installments were being validated, the characters were going to have to face what they've done in the past and outgrow their militaristic mindsets, I was so sure of that.

Imagine my disappointment when that does not even remotely resemble the direction the story went in Rhythm of War. RoW presented a clear, straightforward “us vs. them" narrative, where every character was totally fine with killing singers. Characters aligned with the singers were either flattened into wholly evil versions of themselves (Moash) or were expected to turn on their side in favor of the humans (Venli.) Because clearly there was no reason good people would be on the side that's all former slaves trying to stay free. Maybe there's some sort of accord or understanding between Navani and Raboniel that I might have found meaningful if the seeds of mutual understanding weren't already there in Oathbringer and then apparently ignored for a year by all the characters.

I have a lot of issues with how the listeners are handled in these books. (Here's some elaboration.) Following OB, I had thought that all my concerns were going to be addressed. Following RoW, I knew they never would be. 

Which is my main complaint, because that's the thread that matters most to me in this series.

I have a lot of other Things as well. Gonna just talk about a few big ones. 

One outsized source of disappointment that may seem a little petty, and which probably is, is that I felt mislead by the premise of the book. It had been announced that this book would center Venli and Eshonai, and I was unbelievably hyped for that. That did not really turn out to be the case. The purpose for their backstory chapters felt less about exploring them as people and contextualizing their arcs, and more about filling in gaps of world history. In the main plot, Venli was a POV character and she certainly played a role, but honestly not a very important one overall. To me she felt like a side character in her own book. I don't think it's controversial to say that the main character of RoW was Navani. A lot of people really like Navani and are happy about that. Unfortunately I'm not one of those people, and I found it all the more difficult to enjoy her when it felt like it was coming at the expense of some of my favorite characters. 

This particular gripe somewhat comes down to preference, obviously everyone prefers to read about characters they like more than those they don't, and it can go both ways. (For instance, on a craft/technical level RoW is probably the superior book to W&T, but I liked the latter a lot more because of my stupidly outsized attachment to Szeth and Nale.) But I do think there's something of a real criticism in how the book would rather focus on the feelings of a queen rather than those of a genocide survivor, and how the former's are given significantly more weight and import. It ties in with my main criticism, I think. 

And then there's how human/human racism had also been wholly cast aside as a plot point. Jasnah fixed slavery so that's resolved, and the only person who still cares about structural racism is the evil bad bad evil villain Moash/Vyre, who is now wholly irredeemable and who you're allowed to totally write off because he's sold his soul to Odium. I've already talked a lot about this. Other people have already talked about this, probably better than me. The writing was actually on the wall for me in OB, but again, RoW was when I fully accepted that this was never going to be addressed. 

There's something else that probably deserves its own discussion rather than being quickly tacked on at the end here, but here we are. This book changed how the series approaches war. 

In WoK, war was very clearly portrayed as a bad and inglorious thing. It was brutal, it was painful, those at the bottom died cruelly and unceremoniously and pointlessly while those at the top turned a profit. Every day was a new horror. The enemy were never evil, they were always just more people forced to go through the same thing. Through the next couple books, it felt to me that even if the characters had accepted war as necessary, there was still a tragedy to it. Conversely, in RoW (and W&T) war is basically a series of boss battles, in between which our protagonists can kill dozens of footsoldiers with barely a thought in the same way WoK had criticized.

Final note on all this, it sucks how we have no perspectives from the former-slaves-singers demographic. Those guys are really thrown under the bus, and seemingly get no self-determination now or ever. It was a glaring problem to me in RoW. Conscripted and enslaved humans and singers probably have just as much ground to form mutual understanding as a fused and a queen. (In fact they already had. In Oathbringer.)

In essence, RoW disappointed me because it left me with the distinct impression that none of the series's most important through lines (well, most important to me) were going to be resolved well. I liked W&T, but I haven't revised my opinion very much about the overall handling of these topics across the series. Maybe one of the reasons I was able to enjoy W&T so much more was because I no longer had such high expectations.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 24}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Time moves slowly as you and Din search the galaxy for signs of your old way of life, growing closer and cultivating your relationship with each other as the days pass by.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: plot heavy, reader is canonically tan, sort of a mix of oc / reader insert, canon typical violence, canon typical language, din and reader have potty mouths bc i say so lol, mando'a language - translations may be a bit pedestrian, glimpse into jedi culture, reader has a lot of internal monologue, reader feels the emotions lingering in the force at various sights of jedi battles and locations, emotional turmoil, off screen deaths, physical attraction, reader and din be lookin' at each other, soft din, reader grows into herself more, smut, adult content, oral (f and m receiving),p in v, unprotected p in v, confessions, pet names (mando'a), making din engage in pillow talk is one of my finer moments lol, i think that's it for this one!

A/N: this'll be my last chapter for these two for a hot minute but that doesn't mean i love them any less ♡ in regards to this post, i will be focusing on a few things before i return to them, but i promise that i will because they mean so much to me

ao3 || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“Harder,” You grunt, feeling the sweat drip down between your shoulder blades- skin hot and air too little in your lungs. You feel the head of Din’s body close, so close, pressed up against your bad where he’s practically plastered. His chest heaves in time with your own, his hands trailing over your sides where he grips you tight, fingers digging into the give that’s developed there over your time together.

As soon as they tighten, you turn in his grip and press your chest to his. What little clothing you have on allows for the soft, dark hair that decorates his chest to hush against your skin and you close your eyes in a long blink to savor the feel. His beautiful face dips, warm brown eyes meet your own when you open them- and then you hook your arms underneath his and you press into the joint atop his shoulders.

He grunts with the force of your fingers digging into him, body jolting as his brows furrow and his mouth forms a thin line. His hands twitch, as if overwhelmed. As they fall from your body, you adjust your weight firmly on your feet and haul him over your shoulder completely.

It’s too fast for him to counter the move, his back slams into the lush grass you both stand in. Before he can spring back up, you’re moving to straddle his middle, the blade you pull from your pouch positioned against the underside of his chin as your knees dig into the soft flesh of his forearms at his sides.

“I told you,” You put all of your weight on him even as his legs lift up for his feet to press flat into the ground. His hips press into your lower back, but it’s not enough for him to through you off as you lean back against them with an arch of your body. “You need to hit harder if you’re going to do anything.”

His pupils are blown wide as the brush of your ass meets where his belt secures his pants around his waist. The blade doesn’t loosen from your grip even as you lean down to press your forehead to his in the way you two have made your own.

Two fingers pinch your backside and it gives him enough room when your jolt at the unexpected action to flip jostle you off of him. He’s pinning you face first in the grass, hissing slightly at the slice of the blade into his forearm as he does so and takes both your hands forcefully behind your back, knocking it away with a flick of his wrist. Your breath leaves you as your chest presses into the ground and his weight presses to you, his knees now holding the backs of your thighs down.

You wiggle, testing his hold. But a deep chuckle sounds from behind as you manage to do nothing but press into his crotch. You can feel him through the fabric when he grinds into you. You grip tight to the belt looped in his flight pants, fingers tangled beneath the security there. He doesn’t think anything of it, momentarily lost in the feel of your continued wiggling when suddenly you pull him so roughly forward that he loses his balance. His knees slip from where they dig into your thighs, and it gives you enough room to get up on your knees and unclasp the mechanism of his belt. You buck him over onto his side and whip the belt from his pants to tie around his wrists. Pulling taut and clasp it back shut in an imitation of the binders he once used on you so long ago.

The actual binders he had fastened to the part of the belt that rests against on the back of his waist are clinked around his ankles and buzz as the shock sensors activate. He’s flat on his back, shirt rucked up and all limbs tied as he watches you straddle him for real now. Knees on either side of his slim hips, you lean down whisper in his ear.

“Looks like I win, ik’aad.” To ease the defeat a bit, you grind down on him and are rewarded with a guttural sound punching from deep in his chest. He’s fully hard now, beneath you and his breathing heaves in and out as he looks up at you through his lashes. Your giggles only work him up more, the sound so pure and lighthearted that he can’t even be mad you one upped him with dirty tactics.

Not if the smiling visage of your lips are moving down to press to his own.

