#THE ONLY THING THAT IS CAUSING ME TO NOT GET A FIRST IN THIS MODULE

[zalimaaa]

i got my mark back for an assignment i poured my heart and soul into and the only 'constructive feedback' i got is some of my bibliography is inconsistently formatted WHAT DOES THIS MEAN DJBNDSFJHBDSJFHGBDFJHGBDFJBDJHBVDJHBDSDHJBDRJHFBDFJH

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Pillow Talks

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: Your master has sent you on a mission and Qimir, your supplier and guide, is accompanying you.

Qimir Masterlist

Your Master has tasked you with the mission of finding and killing a former Jedi that had previously wronged him. Per usual, he also assigned Qimir to be your guide and supplier, should you need him.

Although you were perfectly capable of doing things on your own, you had to admit it was nice to have company. For a long time, it had always just been you and your Master. Then when you were finally ready for your first mission, Qimir was assigned to you.

At first, you were annoyed, but then grew fond of the man. Sure, he can be a bumbling, fumbling idiot, but he’s also very knowledgeable, skilled, and can hold his own.

However, this particular mission, you’ve grown somewhat annoyed with him. Your search for the former Jedi led you to jungle planet of Eriaduan. The weather is hot and humid, causing you to sweat and feel sticky. It’s dampened your mood and motivation to fulfill this mission.

Doesn’t help that Qimir is being extra chatty as you trek through the jungle, “Can I ask you a question?” Some of his black strands of hair stick to his face due to sweat and humidity.

You sigh, “As long as you’re okay with possibly not getting an answer.” You reply as you step over branches and through shrubs.

“Why are you so adamant that your Master doesn’t care for you?”

Earlier, you tripped on a boulder and Qimir told you that you need to be more careful, “Your Master wouldn’t be happy with me if I brought you back injured.”

You had scoffed and told him, “Please, my Master doesn’t care about me, Qimir. Only cares about my ability to fulfill these missions.”

You shrug, “Because he doesn’t.”

“How do you know?” He asks with furrowed brows.

“The way he’s treated me isn’t how people treat those they care about, Qimir. He’s very…forceful. He never gives me a break, asks how I’m feeling. Honestly, it’s foolish of me to even want him to care about me, even just a little.” You pause at a fallen tree trunk and decide to sit for a little rest.

Qimir follows, sitting beside you, “It’s not foolish to want to be cared for. Besides, he always sends me to go with you. Surely, that must mean he cares for you right? Wants someone to have your back?”

You snort, “Or because he doesn’t trust me to do these things on my own.”

Qimir sighs and shakes his head, “I’m sure he knows you’re capable of doing this on your own. But…maybe he just wants you to have back up just to ease his mind?”

You shrug, “Guess we’ll never know because he doesn’t really talk to me unless he’s assigning me a new mission or berating me about not improving my skills.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do care about you. Knowing you has brought some…excitement back into my life.”

You give him a grateful grin, “Thanks, Qi. I care about you too.” You two sit in a comfortable silence, catching your breaths and taking pause to finding this Jedi.

_______________

This definitely wasn’t how you expected things to go. You’d gotten injured during your fight with the Jedi. You were still able to kill him but not before get stabbed you in the side.

Qimir was freaking out, trying his best to keep you from bleeding out too much but you eventually succumbed to the pain, blacking out as Qimir pleaded with you to hold on.

When you finally wake up, you’re groggy. Your hand goes to your wound and you feel a bacta patch on it.

“You’re awake,” you hear the modulated voice of your Master.

You turn your head to see your Master standing at the end of your bed roll.

You try to sit up but you hiss in pain, “Don’t move. Lay still.” He approaches your side and kneels, he pulls back the bacta patch, “It needs to be changed.”

He grabs a new patch from the small pile beside your bed. Has he been taking care of you while you were out? Surely not, right? Had to be someone else. Maybe Qimir?

“Where’s Qimir?” You ask and your Master stills.

“I sent him away after he brought you here.”

“I hope you didn’t threaten or hurt him," you give your Master a threatening glare.

He questioningly tilts his head to you , “Why?”

“Because he’s my friend and I care about him.”

He stays silent for a few seconds before stating, “He left unscathed.”

“Good.”

Your Master cleans your wound and dresses it with a new bacta patch. It was weird, having him care for you in such a way. Usually when you got hurt or injured, you took care of yourself.

“You need to be more careful," he practically whispers.

“The former Jedi was a lot more skilled than I anticipated, but I fulfilled my mission.” The sentence comes off as factual, unfeeling.

“You got hurt.”

“It’s nothing new,” you say nonchalantly with a little shrug.

Your Master’s clenches his fists, “You need to be more careful,” he repeats.

"I'm fine. I'll do better. I know I'm not useful to you when I'm hurt."

"That's not why I want you to be careful," he says before standing and exiting the hut you made as your home on the secluded island.

_______________________

On your next mission, your Master has sent you to go undercover as a merchant on the planet of Batuu. Qimir, per usual, will be aiding you on the mission. You meet him at a cantina where an RX pilot droid was reprogrammed to play music throughout the place.

It seems like Qimir had been waiting for you a long time since his body was swaying, seemingly five drinks in already.

You sit on the stool beside him, causing him to turn to you and he gives you a drunken smile, "Heeeey! You're here!" he hiccups a bit and you can't help but chuckle, "How're you already this drunk?"

He shrugs, "Had to do something while I waited for you." He offers his cup to you and you push it back towards him, "I'm good," you say.

He shrugs again and downs the rest of the drink, "So, what's the plan?" A strand of his hair falls onto his face.

You giggle, moving the strand away, "I don't think we should discuss plans while you're in this state," your fingers linger on his face. Suddenly realizing what you did, you pull your hand away and clear your throat, "Um, we should discuss plans tomorrow while you're sober. So, drink some water and I'll meet you in the morning," you stand to leave but Qimir stops you.

"Wait, wait. Can I stay with you?" You look at him confused and he continues, "I, uh, lost my ship so I had to hitch a ride here. Don't have much credits left."

You give him a cocked brow and a hand on your hip, "And how did you expect to pay for your bar tab?"

He gives you a sheepish look, "I was kinda hoping you'd pay for it?"

You sigh, pulling out enough to pay for Qimir's drinks. The bartender thanks you and you have Qimir follow you out of the cantina.

"You're lucky I like you," you murmur, a hint of a smirk on your lips.

Qimir gulps and nods, "Yeah...lucky."

You two make it to the dingy hotel where you plan to stay for the next few days. As soon as Qimir enters, he plops onto your bed with a content sigh. Looking at him and then the room, you now realize that there's only one bed, which means you have to share.

It'll be fine. You can be professional about this situation.

You clear your throat, grabbing Qimir's attention, "So there's only one bed-"

Qimir immediately sits up, "I can sleep on the floor-"

"It's fine, Qi. We can be mature adults about this. We're not strangers or anything."

He gives you nonchalant shrug, "If you're sure."

You nod and head to the refresher to change. When you come back out, Qimir is already under the covers, having shed some of his outer robes.

You can't help the snort you let out when you see how close to the edge of the bed he is.

You slip under the covers, "Qimir, you're hanging off the edge, come closer. It's fine."

"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or-"

You use the Force to pull him closer.

He rolls over to face you, "Uncalled for."

You roll onto your side to face him, "You were being stubborn."

You two stare at each other, letting some moments of silence pass. The air shifts but you're not sure if it's just you that feels so. You feel a pull, a need to lean in and press your lips to Qimir. You've always found him attractive, but have pushed those thoughts down because you know you can't have him. Your priority is your training and your loyalty is first and foremost to your Master. Before you do anything drastic, you sigh, rolling over to face away, "Good night, Qimir."

"Good night," he murmurs. You hear the rustle of the sheets as he gets comfortable.

You close your eyes, trying to push away the feelings that began to bubble up in your chest and stomach.

"Do you still think your Master doesn't care for you?"

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately roll over, "Qimir...what?"

He sighs and rolls back over to face you, "Do you still think that your Master doesn't care about you?"

You shrug, "Kinda."

"Kinda?" he looks at you with creased brows and a frown.

You shrug and move your attention to a loose thread on the pillow Qimir lays on, "After the last mission, he said he immediately sent you away?"

"...yes."

You turn to lay on your back and look at the ceiling, "I guess the entire time I was out, he was taking care of me. When I woke up, he changed my bacta patch. He told me I had to be more careful." You pause to recollect more of that day, "I figured this was all because I wouldn't be useful to him, but then he said that wasn't why."

"So he does care," Qimir simply states

"I'm still apprehensive about saying that with certainty, but the small gesture appears that way."

You glance at Qimir as he moves to mimic your position, "And how does that make you feel?"

You run your hands down your face and you give a deep breath, "It's nice to be cared for and to care for someone. But...it's scary. Doing the things we do, you never know when someone can take that away from you. Or if that someone takes advantage of that care and betrays you."

You suddenly feel Qimir's hand take hold of yours, "I understand," he murmurs, "Your Master is still a person too. Maybe he struggles with the idea of caring for someone because it's been so long since he's done so."

"Maybe," you reply, not pulling your hand from Qimir's. It felt nice, having his hand in yours.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"...can I hold you?"

You turn your head, looking at Qimir, you can see he's slightly embarrassed, but he's also being vulnerable...and you're feeling a little vulnerable too.

"Okay," you whisper and you move closer as Qimir wraps an arm around you, holding you close to him.

You let out a shaky breath. It's been so long since you've been held like this, cared for in such a gentle way. It's a complete opposite of how you've spent your time training under your Master.

You hope you can have more moments like these with Qimir.

Your body feels more at ease the more time you spend in his arms. Your eyes slowly flutter close and you're off to a restful sleep.

Meanwhile, Qimir remains awake a little bit longer. He stares at you, his apprentice, his acolyte.

"I'll do better," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head and pulling you closer to him as he listens to your breathing, leading him to sleep.

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until then fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[moonlight-prose]

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt  in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Does the End Justify the Means?

CX-2 (Clone Assassin) x Reader

Summary- CX-2 never planned on forming a relationship, but once he did he had to protect it. Even if it meant killing hundreds to keep you away from Hemlock.

A/N- SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH FINALE. I feel like people forget that deep down, CX-2 is still a clone being forced to serve the Empire. Maybe I'm delusional though!!! MENTIONS OF BURNS AND TORTURE!!

Word Count- 5,253

"You know, CX-2. There was once a time where I considered scrapping you. The very cloning program that made you..." Hemlock started. "You were hard to control. My methods had little effect on you. Considering you had little to live for, well that didn't help."

CX-2 stood, arms crossed behind his back. He listened intently, staring at the grey border of the wall.

"You were too, hmm. Rebellious should I say?" He walked slow circles around CX-2, studying him. "That was until I found your little secret out." Hemlock laughed at his own wit. "Who knew a medic trainee would have an Assassin Clone falling so hard!" He seemed to think the situation was hilarious.

Silent, CX-2 contemplated killing Hemlock where he stood. It wasn't possible though, he was smarter than that. He probably had a weapon on his beloved as they spoke. Perhaps Scorch was with her now...

He didn't want to think about it, so he didn't. Opting to stare back at the wall again.

"Truly, I created you better than that. The problem with you clones is your loyalty. It would typically disgust me. Though, unlucky for you, this all plays out in my favor." CX-2 swallowed hard at his words.

There were not many things that scared CX-2, but the thought of Hemlock hurting you consumed him. Striking him with a never ending fear.

"You will bring me Omega. Unless, you want an accident to happen. That would be tragic, wouldn't it?" The man asked, taunting the clone. All while fiddling with his gloved hand.

For the first time in many minutes, CX-2 spoke. "I will retrieve the girl."

"Good, I do not doubt your abilities." Hemlock stepped closer, right in The Assassins face. "Dire consequences are at stake..."

CX-2 made sure his next stop was Pabu.

CX-2 had no intentions of forming any friendships, especially not a relationship. You, however, came natural to him. In one of Hemlock's attempts to have complete control over CX-2, a burn was implemented on his waist. He remembers the day vividly, as it was the first time he'd met you.

You were only on Tantiss because of your mother. She worked for the Empire as a medic, a famous doctor of some sort. While you never had the knack for the medical field, you enjoyed helping people. It was in your blood after all.

CX-2 was taken to a special room for clones of high status. You were there by sheer accident. A mishap guided you to his side.

"Uhm, hello sir." You introduced yourself. "I'll be your medic today. What's your name?" You asked, a little nervous to be assessing a clone by yourself. He wore black armor, head still covered. You'd never seen that style before, maybe he was new?

CX-2 just stared up at you, a hard gaze. Out of fear, you started to breathe a little heavier. He could have killed you there and no one would have batted an eye.

"Sir, is something the matter?" You pressed on, trying to mask yourself with professionalism.

He continued to stare, eventually pointing at the chart In your hands.

"Of course, uh. CT-4340?"

CX-2 didn't say a word, just tilted his head. You looked at him with doe eyes. "Are you CT-4340?" you hesitated.

"My code is CX-2." He commanded out, a modulated voice appearing.

You almost jumped at the sound. "I uh, seem to have the wrong chart. I am so sorry, I should get a higher official-"

Under his helmet, CX-2 resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His shoulder dropped, annoyed. This caused his side to jolt. The pain of the burn on him was strong, but he withheld any reaction.

You, on the other hand, seemed to notice the very small twitch his waist gave out. "Where are you hurt?" You asked, the words now flowing with a motive in mind.

CX-2 instinctively started unbuckling his chest piece. You flushed slightly, ashamed you couldn't be more serious in the situation. "Do you need help?" His head rose quickly, falling after looking at you for a second. He didn't respond, just continued to take his upper armor off.

Guess not...

The second you saw his skin, you suppressed a gasp. It looked gruesome, like something had repeatedly been burning him. With a deep breath, you shoved down any lasting fear.

Getting to work, you prepared bacta and bandages.

He was still, almost too still. You'd seen plenty of procedures and medics fixing up clones. There had been wincing, complaining, and fidgeting on lesser injuries. You would have expected tears and need of an anesthetic for any other man. But he was still...

You prayed you didn't hurt him more than he already was. You knew your hands were clumsy with inexperience. If you did, he made no effort to tell you nor pull away.

From then on you saw each other more and more. While your mother made sure you got plenty of experience working on clones, you were extremely busy. Never getting a second to actually talk to CX-2. A particular encounter with a clone in the hangar would change this.

You were helping a trooper with a broken arm- Simply wrapping it to prevent further injury. You crouched down, examining the break.

CX-2 was just passing by, heading to see what his next mission was. He barely took note that a soldier under his command broke an arm. Why would he? Clones die everyday, including ones under CX-2.

He did however take note of you. He recognized you immediately. He surprised himself, why would he care about some medic? He'd never remembered the ones that had worked on him in the past.

At this, he stared at you. He took in your silhouette, something deep down told him to bask in your every feature. So, he did.

Of course you felt the beaming eyes of CX-2. It made you nervous. Was there something on your face? Did you make him mad? It distracted you.

"Ow!" The clone exclaimed in pain, face screwing. He yanked his arm up. It was an accident, you were sure. A response to the pain you caused unintentionally. CX-2 didn't seem to think this when he saw the clone raise his arm to hit you.

It all happened so fast, you didn't have time to lean back or even register what was happening. The next thing you knew was that the unidentified clone was on his back. CX-2 stood over him, a vibroblade at his neck and foot on his chest.

Falling onto your butt, you gasped and regained some sense. "CX-2...."

He slowly turned around to face you. The two of you looked at each other. His hand still expertly rested centimeters from killing the clone.

Adrenaline pumping, you spoke. "it's okay. It was an accident."

He pushed the clone back with his foot, hand raising. With the vibroblade still wielded, he stormed to you. Your heart pumped viciously, though not in fear. If he was going to really hurt you, he would have let the clone hit you.

No, your heart thumped in your ears in anticipation.

He grabbed you by the forearm with his free hand, careful of the blade. He yanked you up, off of your position on the cold floor.

You briefly noticed eyes around the hangar now in your direction. You grew nervous, only at their judgmental looks.

The quickness of it all made your head spin. You stepped out, trying not to fall. His hand still gripped your arm, he stood unmoving. He let you catch your balance, just watching you.

"Excuse me, what is going on here?" A vice admiral questioned, appearing from your left.

CX-2's modulated voice said your name. It was harsh and cold, but you somehow knew it wasn't directed at you. "She is my medic."

"And? What gives you the right to attack a clone for no reason?" The admiral demanded.

CX-2 didn't like being questioned. Before you could get a single word in, CX-2 pulled you with him as he turned to leave the hangar.

"Wha-" You decided not to protest, the man was on some kind of mission. One he had made for himself the second he saw a threat to you.

He guided you two through the complex halls and levels of the lab. You were beyond lost, but he seemed to know where he was going. After a few minutes of paced walking, you stopped him.

"CX-2, where are we going? I don't want to risk getting reprimanded by the admiral." You were cautious, the smallest of complaints could get you reassigned. Tantiss was not for the faint of heart.

"You won't." He would make sure of that. He continued to walk, this time a little slower.

Finally, you found some familiarity in the halls. You noticed he was leading you to the very room you met in. The examining room for special operatives.

He pulled you into the room, making sure the door shut behind him.

"Examine me." He demanded.

You were dumbfounded, "Excuse me?"

CX-2 actually rolled his eyes this time, even when you couldn't see them. In response to your confusion, he removed his left arm's armor.

A gash that went from the top of his shoulder to before his elbow was present. "CX-2..." Your sadden voice spoke.

You didn't actually have clearance to be in that room, nor the supplies. But you worked nevertheless.

"Please, sit." You asked. He followed your instructions immediately, sitting up on the exam bed.

Just as the day you met, you retrieved bacta and med patches. You coated the wound in extra bacta, then prepared the gauze wrap.

"So," You held his arm up gently, starting to wrap it. "How did you get this? Was it your latest mission?" Your hands carefully worked, moving under his arm.

"No." Was all you heard.

"Oh, how did it happen?" You asked, trying to make conversation.

His skin twitched as a subconscious response when you smoothed over it.

"Better if you don't know." He kept his eyes on the wall ahead of him. "Sorry I asked..." You really were. He said nothing.

After a few more moments, you made sure the wrap was steady in place. "I think you're done!" You smiled at him. He dropped his arm at his side.

After, he promptly nodded, but gave little indication on what to do next.

You looked around, feeling a little awkward.

"So... What division are you from?" You tried to ease the tension.

"Project Assassin." He said, being short.

