#fic: take my hand

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[lucky-fy]

And another gift for the Laicion nation (aka, me and three other people... or maybe more? The latest one got a little bit of traction :)

I had this illustration commissioned for my werewolf AU Laicion fic (still a WIP, I expect to at least be done with the outlining and character studies this summer). A big thank you to @cecikiwi for this beautiful piece! I'm happy I made you discover Dungeon Meshi through this commission!

Some elements of the story already changed, and they will certainly still change as my understanding of the characters deepens and the plot develops.

Also, if you're coming across this and wondering "what fic?", let me redirect you to this post. I was very happy to see so much enthusiasm for it!

[demigods-posts]

canonically, percy isn't aware of the crushes people have on him until it's too obvious to deny — like when annabeth kissed him, or when nico straight up told him. and since percy isn't aware of rachel's crush on him until the beginning of tlo, that means there was a point in time when rachel was actively trying to get with him and he had no idea. and it's not even his fault lol. he just only saw her as his good friend and just thought her advances were her being friendly. i just have to see this in action.

[freetobeafcknriot]

grace & baby ben ♡ ( ͒ ඉ .̫ ඉ ͒)

[grape-v1nes]

Regulus has like really horrible circulation which makes his hands constantly ice-cold and it startles James every time Regulus touches him

[reineydraws]

i have this fic series i'm still working on where mihawk sort of becomes rayleigh's kid and spends ages 11-17ish on the oro jackson.

shanks and buggy imprint on him (bugs considers him a sort of older brother figure/sparring inspiration and shanks has a crush that eventually turns into full-blown love) and this is how i imagine they're like on the day mihawk sets off on his own haha.

[atropasluvr]

texts (nsfw)

Kenji Sato x black! reader 

this is really short and rushed I've never written fanfic yall 🙁

warnings/notes: black!reader, reader is on the thicker side 🤭 w/a vagina, unprotected piv (wrap it before u tap it yall), pet names (baby, honey), fluffy ish ending, doggystyle, reader has long hair (or well long enough to pull), established relationship, probably ooc kenji, squirting 

synopsis: kenjis at practice.. but you’re needy. soooo... you text him🤭.

I listened to Blow by Beyoncé for peak freakiness to write this y'all. 

——————-

Today was an extremely long day. An extremely long, boring day. Kenji had left before you even woke up, off to practice as usual. You lounged around the house for hours, in nothing but panties and one of his jerseys. 

Laid up on the bed, you looked over at the tall mirror a few feet away. The same one Kenji *loved* to fuck you in front of. A smirk painted on your features as an idea popped into your head. Sitting up, you sent Kenji a text.

you: Kenjiii 

after a few minutes, you got a reply. 

jiji 🩶:hey baby, what’s up? 

you: hii , I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you 

jiji 🩶:I’m on a short break, I can chat for a bit. what’s up?

you: nothinnn. I got something for you tho

jiji🩶: what is it? 

*sent 1 attachment.*

A mirror pic, with you lying on the bed. Ass up. Your phone just barely covering your face. His jersey hung loosely on your chest.

(here’s a ref pic)

After about 30 seconds of being on read, you got a response.

jiji🩶: I’ll be home in 20

You hearted his message, before turning your phone off. You were in for it now. You lay on the bed, patiently waiting for him to arrive. 

The 20 minutes seemed to pass quickly. You could hear the door slam from downstairs, and rapid footsteps approaching the bedroom door. Kenji quickly entered, and your gaze quickly traveled down to the obvious tent in his pants. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” He scoffed, quickly approaching the bed. You were sat in the middle of the bed, watching him with a small smirk. You feigned innocence, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Sending me that shit, mid-practice!“ He grabbed your leg, pulling you closer to him. You let out a soft yelp as he forced your legs open. “So damn aggravating..” He muttered, running his finger along your clothed folds.

You bit your lip, squirming in his grasp. He looked up at you with low eyes, flipping you onto your stomach. You arched your back, feeling him press against you. 

“K-Ken..” 

“Shh.” *He whispered, slipping your panties to the side. You whimpered as he slid along your folds, his tip nudging your aching clit. 

“Mmh.. fuck..” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut. 

One of Kenji’s hands moved up to hold your hip tightly, the other lining his cock up with your wet folds. He slid in, eliciting a moan from both of you. 