Dust flies around you as you walk down the no longer tended to road. A simple foot path that leads straight to the ruins you’ve been searching for. The mask pulled up over your nose allows you to breathe easier as the wind whips around harshly.

The hush of the door closing and the whine of mechanics as the ramp recedes back into the ship to securely lock replaces the wind and then it’s silent. It’s late but you know Din is up in the cockpit, watching for your return and his boots sound on the ladder as he descends into the hull space.

He doesn’t ask how it went and you only offer a small shake of your head. All that was to be found within the ruins was residual energy, the force calling to you as you search through meditation for any sign of the life you once led.

He trusts you to make the calls on this, to help find the loose threads of what was once a sprawling and integral part of the galaxy. He doesn’t know much about it other than what he’s gathered from you directly and the little the Armorer shared with him and the next plan of action will help him to learn more.

He watches silently as you remove your cloak, still the same one he first bought for you a whole rotation ago. The floral metal clasp clinks quietly as you fold it and set it on the makeshift table you stand beside. Removing the mask, you can feel his eyes through the dim lighting tracing your face as it’s exposed.

He doesn't push for answers, easily reading your solemn demeanor.

The ruins, they gave you so many answers. The scenes that flitted up in your memory as if they were a holo net show

With a sigh, you remove it completely, the cowl around your neck as well. The beskar fastened to your shoulders feels heavier in the wake of your exploration, the discovery of the smaller skeletons too much for your heart. You feel his eyes watch as you retrieve a mug and a pod for the caf machine. It putters to life and you grip the small counter set into the wall that's still exposed from his own earlier activities.

"I need to go back at first light." You hang your head, eyes unfocused and chest tight. The screams still echo in your ears, the panic and fear. Ringing loud, the emotions filling you up until you hear a loud crack and hot liquid sprays all over you.

Eyes snapping back into focus, you feel a firm hand on your back and Din's breath against your ears. The drone his voice was, mingling with the screams becomes clear now as he whispers soothing words to you. The mug, it was cracked and steaming caf trickles down the counter and onto the floor, soaking into the front of your shirt. He approached as soon as it happened, shutting off the machine to ensure it didn't keep running.

"I've got you, you're safe, ner karta." His voice is a hum in your ear, deep and soft around the edges.

"S-sorry, I didn't-I-"

"I know, it's okay." He soothes you, sturdy body pressing close against your back, his hand migrating to your front and flattening in the middle of your chest to rest over your heart. You're sure that he can feel how fast it beats beneath your ribs but he doesn't say anything more. Offering you comfort and reassurance when you realize the heavy energy in the air that you pulled with your sensitivity.

"They deserve a proper burial." You whisper, just as you feel the brush of his plush lips on your temple and then your cheek as he slowly turns you in his arms to face each other. His helmet is resting on the table beside your stuff, you glimpse it over his shoulder.

"Of course, mesh'la."

It’s quiet for a moment, both of you just holding each other. The caf that soaks your shirt is bleeding into his flight shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves to nudge his nose against yours.

“Can I kiss you?” His lips are already brushing your own as he asks and you surge up to press them properly together. Heat lances through you and you’re throwing your hands over his shoulders to move against him as close as possible. He’s hauling you up into his arms, hands supporting your weight by the back of your thighs and then he’s moving through the space toward the bunk.

The door is open and shut in a flash, your tongues licking into each other’s mouths as he moves to sit on the edge of the cot. Your hands detangle from around his neck to trail down over his shoulders, unclasping the pauldrons and chest piece as you go. The beskar thuds atop the covers of the bed as you finally get to the padding underneath. With snaps and sounds of ripping velcro, you remove it in haste, ruffling his longer hair with the action. As soon as he’s down to just his flight suit top, you ruck it over his form while he rips your own tank top to join the scattering of armor and clothing surround you both.

The wrap you wear to keep your chest secure is loosened enough to fall around your waist. He’s kissing down your throat, nipping into the sensitive flesh there as he moves down to capture a tight nipple into the heat of his mouth. His tongue laves over it, teeth nipping and pulling ever so slightly. A moan flies from your open mouth and you undulate your hips against the line of him pressing up into the zipper of his pants.

You’re not quite flush against him, the armor over his thighs preventing you. But with a snarl of frustration, he’s standing and turning you in his arms to press your back into the plush bedding you insisted on purchasing months ago. You watch with hooded eyes and exploring fingers down his exposed chest as he shrugs the shirt off. His skin prickles into goosebumps as your nails scratch down the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his pants.

He lets you unclasp the belt and unzip the front while he removes the remaining armor from his thighs and step out of his loosened boots. The beskar sings as he gathers it all, leaning over you to reach the further pieces up the bed with a full bite to the underside of your left breast. You keen at the feel of his mouth on you, eyes fluttering shut as he quickly puts the armor away in a crate that remains propped open for occasions just like this beside the door.

He’s fully naked and slowly stroking himself when he turns back around to look at the sight you make on the bed. Completely exposed yourself, pants having been kicked off and boots piled at on the floor. Your hands are up and down your chest, fingers grazing your sensitive neck and then cupping yourself. There’s already a red indent of his teeth where he sunk them into you and he groans at the sight.

“You feel so good, don’t you mesh’la?” He’s not teasing, no. He knows how soft you feel in his own hands, from previous instances of exploring your body. But this- this is the first time he’s seeing it all on display for him and him alone. The first time he’s getting to taste and kiss. The air inside the bunk is charged, almost tingling as he steps toward you. He let’s go of himself, allowing his cock to bounce up slightly. The weight of him, you’ve felt before, you’ve touched before. But it was never this intoxicating, this thrilling. He’s such a beautiful tan all over, the head of his cock ruddy and dripping. And it’s all for you, he’s completely yours.

He curls his palms over your knees and pulls them apart, eyes locked on yours to ensure you’re okay with it before he’s glancing down to see you spread for him for the first time. You’re glistening. Slick coating you and your clit it swollen and peaking through your folds. He groans at the sight, trailing a hand gently up your thigh to swipe two fingers over you. You cry out at the contact, shooting up from the bed to watch with wide eyes as he closes his plush lips around those same fingers and hums at the taste.

He's dragging a thumb over the swollen nub, pulling a keening noise from you as your hips buck up to chase the feeling. He chuckles as he kisses your chest, leaning over you from where he stands. His eyes catch yours just as he presses a finger to your core, pausing to make sure. His eyes flutter at the slick he feels there, thick lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks for just a moment. When he opens his eyes back up, he’s boring straight into your own hooded ones. They’re dark, the color nearly gone as your pupils blow wide with the emotions he stokes in you, the pleasure he so easily conjures from you- for you.

“Tell me, okay, tell me the moment you don’t like something and we stop.” His voice is serious, almost commanding in his sentiment. Your comfortability is the only thing he’s concerned with, taking precedent over the pleasure he wants to give you. He looks beautiful in the faint light of the bunk and he’s all you’ve never thought to search for in that moment.

“Ner karta,” You trace a hand down the side of his face, cupping his jaw and pulling him down into your space. “I trust you, more than anything. I want you, I want this.”

You kiss him so intensely, the breath in his lungs passes into yours. He growls at the feeling of you cradling the back of his head, fingers tangled in his curls as you press your body to his. You grind your hips against his hand, urging him. When his fingers breech, your voice leaves you in a whine. He keeps your bottom lip between his teeth even when you pull away, you clench around his curled fingers at the overwhelming sensations and he preens at the way your body reacts.

He pumps his fingers in and out, languidly stroking you when he’s got them as deep as they’ll go. You’re flat on your back and he’s kneeling to trail sucking kisses down your chest and stomach. He revels in the way your muscles clench and jolt at the tickle of his moustache, the scruff over his chin. He hasn’t shaved it, not since you lovingly caressed it the morning he had resolved to do just that. That was weeks ago.

Your body isn’t your own, but it’s more, as Din gives every inch he can his undivided attention. You feel so hot, pleasure striking up your spine and pooling low in your behind your hips. His fingers fill you so intoxicatingly, your hips chasing his movements. Your back arches as your vision blurs when his lips close around your clit and gently kiss there.