"I haven't heard of that, wha-" He inturpted you. "Tell me about you."

You blinked. You'd only seen this man a dozen times, many of those in passing. Even so, a shot of nerves flowed in you each time. There was something special about him. It was like your heart knew something your brain didn't. You weren't a child though, you knew 'love' was something of fairy tales. That there must be a perfectly rational reason you were feeling this way around him.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Though, if that were true, why did you sit up next to him and tell him everything?

From that day on, the only medic he allowed to work on him was you. The number of visits varied, depending on how evil Hemlock was feeling. CX-2 tried to hide the backstories from you as much as possible, sometimes even ignoring your questions.

Though, late at night, when he'd sneak into your room, he'd tell you the truth. At first he would listen. Anything you'd tell him, you had his full attention. Then, right before you fell asleep, he'd whisper his secrets.

He'd whisper them to the only person he ever trusted, you. Then, it was your turn to listen.

You cried for him, the pains he had went through. He was the perfect clone in your eyes. The only problem was how stubborn he was, no matter how hard Hemlock tried- you were still the only one who could persuade him.

Despite his grunts of protest, you'd just hold CX-2 some nights. Using your fingers to rake through his hair, cradling his head. You tried you best to give him the comfort he had never experienced before.

Everything was going so well. You would continue your training, he would continue his missions, and at night, you would talk and he would listen. You would spoil him with affections under the nights bask.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

The day Hemlock found out about you was the worst day of CX-2's life.

CX-2 was called in for a meeting about his next mission, something he was used to. He only received orders from the highest of officials, so seeing Hemlock or Scorch was common.

"I have... a special mission of some sort. One I cannot risk incompletion of." Hemlock began.

CX-2 stood upright, ready for instructions.

"Now, despite what we have tried to instill into you- I do not want you to listen to any other orders. I think this particular mission requires your mindset." His words didn't effect CX-2, he'd heard worse.

"One of your fellow operative has been captured. Alive. I will not accept him risking our organization."

"My orders?" CX-2 asked.

"Find and neutralize him." CX-2 nodded at his words.

"You have 48 hours to kill him." Hemlock walked up to CX-2, arms folded behind his back. "If you fail, that...medic... you are so fond of? She will reap the consequences of what you sow."

It was impossible to cover up the way CX-2 breath hitched. If he didn't have a helmet on, Hemlock would see his eyebrows scrunch in anger.

"Yes, that's right. I know about her." Hemlock said, his voice mocking. "Oh, don't fret my little assassin. She will remain unharmed, that is... unless you fail your duty..."

"I trust you will locate him and rid the republic of any information?" Hemlock taunted.

"Yes sir."

How? How did Hemlock find out about you? He was so careful... He immediately headed to your quarters. Damned everyone else, he pushed through crowds and odd stares.

He banged on the door, fist closed. If you hadn't opened in the next 10 seconds, he'd shoot the door down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." You 'tsked.'

"Oh, CX-2." You breathed out once you opened the door. Unsure if he was there for pleasantries or business.

He shoved his way past you, pressing the button to close the door shut.

"Wha-" He stormed around your rooms, it was quick considering there were only two. A bedroom and bathroom.

He held his blaster up as he checked every crevice of the room. His eyes glanced back at you quickly to make sure you were still there and alive.

"CX-2." You raised your voice. His head shot your way. "What's happened? You're scaring me..."

He paced up to you, removing his helmet as he walked. "He knows about us." Was all he managed out, throwing his helmet to the floor in favor of grabbing your cheeks gently.

Your face dropped, heart pounding in your ears. "How? I don't understand!" You started to breathe heavily.

"I just had to make sure you were safe." His gloved hands felt cool on your hot skin.

Your mind wandered, what would they do?

"I have to leave now." He said, dropping his hands. "No, wait. You can't just drop that bomb and leave!" You had so many questions, and you didn't want to be left alone freighted.

"I do not have time, if I don't complete my mission he will kill you." Your blood ran cold. "I am so sorry I brought you into this. I should have never stepped between you and that clone." He readied himself to exit the room, turning and putting his helmet back on.

"CX-2!" His shoulders dropped, he stood silent. You walked around to face him.

He let you reach your hands up and lift his helmet off. "I'm not upset at you. I only want more time..."

"I can't."

"I know." At your last words, you pulled him down by the collar of his blacks. Now level, you kiss him. Scared it would be your last.

The few seconds your lips touched felt like an eternity. All the time you needed with him...

Eventually, he pulled away. "I-"

"I know... please be safe..." You asked only one thing of him.

He nodded, placing his helmet back on snug. He then walked out your door, your thoughts consumed with wishes of his safety.

CX-2 would fulfill his mission, killing the compromised Operative. Though, that was only the first time he'd have to leave your grasp to keep you alive...

CX-2 reminded himself why he was currently headed to Pabu. 'Dire consequences are at stake' echoed in his mind.

He would capture Omega. He had no care for the innocent people he might have to kill. In his eyes, all of his actions were justified in the name of your well-being.

He never told you of his endeavors, now being sent on more gruesome missions than ever. He knew you'd be disappointed in him, but he also knew he had to always protect you. No matter the cost.

While expertly leading a fleet of soldiers, the only thing that let CX-2 think straight was you. He filled his mind with memories of your laughter. Of the times you begged him to choose a real name, even when he protested. When you first touched, when you first kissed.

He worried for you until the second he had Omega tied up on his ship.

Even after, he was anticipating his reunion with you. He had the girl, he had what Hemlock wanted. He could see you again.

And he did... Hemlock was consumed with his experiments and testing on Omega. So much he that didn't bother CX-2 for a few days. Oh, it was bliss.

The time you shared reminded you of before anyone knew you were together. You both still had your duties as clone and medic, but spent any free time with each other.

You laid in your bed, a glance at the clock scolded you for being up so late. You paid little mind to it, just enjoying the feeling of CX-2's arms around you.

With your head now buried in his chest, you let your hands wander. Slipping under the top portion of his blacks. He used to shiver reluctantly when you felt his skin, now it seemed like second nature.

You loved tracing his scars, the texture consuming you. While they were painful memories, they were treated with love and tenderness. He looked at his scars and thought of you, how you took care of him so nicely and delicately. Not Hemlock.

A light flickered from his panel brace. The one that rested on your nightstand. It lit up the room, and CX-2 immediately reached for it. he pulled away from you, but was careful to keep a connection with his leg still feeling you.

"I have to go." He said, standing to put his arm and chest armor back on.

While he was always quick and determined when hearing from Hemlock or Scorch, he was frantic here.

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing, do not stress. I love you." He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and an affectionate rub of your thigh before putting his helmet on and leaving.

You sighed and leaned back when the door closed again. This was slowly becoming the new normal for you. You still savored every spare second you had together...

Just as you rolled over to fall asleep, the door opened. "Did you forg-" You jumped up, almost hitting your head on the baseboard of the bed. It was Scorch.

"Come with me. Now." He grabbed your arm and pulled you rough out of bed.

"Excu-"

"You are under arrest until further assessment." He forcefully put you in handcuffs.

You tried to resist, but put up no real fight in comparison to the trained clone. He grew tired of you and stunned you with his blaster.

You fell unconscious.

"You activated me?" CX-2 asked over Comms, like he would in any other situation.

"It seems we have another problem with our favorite girl." Hemlock said.

Omega...

"You see, she has managed to escape with the other children. Did I mention she also freed the zillo beast?"

CX-2 listened intently, not moving a muscle.

"You have been the only operative capable of capturing Omega thus far. I will see that you will find her again. Before she finds some way to leave the planet." CX-2 could hear the frustration in Hemlocks voice. It made him flicker a smile.

"Affirmative."

"Oh, and as a little motivater, I think it would serve you well to know your medic is currently held up in a cell." Hemlock went radio silent, leaving CX-2 to head to the exposed section of the base. The hole the Zillo beast left, and the way Force 99 was headed.

Your head throbbed, vision a little blurry. Raising your head from the cold of the floor, you noticed you were in a cell.

The room spun around before you sat up. Your whole body ached. Not to mention the confusion you were feeling.

Looking around, you saw other prisoners lining the walls. You knew exactly where you were. The hall where all the traitors and experimental clones were kept.

Were they going to experiment on you too? Was CX-2 okay? Did something happen to him that made Hemlock finally get you?

The building shook with a loud boom, it did nothing to help your nerves. It sounded like some kind of cannon went off.

"You okay?" A clone asked in the cell across from you.

"I don't know..."

With the effort and passion of a man whose entire reason for living was at risk, CX-2 and the other Clone Assasins were able to capture the rouge clones.

With his blaster barred in his hands, CX-2 guarded the three prisoners. He was occupied with the thought of what The Empire was doing to you.

You must have been so scared in a cell... He knew you didn't like small spaces. With his new fury, he closed his fist, doing yet another round of the platform they were on.

Boredom was unable to strike you, anxieties kept you busy. Your mind ran wild with the possibilities of CX-2. For a moment you questioned if he had just abandoned you as a whole, but quickly shunned yourself for bringing it up.

CX-2 loved you, and wouldn't dare leave you to rot.

"Look!" A clone yelled out, just as you saw a small girl and a storm trooper running by.

What were they doing?

They crept around the corner, swiftly blasting and taking out 2 storm troopers in the process. The girl got to work on the main computer that operated the cells.

"Hey kid, whats going on?" Someone asked.

"We're breaking you out."

Seconds later, your cell door opened. You slowly walked out, unsure what to do. What would CX-2 do in a situation like this? He'd probably tell you to keep your head down and blend in. Stay out of trouble, 'for his sake.'

You did just that, creeping out of the cell and hiding within the groups of clones.

Apparently, the 'storm trooper' was a clone, so was the girl. They were on a mission to free their three brothers, recruiting clones as they did so.

Was this the big mission CX-2 was called to? To capture the people they were here to rescue?

"We've checked all the cells, they aren't here."

You knew where they probably were... The training room. The very room that tortured and left your beloved marked. You didn't dare say a word. As much as you hated Hemlock and his 'methods,' worse things would happen if CX-2 failed his mission...

"Well... they could be in the training room." Damn, another clone had though the same as you.

They decided to head there, a few turning for an easier escape.

What should you do? Warn CX-2? You weren't raised as a soldier, you had no training. No fighting experience. You knew how to save and help, not attack and kill.

A small hand was rested on your arm, the girl from earlier. "Hi, I'm Omega."

You looked down to her. "I know it's kind of scary, but we have to fight for what's right.." If only she knew your true intentions...

"You're right... i'll come with you..." All you wanted was to find CX-2.

So, you did. Following them to the training room, they planned an attack from the lower circle.. You, however, had a new idea. To come in through the main balcony. The one that led directly to Force 99.

You managed to sneak away and climb the steps that brought you to the main doors.

"Hey, you! Are you supposed to be here?" A trooper stopped you.

"Yes sir," You gave him your chain code, "I am a medic. Hemlock has requested my services in the Training room." You lied, faking a confidence you never had.

"I never heard about Hemlock ever needing a medic in the training room..."

"Well if you want to ask him, while the Zillo beast is one the loose, he has new prisoners, and while his top experiment is lost- Be my guest. I just don't think he'd be very happy with you questioning his methods." You crossed your arms behind your back, something you'd seen CX-2 do many times.

"Fine." He moved out of your way, letting you head to your destination.

You walked to the door, ready to put your mother's clearance codes in. With a steam they opened, leaving you to witness a terrible sight.

The 3 captured clones were out, fighting. You got there in time to see the big clone burst out of the glass, tackling a special operative.

With the sound of the door, the man with a bandana looked your way. Along with CX-2, who rose swiftly upon seeing you. You distracted him long enough for the clone without a hand to blast him in his side.

You gasped as you watched CX-2 fall in your direction.

With an electrospear in his hand, the bandana man stepped to him. He only managed to zap him once before you ran in.

"No!" Your scream pierced out, you threw yourself onto CX-2. Using your body to cover his.

You didn't care if you died then and there, at least you'd die in CX-2's arms. You'd at least die together...

"No, don't!" You squeezed your eyes shut, prepared for a shock that never came. You felt a weak hand raise from under you to grip your clothes.

Tears streamed down your face violently. Pattering on CX-2's armor.

"You do realize the crimes he has committed..." The man panted out, he was also wounded.

"Please, it was for me... It was all for me..." You sobbed out. "Hemlock threatened my life..." You buried your head in his neck, holding him tightly.

"Hunter, no. We should kill them both now." The handless man spoke.

The man you assumed to be Hunter didn't have time to respond.

"I swear we wont follow you... Hemlock is probably on his way to his private ship... I swear..." Your words were muffled but they understood well enough.

"We are wasting time, lets go." Hunter commanded, the two of them left.

You gave out a whimper, "CX-2... Please... Stay with me." You pried his helmet off. He was in a rough state.

His eyes struggled to focus on one thing, but he still tried to find your face. "It'll be okay, just let me grab a med pack." You went to pull away, but he gripped you tighter.

"Let me.. hold," He coughed, "You.."

"You are not going to die on me. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" You tried to joke. He shook his head, 'no.'

"Then let me do my job, and help you." He still held you tightly. "Please... you deserve to live..." He let you go.

It was only half a minute, you grabbed a medics kit that was nearby and began patching him up.

Making quick work of taking his armor and blacks off. It reminded you of the first time you'd done this to him. A very similar wound on his waist.

You forced him a pill, and squeezed out as much bacta as you could from its packet.

"Can you roll over for me, baby?" You asked, helping him get on his side.

He complied as much as he could, and you were able to patch up his other side.

"Okay, this will hold you over. I know the closest procedure room, a droid can give you a proper examination." You helped him stand, an arm under his own to keep his balance.

"You'll be okay, we'll be okay..." You whispered praises and words of affirmation to him. The walk was extremely painful for him, you could tell he was hiding most of it from you.

Lucky for both of you, a droid was able to identify where the blast was and give him a proper cleaning of the wound.

He was still woozy, but forced himself to stand. "We have to go. Tarkin is on his way.." CX-2 strained out. He was stubborn and refused any medication that would cloud his mind.

"W-where? Your ship?" You were scared, not just for CX-2, but your futures as well.

He pressed a few buttons on his panel brace as you picked up his helmet.

"Turn left." He instructed you all the way to his ship, even with the pain starting to blur his vision.

The two of you somehow managed to make it to his ship, you opened the door with his panel brace and sat him in the co-pilot's seat.

You clicked away, starting the ship up. Though, you did need some guidance from him.

You had never flown a ship before, but knew you had to take the risk to save CX-2. It was wobbly, but you raised the ship and let Auto-Pilot blast you into hyperspace. It had a set of coordinates in, ones you didn't know the location of.

A groan made you turn to your lovers direction, you were at his side immediately. Crouching down you spoke, "Hey, its okay... We're far away. You can take the pain medication, its just us two."

He peaked open an eye to look at you, his face barred disappointment in himself. Almost like he was a lesser man if he took the meds.

"Take them. If not for yourself, for me." You pulled them from your pocket. He did take them, minutes later he felt the relief.

You took another look at his wound, it was stable for now. You figured that he would need a cleaning and new bandages in a few hours. Hopefully his medkit was fully equipped on his ship. If it was, you'd be able to last many days without needing to land.

You stood, pulling his head to your breast. "Shhh, rest now. We are both safe."

He truly did feel safe in your arms, like he didn't have to always be on guard. A huge change from his normal. One he'd hoped he could live out with you for the rest of his life...

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I got a little carried away with this one... I just had to get this idea written down!!!

Tags-(lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss @dangraccoon

[badyan]

The clanks

"oh-…i can move, you don’t have to sit on the floor"

"I prefered it." he answers simply, not bothering himself to explain anything more than that. His metal feet clanked against each other as he sat on the floor nearby the bed where you were laying, doodling nothings in your sketchbook — the thing you have made a habit to do when you’re hanging out in his quarters while he’s busy.

And you have never seen him this busy before. Hours standing still at his workbench, staring down the poor blueprints, then pacing through the room, his steps more calculated than the clock’s clicks. Nights follow days and the first sun rays always wake you up because there’s no curtains or anything that can make this place cozy at its bare minimum — except for the soft cushions and pillows and blankets on the bed which he has gathered only for you, only because you asked, only because you wanted to spend more time with him.

The bed was giant, clearly made for two, but there wasn’t a chance in the last few days for you to feel the familiar weight sliding closer in the dark of the night, spooning from behind so carefully, his hands gently finding their rest on your waist. Something was haunting him for too long now and you wouldn’t mind waiting for him, no, never have you, but you simply started to get worried about his state — and you’ve approached him with that but was gently turned back to your rest. You knew that he wasn’t going to listen to you anyway — but you also knew you couldn’t just let him be in this alone. So, you’re staying with him for a while. Even if he barely talks to you, he could never deny your company.

And now you’re relieved to see him sitting down nearby to meditate a bit — for the first time during this whole time. You move closer to him, hand gently sliding onto the broad shoulder.

"You should take a rest now, hun…"

"I truly don’t have much time for that." he grunts, though he knows you’re right. And the constant feeling of your attentive eyes was the actual reason why he actually forces himself to set aside his work and go take a breather. Even if he can’t actually breathe nor focus on the meditation itself.

"I…understand.." you reply reluctantly, fingertips brushing along his long collarbone pistons in a little affectionate way. He relaxes his schoulders slightly, subtly giving you more room to caress, and interwhines his hands together in the meditation gesture.

You continue to glide your hand against his metal, almost trying to calm down its unusual warmth — countless hours of mulling over his duties must have caused him to overheat. Mindlessly, your fingers wander further, over his ribbed chest and up to his neck, where they stumble upon the shiny ends of his cable hair. And that soft clank of them gives you an idea.

You sit on the bed, right behind him. An unusual angle — were his shoulders and back always this wide…and somehow heartening to look at? Like you could lean on it and feel the safest in the whole world… He sit on the floor and you still have to slightly raise your hands to carefully grasp his hair, moving it all back. You can feel him flinch just for a bit and you can’t help but smile at him being startled by such a simple touch.

"What are you doing?"

"I’ll just put them up for you," you say softly, shuffling through the thick cables in your hands, feeling their pleasant weight and quiet clanking. He almost scoffs at your offering.

"There’s no need for that-"

"Hush now." you insist, hands brushing through his cables length. "I know how it feels when they start to clutter around and piss you off. Just let me help you a lil’ bit."