He quickly sped up, pounding into your poor little cunt. Your hands dug into the sheets as you moaned, cunt gushing around his cock. The pain of him stretching you out quickly turned to pleasure.

“Fuck.. fuck yes.. mmf” He groaned, fingers digging into your hips. The sound of your soaking pussy fills the room.

“Fuck.. such a tight little pussy..” He breathed out. Quickly adjusting his angle, he fucked you deeper, making you gasp and moan his name. 

“O-oh.. Kenji…” 

He gripped your hair, pulling your head up to look at him. Your pupils are blown wide, tears threatening to fall. Kenji bit his lip, your fucked out state making heat pool in his stomach. He leaned over, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. Your tongues rubbing against each other. 

“Fuck..” You whispered, lips swollen and glossy with spit as he pulled away. Kenji watched you, soft moans slipping as he felt you clench around him. That familiar tensing up of your body told him you were close. 

“C-c'mon baby. Cum for me.” *He whispered, groaning as his tip brushed against your cervix.

“K-Kenji.. o-oh my god.. just like that baby..” You moaned out, legs trembling as you neared your release. Kenji’s hands moved to spread your ass apart, watching himself slide in and out of you with ease. A creamy ring around the base of his cock. 

“Yeah, baby? You like it like that?” He furrowed his brows, groaning as he neared his own release. “Cum with me baby… make a mess all over my cock..” He muttered, thrusting as fast as he could. 

“Oh my god. Kenji..im…fuckkkk-“ You whined, your mouth agape as you came, thighs shaking. “Mmmmf..” You moaned, your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

Kenji was losing his shit. You felt so good, so warm, so tight. With a loud groan, he came. Warm sticky cum coating your spongy walls. He gritted his teeth, slowing his thrusts. “D-damn..” Kenji sighed, slowly pulling himself out, making you whimper at the emptiness. 

He bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Letting you calm down from your orgasm.Heavy breaths coming from both of you. He cleaned you two up, cuddling up with you after. You laid on his chest, a leg draped over him. He gave you soft kisses as he massaged the fresh bruises on your hip. 

Yeah. You won’t be walking for a bit. 

[lilybug-02]

Artfight against @ejsuperstar ft. The Mad King and Chip. They're both so evil. I hope they have the most extravagant downfall of any onscreen villain.

This interaction is based on a little fic writing >:)

[just-null]

I wanna squish and smooch his cheeks 💙

You keep missing.. but it's okay, Noritoshi's happy to have your lips and hands brush his skin at all..! yet, he'd still prefer you stop missing the mark..

You're lucky he's fond of you, he wouldn't let just anyone squish his face as they pleased. though no one gives his cheeks kisses like you, so in a way this is a fair trade.

[thefrogdalorian]

My Pain Fits In The Palm Of Your Freezing Hand

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When you and your Mandalorian companion are ambushed by a group of bandits, you hope that his stubborn nature will not make the task of treating his wounds any more difficult than it needs to be. But that is not the only obstacle. You also hope that the depth of your unrequited feelings for Din will not impact on your ability to care for him...

Word Count:  2.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Canon typical violence briefly described, reader provides first-aid to minor, bloody injuries. ✯ Author's Note: A daydream about holding the stubborn tin can man's hand turned into whatever this is!! I've never written unrequited feelings for Din before but it made my heart ache in the best possible way. Hope you enjoyed!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Once the adrenaline of your latest brush with death subsides, your focus immediately pivots to caring for your Mandalorian companion. Although the heightened emotions leaving your body render you a trembling, shaky mess, your priority is to ensure his well-being. Maker knows he will never take care of himself.

As you approach the Razor Crest, you mentally scan yourself for painful areas. Casting your mind back towards the encounter as you try to recall anywhere you could have been hurt. After all, you will struggle to assist him if you are not healthy.

You recall that you had taken a couple of painful blows to the side during the skirmish, but your clumsy assailants had fortunately missed all of your vital organs. Aside from a pounding heart and dry mouth, you have mercifully made it through the ambush unscathed. 

Satisfied that there are no immediate areas of concern to treat, you turn your attention towards Din. You cast your mind back over the altercation, towards any wounds he may have sustained. It is easier said than done, considering how many of them leapt out of nowhere and caught the two of you off-guard as you walked through the thick forest towards the ship.