“Oooh, fuck,” Your voice cracks on the hard ‘k’ sound, mind buzzing as Din curls his hot tongue around the swollen bud. You choke out another sound, but the meaning behind it is lost to you as he softly flicks against it over and over again. Pleasure blinds you, your vision completely gone as you clench your eyes tight and pull the hair your fingers are tangled in.

Faintly, you hear a growl, feeling it more where his mouth connects with your core as his fingers stroke deep. Arousal leaks out of you, gathers in his clenched palm and down the taut muscles of his wrist. He laps up as much as he can before moving back to your clit, circling it once more before he dares to suckle at it.

The heat in your middle flares, the flames of it consuming you as you cry out with the force of your release. Waves of pleasure ripple over you as your back arches and your head thuds heavily atop the covers, drowning out everything else from your senses.

“Fuck, ner karta,” He’s suddenly scooting you up the bed and draping himself over you. The long lines of your bodies buzzing where you connect. You feel him rest right between your folds, his hands cradling your cheeks as he leans in and kisses the breath from your lungs. Your hands scrape down his back, nails digging into his shoulders as you buck up from the feel of his head dragging over your clit. It’s so much, the pressure still cresting, breaking, washing away everything but the man in front of you. His skin, his touch, all of it searing into your memory to remain the only ones you have.

“D-Din,” You pant, blinking furiously as white speckles the edges of your vision. Fading as the pleasure begins to wane and your body loosens beneath him. And then suddenly, your head is clear as the open sky. The words bubble up, the need to say them taking over completely. “"Mhi solus tome.”

He sucks in a deep breath, eyes meeting yours as you gaze up at him with clear intention, your hands move to rest on his shoulders and you giggle, a giddy feeling taking over as he grinds against you, repeating the words back to you in that deep voice, you feel and hear them so intensely.

“Mhi solus dar'tome,” He continues, feeling the connection that sparked when he first laid eyes on you flare and wash over him like wave, he knows he was meant for this. That you were meant for this- you are his and he is yours. Completely.

You repeat the words, nose brushing his as you cradle his face, dark scruff soft in your palms.

“Mhi me’dinui,” You press the words into his lips with a kiss, moving to each of his cheeks, each brow line, his nose. He sighs softly, like your touch is the only thing he’s ever craved, ever wanted for himself in this life. He nudges his forehead against yours, almost caressing like a loth cat would and you smile shyly at the passion and love swirling in the depths of his dark eyes.

“Mhi me'dinui an,” He continues on, bearing his weight on his knees now, nestling between your thighs as you wrap them around his waist. The solid length of him is the prefect pressure as it nestles between your folds, the head of his cock pushed down by a hand firmly wrapped around himself.

“Mhi ba'juri verde,” You both say at the same time, in the same hushed voice only for each other’s ears as he notches himself right at your fluttering entrance and pushes in gently. Twin moans spring into the air as he feels how tightly you wrap around him, moving slowly until he’s sheathed completely inside, your eyes flutter shut as you revel in the fullness of him. It’s almost too much, how thick he feels inside, each ridge and vein pulsing.

He stills, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once again. You moan out at the grind of his hips flush against yours and you clench around him. It pulls a choking sound from deep in his chest that vibrates through you. His heart- it’s beating as fast as yours.

You whisper his name, praise and pleading all tumbled into one. You raise your hips, getting a feel for how deeply he’s inside and pleasure glitters through every nerve- lighting you up like nothing ever has before. It’s so much more, the desire, the willingness, the wanting.  He’s everything you never thought you deserved but he’s real and he’s here and he’s pulling out until just the head of his cock is stretching you open, slick shining when you glance down.

You’ve never been this wet, you’re practically dripping even as he nestles there with a heavy breath, his chest is heaving as he leans up a bit to take in the sight himself- to look at you, to see the way your plush lips are parted and your own breath matches his. He twitches, pulses, hardens even more and you cry out as you feel it. Locking eyes, he trails reverent hands down your front. Fingers pause to brush tight nipples, the mark he’s left from his bite, down the line of your middle and then he’s feeling where you’re both connected. His fingers slide easily around himself, caressing until they find the tight seal of your entrance around the tip of his cock.

Your body hums, those same flames licking up your entire body.

He’s pushing in, lips parting as he huffs out a grunt.

“Fuck, ni riduur, you feel so good,” He practically growls as he bottoms out once again. His hips begin to snap against yours in a steady pace, his hands secure in the curve of your waist, fingers digging into your hips. Your answer is a hitch of breath and a stuttered cry as he finds that soft spot inside you, your body loosening in his grip as you look up at him completely wrecked. The slap of skin on skin, of your bodies moving together, rising together, it’s a buzz in your head- his grunts – your keening moans, it feels like nothing ever has before. You feel the jolt of him bottoming out in your bones, feel the heat that presses in on every inch of your skin. The slick mess between your thighs, the dampness of his skin against yours, your pulse racing and jumping in your throat.

It’s sudden, the way his voice rises as your name leaves his lips, his breath punched out of his throat as his entire body tightens with the intensity of his release. The overwhelming sensation of him filling you- hot and thick and so fucking much, causes another crest in your body. The flames are glittering, the fire so bright and hot, your eyes clench shut and it’s all you know as your body tenses impossibly so.

You cling to each other, fingers bruising and panting breath hot. You whine when his hips jerk forward, further pressing into you as his eyes gaze into yours. He’s still so thick, so filling, even when he gently pulls out. You feel the way you leak from the action and it sends a shiver up your still heated skin.

You don’t move much of your own accord, completely pliant in in his hands as he lays down and pulls you to his chest. The brush of his dark hair there sends another shiver over you as it drags on your own, his arms wrap around you and you bury your face into his neck, placing gentle kisses where you feel his pulse race. You both lay there, wrapped in each other- reveling in the way your bodies moved with each other, reveling in each other.

Just as your breathing calms and your mind blurs, you feel him shift a bit to adjust the pillows. One hand trails down your arm, from your shoulder down to the knuckles of your hand. Reverently, as if he’s worshipping you as you only hum in response. Sleep tempts you, curls around your mind and body but then Din is speaking in a hushes tone that keeps you afloat.

“I’ve never…done that before.” His cheeks tint a ruddy shade as you tangle your fingers with his, laying side by side and facing each other. Legs intertwined and hands still linked. Your eyes open just a bit before the feeling of him licking through your folds steals your breath, the memory of it alone enough to send glittering pleasure up your back. It brings an embarrassing heat to your chest even as you recall how enthusiastic he was about it. How he wanted to do it.  “But you taste so sweet, ner mesh'la riduur.”

“Gar liser vaabir bic tug'yc, ik'aad,” Your thighs tense as you clench them, feeling the wetness of your both smearing as arousal pools low and hot behind your hips, where it was lingering. “A gar'll ve'ganir a isirir be gar sa pirusti.”

Then do it again, baby. But you’ll get a taste of yourself too.

“Jate. Ni mirdir ni kelir, staabi jii.  Ve'ganir shol'shya teh gar, akay gar kar'taylir naas a ner gai.” His voice rumbles through you as he pushes against your chest with his own, growling at the feel of your hardened nipples against his skin. The softness of the skin there intoxicating, he cups them as he kisses down your neck and laves his tongue over each one until you’re whining and wriggling beneath him.

Good. I think I will, right now. Get another from you, until you know nothing by my name.

He moves down, down, down- until his wide shoulders push your thighs apart. The muscles in them shake, a testament to just how much pleasure he can wring from you, how much he’s about to wring out again. He looks up at you, his hair mused and damp, curls plastered to his forehead. His breath puffs hot against you, spread out right in front of him, a hand settled below your belly button.

His tongue licking a wide stripe over your entire cunt has you crying out his name and forgetting everything else.

The combination of a soft coo and deep voice on the outskirts of your consciousness slowly draws you back to the present. Letting out the deep breath you had taken in, you crack open one eye and look for the source of the interruption. The sight of Din decked out in his armor, helmet securely in place and holding a calm ad’ika warmed your heart.