And he modulates a sigh, returning to his meditating posture. That’s where you take things into your own hands — and with that, you start to work. Carefully combing his hair, then parting down the center, then starting to weave some cables together in the order only known to you. Your hands go slowly, taking strand by strand so carefully, like it would hurt him otherwise — and Ramattra can’t help but to concentrate only on your movements, feeling every subtle tug and twist you made with his cords, but oh with such care, it makes his circuits warm up…

"What are you planning to make?" he asks after a few minutes of pure silence and, suddenly, you can sense something new in his quiet tone. A hint of hesitation…but in a good way. Oh, it clicks for you immidiately and you can’t help but to chuckle softly.

"Just braids" you murmur, leaning in to give him a sweet little kiss on the top of his head. Such a simple tender gesture, yet it almost makes him falter.

"Braids?..." his head tilts in confusion — and you have to grab it by the sides gently and turn back up.

"Hey, stay still! They’re gonna look great on you, trust me…" your adorable reassurance doesn’t leave him another choice but to surrender. Though, he does find himself enjoying this whole unnesessary braiding thing…Your presence so close and your gentle little hands doing some magic with his hair, these bulky cables following your lead, not without some struggling first, but still. It’s you — you’re doing something for him. You’re here, by his side, all this time…It’s enough to finally let all these irritating thoughts begone. His mind fills with nothings, sweet nothings indeed: your hands playing around with his hair and your breathing quietly making the peaceful rythm of the moment. You are with him.

Is this…the tranquility Zen is always talking about?

He doesn’t realise how long you two were sitting like this. He simply doesn’t care now — everything seems to matter less and less the more you’re tangling your hands in his cables. But eventually, you make the final tugs and withdraw from him.

"Here you go.."

"Already?" he asks too quickly, with an undertone of longing. The moment dissapears so fast, no matter how hard he hopes it to last just a little longer.

"It took me nearly an hour!" you laugh at his question, hands running down your little piece of art. Two thick french braids go from the upper corners of his faceplate down along his head, slightly resembling dragon horns which reach up laying on his shoulders where your hands carefully move them. The weaving was quite simple but made so thoroughly the ends don’t even need something to tie them up — the rubbery texture and the tight neat braiding hold the cables together without any additional knots.

"Now, turn to me."

He slowly does so, feeling how the movements of his head became freer. It feels almost like getting your body part replaced. The same, but somehow still different. He doesn’t feel like he dislikes it, he just isn’t used to the sensation, doesn’t know where to place it within his system — but when he sees himself in the mirror you brought up to his face, he understands it immideately. Love.

Not with the braids, though he does like the way they look on him. He is in love with you. That unconditional, utter feeling which makes his circuits overheat and that electric pulse go haywire till the HUD flashes with a bunch of new warnings. That feeling he thought he never ever would be able to share with someone…

And there are you, looking at him fondly, while being so busy adjusting the way the cables twist around his faceplate.

"You’re gorgeous…You already knew that, don’t you?"

"I-…" his voice stutters into a static — clearly from your sweet words — and he tilts his head slightly to admire your work. "I love it. Thank you, babe" his faceplate lowers to gently press against the crook of your neck, soft vibrations in omnicode expressing the whole of his feelings that he can’t quite place in words now, mimicking the tender kisses. And the way you slightly shy away from his touch, giggling and whining playfully that it’s ticklish — it only makes him fall for you even more, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body in a tight embrace, letting himself nuzzle into your neck and get lost in your charming laugher.

A half an hour goes by unnoticed in the sweetest cuddles for the last week, accompanied by cute little pecks here and there, the soft sounds of your whispers, his quiet murmurs and the clanks of his cable braid’s ends when you playfully nudge him in the chest. Yet, suddenly, your eyes flash with an another idea and you pull away, leaving him puzzled and eager to just grab and move you back there for more cuddles.

"Now, you stay here." you lean against the wall and grab your sketchbook, opening it on the new page and biting down on your pencil, looking thoughtfully at your dear omnic, admiring the way confusion stirs within him.

"Why?"

"I need to capture your beauty" and you can hear him steaming from your words.

~~~~~~~

thank u for the idea, @statuetochka <з you make me feel so inspired with your art, hope this lil piece will make you smile

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Odd question but - I'm looking to study in the UK this fall, and I'm trying to get to grips with the grading system. Could you explain the grading boundaries to me please? It's different from the US, as far as I can see!

I found this handy table which you might find useful - I don't really understand the US system either lol.

Here's what I will say though - I have many times before seen Americans online seeing the percentages for the UK grade boundaries and immediately wax lyrical about how EASY and SIMPLE it must be to do well in the UK because OH MY GOD I could tooootally get 70%!!! In the US that's barely a C!!! Wow education must be soooo simple in the UK -

And uh. I have seen very few Americans in those discussions stop and ask themselves how much harder it might be to hit 70% in the UK. Which, as the international academic office in every university will tell you, is the crucial question you absolutely should be asking. Does an American 70% look the same as a UK 70%?

(It Does Not.)

So don't be fooled by that! Over here, at undergrad the pass mark is 40%. 40-49% gets you a third; 50-59% gets you what's varyingly known as a lower second (formally), a 2:2 (most commonly), or a Desmond (by sad people. It's a reference to Desmond Tutu - two two). A 2:2 is also the most commonly awarded degree classification over here.

60-69% is a 2:1, or upper second class honours. And then the top level is the first - 70% and up. The vast majority of firsts are earned by students who got 70-79%. Exceptional work pushes into the 80s. It is incredibly rare that you ever see a mark in the 90s, and when you do, it's almost always on maths papers where there are right or wrong answers and that's it.

I can't remember how the US's summa cum laude etc stuff maps onto that, though you could probably find that on Google as well. But as a rule of thumb, think first = excellent, 2:1 = good, 2:2 = fair, and third = you need to be careful and see what you can do to improve (although that is still a pass at university and that is not to be sniffed at).

Ooh, as a final point, though, there's also how assessment works, which again, I know is very different over here (again I don't really understand it in the US). Your lecturer cannot set random work here and there to count as summative assessment. Every module is different in how it's set up, but let's give an example:

Module: Coastal and Marine Conservation Two assessments, each worth 50% of the final grade. Assessment 1: A report on the biodiversity of Ramsey Island in the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. Explore the cause of the lower biodiversity there than nearby Skomer/Skokholm; how was this challenged/rectified? How have species recovered since? What should be done into the future? Assessment 2: A two-hour closed book exam. Half of this exam (50 marks) will be a mix of short and medium length questions; things like "Define these five terms (two marks each)", or "Describe the process of longshore drift and its impact on sedimentation patterns (15 marks)" or what have you. The second half is a 50 mark essay - pick one of three essay questions offered, and off you go. (Essay questions are a staple feature of exams over here, and multiple choice questions are extremely rare and generally frowned on as being Not Sufficiently Academic.)

Now, in the case of this module, these are the only two assessment points. Both the report brief and the exam paper are registered with the academic office in the summer before the academic year even starts, and both are triple verified - by the lecturer who writes/sets them, by an internal verifier in the department, and an external verifier from another university. This is part of quality control.

If, for some reason, you fail one of these, or cannot submit them by their due date, or what have you, you still have to do them. If you claim for Extenuating Circumstances (e.g. "I was made homeless and my cat blew up, so I couldn't do it in time") then you get an extension on it; as long as you submit by the end of the academic period, you're fine. If you don't, you need to resit it. This normally means over the summer after the main term ends.

But, in the UK system what we can't do is go "Okay never mind, how about you submit a write-up of the volunteering you're currently doing with SeaLife instead and we'll count that?" The reason being, under the UK system that is not a quality-controlled solution. That has not been checked and verified as an equivalent assessment to what the rest of the class has done; so if you do that and get a 2:1, there is no assurance that you are actually of the same academic quality as one of your peers who got a 2:1 for that research report on Ramsey's biodiversity.

Which... don't let it scare you! As I say, there are a LOT of systems that can help you if things start going wrong (always, always, always keep Student Support and your lecturers in the loop). But that is a different system from what I understand you might be used to, so heads up on that.

(I am not arguing that one is better than the other, by the way. Last time I explained a difference in the UK university system I got a very hostile and aggressive American in the notes throwing a right strop over how terrible the UK system clearly is because XYZ, right up until I had to actually say "I am literally just describing how it's different, not claiming superiority," and then they went mysteriously quiet and stopped replying. So to forestall that, I am only describing the differences. There are advantages and disadvantages to each.

The UK system is certainly more inflexible. But it does, incidentally, at least free you from the tyranny I see reported so often by US students of the dreaded Tenured Professor who deliberately as a matter of pride sets impossible exams that everyone fails. Over here, that shit Does Not Fly. So there's that.)

Anyway - hopefully that answers your question! Any others, hit me up. Good luck, and enjoy your studies!

[f0rg3t-me-n0t]

Under the Stars

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: When Din calls you by a new nickname and starts to act strange you can’t help but wonder why.

Words: 5,1 k

Warnings: fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers

A/N: With the start of the new season I just had to write something for my boy Din <3

Masterlist 

~~~

„Cyar‘ika? You coming?“, you heard Din‘s modulated voice asking from the outside.

You were currently packing up some things to take with you to the town and looked up as you stuffed the last things into your bag.

„Yeah! Give me a minute!“, you scanned the Razor Crest for anything you could have missed.

Just then it hit you. 

That nickname was new.

You furrowed your brows as you remembered how everything began.

~~~

At first, staying with the Mandalorian hadn’t been quite voluntary. 

You both had met on Nevarro when he had been on the lookout for a mechanic to repair his Razor Crest. Pretty fast he had found your boss‘s place who then had assigned you to the task. You had always had a thing for older starships, so it had just been natural for him to choose you.

The Mandalorian hadn’t really been talkative. He had only explained to you what was wrong with the Crest, then he had left the ship in your hands while he had gone off to run some errands in town. Of course, you had started with your work immediately and it hadn’t taken you long to notice your client’s little companion, a cute little green guy. The Mandalorian had left him alone in the Crest and so you decided to look after him as well. Both of you had gotten along right away, so you had taken him with you to the engine so he could watch what you were doing.

Only hours later the moment that should turn your life upside down finally had come. While you had worked on the final steps of the reparation the Mandalorian had suddenly stormed into the workshop, nearly a dozen other guys on his tail. When he had noticed that his little companion was with you he had panicked. He had almost yelled at you for it if you hadn't shot one of his attackers with your blaster and saved his life. You always had one with you as there were often customers who caused problems. Also, it was just safer that way. A big fight had broken out and you three had just barely escaped after you had fixed the ship in a hurry while he had held off the enemies. 

Directly after the attack Mando and you had made a deal: You would take care of the ship and his little companion when he wasn’t around and in return, he would provide you with a place to stay, safety, and everything you required. Plus, he would drop you off on your planet when it was safe for you again. After the fight, not only a bounty had been placed on him, but also on you.

In the beginning, you had been in a lot of distress. Everything had been so different from what you were accustomed to. It also hadn’t helped that Mando wasn’t really up to conversations, but what, or more precisely who had made you feel better had been Grogu. The little guy was a ray of sunshine and soon you and he had grown to be best friends. He loved to watch you while you repaired stuff and one of his favorite things was going to the market with you. You always bought little trinkets or snacks for him even though Mando always made his point to only get the bare essentials. Still, you couldn’t help but disobey. Grogu had won your whole heart with his happy personality.

In contrast to this, warming up with the beskar-clad warrior had taken a little more time. You always had to initiate the conversations first and it had been really hard to get any information about his life out of him in the beginning. 

Everything finally changed after you had saved Grogu during an attack on Corvus. Some bounty hunters had surprised you while you and Mando had taken care of some issues with the Razor Crest. The warrior had managed to take out most of them, but then one had shot him in the shoulder and had tried to escape with the child. Luckily you had been able to get ahold of him at the last second. Afterwards, you had patched up the Mandalorian and he had been incredibly thankful to have had you with him. He had even started to use a nickname for you, burc‘ya, which meant friend in Mando’a, and told you his real name: Din Djarin.

Since then, your conversations felt a lot more natural and you didn’t feel like you were only working for him anymore, no, instead you felt like a part of their small union. Joking around had become a daily thing and the both of you knew that you had each other's back. It was like you were a little family now.

A few months after that event you had decided to help Boba Fett on Tatooine. He had become the new Daimyō of Mos Espa but the citizens hadn’t really accepted him. In order to solve that problem he had wanted to unite the crime syndicates in peace but the pyke-syndicate just had to be the odd one out. A massive fight had been on its way and you and Din hadn‘t wanted to let Boba down. In fact, that hadn‘t been the only reason. You both had been looking for some distraction, too. Grogu had left to train his force abilities with Luke Skywalker a few months ago and since then it just hadn’t been the same. The new task had done both of you really well and you had even forgotten that you missed the little guy. 

At least for a while and finally the day had come when everything had escalated. The other crime families had betrayed Boba Fett and had started to attack his soldiers throughout Mos Espa. Din and you had been doing the best you could to support him but it had been getting really hard with all those enemies and Scorpenek droids until suddenly someone you knew just too well had shown up. 

Him.

Peli Motto, a friend that hat helped you once with the Razor Crest, had arrived with Grogu in tow. The small one had saved the day not only with this surprise but also by lulling Boba‘s rampaging rancor to sleep and finally the three of you had been united again.

~~~

That had only been two days ago and you were still incredibly glad that your little friend was back.

„Alright. Come on.“, you held your hands out for Grogu who had been watching you and he didn’t need to be told twice.

Without hesitating he jumped into your arms by using his new abilities and you caught him while laughing.

„Okay. Let’s go. Your pops is getting impatient.“, you stepped out of the Crest and Din turned around to you. 

His helmet tilted a little and he put his arms on his waist like he was admiring the both of you, then he nodded towards the city. 

„This way.“, he said. 

He set into motion and you caught up to him.

„This is the way.“, you murmured jokingly with your best Mando impression.

Grogu giggled and you felt Din‘s stare on you. You cleared your throat as you straightened 

„Sorry, that was…“, now you felt a little silly. „…dumb.“

Instead of getting a lecture about his codex, as you had expected, you heard Din snort quietly instead.

„It’s okay, cyar‘ika.“, he answered. „It was quite funny, to be honest.“

There. Again.

„Really?“, you cocked an eyebrow.

„Really.“, he nodded and put his hand on your back to get you both back to a faster tempo again. „Just don’t make it a habit.“

„Okay.“, now you smiled a little, maybe even more at the feeling of his hand on your body than him telling you the truth.

It went silent for a while, but it was that comfortable kind of silence. Soon you reached the border of Mos Eisley.

„So…what’s the plan?“, you spoke up.

„First we should get those droid parts to Peli. It’s a gift to thank her, after all, she brought Grogu back to us. She’ll be happy about another little helper.“, your friend told you, his armor clanking as you both made your way to Peli‘s hangar. „Then, I thought, we could go to the market. We should stack up on food and other things. What do you say?“

He looked at you and Grogu babbled excitedly.

„You heard your son.“, you chuckled.

It was decided. Peli was very happy to see you again, probably the most to see Grogu. However, she eyed the droid parts with some skepticism at first. You quickly got to work putting it back together and when the little helper turned out to be a better worker than her current droids, Peli was satisfied, too. You talked a little more, then it was time to go to the market.

„Do you need anything?“, Din asked, when you entered the area.

Colorful stands with all sorts of things surrounded you, music, fresh and delicious food, you name it. Everything could be found here.

„Hmm…“, you pondered. „I don’t know. But maybe I could stroll around a little. It’s been a while since I last had the time to do that.“

„Sure.“, to your surprise the Mandalorian nodded. 

He rummaged through his pockets, then he handed you a little bag with some credits.

„Wait, really?“, you were baffled. „Since when are you so generous?“

Din shrugged.

„Since Grogu’s back.“, he said. „Also, Boba Fett gave me a little something as a thank you.“

„Oh.“, you couldn’t quite realize his words.

Only when he closed his hand around yours with the money you seemed to understand.

„Enjoy yourself.“, Din said. „I’ll get us everything else.“

With that, he left you both alone. You stood still for a few seconds before you began to move toward the stands.

„Unusual, but I’m not saying no.“, you murmured, and as soon as you saw the first fried foods you were in your element. 

You got yourself and Grogu your favorite snacks, then you both made your way through the market. As you walked through the food area you got a few ingredients and alcohol for tonight's dinner. To celebrate the recent events, you wanted to make Tiingilar, the traditional Mandalorian stew, which the child and Din loved so much. Aside from that, a few other small items, mostly for Grogu, ended up in your pocket.

After that, you decided to take a look at the stands with clothing and fabrics. For a while now you had wanted to buy a new cloth for covering up. Your recent one had to be at least ten years old by now and was riddled with holes and tears. Still, it was a little hard for you to let go of it. It had been a gift from your late mother before she had died but to be honest it wasn’t much fit for its original usage anymore. Maybe you could use it as an accessory to hang on your belt, but that’s it. 

Sighing you looked at the prices of a few shawls you liked. All of them cost too much. You had used most of the credits for the things you had already bought and now there wasn’t nearly enough for a new cloth. A quiet curse fell from your lips and Grogu looked up at you. He cooed at you, worry in his eyes, but you gave him a small smile.

„It’s alright. Maybe next time.“, you told him, then you went on to the section of the market where they sold cheaper stuff. When you finally ran out of credits you rejoined Din, who you'd seen at a gun stand.

„You done?“, he wanted to know, when he saw the both of you.

„More like: all gone.“, you laughed and gave him the empty bag back.

Chuckling he took it and put it away. 

„Well, at least it seems like you had fun.“, he said.

„Very much.“, you were grinning from ear to ear and the child cooed. 

For a while Din only looked at you in silence, but it didn’t bother you. Instead, it felt like he was smiling at you, too, and it just made you incredibly happy.

„Okay, let’s get home then.“, he cleared his throat, placed his hand on your back, and led you out of the crowd so you wouldn’t be separated.

While walking back to the Crest you talked a little about this and that and about what would happen in the next few days. When you arrived at the ship you helped Grogu into the little capsule he was usually in, so he could take a nap. It seemed like the visit to the market had been somewhat exhausting for him, but that was just alright with you. Now you could prepare the stew in peace instead of watching out for him while doing so. He liked snatching raw meat pieces from the cutting board way too much. 

You collected a few utensils for the cooking, then you joined Din outside. He was putting a fire together and you saw that he had already prepared a place for you to sit. 

„Thanks.“, you said while you took a seat.