“Wanna come down and join us for dinner?” His voice is smooth, the modulator a softer volume as if he’s adjusted it to not display so loudly- something you’re grateful for as the ache in the back of your head throbs in tune with your elevated heartbeat. He’s patient, your silence as you think over the offer.

“You cooked?” With a raised eyebrow you take in the way his chest is moving with even breaths, he’s calm despite the worry you can sense in both of them as they look in on you in the dark bunk across from the cockpit.

“I did, don’t sound so surprised,” He’s teasing, trying to keep give you a little more than you’ve been able to the past few days. That last planet…you still carry the disjointed memories lingering in the energy there with you. “Made some stew. Warmed up the bread we picked up in town the other day.”

“I…I want to,” You sit up just a bit, the motion not much but enough to send an ache all throughout your body and you shudder, suddenly burning up from the movement.

“I’ll bring some up once he’s fed and put to bed,” And then he’s gone. The blanket secured over the port hole in the ceiling wafting a bit from the pressure of the door hushing shut with the click of a control.

You don’t know how much time passes as you float on the cusp of sleep, your body settling into a relaxed state. The soft sounds of Din tending to ad’ika soothing you enough to help the headache wane. But it still flares painfully in your temples and the back of your neck when Din’s opening the door back to your bunk when he returns to you. He’s still decked out in his entire suit of armor, though you see through shallowly cracked open eyes that he’s got one of the travel thermoses in his hand. The steam wafting up from it smells heavenly and your stomach makes a loud sound.

He doesn’t say anything as he hands it to you, his fingers lingering in a loose clutch around your wrist to ensure you’ve got the weight of it secure in your hand before he pulls away. He sits quietly as you sip at the broth, the utensil sticking up not spurring you into taking bites of the meat and vegetables until you look up and see him watching you.

Gone is his helmet, his brown eyes locked on your form. Searching, making sure you’re okay. He’s been more…aware of your breathing and the smallest movements. Picking up the ways in which you calm yourself when frustration bubbles up at not being able to remember something about the culture your in search or the way some of the metal rings you work with snap under the force of the pliers your use to string them together.

More of you is rising to the surface, more of you on display for him to see.

You don’t hide any of it, willing to show it to him- to feel it yourself. You haven’t been able to feel it for so long. But you’re safe here, safe with him. Stronger than the things that try to bring you down, the temptations that once lured deep inside.

When you finish the entire serving, he’s gently taking the thermos from you and setting it aside. His body fits perfectly against yours as he settles into the bed with you. His armor and yours collected at the foot of the bed, within reach should the alarms alert you of incoming ships or the hyperdrive shifting.

“I haven’t been here since the attack.” Din’s helmet turns to take in your still form beside him. He’s just guided the ship to land in the assigned port spot. It’s on a higher building on the outskirts of Coruscant.

Buildings stretch as far as your binocs can scan, Din’s visor no doubt even able to see through to the horizon blocked by the differing levels and bright flashing signs that fill your combined vision. The sun is bright in the late morning, shining high above it all. There is movement all around, so many people moving and going about their days, it’s dizzying. But you’re here too, about to blend into it all with one goal in mind- visit the place where your temple once stood.

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[mr-honks]

Starboy

Ok hear me out here with my Star Wars obsession…

“will you promise to show me the stars?”

“I wouldn’t just show you the stars, I would give them to you”

But imagine living on one of the lowest habitable levels of Coruscant, like the ones that are so low that the people who live there have never seen the sky and don’t think the sun or stars are real.

Imagine being a force sensitive that lives down there, but you live as a scavenger barely scrapping by. Your employers and fellow workers call you Starboy because you have always dreamed of seeing the stars but everyone thinks you’re crazy because the stars aren’t real in their eyes. One day while you’re on one of the lowest and sketchiest levels, scavenging, a tall man wearing all black and mask appears but only you can see him, no one else. He seems just as confused to see you as you are of him but he mumbles something about the wrong scavenger before literally disappearing in front of your eyes. You brush if off as insanity because its not uncommon for people to go crazy while so deep in Coruscant.

But he keeps appearing, you try to ignore him but he keeps asking all these questions, where, who, and what you are. You keep refusing to give personal information as you grew up in one of the most dangerous places on the whole planet. After quite some time you start to warm up to each other. You give him your name and he gives you his, Kylo Ren. Of course you’re not an idiot and you recognize that name immediately but Kylo can’t physically touch you, so you don’t seem to worry much about it. You still never tell him where you are, always trying to make him guess.

After some time you ask Kylo about the stars, something you have never asked anyone before. He’s very confused at first on such a strange question but after you explain to him your situation he tells small bits and pieces to try to keep you intrigued enough to continue to talk to him.

Kylo ever since has tried to convince you to give your location up so he can find you, as another force sensitive he wants to train you control your power. You are hesitant at first and never give a start answer for a long time. That is until one day, almost a year since you first met Kylo you get in a really bad fight with one of your only friends and decided “fuck it.” That’s where the question comes up “will you promise to show me the stars?” The question comes out of nowhere for Kylo and he just turned his head to you for a few seconds. You tell he’s staring at you from under his mask he never takes off. “I won’t just show you the stars, I will give them to you” that’s all it takes for you to give him your exact coordinates on the planet.

I literally have no explanation for this other than I’ve fallen into the Coruscant rabbit hole 💀

[apocalyp-tech-a]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46969504/chapters/118322425

Finally made a fanart of my Jedi Padawan OC Seren Myral with Tech (kind of like a movie poster) to celebrate the last chapter of Force and Sensitivity. I hope if you haven't read it, you will give it a try. And to all those that have read it, thank you! ❤️

I don't describe her appearance in the story since it's a reader, so maybe she doesn't actually appear this way. If you read it and would rather see a different rendition, I'm happy to oblige with more versions. :)

[meguwumibear]

been watching a shit ton of star wars and it made me want to add onto this

Most of Megumi’s fellow initiates are at least a decade younger than him. He spends his mornings surrounded by round, chubby faces with noses full of snot. If Megumi were a gambling man, he’d bet none of them have even seen their first armpit hair. Toji certainly would’ve liked those odds.

Megumi’s fellow initiates are younger but smarter. Or maybe wiser is the better word. They all know so much about the force, about what it means to be a Jedi. They live, eat, sleep, and breath the code. No emotion. No chaos. No passion. Blah, blah, blah-bity, blah.

The code

The fucking code.

Mastere Gojo tells him only Siths deal in absolutes, but the code feels pretty absolute to him.

When he isn’t studying military history or medical science or whatever nonsense the Jedi Masters plan for him that day, he meditates. The meditation is supposed to help him conquer his fear and his anger and his hate, but the feelings only seem to fester.

The Jedi made him leave Tsumiki. They told him attachments are forbidden among their kind. Gojo promised she’d be well taken care of, but it killed a part of him to do it all the same. Abandoning her makes him feel everything the code forbids him to. Through mediation he realizes why: leaving his sister behind is the exact sort of thing his father would have—and in fact has—done.

That’s who he sees now when he looks in the mirror. Not his own face, but that of his fathers. Scarred from battle. Eyes simmering with rage. Parts of Toji live on in Megumi, and he’s slowly resurrecting the man, one selfish decision at a time.

Megumi isn’t supposed to fight anymore, but tonight he’s itching for one. Fights are surprisingly easy to come across on Coruscant. There’s a whole underground world the Jedi either pretend not to know about or deliberately leave unattended. Keepers of the peace Megumi’s ass.

He blames the violent urge on the midi-chlorians. The Masters say they’re what give the Jedi their force sensitivity, these teensy, tiny, microscopic lifeforms. The parasites—most of the Masters sneer when Megumi calls them that, but Gojo always smiles—live in and communicate with him from his blood. So, surely, if his desire to fight is blood deep, it must also be the desire of these fucking bugs.

He signs up for a fight. Fuck it. One fight won’t hurt. What’s the worst that can happen? It isn’t like the Masters can take the force away from him. He will always be one with it. Plus, the Jedi strive for peace and harmony, two things Megumi is never closer to than after a fight.

Megumi has fought all kinds of opponents. Big ones. Small ones. Creatures more monster than man. Beasts with tusks thick and long as his forearm. Animals barely sentient enough to consent. What Megumi has never, ever fought though, is someone like you.

Because you’re just a girl. A pretty ordinary one too.

He keeps stealing glances at you, waiting to see if you’ll shift or transform into something else, but you never do. It’s just you, your scrappy clothes, and your wild, nearly inhuman eyes.

He’s fought women before of course. That isn’t the issue. You honestly just don’t look like much of a fighter. Young and scrawny with purple bruises the size of phaseballs littered across your skin from all the time you spend in the ring. He wonders if you’ve ever even won a match.

But then the bell chimes, signaling the start of the round, and he doesn’t even have a second to gather his thoughts before you’re on him. A well-placed right hook to the cheek sends him reeling back a step. It’s been a while since he’s had to take a punch. He forgot the thrill and sting of it.

The flesh of his cheek burns where your knuckles collided with it. You’ve busted a few of his capillaries. He can feel the bruise forming. The skin will be black and blue by morning and all of the Jedi Masters will know what their precious little Padawan gets up to in his spare time. There’ll be no hiding the evidence.

He’s thinking too much; too caught up in his own thoughts. That’s why his misses a second shot to his gut. He chokes as your fist connects with his stomach, punching the air clean out of him. All the meditation he’s been doing is making him slow. He can’t seem to orient himself to the fight.

The fight continues. He manages to land a few blows but he’s taking more hits than he’s landing. You’re quick on your feet, light and graceful like a dancer or acrobat. Maybe that’s your background. Maybe you once performed on a stage instead of in a ring.

He doesn’t have time to ponder further. You manage to get one of your legs under him and sweep him off his feet. He lands hard on his ass. So hard the impact travels up his vertebrae, vibrating his skull.

There’s another impact before he can even think to right himself. You use your weight and momentum to force him onto his back. It isn’t enough to end the fight, but he knows your victory is near.

You plop unforgivingly on top of his lap, straddling his aching hips. A steady fist raises to deliver the final blow. Frenzied eyes gleam with the promise of victory. Split lips reveals teeth stained red with blood.

“Yield,” you demand. And when he doesn’t, another firmer, “Yield.”

He could use the force. Street fights don’t prohibit it. They don’t really have to. Jedi tend to think too highly of themselves to participate in them. Megumi is probably going to be the first and last of his kind to spend time in the ring.

“I yield,” he manages to push out, despite the ache in his lungs from your assault. It’s a generous and humble offer. Any other opponent would’ve taken the shot. Using the force now would feel like cheating. You’ve beaten him fair and square.

You jump up to greet the roaring crowd, arms raised high in victory. When you glance down at him—out of pity or mockery, Megumi can’t be sure—he’s embarrassed to discover that not only has he sorely lost the fight, but that his cock is rock fucking hard.

[powerful-niya]

Clash Of Possession |

Dark Naruhina Fanfic

Naruhina Month 2023: Yakuza AU & Evil AU

||Available On: Wattpad • AO3||

— ☯The Heiress & The Demon Lord

— ☯Character Mood-Boards | Naruto & Hinata

Summary: In the heart of the yakuza underworld of Tokyo, the passing of Hiashi, the leader of the Hyūga clan, does more than just break Hinata's heart, but it exposes her to vulnerability.

Seizing the opportunity, the ruthless Naruto, Uzumaki clan leader, targets not only the conquest of the Hyūga clan but also wishes to claim Hinata as his most prized possession, no matter the cost.

General Tags |

☯ Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Dark Themes, Clan Rivals, Clan Leaders, Uzumaki Clan, Hyūga Clan, War, Chakra Use, Demon/Human, Dark Naruto, Obsession, Possession, Gore, Blood & Violence, Murder, Suggestive Language, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Marriage Through Dictatorship, Tragedy, Grief, Loss, Major Character Death, Japanese/Japanese Culture, NSFW Themes, Dubcon, Sexual Coercion, Dom/Sub, Smoking, Sexist Slurs, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Nhmonth, Nhmonth23. Additional Tags Inside Fic.

Chapter Index |

☯Introduction (紹介): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 1k.

☯Arc 1: In The Shadow Of The Hyūga

☯Part 1 (第一部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 7.8k.

☯Part 2 (第二部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 13k.

☯Part 3 (第三部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 16.3k.

☯Part 4 (第四部): AO3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 10.5k.

☯Part 5 (第五部): Ao3 | Wattpad

Word Count: 14.6k

Support |

— (⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆)

[castiwls]

"stay close to the people who feel like sunlight"

being a skywalker and best friends with poe...

Your Luke’s kid and the youngest in your family. 

Growing up you were close with your dad as it was mainly just the two of you (your mum was never in the picture)

Like most of your family, you were powerful in the force and in turn, your dad made the decision to train you with your cousin.

You and Poe met when you were kids through a small gathering of such. Old rebellion members would try and meet every few months and it was the Dameron's time to host.

You and Poe were adjoined at the hip after.

You both seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both had a love for flying and both wanted to one day help the galaxy if needed (It would be)

You were kinda opposites in terms of Poe being more impulsive while you were a bit better at thinking things out.

But that was just part of the reason why you both worked so well together.

You’d both stayed in contact mainly through comm calls while you were still with your dad.

Poe thought it was incredibly cool that his best friend was a Jedi.

When Ben fell to the dark side and destroyed the temple it was Poe who you ran to.

You told him everything about what had happened. You were shocked but not surprised that Ben had fallen.

“I Should have seen it coming, the signs were all there…now they're all dead.” Poe shook his head at your words. “No. His actions aren’t your fault. Their deaths are on him, not you.”

After losing Ben and your Dad you stayed with Poe and his dad for a while. Leia would visit from time to time while she was building the Resistance.

You helped gather support.

Eventually, you and Poe made the decision to go and fight in the war. You both took on a squadron.

You were pretty much an unstoppable force together (When you weren't arguing)

Fighting helped you to take your mind off your father's disappearance. 

Poe insisted on helping you in the search for your father.

He also stole your lightsaber a few times. 

“What are you doing?” You grinned slightly coming up behind him. Poe jumped swearing under his breath before quickly pushing the saber behind his back. “Nothing just looking for my jacket.”

You taught him a few simple tricks after that. He never shut up about it to your friends and how you had let him use your saber.

At times when the war was quieter, you would both go find somewhere quiet in the woods around the base and just sit and talk for hours.

You’d tell him about stories your dad told you. You’d also sometimes talk about stories you’d found out about your grandfather from the Clone Wars. (You spent a lot of time looking at old articles as a child)

Poe would tell you about his mom slowly.

You were each other's biggest supporters and would do anything for the other.

[anonymousewrites]

Clan of Three Pride Special 2024

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Pride Special 2024

            “What’s going on there?” asked (Y/N) as they, Mando, and Bo-Katan walked through the streets of a planet that they were meeting with for trade deals with Mandalore.

            “It looks to be some kind of festival,” said Bo-Katan, glancing off to the side.

            (Y/N) watched curiously as the festival continued. There were people dancing to music and holding up banners of every color possible. One sign read “Pride in who I am,” and something in (Y/N)’s heart ached at the word.

            They knew they were different than others—alone in a universe full of cultures. Ushti had been destroyed, ravaged by the Empire. (Y/N) had no family or home left there. And now at Mandalore, they were forced to recognize (often) that they had not been born Mandalorian and so didn’t understand or connect to the other children as much as they wanted to. (Y/N) tried, and, since they had their Buir and had been literally chosen by Mandalore the Great for…something. So, yes, they belonged.

            But they were also force-sensitive, had nearly become a jedi, and that would have made them an enemy of Mandalorians. Of course, they also had less of a gendered identity as others, and that sometimes made them feel different. So, between all the cultures, abilities, and identities they held, sometimes (Y/N) felt very separate from people—as if they did belong in any one place.

            It had worked out, and (Y/N) had a great family and bonds, but sometimes…sometimes they wondered if who they were was too fractured. They were just a teenager, after all. Their sense of self wasn’t complete, and they were still learning to be comfortable in their own skin.