He just waved it off as nothing but you still appreciated this act. It showed you that he cared about you, even if he didn’t say it or more precisely didn’t like to admit it. You had been noticing it for three or four months now. Sometime after the incident on Corvus he had started to support you a little more with your tasks. Whether it was buying a little pouch for your tools or letting you sleep in his bunk bed that was a little bigger than your hammock after a peculiarly stressful day, just random little acts of kindness.

You watched Din while you were chopping the veggies and the meat and when he was done with the fire he sat down next to you. Like he didn’t notice your gaze on him he pulled out his blaster and went on to clean and polish it. As you chuckled to yourself quietly you put the vegetables in a pot and started to roast them over the fire. 

„What?“, you heard the beskar-clad warrior ask.

You looked at him.

„Oh, nothing.“, you smiled and stirred the food. 

His helmet tilted like he was giving you that one specific look when somebody doesn’t believe you.

„Well.“, you shrugged now. „It just seems a little funny to me that you're cleaning your gun again. You already did that yesterday.“

At that, he averted his gaze from you.

„It fell down into the sand when you tugged Grogu in.“, he told you.

A lie. His blaster was always tightly secured at his waist.

„Sure.“, you snorted. 

It went silent as you grinned to yourself, still, you were a little suspicious of Din’s behavior. It was like he was nervous. Normally he would’ve already talked to you while making the fire, but today that hadn’t been the case. Instead, he seemed a little tense.

You breathed out and added the chicken to the roasted vegetables. After it had browned on all sides you added all the other vegetables, the liquids, various seasonings, and the couscous, then you covered the pot and stood up. Just as you tried to enter the Razor Crest you heard Din’s voice.

„Y/N.“, he said your name. 

„Yes?“, you turned towards him. 

The Mandalorian was standing now, too, something in his hands behind his back. He got closer to you and cleared his throat.

„I…uh…I got you something from the market.“, he told you.

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, even more as he pulled out one of the shawls you had looked at in Mos Eisley.

„How did you know?“, you murmured as you took the cloth from him.

For a few seconds, you let your gaze wander over the material then you looked up at Din.

„I saw you looking at some of them after I had done the errands.“, he explained. „When you left without buying one and seemed a little upset about it I decided to get you one.“

Now a smile started to spread on your lips.

„Thanks, Din. That’s kind of you.“

„No problem. Really.“, again he tried to not make a big deal out of it.

„Still. You didn’t have to do that.“, you said while removing your old cloth and putting it on your belt as you had thought about.

You wrapped the new shawl around your neck, then you slowly spun around for Din.

„What do you think?“, you asked.

„Mesh‘la.“, he said softly, and you frowned a little since you only understood a few words in Mando‘a. „It suits you.“

„Oh.“, you grinned now. „Well, thank you, dear sir. I’ll take good care of it.“

Finally, you had managed to get a little laugh out of Din, too, and after you had thanked him for a second time you went inside the crest and to the small „bathroom“.

Smiling like an idiot you admired yourself in the mirror and couldn’t help but blush. At first, you hadn’t wanted to admit it to yourself, but a few months ago you had started to get this weird feeling in your stomach every time you had been around Din. You had waved it off as being a little unwell, but that hadn’t been the case at all. You hadn’t felt bad or sick around the Mandalorian. Not even the slightest bit and eventually, you had realized what it had been, when Din had saved you from a few bounty hunters and had gotten really close to you in the process of it. You had fallen in love with him, with the man who had always struck you as cold and unapproachable, but after the incident on Corvus everything had somehow changed between you.

Now, nearly four months after this realization, you were still scared of telling him. First of all, it sometimes was still really hard for you to tell what was going on in his head and secondly, you didn’t know whether Mandalorians were allowed to have a partner or not. After the fall of Mandalore, a lot of information on its citizens had been lost and you just couldn’t seem to find a thing about this kind of topic. But what kept you from admitting your feelings to him the most was the fear that he might reject you and you would have to leave both him and Grogu. Of course, he had told you that he would drop you off on Nevarro as soon as it was safe for you again, but somehow you didn't want that anymore. You felt incredibly comfortable in your small group and honestly couldn't imagine life without them.

A worried sigh fell from your lips as you averted your gaze from your reflection in the mirror and you started to chew on your lower lip.

No. It just wasn’t the right time for telling him right now. Not when you weren’t sure about his own feelings.

You washed your face with cold water to calm yourself down a little, then you woke up Grogu. The stew wouldn’t take long anymore, so you took him outside with you and saw Din staring into the fire. The child babbled excitedly at the smell of the food and you chuckled.

„He’s hungry.“, you said while you sat down next to the Mandalorian. „Here, I’ll check on the stew.“

You handed Grogu over to Din who only nodded, then you lifted the lid of the pot and stirred the contents. 

„Yup. That’s good.“, you observed and took Grogu‘s small bowl to fill up first. „Here you go, buddy.“

You handed him the food after Din hat sat him down between the both of you. Happily, he started to gobble it up right away. Laughing you prepared a portion for Din and yourself, then you gave him one of the apple ciders you had bought at the market, too.

„To us being united again.“, you said. 

„To our little team.“, Din clinked his bottle against yours and you turned away from him so he could take a sip in privacy.

While you were eating you did the same. You were used to it since you had been doing it ever since you had been staying with him. Respecting each other was really important to you, so you always made sure that you couldn’t see his face when he needed to lift his helmet or get rid of it. Even when he had revealed his face to Grogu before Luke Skywalker had taken him with him you had looked away. 

„That’s really good, cyar‘ika.“, Din told you after his first bite and you thanked him.

It occurred to you, that he had used your new nickname again and in your mind, you made a little note to ask him about it later when Grogu would be asleep. 

As you enjoyed your meal you tried to do some more small talk with him but today he just felt off. He only replied in short sentences and you always had to initiate the conversation so after a while, you gave up with a small huff.

After everything was devoured the three of you sat in silence for some time until Din got up and offered to do the dishes. In return, you entertained the child until it was tired enough to go to sleep.

„Okay. Let’s get you in your bed.“, you said as Grogu yawned for the fourth time now.

You stood up and carried him to his little capsule inside the Crest.

„Sleep tight, little one.“, you covered his body with the blanket and kissed his head, but he had already dozed away and didn’t respond anymore.

Smiling you watched him for a while, then you went outside again. You laid down at the fire and stared up at the stars until Din returned. He seated himself and tilted his helmet towards the sky, too. In silence, you both searched for star constellations and other planets like you always did. Normally you would talk while doing that, but again, not so today. You began to ponder what could be going on and when you didn’t find an answer you had enough.

„What’s wrong, Din?“, you asked your companion.

You looked at him and through his helmet, your gazes met.

„It’s nothing.“, he said. „Don’t worry about it.“

Sighing you sat up.

„You’ve been acting strange all day.“, you replied. „It’s not nothing.“

“I just have to get used to Grogu being back. That's all. Really.”, Din turned his head away from you again and looked into the fire.

You weren't happy with that answer.

„What about yesterday? You were acting completely normal then. Yeah, Grogu was gone for a while but not that long for you to need to get accustomed to it again. Hell, to me it feels like he’s still our little guy from back then. Nothing has changed.“, you didn’t understand why he would say something like that.

„Everything has changed, cyar‘ika. Everything.“, now Din was the one to sigh.

You weren’t having it but gave in nevertheless. He didn’t seem like he wanted to argue with you about it.

„Alright.“, you huffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. „What’s up with the new nickname anyways?“

With that, it went silent. Din just looked at you, unreadable through his helmet.

„Why?“, he asked after a few seconds.

„Well, what does it mean? I know that burc’ya means friend, but I’ve never heard that one.“, you said.

Silence. Again.

„You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.“, you finally said, after a few minutes had gone by. „I just hope it isn’t an insult.“

You chuckled and hoped your joke would lighten the mood. In fact, Din now reacted, but in a very different way than what you had expected.

„I would never insult you, cyar‘ika.“, he answered harshly, then he took a deep breath and his voice got softer. „It…it means sweetheart.“

That you were baffled was an understatement.

„It means…“, your lips parted. „What?“

You couldn’t quite realize what was going on.

„Cyar‘ika means sweetheart…or darling.“, Din repeated himself and turned his head away from you.

„You call me sweetheart?“, you whispered.

When he didn’t react you put your hand on his.

„Please look at me.“, you chewed on your lower lip looking at him, hoping to finally understand the situation.

Slowly his gaze met yours again.

„Yes.“, he finally said. „You see…that’s part of everything. Yeah, the little one is still the same, even with his new abilities, but when he got back…I…I just realized how much he means to me. How much you both mean to me.“, he took a shaky breath. „I always thought I would be that ice-cold bounty hunter, always alone, even in death, and then Grogu showed up. He turned my life upside down and a few months later you joined us. At first, you were...well...like a burden that I had to worry about as well, but over the weeks you've become so important to me. I noticed that you cared about Grogu and me. You helped us both out of trouble several times and I am infinitely grateful for that. And after Grogu was gone, I realized all the more how much you mean to me. It broke my heart to let him go, but you somehow managed to keep me from falling apart completely. And Grogu's return made me understand that. I...I‘ve fallen in love with you. It scares the shit out of me to admit it, but I can't hide it from you anymore. Not when I might have to let you go again in a few days.“

After this confession, it was like your heart had stopped beating. 

You just looked at him in utter surprise and couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence in your head anymore, so you just managed to say: „Why would you have to let me go?“

„Because…“, he sighed. „I got a message from Nevarro, from Magistrate Karga. He told me that we should visit sometime soon…and that the bounty on us has been withdrawn. You can return to your home again.“

He pulled away from you and you widened your eyes, breath getting caught in your throat. Shakily you scooted closer to him and cautiously laid your hands on both sides of his helmet to turn him towards you again.

„But I am home, Din.“, you told him. „I‘m with you and Grogu and that’s all I need.“, you bit your lower lip now. „I‘ve fallen for you, too, so…I won’t leave. Never.“

Through his helmet you could hear his breath hitch, then, ever so slowly he leaned into you until your forehead softly met the cold beskar.

„Dank farrik.“, he cursed quietly.

You chuckled.

„What?“, you whispered amusedly.

„I’m just very relieved.“, now you could hear him laugh a little too and you closed your eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

„Me, too.“, you said. „I…I was also really scared to tell you about my feelings. With that helmet of yours, it’s hard to read you, you know…and I didn’t know if the creed allows romantic relationships.“

You looked at Din again and backed away a little, your hands leaving his helmet.

„It does.“, he told you. „Still, I can’t show you my face. Even if you were a Mandalorian.“

Slowly you nodded.

„That’s completely okay with me.“, you then said. „I just want to be with you.“

Again you tried to lean into him, forehead against his helmet but this time he stopped you. Confused you looked at him.

„I can’t show you my face but that doesn’t mean that I can’t take off my helmet.“, Din’s voice had gotten a little hoarse and you gulped. „I want to kiss you. Is that okay?“

„Please.“, it was only a whisper but you meant it more than you had ever meant something.

With that, Din grabbed your new shawl and softly tied it around your head so you couldn’t see him anymore. As you nervously waited for his next move you could feel your heart rate increase again, especially as you heard the hiss of his helmet when he took it off.

Next, suddenly his naked hands were gently cupping your face. You hadn’t even noticed that he had taken his gloves off. Wincing you sucked in your breath but soon relaxed into his palms. His skin on yours felt incredible, so different from what you had thought. Of course, other humans had touched your skin before him, but this was something special. Din never revealed his skin, only if it was necessary.

Shakily you took a deep breath.

„Can I touch you, too?“, you asked.

„Of course, cyar‘ika.“, he said. „Please, touch me.“

He craved this just as much as you and so you cautiously let your hands travel up his body, towards his neck and finally you felt the skin of his face. Your breath hitched and you couldn’t help but smile. He felt soft underneath your fingertips, a little rougher at his jaw, where he seemed to have grown a stubble. Curiously you traced his features. At first from his cheekbones to his forehead, then from his nose to his jaw again, and finally, your thumb brushed over his lips.

„You’re beautiful, Din.“, you told him.

„Please, let me kiss you.“, he suddenly whispered.

You nodded eagerly and your fingers wandered to his hair, soft short locks in which you buried them. Slowly you could feel Din lean in until his breath ghosted over your lips. Weakly you breathed out and then, finally, his mouth was on yours, softly and incredibly gentle. Carefully his lips moved against yours and you arched into him. 

Never had you imagined it to feel this good and, fucking hell, did you need it.

With more passion he deepened the kiss now, his tongue gently meeting yours and a groan escaped his throat. His hands tugged at your waist, moving you even closer towards him. Fireworks seemed to explode in your stomach as he helped you onto his lap and it only intensified, when he withdrew to kiss your neck instead.

You suppressed a moan and just then you heard his whisper close to your ear.

„It’s okay. Let me hear you, cyar‘ika. You’re mine and I am yours now.“

[wildechildwrites]

Relax

Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Depression, self-esteem issues, mind control (not in a bad way but it's in there)

No use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Summary: You haven't left your bed in days, too depressed to get anything done. Shinsou stops by your apartment to check on you and helps in his own way.

A/N: Wrote this because I've been too depressed to get out of bed, forgive any mistakes or ooc I didn't even really want to post it in the first place.

AO3 Link: Relax

You think you’ve hit a record for continuous hours spent in bed, and probably permanently fucked your kidneys because you don’t even have the energy to get up to use the bathroom. The floor of your room is disgusting, and dishes are piled up in the kitchen. You know you smell, and that there’s so much work for you to do, deadlines you’ve barely managed to avoid by calling in sick to the hero agency you do secretarial work at, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

There’s a knock on your door, but you just ignore it, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You don’t want to see anyone, and you’re not expecting to anyway. 

Whoever is at your door doesn’t stop, knocking harder and more insistently. You even hear your door knob jiggle, which spurs your anxiety on enough to get you to drag yourself out of bed. Your legs feel slightly wobbly, the inactivity of the last few days catching up to you as blood flows through your limbs. Catching your own reflection in the mirror makes you wince, but it’s a lost cause you’d rather not address. Whoever is knocking hasn’t stopped, and you yank open your front door irritably. If it’s some stupid solicitor–

Your jaw drops at the sight of one of the heroes from your agency, Shinso Hitoshi, standing outside your door. He’s dressed for patrol in all black, wrapped in his scarf, his voice modulator hanging loosely around his neck. His hair is wild as always, purple locks sticking in all directions, and he scans your form quickly, as if checking you for visible injuries. You remember how disheveled you look and your face heats up. 

“What are you doing here?” your voice is hoarse from disuse and your most recent crying jag, and you immediately wince at the way you sound, but Shinsou’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’ve come to check on you. I heard you were ill.” His tone is blandly neutral, as though it’s something that he does all the time, like you’re not just some stupid underling he’s contractually obligated to tolerate. His violet eyes narrow. “You’re not sick though.” 

You shrug self-consciously. You don’t understand why he’s here. You’re friendly at work, going out of your way to make conversation with the normally reserved hero, but you’ve never spent any real time together. You’re not sure what made him decide a house visit was in order. He definitely has more important things to do than checking up on you, and now you’re just wasting his time. You wrap your arms around yourself.

 “I just needed a day off.” You step backwards, going to shut the door. “Thanks for checking on me.” Shinsou’s foot shoots out, wedging the door open. There’s a beat as you two stare at each other, your mouth open in surprise.

“You’re not doing well,” Shinsou says, a frown on his face. He pushes your door open, and before you can protest, pro-hero MindJack has crowded into your disgusting apartment. You’re pretty sure it’s only because his poker face is so good that he doesn’t grimace at the mess, just stares at you, a crease in between his eyebrows. Humiliation burns in your chest. Now he knows you’re a gross waste of space, and he’ll probably tell everyone at work that you can’t even manage to keep your apartment clean. 

“Oh, little one,” he sighs. You pray for a black hole to spontaneously appear and swallow you up, but don’t get any such mercy. “You need tea,” he says firmly. “Tea, and then you’re going to tell me what’s making you depressed.”

Shinsou heads towards your kitchen with a strange amount of confidence for someone who’s never been in your apartment before, ignoring the dirty dishes piled in the sink in favor of the kettle.

Part of you knows you should protest, but you can't bring yourself to care, scraping the bottom of the well and coming up empty. You shove the pile of clothes strewn on your couch to the floor and sink into the cushions, your eyes on the hero in your kitchen. Maybe you’re just having a really weird dream.

All of your mugs are dirty, so Shinsou washes your favorite, plucking it out of the stack. You wonder if it's a part of his quirk to pick up on things like that. He even remembers how you take your tea, cradling the mug gently in both hands and plopping down beside you, sinking into your couch, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. Your fingers brush against his own, thin and unnaturally warm from the heat of the drink as he hands it to you. You're reminded of the last time you saw him. 

You've got two full trays of coffee balanced precariously in both hands, fighting a losing battle against flimsy cardboard and gravity. Your face is furrowed in concentration, your eyes fixed on your full hands when someone plucks the trays out of your grasp with nimble fingers. Your head shoots up, and you're about to protest when you see a pair of familiar purple eyes on yours. They’re beautiful up close, blue flecks making them seem almost periwinkle in the fluorescent office lights. Bashfulness hits you like a tsunami, and you try to tamp it down.

“Seems you've got your hands full,” Shinsou comments dryly. You smile and shrug, flustered by his proximity. 

“All in a day's work.” You bite your lip, feeling awkward. “I um, I got you one too, even though I wasn't sure if you'd be in today. You drink it black right? Dark roast?” Deftly, you pluck his out of one of the trays, then hold your other hand out expectantly. “Trade you?”

Shinsou stares at you intently, his expression unreadable. An odd shiver runs down your spine, like cold water dripping through your veins, and there’s a beat of silence before he finally responds, like he had to reboot. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. He hands you one of the trays and accepts the warm cup from your hands, fingers brushing against yours. Despite your protests, Shinsou insists on helping you with your errand, trailing behind you to the meeting room you’re headed to. 

You pass out the drinks quickly, ignoring the odd stares that come with having a purple haired shadow lingering behind you, obediently holding the tray as though it’s the most important part of his day. 

Shinsou doesn’t speak until you're both out in the hallway. 

“You didn't get yourself anything.” There's a slight crease in between his eyes. It's adorable, the singular sign of concern in his placid expression. You’d like to reach out and smooth it out with your thumb. 

“They ran out of the tea I like,” you say, trying and failing to not sound like you’re pouting. Shinsou hums in acknowledgement. He’s suddenly distracted, his mind obviously elsewhere as he shoots you a vague goodbye before abruptly turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction. You smile to yourself. Sometimes the heroes were so odd.

After your lunch break, a cup of tea appears on your desk. You don’t see Shinsou again, but you can’t keep the smile off your face for the rest of the day.  

You’ve sat in silence for at least twenty minutes, unsure of what to say. You wish Shinsou would just leave, but you’re not brave enough to say so. You just want to be left alone. The idea of talking about your pathetic problems with someone who has real responsibilities is mortifying. Shinsou seems content to remain unnervingly quiet beside you, relaxing on your secondhand couch.

“I’m not even sad, really. I’m just bad at being a person,” you finally say. “I fuck up everything and I'm going nowhere.” Your head thunks back against the couch cushions. Shinsou is staring at you, and you wish you could just disappear, but the floodgates have been opened, everything that’s been weighing you down spilling out.

 “It’s so exhausting to even just be alive. I feel so overwhelmed and stressed constantly about the most miniscule things. I wish someone would tell me what to do because I seem to be incapable of making decisions, even with little things like what to eat and how to organize my closet. Every choice I make is the wrong one.”  You sniffle, desperately fighting back the threat of tears. 

There’s a quick change in the placid expression on Shinsou’s face, a ripple in the still waters of a pond. 

“I could help.” His voice is hesitant but his gaze is sharp, lilac eyes pinning you down. You run a hand through your greasy hair absentmindedly, confused.

 “How?”

He stares at you with a deadpan expression until you realize what he’s implying. Duh. 

“I could… make some decisions for you. Help you be productive.”

You've never seen a mind altering quirk in action. Your curiosity sparks, and you push yourself to sit up.

“Can you just tell me to… not? Be depressed?” you ask.

Shinsou tilts his head, a small frown on his face. “It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. But I might be able to make you feel better. At least temporarily.”

The silence while you mull over his offer is tense. You don't want him to use his powers superfluously. You're not sure if his quirk has limitations, but you don't want to exhaust it for a stupid reason like this. 

“I can't ask you to do that.” You say.

“You're not asking,” he replies firmly. “I'm offering because I want to help. It'll–” he hesitates, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I've heard that it's not bad, the sensation of it.”

You stare at him, absentmindedly chewing on your lip. Nothing can make you feel worse than you do right now, you reason. Maybe you can get him to make you clean. Or fill out bills. 

“How do we start?”

Shinsou looks surprised, then pleased, his eyes warm. He shifts closer to you, and you catch the scent of cologne, light and clean. Your heart gives an odd stutter.

“Are you going to be good for me?” His voice is barely a whisper. Heat rises to your face at the question, warmth kindling low in your stomach. You ignore your own reaction, focusing on his question.

“Yes Shinsou,” you reply. His mouth curves up, his demeanor changing instantly, slipping on intensity like a glove. A long arm drapes across the back of your sofa, boxing you in, closing the gap between you. He's bigger than you realized, so close like this, wiry muscle covering his slim form. His eyes are dark and deeper than you've ever seen them, like a twilight sky. You can't look away, a rabbit caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake.

“Relax,” he orders, his voice silky smooth but impossibly firm. The words have an immediate effect, melting into you, tugging at your brainstem. A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel the tension in your body unfurl, like you’re slipping into a warm bath.

There’s a part of you that’s panicking, a jerk of animal instinct that fights against the downy sensation that’s settling into your mind. You try to quiet the protest. You want to be good for Shinsou, want him to think that you're good. He sees the conflict in your expression and leans impossibly closer, a gentle hand reaching up to tip your chin towards him. Your eyes drop down to his mouth, and his breath catches.

“You’re doing so well,” he says quietly. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but I’d never hurt you.” He cocks his head, voice slipping back into a more authoritarian tone. “Now, go take a shower and brush your teeth.” 

The words have an instant effect on you, pulling an invisible string. You jerk to your feet, unsteadily beelining towards the bathroom, his little marionette doll. Shinsou rises as well, heading towards your bedroom. 

The first time you meet Shinsou is in one of the many break rooms of the agency you work at. He strolls in, and you have to make a concentrated effort from keeping your jaw from dropping. He's tall and handsome, his surprisingly delicate features thrown off by the dark circles under his eyes. The coffee you're pouring overflows onto your hand in your distraction, and you curse quietly under your breath, spinning around to grab some paper towel to clean your mess. 

“Careful, the coffee's hot,” a dry voice speaks from behind you. It's low in an unexpected way, appealing despite his lack of inflection. You let out a scoff at his comment. You go over a mental list of the heroes at your agency, trying to pinpoint who he is.

“You're MindJack, right?” you finally ask, turning back to face him, your curiosity getting the best of you. He looks surprised. 

“You know who I am?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve seen what you can do, read your file and stuff.” You're desperately trying to come off as nonchalant, throwing your shoulders up in an exaggerated shrug. Hopefully he doesn’t think you’re a stalker or anything. You clear your throat. “You’ve got a pretty interesting quirk.” 

“Interesting is a kind way to put it, I believe.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it. You read the sudden tension in his shoulders, the way his lips thin. “Most people think it’s a villainous quirk to have.” 

You roll your eyes. Morons. 

“People are just shitty about it because they’d probably be evil if they had your power,” You say, trying to sound matter of fact. “If anything, it just proves you’re a better hero, you resisted the pull because you’ve got strong morals.”

 You smile at him, and he returns it, a quick crescent moon flash of teeth that has you ducking your head.

“I guess I’ve never thought of it that way,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

Shinsou found your stash of clean sheets and is making your bed when you walk into your bedroom after your shower, squeaky clean and wrapped in a towel. He turns to you, and you see his cheeks go pink, his eyes trailing down your form before shooting back up to your face with a guilty expression. Shame rushes through you, disturbing the detached serenity you feel. You should've told him you needed to change, instead of barging in practically naked. He's being so nice, and you’re ruining things like always. You can feel the corners of your mouth turning down, anxiety fighting against the artificial calm Shinsou has coached your mind into.

He clicks his tongue, matching your frown with one of his own. “I’m sorry, I lost focus. You’re alright, relax for me.”

It’s an odd sensation, a roller coaster drop and then you’re back to tranquility. He smiles at you with that half crescent flash of teeth. Your knees feel weak. 

“I’ll go start the dishes while you put on some fresh clothes and start some laundry. Sounds good?”

The sun's dipping low in the sky, the shadows growing long as you and Shinsou fold the mounds of laundry you've finished. Time feels strange, chores that normally take hours slipping by in moments, the sound of Shinsou's voice filling the silence and echoing in your head. He tells you about becoming a hero, about training and about work. You like the way his voice sounds, the lack of inflection giving way to little tells, peaks and valleys in his speech pattern that you’ve never picked up on before.

He's propped himself against your bed, making quick work of the pile of socks he’s folding, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he concentrates. You're struck with the soft domesticity of it all, the compassion of Shinsou taking so much time to help try to pull you out of the hole you’ve found yourself in. Gratitude overwhelms you, your chest tight with it. 

You don't realize there are tears running down your cheeks until Shinsou looks up at you, and lets out a soft gasp, abandoning the pile of socks.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. “Did I push you too much today? Did we do anything you didn’t want?” He’s so close to you, hands hovering hesitant around your face, desperate to comfort but afraid to close the gap. You shoot him a watery smile, wiping your eyes before you pull him into a tight hug. He freezes at the contact, a heartbeat of surprise before melting against you, long arms wrapping around your body.

“You're just so nice,” you say, voice muffled against his chest. You feel his lips brush against the top of your head softly. You don't feel better, necessarily, the empty hole in your chest still present, but you feel less heavy. Your apartment looks great, and your to do list is down to an almost manageable level. He’s done so much more for you than you can express, so you just hug him tighter, burying your face into his neck. 

You want to stay like this forever, huddled on your bedroom floor, cradled in each other’s arms. The warmth of the moment is shattered by the ring of his phone. 

Being a hero is a ceaseless calling. He answers, and you try to convince yourself that the curt note in his voice is disappointment at the interruption. You pull back and pretend not to eavesdrop, schooling your face into a neutral expression for when he hangs up, regret coloring his features.

“I have to go,” he says, and you muster a smile.

“I’ll walk you out.” 

MindJack stands in your doorway for the second time tonight, lingering in the warmth of your apartment. You’re back to feeling stressed, hyper aware of the vulnerability he’s seen today. You hope he doesn’t say anything to anyone. You hope he still likes you after all of this. His next sentence catches you completely off guard, your own self doubt totally off base. 

“I'll stop by to pick you up for work tomorrow morning,” he says, his voice almost casual. There's a soft pink to his cheeks, and you feel an answering heat rise to your own. “Unless you’re planning on calling in sick again.” 

“You really don’t have to do that.” You feel like you’ve put him out enough tonight already.

“I’d like to.” Those purple eyes have you pinned again, and you feel yourself nodding without thinking. Before you can blink, he leans into your space, wrapping a long arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and pressing his lips to yours in a fierce kiss. His mouth is warm and soft. He nips at your bottom lip and you quietly gasp. He takes advantage, deepening the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, his tongue sweeping against yours. You reach your hands up, weaving your fingers through his hair, and he lets out an appreciative groan when you tug him closer. His phone buzzes again and he pulls away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says breathlessly. You don’t know how to tell him what a difference he’s made for you. You’ve got so much you’d like to say to him, but you know he has to go. He’s stayed longer than he should already.

“Thank you,” you say simply. You hope he understands the true weight of your appreciation. You gaze tenderly at each other for a moment before he reaches a hand out, fingers ghosting against your cheek, then slips out of your apartment.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Light the Fire

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: Hi love! I am obsessed with your Qimir fics 💕 the way you write him is just so good! May I request something with him where he gets jealous seeing reader interact with someone else and it leads to a confession ??? Maybe like a friends to lovers ? Thank you so much!

A/N: if you're wondering how im coping with the acolyte news, im in denial and pretending its not real. :D

Qimir Masterlist

(this is how i imagine Qimir to look when he's jealous)

Qimir watched you with careful eyes across the cantina. You were speaking with your bounty. You requested the aid of your old friend just in case. This bounty was high profile and worth a lot of credits. Although you are very capable, you wanted to have some back up just in case. Hence why Qimir was keeping an eye out from across the bar.

He couldn't help the stirring in his stomach as he watches you pretend to be interested in your mark. How you laugh, how you touch him, how you press your body against his. Qimir knows it's not real, he knows you're only doing it to get close to your mark, but damn did it not stop him from feeling jealous.

The mark excuses himself to go to the refresher and you lock eyes with Qimir across the way.

You whisper into the hidden comm in your dress, "When he comes back, I'm taking him to the room. You go first. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Qimir nods his head and gulps the rest of his drink down. Setting some credits onto the counter and leaves the bar area and head upstairs to the rooms offered to bar patrons.

With the extra keycard you got him, Qimir enters the room and hides in the shadows waiting for your arrival.

_________________

Your mark comes back from the refresher and sighs, "Well, ready, baby?"

You give the older man a sultry smile, "You tell me," you trace your finger along the color of his shirt. He gives you a drunken grin that makes your skin crawl, "Lead the way, sweetheart," he gives you a pat on the ass and you giggle, despite wanting to punch the guy in the throat.

You slip your hand into his clammy one and guide him away from the bar and up the stairs towards the rooms. With your keycard, you door to your room slides open. You continue to pull your mark into the room and towards the bed.

You push him onto the bed and straddle his lap. He gets giddy, his disgusting hands running up your thighs to grip your ass.

You give a fake moan, grinding against the man and the act excites him.

You suddenly hear the buzz of a lightsaber and the room illuminating in a red hue. Your mark looks over your shoulder, eyes wide and full of fear.

"Wha-What is this?! What's going on?!"

You roll your eyes and punching the guy in the throat, causing him to gasp for hair. You immediately climb off him and turn to Qimir. He's donning his cortosis helmet, one hand gripping his saber, while the other is clenched in a tight fist.

"I didn't give the signal."

"Didn't need to. I could tell you were uncomfortable," he replies, his voice hidden by the modulator.

Your mark sits up and crawls back towards the head of the bed, "Wait, I have a credits! I'll give you everything I have, just don't kill me!"

You pull out the hidden syringe needle you kept in your thigh holster, "See, that's the thing, Marek. Those credits that you have, they don't belong to you. You stole them and Darius Nox wants them back, as well as to punish you for your insolence."

You also take out the puck you were given, the holo displaying Marek's face.

The older man gulped, "N-Nox sent you."

You pocket the puck and nod, "Yup. And I'm going to bring you to him."

You take a step towards him and he immediately scrambles off the bed and towards the door.

Qimir shoots his hand out, using the force to stop Marek in his place. You shake your head, "They never learn."

You go over to Marek's frozen figure. His eyes are wide. He's helpless and, boy, do you love that look of helplessness and fear in your targets.

You immediately punch Marek in the gut and give him an upper cut punch to his chin. He lets out groans of pain and you smile, "You disgust me." You then jab the syringe into his neck, the poison entering his system. You watch as he tries to fight it, but eventually his eyes flutter close and his head drops to his chest.

_____________________

Qimir isn't careful at all when he helps you bring Marek to your ship. He practically throws him in the little cell that you have for your marks. After ensuring that he's well locked up, you excuse yourself, "I need to wash all that guy's sweat off me. So fucking handsy, that one," you shudder as you pass Qimir, missing his clenched jaw and pissed off look on his face.

Fifteen minutes later, you're scrubbed clean and wearing more comfortable clothing.

You go to the cockpit to see Qimir sitting in the co-pilot's spot, staring out into hyperspace.

"What's with the face?" you ask as you kick your feet up onto the console.

"I really want to kill him."

"Well you can't or else I won't get the full payment. Anyway, why do you want to kill him?"

He doesn't look at you as he speaks, "I didn't like the way he was touching you or how he looked at you when you were talking to him. You thoroughly convinced him that he stood a chance, with your smiling and touching." His hands roll into tight fists as he recalls your actions and behavior tonight, "I know it was all an act, that you didn't mean any of it...but at some point, I started wishing I was Marek. Then I wanted to rip the guy's head off."

You lean in closer to him, a smirk on your face, "Jealous?"

He side eyes you, clenches his jaw and murmurs, "No."

"Sounds like you are."

"I am not."

You stand from your seat and go over to Qimir's. You plop yourself right onto his lap, causing him to widen his eyes in surprise, "Just admit it. You were jealous," you hook your arms around his neck, face an inch away from his

He glances down at your lips then back at your eyes, "What do I get if I admit it?" he murmurs.

"Anything you want."

"Fine. I was jealous."

You grin widely, "Nice to know. Now, what do you want?"

His hands go to your waist and he holds you still, "For you to tell me how you feel about me."

"I feel safe when I'm with you. I feel free, accepted. I feel...loved."

Qimir leans closer, his forehead resting against yours, "I do love you. Sometimes I wish I didn't, especially when you pull the shit you did tonight. I sometimes wish you didn't light a fire inside me every time I'm with you."

"Qimir?"

"Hm?"

"Kiss me."

And without a second thought, he does.

That's when you really feel the emotions within him, the passion and desire he holds for you. It's a flame now growing into a roaring fire. All because of you.

And you feel the same. Two flames fanned, growing bigger, brighter, and stronger. Together.

[crimsonvictory]

Release

MINORS DNI

word count: 3.6k

tags: the mandalorian, the mandalorian smut, the mandalorian x reader, din djarin x reader

warnings: overstimulation, sub!din, dom!reader, touch-starved!din, p-in-v sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!din

notes: i love touch-starved!din. he just needs some release. 😩

I haven’t written anything in SO long please forgive me.

Updated it a little bit because I wasn’t happy with the first results.

prompt(s):

"Tell me what you like.”

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

————————————————————

Since boarding the Crest a little over a year ago, the increasing amount of frustration that was filling the air was concerning you. The tension was so crisp, you could cut it with a knife.

Being within close proximity with someone else gave you plenty of practice on reading unspoken body language. The Mandalorian thought he could hide how he was feeling from you, but you could pick up on his little tells. The way his modulator would pick up his change of breath, it could mean many things, agitation, a slight laugh at your jokes, or sometimes a sign that he was tired and needed a break. His shoulders held so much emotion too. He carried the galaxy on his shoulders and almost never seemed to relax, unless he was asleep.

You mourned the way he never allowed himself to rest. He slept only a couple hours at a time, always on alert, never fully comfortable.

A couple of weeks ago, you noticed that he was getting agitated over every little thing that happened within the ship. The hot water fluctuating (not your fault), the GPS being off by a few parsecs (most definitely not your fault) you (possibly your fault?).

It seemed lately that nearly every day he was almost always taking his anger out on you. Whether it be a snide comment on the work you were doing on the ship or stony silence. But either way, you were getting tired of it. This last dispute really crawling under your skin.

It had all started because you had ordered the wrong part for the GPS system (okay so it was your fault), causing it to overshoot by a few parsecs. It was an honest mistake, and you owned up to it right away. But he did not take your apology well.

It took you almost a better part of the day to explain it to him. You made your way up to the cockpit, hands sweaty on the metal rungs. You danced your way around the room, not able to sit still, the guilt just eating at you.

You went over and over in your head how you were going to tell him, but he beat you to the point.

“What did you do wrong?” he asks, not turning around to face you.

How did he know? Was he as good at reading body language as you?

You cleared you throat, beginning to explain what had happened. Your voice shook as you told him.

“You know better. You better pray to the Maker that we can make it to a shop that has a competent mechanic.” he seethed whipping around to look at you.

You glared at him, face heating up from embarrassment.

“It was an honest mistake, Mando.” you explained.

“You think you know everything but you don’t. You’re adequate at best. How hard is it to order a GPS component?!” he continued.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock, tears brimming your eyes. You were angry.

“I said it was a mistake! Why don’t you lay off of me? I’ll fix it when we get to the next planet, okay? I’m sorry.”

He stood up, walking over and getting down in your face. “I don’t need your help.” he bit out, huffing as he turned and stomped back over to the pilot’s chair.

He spun around quickly, huffing loudly and putting in the next coordinates. You stood there in shock, shaking from anger. Taking a deep breath, you composed your thoughts, trying your best not to be emotional about the situation.

He was still seething. You could feel the anger radiating off of him. The tension in the room so thick you could barely breathe. You took shallow breaths through your nose and out of your mouth, willing yourself to calm down.

“I don’t appreciate being talked to like that,” you stated, leaning against the co-pilots seat and crossing your arms.

He stayed facing away from you, stony and silent.