            “Huh…” said (Y/N), forcing themself to look away and focus on the walk towards the council chambers. They and Mando would be backing up Bo-Katan in preliminary discussions. So, (Y/N) had no time to doubt themself. They needed to focus.

            “Are you alright, Verd’ika?” asked Mando. Grogu babbled in his arms.

            “I’m fine,” said (Y/N), nodding. “Just tired of treaty-making already.”

            “We haven’t even started,” said Bo-Katan.

            “Exactly,” said (Y/N).

            Bo-Katan chuckled in amusement, and Mando shook his head fondly. Both adults knew that, despite (Y/N)’s aptitude (and desire) for fights, they were surprisingly skilled at speaking with people, too. Not a lot of the time, but when Bo-Katan had them around in council meetings or discussions for treaties, (Y/N) would run their mouth and go through anger, annoyance, and then helpfulness (accidentally).

            After everything with the Darksaber and (Y/N)’s visions of Mandalore the Great, Bo-Katan and Mando had come to the conclusion that (Y/N) was suited to helping others. The world seemed to want them to, and (Y/N) was good at it.

            Neither would push (Y/N) into leading or trying to make them take on more responsibility, but they both knew it. Mando in particular had seen that (Y/N) had strength and the force (literally, the Force) to fight for what they cared about, and he, although lacking force-sensitivity, felt something lay within them that would make them an impressive Mandalorian—even more than they already were.

            But, again, Mando would never push them towards anything. That was his kid. He wasn’t going to push (Y/N) into anything they weren’t capable of, and they had already been through so much, so Mando would be damned before someone hurt what little childhood and safety he could offer his ad’ika.

            And if they seemed interested in a festival in the middle of debates for treaties? Mando would make sure they had a moment to have fun instead of being stuck in politics.

            Mando would make sure (Y/N) had the joyful moments they deserved.

l

            “So, we’re in accordance?” said Bo-Katan, smiling pleasantly as she leaned back in her chair. Across the table, the council members of the planet nodded.

            “Yes, the terms of trade are favorable. We are pleased to have Mandalore back, and, these terms will be upheld should you start producing materials for trade once more,” said a council member.

            “Good,” said Bo-Katan, rising. She shook the council members’ hands.

            Mando didn’t move from where he stood as a guard in shining beskar. It would be more intimidating if not for the little green child riding on his shoulder. However, he was helped by the teenager by his side, harsh marking around their eyes as they glowered at everyone who had tried to get more out of the trading agreement then was fair ((Y/N) always caught those types of people, and it was yet another reason Bo-Katan and Mando were proud of them).

            “If you have any time, you should stay for the festival,” said one council member, one of the ones that had actually been helpful. “It is quite nice, and after business, it is a nice break.”

            “What is it about?” asked Mando.

            “It is a Pride festival to celebrate our people’s struggles centuries ago against bigotry due to sexuality or gender,” explained the councilor, smiling. “It is to celebrate being ourselves.”

            “We’ll consider it,” said Bo-Katan. “Thank you for meeting with us.” She walked out of the room with Mando, Grogu, and (Y/N).

            “Verd’ika do you want to go?” asked Mando as they walked.

            (Y/N) glanced at him. “I don’t care.”

            “We’re going,” said Mando firmly. He knew (Y/N) had been interested, so he was taking them to it.

            “I didn’t know you were queer,” said Bo-Katan.

            “I don’t label myself,” said Mando as they turned through the streets towards the swell of music.

            Bo-Katan nodded in understanding. “I’m bisexual.” She glanced at (Y/N). “What about you, kid?”

            “I don’t label my sexuality,” said (Y/N). “I don’t really know what it is. But I’m nonbinary.”

            “Then we all have something to celebrate,” said Bo-Katan. She spotted a stand with some food. “Have fun. We’ll meet back at the ship in an hour.” She walked to get herself some food, and Mando and (Y/N) were left alone.

            (Y/N) watched the people dancing and marching down the street, and Mando looked at them.

            “You should join them. You should be proud of yourself,” said Mando.

            “I’m not insecure about my gender identity,” said (Y/N), shaking their head. “I’ve never had an issue with that.”

            “You should be proud of your entire identity,” said Mando. “You’ve been very strong over the years. You should remember that. You fought to be here today.”

            (Y/N)’s heart clenched, and they shrugged half-heartedly. “Yeah, but I don’t really belong here. I didn’t fight for their rights. Besides, I’m not from this planet. I’m Ushti. And Mandalorian. And…I’m a lot.”

            “You don’t have to be one thing,” said Mando.

            (Y/N) glanced at him. “Yeah, but I’m a lot.”

            “That’s fine,” said Mando. “You’re a good kid. You’re my kid. And I’m proud of who you are. All of who you are.”

            (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. “Even if I’m Ushti and force-sensitive and Mandalorian and trouble?”

            “I wouldn’t want you to change who you are,” said Mando. “You wouldn’t be my verd’ika if you weren’t.”

            (Y/N) smiled widely. “Thanks, Buir.” They stepped towards the crowd of celebrators.

            Mando watched them go. They had grown so much, and they still had so much longer to go. One day, they were going to be someone incredible. Actually, (Y/N) already was. But Mando was glad they weren’t grown up yet. They deserved to just exist and be happy with who they were in the present, first. The future would come, but it wasn’t there today.

            Today, (Y/N) was (Y/N). And that was enough.

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

[forcesensitiveflower]

S T A R D U S T

chapter i.

Ignite the Spark.

“Oh, and butterflies. He loved the glowing butterflies,” she laughed.

Leia was so happy when she talked about him. Her eyes light up, and I see her smile—a smile that she hasn’t shown much these days.

“Glowing butterflies?” I laugh, too. She nods and takes a sip of her tea.

“Yes, there are a lot of them where we lived. They come out mostly at night and like to fly around the forests. Do you have anything like that back home?” she asks, smiling softly at me.

I hold my cup up to my lips and think for a moment. Batuu was more than a smuggler’s hideout full of crime, though the galaxy thought differently. When someone on base would ask me where I was from, I would tell them. They would look at me with…pity? Judgement? I’m not sure. Leia never did, though.

I take a sip of my tea and place it down. “Mmm.. no, I don’t think so. None that I’ve come across. But we did have these fuzzy spiders, they're poisonous, but really cute. My mom once yelled at me for even getting close to one. I just wanted to pet it!”

She softly laughs, nods, and takes a deep breath, tapping her fist on the table in front of us. Her face falls. She’s quiet for a minute.“He was such a happy little boy, Odette. I'm sure he would've wanted to pet the fuzzball spiders, too. Such a little troublemaker at times.”

My eyes meet hers and soften. There’s so much pain in her eyes, though she always tries to mask it. I put my hand over hers, still nervously tapping the table. Her hand stills and she sighs. I’m not sure what to say to her. What do you even say? “Sorry your son was manipulated by the dark side and has done unspeakable acts under the guise of a made-up name, all to try to live up to your father’s infamous legacy…”

That’s what I’ve heard around base. What I’ve heard back on Batuu.

Then there is what I know about him. Ben. Not this "Kylo Ren". It's hard to believe that someone who sounds so kind, so good, so much like Leia…could go down such a dark path.

Leia says it's not him. She has hope. So much hope. She is someone I want to be like. She has just as much fear and doubt as the rest of us…but that never stops her from believing…that her husband is still alive, that we will win the war, that her son will come back. I feel guilty sometimes. Why are we here, spending fifteen minutes gabbing about our lives when there is so much to be done out there? I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m grateful for these fifteen minutes. I’m sitting here with Leia Organa, who, for some reason, trusts me with stories of her life. Some small sliver of normalcy. She needs it. And we have these conversations often, we try to make time for tea once a week. And sometimes, when we don’t know what to say—or how to say it, the conversations are silent, only with our eyes.

A nonemergency alarm goes off on her comm. She smiles at me, sadly, takes my hand in hers, and squeezes it. “Duty calls, my dear. I’ll see you at supper.” Leia rushes off. I stand, put my cup in her kitchenette sink, and exit her quarters. I slip my basket under my arm and stare down at the gray metal walkway of the Tantive as I head to see what’s going on.