“Mando,” you pressed. “You can’t talk to me like that. I am human and I’m going to make mistakes. But at least I own up to them and offer to fix them-“

“You shouldn’t be making mistakes-“ he spits.

“If you don’t want mistakes then hire a kriffing droid,” you spit back, fire under your tongue.

He whirls around at that, chest heaving.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but you don’t need to take it out on me,” you tell him, glaring at his unwavering visor.

He sighs heavily, and you can already feel him putting up a wall again.

You roll your eyes. “You always do this! You always put up a wall when I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to help, Mando. That’s what I’m here for. I’ve been here for nearly a year and I know nothing about you.”

“It’s best it stays that way,” he grunts out. “Like I said, I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance a bit. He leans back in his chair, watching you warily as you come closer.

“But what if I want to help?” you offer softly, completely flipping the situation.

You’re surprised at your words, not knowing where they came from. He freezes at your words, unable to speak. His shoulders tense, a fist forming by his side. You walk closer to him, slowly inching the space closed. His visor follows your movements, watching you closely.

“You need to relax,” you whisper, warily placing a hand on his pauldron.

You hear his breath catch and small smile tugs at your lips.

“Let me help, Mando.”

You watch him, he’s completely still, almost not even breathing, not used to another’s’ touch. After a terse moment, he slowly nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, modulator catching the hesitation in his voice.

You smile at his words, sliding your hand up to rest at his cowl. You’re slow with your moments, not wanting to spook him. You gently stroke the exposed skin at his nape, feeling goosebumps erupt at your touch.

His breath expels shakily through the modulator.

“Breathe,” you remind him. “If it‘s too much, let me know, okay?”

Mando nods again, relaxing a bit after a few deep breaths. You slowly slide your hands down his chest, taking mind of his armor. You gently caress his arms, working from his wrists up to his biceps and back down again, watching his body language for any signs of discomfort.

“This okay?” you question. He nods and clears his throat.

You can tell he wants to say something, but it’s catching in his throat. He eventually tells you after a silent moment.

“You can, uh, take the armor off if you want,” he murmurs.

The request takes you by surprise.

“Are you sure?” you ask, appalled that he would suggest even a thing.

He nods, confirming your questioning.

You go slowly, starting at his shoulder pauldrons and working your way down. His hands guide yours, helping you on the places that you struggle.

It’s the most careful he’s been with you. Your hands tremble with excitement and you feel your heart begin to race. Your cheeks warm, feeling so vulnerable in this small space.

You continue to unfasten the buckles, setting his armor down gently on the floor beside you. Working your way down to his breast plate, you glide your fingers under the beskar, lifting it up over his head. His vambrances come next, and finally the thigh and shin guards.

Your breath catches at the mere size of him. He was big without the armor. Just pure muscle, but still soft, especially the way he’s relaxing under your touch. He’s left in his thermals, and your imagination begins running wild. You’ve always imagined what he looked like.

You always thought of him having dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharp, aquiline nose. You’ve never taken a peak, but sometimes you dream of him. You would never confess that. Not to anyone. You turn your focus back to the man in front of you. He seems to shy away from your eyes, turning his head away from you.

You guess that he’s blushing under his helmet. If only you could see him. You just know he’s beautiful. You make a soft noise, appreciating the opportunity unfolding before you. You wrap your fingers around his bicep, squeezing gently.

“Tell me what you like,” you coo.

His visor snaps back to you and he lets out a choked noise. You’ve taken him by surprise.

“I-I-,” he stutters as you trail your fingers down his arm, removing his gloves and placing them down next to his armor.

You finally get a glance at his skin. He’s sun-kissed, nearly golden under all of that armor. You wonder if he ever misses the feeling of sun on his skin. You lace your fingers together, gently squeezing his against your own.

He hums his approval, it crackles through the vocoder.

“Mando.” you say, catching his attention. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I- uh,” he clears his throat again. “I’ve never really-“, he mumbles, looking away again.

Your mind reels at his confession. The Mandalorian, a virgin? It couldn’t be.

“Never?” you question softly, no judgement in your voice.

He answers with another shake of his head.

“This is the Way.”

You hum, considering your options. You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you want to make him feel good. Sliding your hand down to his thigh and squeezing gently.

“Would you let me take care of you?” you ask again. He looks up at you from the pilots seat, in a daze, and takes. a moment before nodding again.

“Use your words, Mando.”

“Y-Yes,” he finally gets out.

You give his thigh another squeeze before straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You can feel how hard he’s becoming underneath you, and it makes your stomach flutter.

Reaching up and placing your hand on the exposed part of his neck, you tilt it to the side, giving you access to the skin closest to you. His breathing quickens, nervousness- and you stroke the side of his neck gently before leaning down and placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. There’s a hint of scruff and you slip your fingers up near his jaw to memorize his face. You’re careful not to move his helmet too much, keeping the Creed in mind. He hums his appreciation at your courtesy.

Hints of mahogany and black vanilla filled your space and you dart your tongue out, tasting his skin. He keens, tilting his head back against the headrest, giving you as much space as he could. His cock twitches against you, and you hum, feeling his arousal grow.

You mouth along his neck, dipping down a few times to kiss his collarbones. Goosebumps follow your kisses, and you can feel the intimacy buzzing under his skin. His energy is electrifying.

Mando shifts his weight underneath you, hips bumping up against your own and it catches you by surprise. You grab onto his arm, steadying yourself.

“Sorry-“ he apologizes as quickly as possible.

“No need to apologize,” you murmur against his skin, dropping your weight down and grinding once, twice, against him.

A moan crackles through his helmet.

Oh.

You wish you could hear him unfiltered. His voice would sound like molten honey. You watch his chest rise and fall, a blush peaking just above his collar.

“Doing okay?” you whisper, checking to make sure your boundaries aren’t overstepped.

He nods, trying to meet the downward grind of your hips. His hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place. You gladly let him use you.

You feel yourself getting aroused, a warm feeling building in your stomach. The way his length is rubbing against your clit feels otherworldly. You bite your lip to keep quiet. He strokes your hip with his thumb, visor watching you. A warmth spreads over your cheeks, the roles reversed.

You take control again, slowing your movements and wrapping your fingers around his neck, pulling him close as you grind against his lap. You watch as he slowly starts to come apart, the pleasure becoming too much. Your kids grow heavy and you watch his chest rise and fall, little gasps falling from his mouth. He sounds fucking angelic.

You wish you could listen to them on repeat. He’s trying his best to keep his hands at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s fighting to relax but slowly giving in when the pleasure builds up and up and up.

“You can touch me, y’know,” you pant, watching his visor. “You’re not going to hurt me. It’s not a bad thing to give in to your pleasure,” you remind.

He’s hesitant, you can practically see the battle in his mind. He slips his hand around your hip, stroking circles into your skin. You hum, praising him.

You begin to slow down your movements, taking the time to gather the strength to climb off of him and position yourself in between his legs. He spreads them wide, placing one foot up on the edge of the seat before tilting his helmet down and looking at you.

Maker- the angle of him above you, chest flushed with arousal- makes you squirm. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, anxious of your next move. His arm is resting on his knee, fingers splayed, relaxed. He looks like a fucking god. You imagine his lids heavy, mouth parted open as he breathes. You nearly come apart at the sight.

“Like the view?” he jokes, and you nod, unable to congregate a sentence. His voice has dropped an octave. You could fucking die happy right here.

You get to work, unbuckling his belt, then having him shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

The outline of his cock is straining against the material. You almost drool, looking up at him through your lashes, you ask, “May I?”

He nods, motioning with his hand to go ahead. You lean forward, placing both hands on his upper thighs and lean down to mouth at his length.

Oh.

He’s fucking huge.

You place soft kisses against the fabric before licking a stripe up to the tip. He whines, hips bucking upwards.

“Please-“ he whines. “Don’t tease.”

His hand grips the side of the pilots chair, fingers wrapping around it tightly, restraining himself.

You bring one hand closer, slipping your hand inside and wrapping your fingers around his length. He’s soft, like velvet - and he twitches in your hand. You bring out his cock through his boxers, adoring the sight of him.

“Maker-“ you whisper in shock. You give him a test stroke, curling your fingers over the tip before sliding them back down to the base. “You’re fucking huge.”

A gasp leaves his lips and he tenses up at your touch. You repeat the pattern, watching his resolve come undone under your finger tips.

He slumps back in the pilots chair, hips bucking upwards to meet your strokes. He’s covered your fingers in precome, easing the way your strokes go up and down.

You tighten your grip on his cock, slowing your strokes down and leaning over to place your lips around his tip.

“Oh, fuck-“ he curses, hips stuttering.

You hum, slowly taking him into your mouth while stroking what you can’t fit at the moment. You suck, swirling your tongue around his tip and bobbing your head up and down his length. You nearly gag due to his size. You cannot believe the situation right now. Maker, you are in heaven.

A heavy hand threads its fingers through your hair, tugging as you absolutely devour him. You can’t get enough. He tastes so fucking good. You lean into his touch, encouraging him to continue.

Your eyes roll in your head as you take him deeper. The sheer size of him makes you so fucking wet. A moan slips from your mouth and you look up at him from your eyelashes.

The sight above you was painted by the Maker himself. You wished so badly again that you could see his face. You imagine his brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth pouting open in the prettiest of ways. You know his lips were angry and pink from his teeth biting into them. He was trying so hard to be quiet and was failing miserably.

You wanted him to let go, relax and enjoy this feeling. Because you didn’t know how long it would be until he needed this again. He wasn’t a man to ask for help. But when he did, you were more than happy to deliver.

The quiet gasps filtering their way through the modulator was music to your ears. He sounded so fucking desperate.

You stroke him a couple more times, coming off of his length with a pop. He groans, mourning the loss of your mouth. You make your way up to his lap again, pulling your underwear to the side and straddling his waist again.

You tilt his chin up, making him make eye contact with you.

“Mando, do you want me to stop?”

He grabs onto your arm, squeezing tightly.

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

You moan at his words, an ultimate confession of wanted pleasure. You both were shaking with anticipation, getting used to each other's bodies. Lining yourself up, you take his hand and guide it down to your pussy.

“Do you feel that? You did that, Mando,” you coo, feeling his thick fingers glide through your folds.

He groans, bringing his fingers up and underneath his helmet, like a man dying of thirst.

“Fuck, you taste fucking good.” he moans, returning his fingers to your folds for another taste.

You keen at his praise, holding on to his shoulder as he dips his fingers back again and again. He’s hooked on your taste and cannot get enough.

Mando wraps his fingers around your hips, guiding you over to his cock. His other hand cuffs around your neck as he pulls you close, voicing another confession.

“Please, fucking wreck me.”

He trembling at this point and you cannot deny him any longer. You guide the tip of his length to your entrance and slowly guide yourself down. It takes a while, as you’re not used to his length. By the time you bottom out, you’re both shaking with exertion.

“Holy fuck-“ you choke out, appalled by the sheer size of him.

“If you don’t fucking move right now-“ he gasps, trembling with pleasure.

You obey, slowly move back up before guiding yourself back down. You feel so full, not knowing if you can take all of him. It’s overwhelming, but in such a good way. You clench around his length, grabbing his attention.

“O-Oh my god-“ he gasps, squeezing your hip. “Again,” he praises.

You oblige, loving the pleasure it gives you both. A thin sheen of sweat forms on your skin and your thighs start to tremble. It’s fucking worth it.

You know he’s not going to last long, you can tell from his breathing. You’re not either, by doing all of the work. But you’re so blissed out on pleasure you don’t even care. He fills you up in just the right way, the tip catching at the deepest part of your cervix and creating a delicious burn in your stomach.

He grabs onto your shoulder, leaving one hand on your hip as he takes control for a moment, speeding his thrusts up to meet yours. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the cockpit, tension resolved and disappearing.

All that lingers now is the smell of sex and arousal. Warmth from both of your bodies filling the air. It’s comfortable and you don’t want to leave.

“Fuck- Mando, you’re doing such a good job,” you gasp out between thrusts. “Look how well I’m taking you.”

He moans at your praise, hips stuttering. His visor tilts down, watching where your bodies separate and then meet again. His fingers brush over your clit and you gasp.

“If you keep talking like that I’m not going to last-“ he warns.

“Good,” you laugh, high off of pleasure. “I want you to let go, come for me.”

“Oh Maker,” he chokes out, thrusting, once, twice, thrice before seizing up, pleasure overcoming his body.

You watch as his body tenses and then slump as the pleasure slowly makes its way through his body. He’s breathing heavily, gently rubbing circles on your hip. He laughs, a musical thing. You wish you could have this moment on repeat.

Your pleasure is still building, burning it your stomach. He glides his hands down to your clit, thumb brushing along your little bundle of nerves. He’s unexperienced, but a quick learner. You show him how to build your pleasure and he repeats your motions, making it burn in your belly.

You slump forward on him, grabbing his bicep for support. His fingers are slow and calulating, but adding the perfect amount of pressure that has you seeing stars.

He does something unexpected, wrapping his fingers around your throat and giving a soft squeeze. You clench around him, body going taught as you reach your orgasm. He coaxes your body through it, guiding you up, up up, and carrying you gently back down.

The pleasure is so intense you start to cry. It’s been so long since you’ve had any intimacy and you cannot handle it. He strokes circles onto your side as you calm down.

“Thank you,” you both say at the same time, causing a chuckle from you both.

“Don’t wait so long to ask me for help next time,” you joke, leaning against his chest and giving him a hug.

“I won’t,” he says.

You believe him.

[thatwritterbeach]

So, About That Alley .1

Jason Todd x fmc Alex

Unedited***

Dc masterlist ALL OTHER PARTS FOUND HERE

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing

A/N: I do not own anything dc, also DO NOT use sewing supplies for stitches, not silk, cotton or polyester it will get infected *Vaginismus: Vaginismus is a condition in which involuntary muscle spasm interferes with vaginal intercourse or other penetration of the vagina. This often results in pain with attempts at sex. The condition is different for everyone.

not my gif and not great for the story but only three were loading so

For starters Alex, or Al, did not expect to find her window bashed in, granted this was Gotham so it happens. For seconders, after pulling her gun, that Jason didn't know she had, and walking through her entire apartment only to find the Red Hood passed out in her bathroom bleeding half to death from what she assumed to be a knife wound in his thigh. A thigh her brain was telling her looked a bit too familiar but no time to dwell. For thirdsers, this motherfucker was heavy, like beached whale heavy, what with all the muscle and armor, it took her a good five minutes to heave him up into a sitting position where she could use her pocket knife to cut away his pant leg and shit that looked bad, like how the fuck was she gonna fix this bad. Hoping the passed out hero didn't die while she gathered some supplies she sped around to boil some water and get her way too extensive first aid kit. With clean hands and a sterile needle she pulled the first stitch through the wound which caused Hood to shoot awake and lightening fast reflexes to latch around her throat making her drop the needle and grasp futily at the strong arms.

"Ple-s, tr-ng-hp," she wheezed looking into white lenses giving nothing away. He released her with a shake of his head and would have rushed an apology if his voice modulator wasn't busted from the fight. With what he hoped was a less than threatening gesture he pointed to his wound and gave her a carry on hand wiggle.

"Yr a ray f sunshine," she said with only a light cough. Last time she stitches up some huge guy in her bathroom. He grunted in affirmation? And let his head thud back against her bright white, well before he showed up, wall.

"Do you often break into helpless women's apartments and try to strangle them for stitching you up," she asked to help distract him from the needle moving in and out of his skin. He clicked his tongue and gave a pointed helmeted look at her gun she had placed on the floor. If he wanted to kill her she was certain he could do it before she even lifted it, and hey the Hood was good, right?

"Don't tell my boyfriend, he doesn't like me around guns. Not sure what the problem is, Gotham is pretty shit, and in case you hadn't;t noticed I'm pretty small, and traffic-able," she said with an eye roll pouring some of Jason's beloved whiskey on the wound. Hood hissed and let out a familiar sounding curse but didn't move a muscle in what she knew to be a painfully rehearsed move.

"Don't tell him about the whiskey either, hopefully I'll get to the store first."

"Boyfriend sounds like a dick," Hood said in what was clearly a fake gravely voice.

"Your Batman voice is pretty shit. And Jason is great, fantastic, best thing to ever happen to me."

"Me thinks the dutch protest too much."

"Hey don't make me give you an ugly scar, I'm being careful here," she chastised. "Anyway, Jason is the love of my pathetic little life, without him...without him I wouldn't be here. Not that he knows, he has enough shit to worry about without me and my nonsense, but-"

"You wanna kill yourself," came his surprised yelp.

"I have a question?"

"Not till you answer mine."

"It's not that I want to kill myself it's that I don't wanna be alive sometimes, and without him I wouldn't be. Now my turn-"

"Why do you have a stitched kit," and the modulated voice started working again.

"No fair."

"I'm the one bleeding," he snarked.

"Yeah in my bathroom, which I just cleaned by the way. I kinda sort maybe hurt myself," she mumbled in a whisper knotting off the last stitch and moving to another nasty looking one.

"As in, cut yourself." Hard to tell with the computer but she almost heard hurt? In his voice.

"Yeah, no so much anymore, what with the boyfriend and all but it used to be bad, bad enough I learned to do my own stitched, not that it was hard being a seamstress already and all."

"Why?"

"It's a pain I can control."

"I get that." Her eyes shot to the white slits in surprise.

"But you-"

"Are ruggedly good looking, a killer shot, and the badass hero Red Hood."

"Humble too."

"What was your question?"

"Hypothetically," she paused to lean back and gesture for his jacket to come off so she could work on his shoulder that had been shot," if you had a girlfriend-"

"Saying my charm couldn't snag a chick?"

"If your girlfriend, was trying to tell you she can't have sex, how would you want her to phrase it?" Her hands were steady in their mission of checking for vital damage her eyes trained on the red flesh so she mistook his intake of breath as a hiss of pain and made her fingers more gentle.

"She doesn't want to have sex or..."

"Can't, like physically speaking."

"Is she a hermaphrodite?"

"No, she was r*ped as a child and now her body freaks out whenever contact is attempted," Alex ground out starring straight ahead at her task, not crying cuz that's a bitch move.

"Were you?"

"I said hypothetically." His jaw twitched inside the helmet and his fists clenched at his side aching to rip his helmet off and pull her into him.

"Hypothetically is the pos dead," he asked playing along.

"Hypothetically, yes."

"Real life good, can I ask what happens when you try to have sex, not that you should ever force yourself."