What would happen if he did come back? Does Leia expect everyone to greet him with open arms? No, of course not. I’ve only been on base for a short while, if six months is what you can call short. It's felt like a lifetime. People took their time to warm up to me. How would they react to Kylo Ren? But it wouldn’t be Kylo Ren if he returned, it would be…*him*. I walk down the ramp and into Main Base. My eyes take a second to adjust to the bright sunlight. I breathe in the sticky, humid air of Ajan Kloss. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thick the air is here. I turn and see a crowd gathering around the Falcon in the distance. Finn and Poe are back, thank the stars! I run over to see if I can help. I see Poe and Finn talking to Rey. Oh, she’s pissed. The air between Rey and Poe is giving Ajan Kloss a run for its credits. I see that the Falcon is smoking and engineers running to repair. It seems like Poe and Finn are just fine. Maybe I’ll make myself useful and head back out to the gardens. I know there is intelligence that they’ve brought back, and something is off. I glance back at Rey, she’s running inside the Cavern. My heartbeat picks up, and I take a few deep breaths. I should get to the gardens.

The walk to the gardens from Main Base is about five minutes. I hum as I walk down the trail, a soft song my mom used to sing to me when I was very young. The song tells a story about two lovers who are tied to each other with a silver string of stardust, searching the galaxy to find one another, though they may not even know it. I think of Rey and how she shares this strange connection with Leia’s son. There must be stardust connecting them. If Leia can’t bring him back, maybe she can.

I place my basket down as I enter the gardens. I smile at my hard work. Six months and I have turned the Resistance’s sad little vegetable patch into a full garden of fresh produce. I guess I can thank my dad for one thing—my green thumb. I didn’t know how receptive Leia would be to having a random girl from Batuu attempt to grow crops for the base with Ajan Kloss’s highly acidic soil, but I’m glad she was. I’m happy I can be of use to the Resistance, without having to fight. I could never be like the soldiers we have on base. The pilots who nosedive straight into battle. The spies who risk their lives for one page of the First Order’s plans and strategies. I may not be brave like them, but I can make sure they are healthy and well fed. I grab my mom’s old small radio from my basket and click it on. Though I only have about twenty songs on the infochips I could carry from Batuu, it's better than nothing. I slip on my green work gloves and continue my daily upkeep of the gardens. I take notes, assessing what each plant needs. I sit back on my feet and sigh, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I pull my hair up to let the small breeze hit my neck. I hear the soft song from the radio mix with the soft songs of the birds in the trees surrounding the gardens. Ajan Kloss is so green. The jungles are dangerous, but I’ve discovered such interesting flora here. This is the first world I've been on besides Batuu. Another reason people here tend to pity me. My ears perk up, and not a second later, a short alarm sounds. I jump up, grab my basket, and run to the cavern.

Most of the base is gathered near the Tantive. Poe’s arms are crossed, and his face is pale. I look over to Rey. She looks calm and focused. But I can tell something is brewing inside her. Poe sighs. “We’ve decoded the intel from the First Order spy.” The crowd is silent.

“Palpatine. He’s back.”

Murmurs and scoffs erupt from the crowd. I feel my heart beating in my throat. I walk over to stand next to Rose. “We can’t believe this. That can’t be true,” she says. She looks at me and we share a look of concern. I look at Leia. There it is, the silent conversation.

Poe keeps talking, but I find myself slipping in and out of my head. "He calls it the Final Order." My hands ball up into fists. Breathe, Odette, breathe. "In sixteen hours, attacks on all free worlds begin."

I feel like I can’t hear a thing. I watch Rey run up to the consoles, but I still can’t focus. That is, until Maz speaks. "If we want to stop him, we must find him. We must find Exegol." I take my deep breaths, and I feel Leia’s eyes on me. “General, can I speak with you?” Leia turns to Rey, and they head back to the consoles. I look back at Maz, who is already looking at me. I push my lips together and look down at the grass in front of me.

I jump as Rose touches my arm. “Hey, you okay?” She asks quietly. I look at her, “Yes, I just…” I see the dark circles under her eyes. “When was the last time you ate? Let’s go to supper.” I say, weakly smiling at her. “How are we supposed to eat at a time like this?” She says quietly. I look back at Maz, who gives me a small nod. I keep eye contact with her for a moment before turning and following Rose back to the Tantive.

The rest of the night, the base is solemn. Usually, the mess hall on the Tantive is loud and lively. Not tonight. There are quiet, tense conversations. Some silently eat. Others have returned to their tents for the evening. After I finish my meal, I softly bid Rose and Kaydel goodnight. I walk back to my tent with a strange feeling in my core. The same feeling that pulled me to the Resistance. I know it’s the something big is coming feeling. The “Odette, you are going to have to be brave” feeling. I’ve ignored most of them in my life.

Something tells me this one cannot be ignored.

[yandere-daydreams]

I think the appeal for haircuts as a kink thing is really similar to bodymods? Like you're taking someone with 3ft long healthy hair they're proud of and cutting it all off as a punishment a little at a time, or for the more positive ones, they're taking super matted hair that hurts to even touch and the relief of having it all taken off is super good (in that case it COULD be physically kind of sexual, probably) also extensive hair pulling usually comes on the side, which is very hot To Me

i do understand it from sort of a power-play perspective, but i'm just kinda not seeing how to make it explicitly sexual rather than, like, psychological ig T-T like, there's definitely a control aspect to either taking something that someone's taken years to cultivate and maintain and destroying it to suit your own standards or, alternatively, taking something highly personal that someone's failed to maintain into your own hands because you've deemed the person it belongs to incapable of doing so, but i really do need there to be a vibrator involved or something. we're writing porn here, i have a checklist to follow.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {{masterlist}}

Fandom: The Mandalorian (Star Wars Universe)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. 

Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

Word Count: 177.3k - ongoing

Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, plot heavy, very dialogue heavy in later chapters, reader has rich lore that will slowly be explored and brought to light, mentions of sa trauma (brief but integral to reader's character), canon typical violence

A/N: whew, okay. i have so much excitement for this fic. i have been editing a nearly 30k document for months now flushing out details and scenes and plotlines. this is a labor of love, i’m putting so much thought into each chapter before i post and making sure it’s all cohesive before posting! please feel free to share with me your thoughts on this one!!  ♡

ao3 link || main masterlist

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5

chapter 6 || chapter 7 || chapter 8 || chapter 9 || chapter 10

chapter 11 || chapter 12 || chapter 13 || chapter 14 || chapter 15

chapter 16 || chapter 17 || chapter 18 || chapter 19 || chapter 20

chapter 21 || chapter 22 || chapter 23 || chapter 24 || chapter 25

[the-marshals-wife]

Revenant (Baylan Skoll x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I know that not many people have written this character in light of Ray Stevenson's passing, but I want to help keep the legacy of his amazing portrayal alive by continuing to imagine and create stories with Baylan. I truly that hope this one will inspire others to do the same. Fic starts with his perspective, then switches to reader's POV when Y/N appears (marked with a ☀︎).

Description: Baylan Skoll x Fem!Reader, hurt/comfort + fluff | Warnings: none 'cept reunion kisses, hehe | Word count: 1,960

Gif credit: user dustysalmon

Imagine being Baylan's secret love from long ago, brought back by an ancient power

The threads of destiny are difficult to untie. Baylan Skoll knew this all too well, feeling tangled within them for many years. Yet it seemed his arrival on Peridea had finally given him a true line to follow. A great power called out to him, and though it was elusive, he was certain that something more than just hope led him onward. The siren song had taken him far into the wilderness, traversing into the desolate unknown. Having discovered a distant light on the horizon to guide him, the feeling he'd been chasing only strengthened.

However, it was not long after spotting the beacon that he became distracted from his course by a separate, ethereal energy. It was also powerful, but it was distinct from the other entity he sensed. Unable to ignore it for very long, he decided to travel toward it. Having crossed the valley west of his original path, Baylan now stood in the shadow of a vast mountain before the opening of a cave. Above the entrance, there were runes carved into the gray stone, different from the Dathomiri ones he had seen. These appeared to be more ancient, faded from weather and time. Several moments passed as he contemplated whether to enter, staring into the silent darkness.

"The pathway to knowledge is fraught with difficulty," he reminded himself.

The words both assured and haunted him, having been said to him by his master countless times, so very long ago. That time, that world, seemed as ancient as the place he now found himself in.

He heaved a sigh and walked forward. He accomplished only a few steps before the daylight behind him had diminished beyond helpful visibility. Noting the sufficient space remaining between him and the ceiling, he retrieved his lightsaber and ignited it above him, the reddish-orange blade shining enough to let him proceed. Its steady hum was the only sound to be heard as he tread carefully ahead.

The feeling grew stronger with every step he took. It was one of familiarity, and it put him on edge. It could be a trap of some kind, he'd thought, yet he could not sense any immediate threat. Whatever called to him wanted to be found. He resolved to remain alert, and drew deeper into the cave.

Soon after, the walls gradually drew close. Baylan lowered his lightsaber and held it out before him, the space becoming too narrow to keep it overhead. A few minutes later, he finally caught a glimpse of light. The pitch black turned to a blue dimness, and the once uniform stone surrounding him now possessed long, jagged cracks, each and every crevice emanating a pale, sapphire glow. Even the floor beneath him gave the appearance of treading on fractured, shining glass. He cautiously approached the end of the tunnel. Beams of greater intensity radiated toward him like a sun.

The passageway opened into a tall, wide cavern, bathed in blinding light. Baylan attempted to shield his eyes as he stepped towards the source. The power surging around him was stronger than anything he'd ever felt before. The sound of rushing wind filled the space, but all was still. He strained to catch a glimpse of the crystal pillars in the center of the room, encircling the bright glow.

Before he could approach any further, the sound diminished into silence, and the light suddenly began to cease. At its center, a luminous figure emerged. Baylan watched as the remaining light withdrew into the flickering columns and revealed what could only be called an apparition.

"Impossible," he uttered.

He extinguished his lightsaber and replaced it on his belt, never tearing his stare away.

"Y/N," he breathed, "It cannot be,"

Was it the planet playing tricks on him? Witchcraft? A vision sent to punish him for transgressing an arcane power?

It did not matter. You were here.

☀︎

The starlight that had filled your vision just moments ago started to fade, your heart pounding in your chest. You gasp as air returns to your burning lungs. You're unsteady on tingling legs as you try to take in your surroundings through blurred eyes. A pool of blue light recedes around your bare feet until only a shimmering floor of stone remains. The cool, silk sleeves of a white gown adorns your arms as you begin to feel sensation in your limbs once more.

You hear your name spoken from behind, recognizing the voice.

Heart now racing, you try to blink the blurriness away. At last your eyes focus, and as you turn around, you see a face you know as well as your own.

"Baylan?"

"It's not possible," he whispers, stepping nearer, "You...you are one with The Force."

He slowly reaches out to you, and you inch forward to close the distance. His gloved fingers lace through your hair as he gently touches the side of your face. His breath hitches at the contact.

"It is you," he says, his eyes shining with tears, "You're here."

Your own tears blur your sight once again as you lean into his touch. "I'm here."

"But how..." he questions, "You did not-"

Anguish seizes his voice as he's overcome by the memory. You draw closer and clasp his arm, reassuring him of your presence.

He gazes into your eyes, finding the strength to finish. "You did not survive."

"I did not," you agree, "I was in the Netherworld. At peace."

Baylan's composure only weakens further as you speak on.

"I was dreaming of you. I dreamed that you were lost...in a great darkness. The light was not far from you, but you couldn't see it. I kept calling out for you, but you didn't hear me," you recall, the vision already seeming distant, "Then the light came toward me. It was so bright, I couldn't see you anymore. Even when I closed my eyes, all I could see was the light."

You pause, looking to him longingly. "And now, I am here."

He shakes his head, fighting the disbelief. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," you say, placing your hands on his chest, "But all is as The Force wills it."

He grins at your words. "I've missed you more than I can bear, my love," he confesses, a tear falling from his eye, "If this is a dream, I wish to never wake."

You choke back a sob, trembling with joy. Only his name escapes from your tightened throat. "Baylan."

He pulls you into an embrace, and you melt into his strong, comforting arms. There was nowhere in the universe you felt more safe. You look up and begin to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, just as you'd done countless times before. The space between you disappears as you surrender to a desperate kiss of equal yearning and passion.

You both smile as you break away, faces lingering close. He gazes upon you, enraptured, holding you tightly. "I have so much to tell you."

In your heart, he was the same man you knew and loved from what felt like a lifetime ago. Yet, as your eyes drifted from his greyed beard to examine the black fabric beneath your fingertips, you sensed much had also changed. You wanted to know everything, but your intuition would not abate, and your thoughts had begun to cloud.

"What is this place?" you ask, surveying the iridescent walls around you.

"It's quite a story. Like the ones we were told as children," he chuckled, "Many things I once thought were myth have been very recently proven otherwise. If the legends about them are true as well, then I believe this is one of the well-springs of the Living Force."

"But that means," you falter, looking back at him wide-eyed, "we must be on..."

"Peridea, yes," he confirms.

"Baylan, you found it! The stories were true, you found the pathway!" you exclaim.

"And so much more. This place is far greater than what the Jedi could have foretold," he says, releasing you to take your hands in his, "Now, we will share in its glory together. There is nothing left to stand between us. No Order, no war, no hiding. Everything we once spoke of, it can come to pass."

You want nothing more than to accept his wonderful words, but there was much you still didn't know. Apart from this day, you had not been granted sight of Baylan while in the Netherworld. Yet even in your rest, you'd had several visions of suffering and conflict enveloping the galaxy as The Dark Side permeated The Force. A great evil had spread throughout the stars, and now a shadow of dread grew in your mind that you could not shake. What if the premonition from before you awoke was meant as a warning? Had that same darkness truly overcome your beloved? Surely, he had not fallen beyond the reach of the light.

You realize the turmoil within you must have shown, for now Baylan looks over you with concern.

"Share your burdens, my love," he says, softly raising your chin up, "The Force has reunited us. Why does your heart ache?"

You hesitate, not entirely sure of the answer yourself. "I don't ever want to be parted from you again." It was not untrue; you did fear losing him above all else.

"I give you my word, you will never be taken from my side again," he vows, gently cradling your face in his hands, "No power can stand against us. We can make this world our own. Everything I have, it will be yours also. There is nothing I won't give to you, and nothing I will not do."

You can't help but smile. Tears return to your eyes as he continues.

"It is our destiny, Y/N. That is why you were brought back to me. There can be no other purpose. Together, henceforth, we will remain united."

He carefully thumbs away the tears from your flushed cheeks, and proceeds to press a kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

There was no power to rival that which he had over you. Your heart indeed ached fiercely, with a devotion unaltered by time or distance.

"I love you. I have never stopped, and now I can say it aloud without fear," you declare with a soft, triumphant laugh, "I love you, Baylan."

"And I you, Y/N, as the sky loves the stars," he replies, wholly sincere, "Much has changed, I cannot deny that. But what I feel for you has never faded, and it never will."

You respond to his confession by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss, which he fervently returns. You pull away many heartbeats later, savoring each second of tender rediscovery.

Baylan's eyes soften as he smiles again. "Would you like to see the sky, my star?"

"More than anything," you answer, "But let us stay in this moment, just a little longer."

He brings his forehead to rest upon yours. "As you wish."

Not everything had changed. Baylan Skoll could still read your mind as if it were his own, put your doubts to rest as quickly as they arise, and remained the love of all of your lives. You didn't need The Force to tell you something in him was darker than before, but you weren't going to rush into uncovering it. You truly seemed to have been given a second chance, and all you wanted was to cling to the man you loved, just as you had those long years ago. This moment was all that you needed, and it was sweeter than any dream, in this galaxy and the next.

[apocalyp-tech-a]

My Jedi OC, Seren Myral from Force and Sensitivity. It's a Tech x reader. There's a reason why her helmet resembles Tech's. I may add more details eventually. Chapter 38 is nearly done!