"It's like trying to penetrate a brick wall, it's excruciatingly painful and sometimes there's blood."

"i'm sorry."

"Your side doesn't look like it's gonna clot anytime soon, better lift your shirt for me." He hesitated but she hardly ever saw him shirtless as himself so fingers crossed. Halfway through wiping the blood off she paused and poked at a spot near his hip where a too familiar scar was.

"So hood," she carried on hoping he hadn't noticed what she prodded.

"Yeah?"

"Got any family?" The conversation stayed solely on him while she finished, she made sure of it and when he was patched to perfection she fixed his pant leg and sent him on his limping way. When she was sure he was gone she boarded up the window, seething at her boyfriend for breaking it instead of busting the lock. Taking deep calming breathes her brain replayed every piece of information she'd just given him. Shit shit shit how was she gonna get out of this one. Lie her ass off that's how.

Jason was do to meet her for breakfast so she got up early and made a full spread sure to add all his favorites. Part way through her mixing her brain connected the dots, Nightwing and Hood hang out, Nightwing used to be Robin, Hood must have been robin, the robins work with Bruce, as she figured out years ago, I mean come on the money for the tech had to come from somewhere. So she was dating Bruce Wayne's son.

"Honey, I'm home," Jason mocked from the door. He rounded the small corner to the kitchen and held out some flowers to her.

"These are nice, what's the occasion," she feigned interest as she put them in a vase.

"Just to say I love you."

"Love you too."

She could feel him growing nervous as he took in the masterpiece she had created. With a soft smile she pointed to a seat and he took it with only slight apprehension, failing in holding back a wince at his injuries.

"I think your ass is much better than Dick's."

"What," he nearly yelled.

"I just means everyone drools over Nightwing's ass but I promise your is better," she said conversationally like they were talking about the weather.

"How did you-"

"Figure out who Nightwing was, actually I've known for years, pretty obvious to anyone not strung out which in this city is unheard of. It didn't click until last night that you were a Robin though."

"But you knew I was Red hood?"

"Well, duh, how stupid do you think I am? The while dying thing through me on the Robin bit I'll be honest but I got there." He knew they needed to talk, he needed to apologize for not telling her, she needed to explain what the hell she was talking about last night.

"I've known for a while now, just thought I'd tow with you for breaking my window," she said munching on a waffle while his chilled on their plate.

"So you lied?" He was actually hoping it all was a lie, a mean lie but he did think he was keeping a huge one from her so.

"Actually in terms of body, your thighs are far superior to your ass," she said avoiding his question.

"What's wrong with my ass," head asked making a show of turning in his chair to glance down.

"Nothing, but I don't really wanna ride your ass." The sip of hot coffee he had tried to take was forcefully ejected and he sputtered for an eternity before locking eyes with her. His wide and shocked, her's cool and coy.

"Your thighs," she said slowly," give me life, I want to ride both of them until I can't walk straight." Her smile was so sweet she could have been offering him a cookie.

"You want to-"

"Yes, please," she didn't let him finish his sentence, or his food as she dragged him into the bedroom. He fell back on the bed with a small grunt of pain that was quickly replaced when she stripped off her sleep shorts and turned to show him her ass, which he had never seen with so little coverage, and was incased in the same shade of red as his helmet, the lace showing more than it hid as she bent over and wiggled 'getting her shorts untangled from her feet'.

"Like the color," she teased turning back around with a devilish smirk.

"Is it a matching set," he practically whimpered as she straddled his good thigh, still in dark was jeans.

"Pity you wore such a dark color, I was hoping to mark my terf," she pouted struggling slightly to get footing since her legs were so much shorter than his. He helped steady her by grabbing at her hips and helping her glide back and forth.

"Your terf," he smirked.

"Of course, if you prefer you can keep the panties in your pocket," she purred, but inside she was gagging.

"I can," he nearly giggled in delight. Well if that didn't prove last night she was spinning a tragic story. Of course, unbeknownst to him she had injected herself with a heavy enough dose of Morphine to knock out a gorilla hoping to all the gods it was enough to at least dull the pain she was getting ready to force herself through.

See masterlist for more

8-6-24

[itsascreambaby96]

Eddie Munson as Ghostface? With Reader?

Halloween pranks turned into fun time in the bedroom?

Warnings: 18+, mdni!!!!! Everyone is over 18. Knife play! Mentions of murder (no one gets killed) Oral (male recieving), this is pure smut. Plot? I don't know her. P in v sex. Bit mean!Eddie (just a tiny bit). If I missed anything let me know.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hehe my love that is a brilliant idea. And I am honoured to write my first Eddie piece for you😁 you know this was the final push to write that piece we were talking about a few weeks ago🤭 is this my favourite thing ever? Yes. Yes it is😌

Also applications for a boyfriend or girlfriend to do this with me are still open😅

It's a scream baby!

Eddie has been teasing you with his stupid mask all month already. And you were only half way through October. Giving you creepy calls, asking you about your favourite scary movie, which ended in hot telephone sex. Jumping out from behind the fridge, which led to Eddie hitting it from behind over the kitchen counter. Or jumping from behind a door, which ended in sex against the wall. Or jumping out of your wardrobe, which led to sex on your bed. There was no limit for him. Not like he didn't get to scare and kill people. He did. He just loved making you jump.

Of course you knew he was the famous Ghostface killer. It wasn't hard to figure out considering your High School bully wound up dead, a day after you told your boyfriend Eddie about what happened back then. You weren't sorry for them. It's what they deserved. It was also kinda hot and you might or might have not had the best sex after he admitted it. Of course he was wearing the mask, who might still have had some blood on it.

Eddie knew you had a thing for Slashers. The way you always look at them when you two watched a horror movie was a tell tale sign. And he was so excited about the thing he had planned. In his head is was coming together perfectly.

You found a part time volunteer job for the corn maze in Hawkins. The uniform wasn't much, basically just a vest and the rest were your own clothes. It was pretty chill most days. You only had to call someone 4 times yet cause some people got lost.

Today had been a quiet day and it was closing time. Your co worker left you to do the final round alone because he had an important date apparently and it couldn't wait. He was an asshole anyway so you were glad he was gone.

With your fleshlight in hand you went through the maze. You knew every path by now. It wasn't completely dark yet but having the flashlight gave you a bit of safety.

You had a weird feeling going in but it was probably nothing. You were almost finished now, already making your way back and you still couldn't shake that weird feeling. Like your were being watched and followed. Looking behind you, you saw nothing. You were going just a tad quicker just in case.

And then you heard it, a twig snapped behind you and you froze. Someone was definitely behind you. It was darker now but you didn't need your fleshlight to see who was behind you. The white mask reflected the moonlight. Black empty eyes kept looking at you. You let out a breath, fairly certain that it was Eddie. Who else would it be? Though in this town you could never be too sure.

So you said "Fuck Eddie you almost gave me a heartattack!"

Ghostface tilted his head slightly. Fuck those eyes didn't give anything away.

"I am not Eddie." You gulped at the deep modulated voice. You know it was him. 99.99% sure. But to pretend he was just a nameless killer? It kinda rilled you up.

"Oh you wanna play psycho killer? Can I be the helpless victim? Ok let's see. No please don't kill me Mister Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel." You looked at him with fake innocent eyes.

You could hear Eddie snicker and you were relieved you were right.

"You better run fast, princess. If I catch you, it's over for you." That same deep voice spoke again. Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling up.

He came a step towards you, then another and another, before you were darting off, Ghostface right behind you. You knew this maze by heart, so it was definitely on purpose that you ran into a dead end so Eddie would catch you. Of course you didn't let him know that.

You muttered an audible "Fuck" and turned around. You could hear Eddie tsk behind you. He was closer than you initially thought. A surprise gasp leaving you as his leather gloved hand wrapped around the base of your neck lightly. Eddie lightly ran his knife over your cheek. Your heart was beating wildly, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"Poor thing. Now what to do with you?" It was kind of thrilling that you couldn't see Eddie's face, yet his movements were so telling.

The pointy tip of his knife was under your chin, slowly lifting your head. The fact that it was a real knife and he could cut you with it, the danger of it all, only added to your arousal. You were sure your panties were already drenched.

Eddie slowly dragged the knife down your throat, only adding a tiny bit of pressure so you could feel the weight of the situation.

And you certainly did, it also turned you on immensely.

"Is there any way I can safe my life?" You were batting your eyelashes at him.

"I can think of a few things." Eddie dragged his knife up your thigh and under your skirt, making goosebumps rise on your skin. Then he kept dragging the dull end of the knife against your pussy over your panties, making you moan.

"On your knees Princess." Eddie pulled the knife back and you quickly got onto your knees in fron of him. Lifting his robe and opening his pants to pull Eddie's cock out. He was already hard. So you weren't the only one getting turned on by this.

"It's not gonna suck it self. So if you want your life spared, I suggest you start. And you better make it good." God that voice. Your pussy clenched around nothing.

You licked a long strip from base to top, wrapping your lips around his deep pink tip, licking off some of the precum. You repeated this motion a few times making sure all of his dick got wet with your saliva. Then you wrapped your lips around the tip again, letting your tongue glide over his slit. Eddie kept groaning and moaning the whole time, biting his lip under the mask.

You were enjoying this as much as he was, your juices already ruined your panties. Slowly you went to take more of him into your mouth until you couldn't take it anymore. Breathing through your nose you started to bob your head up and down. Your hand wrapping around what you couldn't fit into your mouth.

Your movements started slow but your pace became quicker by the minute. Occasionally you kept sucking on his sensitive tip. The low moans Eddie made only spurred you on. Drool was running down your chin mixed with his precum. Eddie loved messy blowjobs.

He tried to hold back the urge to fuck into your throat but his self-control was running thin.

"Hands behind your back princess." His voice was even deeper now, even with the changed voice.

You looked up at him with doe eyes, making Eddie twitch in your mouth. You put your arms behind your back and Eddie gripped your hair right as he made his first thrust. It was slow, as if to test you were ok with this. Once he saw you were eager and waiting he didn't hold back anymore. A gargled sound leaving you as he fucked his whole length into you. More drool and precum dribbling out of your mouth, down your chin. Your eyes began to water but you kept the same look on your face to let Eddie know you were enjoying this as much as he was.

Shoving the entirety of his cock down your throat he kept you in place. Your nose touching the soft tufft of his pubic hair. Tears wear running down your face now, completely ruinning your mascara.

You looked all the fucked out little slut Eddie knows you are only for him. That fact almost made him come.

He pulled you back by the hair after a few seconds, letting you take in some much needed air, before he pushed inside again and holding you there.

He repeated this for a while, you looking messier and messier every time he let you come up for air. And he was definitely getting off on this. His pace got quicker, you knew he was close. His cock throbbing in your mouth and with one final push he came. Groaning, he held you there until the last drop, then finally realising you from his grip. You were coughing a little, drool and some of his come on your chin, your mascara all over the place and your hair all tangled up. Eddie loved it.

He put his dick back into his pant and softly helped you stand up. You gave him a reassuring smile. Your knees hurted now but you knew he would take care of you.

"You did so well princess. But I am not done with you yet." With that he dragged you back to his van. Good for him that he knew the maze too. You were stumbling a little and were glad when you finally reached the van.

He opened the back door, and you saw an old mattress and a blanket on top of it. He really did plan this all through.

He pushed you inside and onto the mattress, making you giggle a little. Not bothering to close the door, Eddie got on top of you, still wearing his mask. He took off your vest and your shirt. Your skirt followed suit. Now he made a show out of cutting your bra and panties off. One of his favourite things to do during foreplay. The cold metal of the knife made you shiver.

He circled the tip of the knife around your nipples until they perked, giving a deep, satisfied hum. Slowly he dragged the knife over your stomach down to your pussy. His other gloved hand was running through your wet folds.

"All this shit got you this wet? What a dirty little slut you are. Letting a killer teat you like this and then letting him fuck you. Tsk, pathetic, really." He pulled his hand up to inspect the glove. It was glistening with your arousal in the moonlight that came into the van.

Taking the tip of the knife again he began circling your clit. A whiny moan escaped you as the cold metal came in touch with your heated pussy. But you were enjoying yourself. He didn't keep this teasing up for long and threw his knife to the side. Pulling his robes up he took his pants and boxers off. His dick was already hard again.

He didn't waste more time, spreading your legs he pushed inside of you with one quick push. You threw your head back both in pleasure and pain from the stretch.

"Fuck always the best fucking pussy. Sucking me in so deep." Eddie grit out between his teeth. He could spend hours inside of you if you'd let him. Usually he gave you time to adjust but he was really impatient today and so he didn't give you as much time to adjust to his length and girth. Instead he almost completely pulled out of you and snapped right back into you, knocking the wind out of you.

You let out a choked moan as Eddie kept drilling into you and soon the pain vanished and all that was left was hot pleasure.

You wanted to hold onto him but as quick as lightning he grapped your wrists and pinned them over your head with one hand. Black eyes staring at you. The sorta anonymity made you clench tight around Eddie's dick making him groan.

With every hard thrust the mattress moved but you could care less about that. You were biting your lip to quieten some of your moans but Eddie wasn't having it.

"You better moan as loud as you want, because I want every damn person in this town to know how good I am making you feel." He was almost growling and who were you to say no to him. And so you released every moan and whine and groan you wanted. The squelching sound of your pussy adding to the erotic of this whole situation.

Eddies thrusts became harder, sloppier and erratic. You knew he was getting close again but you also knew he wanted you to come first.

His hand moved between tthe two of you and he started to rub circles against your clit, using the right pressure and pace to match his thrusts.

Like this, it didn't take long for you to tip over the edge. Your ears started to ring and a loud high pitched moan came out of you. Your legs wrapping around Eddie, locking him in, as he too, reached his end, emtpying himself deep inside of you.

Once you've both calmed down Eddie finally took off his mask and the robe as well as his shirt. He pulled out of you, colapsing next to you onto the mattress and pulling you into his arms. He gave you a long and meaningful kiss that made you melt. Your heart was still hammering against your chest.

"Was it everything you dreamt of?" His voice sounded normal again, making you relax instantly.

"No. It was even better." Your voice was hoarse but that was to be expected. You didn't mind.

"I'm glad." Eddie kissed the top of your head. You two kept laying there for a little while longer before driving home and taking a well deserved shower. After another round, consisting of Eddie eating you out you fell asleep exhausted but oh so satisfied. You definitely planned on doing this again.

[oscarseyebrow]

Patience

Pairings: din djarin x female reader  Rating: explicit. 18+ Word count: 3k Warnings: please read all warnings before continuing, this is straight up filth. explicit smut, unprotected p-in-v, ass play (who am i?), mention of spitting (who have i become?), dom/sub dynamics, cursing, edging, smallest mention of spanking, light reference to daddy kink. A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @the-scandalorian! i'm sorry this is a year late...but here you go! this is for you 💖 Masterlist | Taglist

The consistent, low-humming of the ship is the primary sound to fill the hull. An occasional beep accompanies it—every five seconds, to be exact—you know this because you have been counting. It’s a cycle, a predictable pattern that comes with knowing the ship well and something that your brain desperately clings to as a form of distraction. 

You need something, anything, to keep your focus away from the delicious, pleasurable stretch of Din’s cock filling you and holding there, unmoving, twitching and pulsing against your walls. This is his well-earned reward for a challenge you lost, and Maker, he’s taking his sweet time revelling in the satisfaction of it. 

At some point, you lose count of the five second cycles—after the first few minutes, it becomes almost impossible to keep up. Din knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how difficult he’s making it for you to keep some sort of grasp on your composure.

Every now and again, you phase back into the beeps, you hold onto them tightly and proceed to count the seconds between them, only to be enticed right back each time Din moves a mere fraction of an amount and causes the softest mewl to pass between your parted lips at the satisfying–albeit temporary–relief. 

With Din out on a hunt, there’s little in the way to keep you busy on the ship. Cleaning, reading on your datapad and showering, it’s all part of your routine to pass the time. You’re expecting him to be gone for a few hours, at least. Maybe even a day, depending on the job. So it’s a pleasant surprise to see that Din is back when you step out of the fresher. 

He stands in front of the closed doors, his somewhat dishevelled appearance making a few things apparent: he has only recently arrived back, and his hunt–while being a challenging one–has been a success. He’s worked up, you see it in the way he holds himself: rigid and alert, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His head is still very much on the job while his body craves something more. 

Something only you can offer him.    

 “Show me how you caught him,” you request, eyes daring the bounty hunter as his chest heaves in the fluorescent lights of the Crest’s hull. “Show me how you took control.” 

The dominance oozes from him: it stifles the air, colours it with the primal, animalistic energy of capturing his prey. 

“And if I catch you this time?” Din asks. 

“If you catch me,” you begin, then take a moment to think. “You get whatever you want…daddy.”  

A wicked, lustful smirk curves over your lips. You watch the way his fingers curl to fist one hand: the creaking of his glove breaks the tense silence that cloaks the space between you while he considers your offer. 

Your challenge is one that Din accepts: it becomes a game of cat and mouse, and you do all you can to avoid being caught. 

You dip and dodge his sudden lunge for you, narrowly avoiding his swooping arm that attempts to capture your body and scoop you against him. It earns you a grunt of frustration and his boots scrape against the floor of the Crest when he rounds on you to try again. 

But you’re ready. You keep your knees slightly bent, preparing to sprint in the opposite direction to him while your eyes remain fixed on his visor. 

The crackles of tension in the air is not too dissimilar to the way Din’s modulator rasps with his heavier breaths. 

And then silence. 

He’s prepared for his next strike.

It happens so suddenly: he fakes a step to the left, you dart in the opposite direction and run straight into his chest. No matter how much you try to wriggle free, it’s impossible. Din’s strong arms hold you firm against him, giving you no room for movement. 

The bastard tricked you. The chase is over. 

Within seconds, Din turns you towards the cot: he places your hands above your head in a silent order to keep them against the durasteel entrance. 

The intensity and purpose of his movements causes a swell of desire and excitement to fizzle in your stomach at the thought of him claiming you. This is your favourite thing about Din returning to you in one of these moods: you know exactly what’s coming and you’re already squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.  

Din’s gloved hands rip open the buttons at the chest of your shirt: the tiny round missiles fire in every direction to allow for the fabric to fall slack. It’s all the space he needs for one of those large hands to submerge itself beneath the material and grasp a handful of your supple breast. 

That’s when you moan for him: his gloved fingers trap the sensitive peak of your nipple and pinch with just enough pressure to send an electrical jolt of pleasure through your whole body. You decide to take the opportunity to press the curve of your ass back and grind against him, enjoying the sound of his groan of pleasure. 

“Behave,” Din warns you. 

“What will happen if I don’t?” 

The slow intake of air is audible through Din’s modulator as his helmet tilts in such a way that brings his mouth close to your ear. Then, in that low, gravelled tone, he states: “the choice is yours.”

You continue to press, “what choice?” 

“I can bring you in warm…or I can bring you in cold.” 

Maker. Have mercy. 

“The most important skill while hunting…is patience,” Din’s unmodulated voice rasps from behind you. 

The tones wash over you like liquid velvet and make your muscles flutter around where he’s sheathed deep inside the wet heat of your cunt. 

“Sometimes it can take hours of waiting…do you have hours, Cyar'ika?” 

“Yes,” the answer tumbles from your lips instantly, only to be muffled by the scratchy fabric of the blanket on the bed. 

It feels as though you have already been here for hours: chest down and legs spread where you stand outside of the cot. You know that when you do finally straighten up, the imprint of the blanket’s fibres will be noticeable on your cheek, but it will be worth every hatched line.   

There’s a knowing smirk evident in Din’s voice and his next words slide silkily from his mouth: “yes, what?” 

Your pussy instinctively quivers again at his tone, informing him of your increasing need. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

You get a sound of approval, rumbled from deep within his chest. He likes it. He enjoys the way your voice carries that word; it’s music to his ears. 

The softest moan escapes from between your lips when Din draws his hips back to admire the way his cock glistens with you. Not even the steady rattle of the ship or his heavier breaths are enough to disguise the obscene sound of his cock gliding through your wetness as his thrusts become harder. 

“Feels so good,” you praise him. “Don’t stop–oh, right there!”  

There’s no controlling the curses and lust-filled balling that spills from your mouth when Din’s cock finally rubs up against your favourite spot. It triggers an automatic response in your hips as they tilt into his thrusts, chasing the pleasurable sensation. 

The rhythmic beeps of the ship are drowned out by the soundscape that builds at the entrance of the cot: Din’s lower grunts, your pitched moans of pleasure while the telling signs of your orgasm begin to take hold. It creeps in with a smouldering heat at the base of your spine and snakes between each vertebrate–it sears along each nerve, absorbs itself into your bloodstream and pulseates throughout your whole body. 

It’s close. 

It’s so fucking close. 

Your eyes tighten in anticipation, your voice unable to produce any sort of sound while everything in your body pulls tight.

And then he stops. 

Each time Din edges you to the very brink of orgasm, he hastily drags you back from it, leaving you to collapse in desperation against the mattress of the cot again and again. Your legs tremble, hopelessly trying to hold yourself steady. 

“Din,” you’re almost on the verge of begging, unable to take the torturous pleasure any longer. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he has done this to you. 

“Patience, Cyar'ika.” 

No, you’re done being patient. 

Your fingers hold the blanket with a vice-like grip as you pull yourself forward over Din’s cock and then slide yourself back again, momentarily taking control, interested to see his reaction. 

An unexpected moan sounds from behind you, as though he hadn’t been anticipating this move. Somehow, you expect him to have the situation well read: he’s usually prepared for everything, so to catch him off-guard sparks an uncontrollable desire deep within you. It urges you on, thrilled by the fact that even now, after all this time, you can still surprise him. 

“Mmm—fuck,” Din groans as one of his hands clutches at your waist. It isn’t to prevent your movements, he’s simply holding you, admiring the show as you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“That’s it, Cyar'ika. Show me what you need,” Din’s encouragement spurs you on more: the pliable flesh of your ass slaps against his cold armor each time you thrust back onto him. “You’re doing so well.” 

Maker, his praise sends you wild. 

“I love your cock,” you pant. “Love how big it feels…”

You know exactly what you’re doing, you’re pushing him, trying every trick you know in the ‘Din handbook’ in an attempt to get him to snap and fuck you as if his life depends on it. 

Din knows this, too. 

His next words put an end to your building pleasure: “That’s enough.” 

No. It isn’t enough. It’s not even close to being enough. 

Your frustrated whine becomes muffled by the blankets when you press your face against them again and squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t know how much more of this you can take. Din knows your limits, he’ll never push you further than what you’re comfortable with so you know that he’ll give in soon enough. But this is a fine line you’re toeing between pleasure and frustration, with your need for release descending into urgent desperation.

Din’s hands move to your lower back and stroke over your warm skin. They follow the curve of your spine and then up a little higher before his blunt nails drag downward. The sensation makes you shiver beneath him, aching for his fingers to reach around and pay some attention to your abandoned clit. 

“Please…” You beg. 

All you’re rewarded with is a slow roll of his hips: each thick inch of his length slides easily through your dripping cunt before he sinks deep again and holds there. 

You open your mouth to protest, set on calling him a few choice words for how far he’s pushing you tonight but all that comes out is a quiet “oh,” when the pad of his thumb teases at the tight ring of muscle of your ass.  

He applies no pressure, he simply grazes over it, as though he’s awaiting your reaction to the silent request. There isn’t a single part of your body that Din hasn’t explored during your relationship, but this still holds a feeling of vulnerability, a sensation of unfamiliar territory compared to all other areas he enjoys. 

You turn your head to glance back over your shoulder and notice that he’s already watching you: head tilted and a small smirk on his lips. Din’s body towers in the entrance of the cot, blocking out most of the light that pours in from the hull of the ship. From this angle, with him looming above you, he looks deliciously intimidating. 

“Can I?” He questions quietly, although you’re sure he already knows the answer. 

The calloused pad of his thumb continues to tease, causing heavier, uneven breaths to escape you: your lungs are desperate to take in air while your body tries to force it back out with the excitement and pleasure that builds.

There’s no keeping the grin from your lips when you nod, giving him your consent. You trust him completely: he would never do anything without your approval, even now, after the years you have spent together. Nothing is ever taken for granted–Din is respectful, before all else. Which is somewhat of a contrasting thought as he slaps one of his palms down against the cheek of your ass and grins to himself when you gasp.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your answer.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Din’s voice oozes a dominance reserved only for you, a tone that he is able to use with great effect when you both feel safe and able to explore together. 

“Y–yes,” you stutter, unable to hold your composure as the excitement builds rapidly in your stomach. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

Din’s eyes hold yours for a brief moment while that smirk lingers on his lips. He knows he’s going to wreck you, he’s going to turn you into a babbling, trembling mess when the force of your orgasm finally hits and you’re allowing him to do it. 

You need him to do it. 

His hands smooth over the cheeks of your ass while he watches you, then finally, he looks away so that he can admire the view while he spreads you open. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs his approval. 

Din leans over just enough to spit into the crevice of your ass. The sudden warmth has you gasping again and clenching around his cock, which in turn, earns you a deep moan of approval. He wastes little time before he moves to rub the pad of his thumb over your opening again, only now, a slick wetness accompanies it. 

The sensation is divine. 

“Do you like feeling me here, Cyar'ika?” There it is again, that silky smooth voice: it’s low in pitch, but no less commanding for an answer. 

The only thing that you’re able to string together is something close to a whine as Din’s thumb applies just enough pressure to breach the tight hole. The very tip of his thumb sits there, holding still as you writhe beneath him in an attempt to get him to push it in further. 

“So eager,” he breathes. “Do you like feeling so full?” 

You nod into the blankets as you scrunch them up and bury your face into the fabric with a moan. 

“Yes,” you manage, voice muffled. “I fucking love it.” 

He rolls his hips again, slower this time, controlled. It’s almost admirable, the way he manages to keep it together for so long: it’s one of the many things you love about him, his need to satisfy you, as well as himself. With another press of his hips, Din’s thumb eases further into you while his cock throbs against your walls with his growing need. 

Maker, you feel so full. 

You’re expecting Din to rest there, to take his time and enjoy the feel of your wet heat warming up his cock while his thumb is nestled deep inside of you. But he doesn’t, and there’s no denying it catches you by surprise. 

His hips begin to thrust again: deep and hard, well-aimed and precise. 

“Shit,” he curses with a moan. “You’re taking my cock so well tonight.” 

You moan and whine against the blanket, lost to the pleasure, unable to form any sort of coherent words as Din fucks you over the cot. Every word he speaks seems to flood you, each moan of his pleasure and acknowledgement of how good you feel, drives you wild. 

The fingers of Din’s other hand finally reach around to reward you with some attention to your clit. Finally, fucking finally. It induces a jolt of pleasure with such an intensity that it threatens to tip you straight over the edge. 

You’re close. Closer than last time, and Din doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. 

“Fuck me, Din,” you cry out your request, as if he isn’t already doing so. “Fuck me. Make me cum. Please, please…” 

The sound Din makes is something close to a snarl as he fucks you harder, causing wave after staggering wave of pleasure to crash over you. 

Oh, fuck. You feel it coming. 

Your orgasm rises from somewhere deep inside of you and builds with a force you’ve never experienced before. Din’s touch is everywhere: his fingers, his thumb, his cock. You don’t know which way to press your hips, you don’t know how to arch for the best result: it’s overwhelming, overstimulating. 

There’s sounds coming out of your mouth that you have no control over: curses and praises, incoherent begs and cries for what you need. 

And then it hits you. 

You’re powerless to it and the way it rips through the whole of your body. Maker, it has you in a fucking chokehold as your body simultaneously tenses and trembles. No words form, only sounds of pure ecstasy are able to explode from your throat; ragged and desperate. 

“Oh fuck. That’s it, Cyar'ika. So good… So good,” Din’s words are broken by breathy moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

He’s close. You feel it in the way his hips buck, no longer holding their steady, controlled rhythm. Din’s thumb eases out of you, allowing himself to grip onto your waist with one of his larger hands while the other thuds down onto the cot beside you.

You’re thankful for the way his broad body crowds over you, pressing you tighter to the cot and keeping you in place as he cums with a broken cry of your name. You don’t trust your legs to hold you up any longer, especially not when you feel the warmth of Din’s load filling you deeply, his hips continuing to jut against you until he has given you everything.

You’re exhausted, spent… wrecked. 

It takes a little time to muster up the energy to move, but eventually, you both make it into the bunk after Din’s remaining armor and clothes are removed.  

“Mmh,” he groans and presses the warmth of his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible.” 

A soft, lazy smile curls onto your lips as you turn your head a little to see him settled against your chest. You could stay like this forever, tangled up with him while your fingers comb slowly through his damp hair. 

“When is the next job?” You ask after a moment, trying to keep your voice from giving anything away. 

“Not for a few days…Why?” 

“Oh, I was just wondering,” you smile to yourself and close your eyes. “Next time, I won’t let you catch me.” 

[slutforhaechan]

Haechan showing his jealous gf that she's the only one for him and none of the girls (fans or celebrities) that he sees and interact with are a menace. Can you make it extra spicy, dominant haechan fucking the saltiness outta her and some super cute after care.

fucking hell, too lengthy anon but hope you liked it!🎑

one thing that you don't want to see is haechan interacting with his fans, especially to those girls who are crazy to him because he knows how flirty he gets when it comes to give a fan service to the point that girls can be dangerously attached to him, and it kills you inside watching him. the days has been hard to you so that you confronted him. "wow i think you had a lot of girlfriends now because of your fan services, and almost forgot me the main gf who gets jealous everytime." voice modulating in furious state, pride swallowed. haechan already sense it in the first place, on how you treat him when he get back home to you. you avoiding him, not looking into his yes because the jealousy really kills you extremely inside, only talks when he asked something and nothing more, he really sense it knowing that you watched the clips circulating in twitter. he sighed and looked at you, "c'mon y/n, you know that you're the one that i want and i love, don't be jealous it's just a fan service nothing more than anything else, and also they need my affection and words because i'm an idol, that's my job" you just stood up and heading to the bedroom not minding his words because it annoys you. haechan annoyingly pressed his tongue in cheek and later on he followed you to deal the saltiness the you've been dealing.

haechan saw you cleaning the bed because it's bed time already, and haechan needs to rest and wake early because he have a fan con AGAIN tomorrow. you saw him walks towards you as you folding the sheets, he hug you from the back and wrapped his arms around your body, planting kisses on your neck and still didn't give an attention to him even it's thrilling you inside, "haechan stop, you need to sleep now" coldness crawling up on your body as you spoke and removing his arms on your body, he stopped and looks at you for a moment "y/n, do i need to prove that you're the one who i want not the bunch of girls out there OR do i need to fuck the saltines out of you, hm?". your breath skipping a beat because of his words penetrating in your mind and not able to stare at him straightly. he just laughed at your sudden change of behavior, earlier you were acting mad and cold but now you're nothing but a pathetic. "look at you looking so pathetic right now, hmm fucking the shit out of you, you like that idea, yeah?" he asked, grabbing your chin to face him "yes" you shyly answered him.

haechan pushed you to the bed and looked at you in lust, body heating up because of the thick tension filled inside the room, "your turning me into a bad boyfriend y/n, how could you be so jelous to those girls knowing that we've already fucked hundred times and STILL get jelous?" he slowly raising his left eyebrow. "it's not that i'm jelous, i-i just don't want them to steal you from me" eyes tearing up, "you think that i can easily fooled by your attitude right now, it's so pathetic to be honest" your tears falls down on your cheek because of how he talks to you "i'm..i'm sorry" stuttering on your own words, haechan walks a little closer to you and leans forward to your neck "i guess i needed to fuck you, so that i prove it to you that you're the one that i like, and also want to be my wife especially mom of my kids. you want that?". he whispered on your ear, and it sends you a shiver down to your spine.

you looked at him through your lashes, heat spreading through your body slowly getting affected to his words causes you to get more needy, "your body is begging me to touch you, i can see how your body affects to my actions and words" you can't hide the denial feelings and it's true your getting crazy over him talking so cockily on you. "take off your clothes and spread your legs for me" you immediately undressed yourself and legs wide open for him and eager to feel him "you really that slut for me baby?" he palms his boner through his pants and looks at you deeply, "look what you've done to me y/n, hard as rock" your body cannot take the arousal as he starts unbuckle his belt, cock out in mad. "please haechan fuck me now please" you whine, "beg more" and he started to pump his hard veiny cock, your emotion carried away because of the hot pressure on your body "haechan please, want your cock inside me please..please" as you said almost cried, "i know, i should've fuck you because im proving some shitty little problem of yours" you touched his tone body as he pressed his lips to yours, and kissed you harshly like as if there is no tomorrow, every kiss adds pressure on your body, he ran down his hands to your soaked pussy and rubbing your clit in circular motion, you moaned in between of kissing, feeling the pleasure between your legs. he breaks the kiss just to catch a breath, chest rising and falling body getting eager. haechan looked down to your pussy, "so fucking wet for me, no one can ever get you this wet right, only me" he adds two fingers to your pussy and stretching you out, "oh god haechan.." as he doing tricks inside your pulsating hole, curling his finger and hitting your g-spot and hips grinding the air "you're such a slut for me y/n" he hisses, fasten his fingers pushing in and out to you because he can feel your release is approaching, but the work of the devil his intrusive thoughts wins as he suddenly let his fingers out of you, you whine and panting heavily, looking at him helplessly "get on your knees whore, gonne get you stuffed with my cock in your mouth and take it like good girl" he growls, haechan yanks your head and pushed his cock in your mouth, haechan groaned of your warm mouth wrapping on his cock "god your mouth is so good, gonna fuck your useful mouth instead of talking shit about my fans and gets jelous" minutes of haechan fucking your mouth, your eyes becomes teary as he let his cock out in your mouth, saliva spreading on your lips and his length, haechan ran his fingers inside your mouth and you suck it, "stick out your tongue" you did as he command, you stick out your tongue and he taps his cock in it.

"stand up and spread your legs, i'm going to fuck you now" you quickly climbed up to the bed and spread your legs, pussy getting drenched and needy for him. he positioned himself between your legs and pushed his cock inside you with no warning, you could feel his cock pulsating inside you and it drools you so much of him "i'm going to fuck the shit out of you slut, gonna show how i only want you" he murmurs cock thrusting so hard in you "your cock feels so good haechan, don't want you to stop f-fuck" he fasten his pace even more "yeah? acting jelous but deep down you only want my cock deep inside your pussy, you could've asked me y/n, and not giving me unnecessary attitude" he growls to his words, aware enough of your attitude. your body is going to ascend in sky because of the heavenly feeling unbearable to control the whimpers and moans "i'm all yours baby, not by anyone and i mean it" cock slams in and out made your body trembling every thrust, your mind unable to comprehend and only gripping the sheets and thinks of his cock pounding in your pussy. haechan stopped for a second and grab your face to look at him "see this cock right there you're gonna cream it like a whore, and scream my name like slut" he slapped your face and gripping your jaw "open your fucking mouth" you opened your mouth and he spit in to you "yeah just like that taste my spit".

you really like aggressive haechan and the feeling of his hands slapping right on your face is hot and you want him to do it again, "slap me again haechan" as he start thrusting again, savouring the momenst "you like being slapped y/n, god you're such a slut" he slapped you one more time, and you whimpered to the pain, haechan kneads your tits to add the pleasureable sensation, "you were made for me baby". he mumbles. as soon as your release is fast approaching, your mind is getting crazy, blabbering out some words and moaning mess,"i'm close hae..chan". haechan thrusted more as he hit your g-spot and watching your body gets frisky around him. when your climax hits you like a truck, you cried in pleasure "yeah that's right cream my cock".

haechan didn't give you a chance to rest a little, he immediately pushed his cock inside you, "f-fuck haechan" you curse out of breath "need to cum inside you, gonna stuffed you with my cum so that everyone knows that i fucked my babies inside you" he pounds in your pussy so hard and sloppy, you can already hear the sounds of your wet pussy taking him. few more thrust he's going to cum"i'm going to cum" he moaned body wilder, thrusts getting intense "yes yes yes cum inside me" you can see haechan's state right now, head falls back as he holding your legs and groaning so loud "fuck i'm going to cum" he's whimpering mess when the release hits him real good "s-shit", he puts his body weight no your body and bury his face on your neck, you can feel his hot breath hitting your skin, "am i too rough?" you giggle "yes, but i like it" you caress his hair "i love you y/n, i only want you" he looks at you and his eyes melts when he confessed his love to you "sorry for being jelous" you confessed, embarassed to say, he laughs "let's clean up, and let me clean you first then sleep and tomorrow when i get back, let's have a movie night and do some cuddle sessions also fucking" both of you laughed and gets excited for the upcoming pussy appointment.