You remember how many of them Din fought off with his bare hands. Well, through his gloves. Still, you know they will have provided scant protection, so you are keen to check them for injuries. 

You momentarily struggle to remember what happened after Din had seen most of them off as you crouched behind a bush, hiding. 

Then, you recall how one of your assailants had slashed at Din’s hands when he grabbed the remaining pair of them around the throat. It had been a frenzied attack, which momentarily worked as his grip loosened. Just when you had feared that all hope was lost and they were going to escape, Din brought his boot up to deliver a swift kick in the stomach to the slower of the duo, which sent them careening into each other.

Din had used many parts of his body, as well as all of his wits and expertise as a warrior to see your attackers off. He had done a formidable job, considering how much they had taken you by surprise.

Still, the state of his hands concern you.

You are pretty sure they sustained the most severe damage. Plus, as they are vitally important for everyday function, treating them takes priority.

It is settled... Din’s hands are the first area you will treat. 

If he will let you, that is.

Your Mandalorian companion does not possess a reputation for being the easiest man in the galaxy to take care of... a willing patient, Din Djarin is not.

As the two of you ascend the ramp up to his beloved ship, you hope for both of your sakes that he makes this process as painless as possible.

“Din, sit down and let me get the medkit,” you order when you finally enter the familiar old ship's hull. 

“Let me initiate the launch sequence first,” Din stubbornly responds.

“No,” you reply, shaking your head as you fold your arms, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Din mutters in annoyance. 

It seems your sternness has done the trick. 

Din perches atop a crate as you grab the medkit in preparation to treat his wounds. You hope he does not make it harder for you than necessary. Din has never made any secret that he is comfortable being fussed over. You are no stranger to the fact that he hates being taken care of like this, but if you do not tend to his wounds, you know he will never do so himself. 

“Your gloves,” you nod towards the two-toned leather which covers his hands, “Take them off, Din.”

Din sighs and lifts his gloves beneath his helmet, seemingly biting at each finger to loosen them before repeating the process with his other hand. You feel like a voyeur and wonder whether you should turn your head and look away, as though his gloved hand disappearing beneath his helmet is somehow sacrilegious. Despite your inner turmoil, you cannot help but watch, unable to tear your gaze away until finally, he slides the gloves off and bares his flesh to you. 

It is not the first time Din has removed his gloves in your presence, yet you still feel a thrill travelling across your body at the faintest sight of his skin. 

For Din Djarin’s bare hands provide you with the tiniest peek at the man that lies beneath the cold, hard beskar. To catch a glimpse of the human side of the formidable warrior, the side of him you yearn to know entirely.

You remember how stunned you had been the first time he had removed his gloves in your presence while he was repairing a blaster several months ago. 

You had been sitting elsewhere in the hull as he worked at the bench, tools spread out as he dutifully performed much-needed maintenance on one of his many beloved weapons.

A grunt of frustration indicated that the parts had been far too intricate to repair with his cumbersome gloves. So, he had pulled on each finger one by one, tugging them off. Seemingly uncaring about baring himself, even ever so slightly, in your presence.

You had tried your best not to look, but you had been unable to resist sneaking a glance at who he was underneath his armour. Although for the most part, you kept to yourselves, there was no lingering frostiness in your dynamic. You and Din were amicable, possibly even friends... if he could even have such a thing.

That day, you watched as his hands meticulously repaired his blaster. You noticed the smattering of dark hairs across the back of his hand, the surprisingly tanned skin and the calluses and scars which littered the back of his hand. It was a fascinating glimpse into the man who hid so much of himself from you, yet you still felt you knew enough about him to believe he was, deep down, a good man.

Your mind ran wild with so many questions. Was his skin a similar colour elsewhere on his body, or was it tanned because his hands were the only parts of him that saw the sun? Did the dark hairs on the back of his hand mean that the hair on his head–if he had any–was a similar colour?

They were questions you knew you would likely never get answers to. Nor did you expect to.

When Din had hired you to care for The Child and attend to maintenance on his ship, he had informed you of the rules regarding his armour and helmet. He would remove neither his helmet nor armour in your presence. You were never to question the reasons why or attempt to subvert this stipulation in any way.

That was why glimpsing a sliver of his skin had thrilled you. It had exposed the man you had been yearning to see in a way that was not a violation of his Creed.

Yet, when you see his hands this time the circumstances could not be more different. Neither could the emotions Din’s bare hands provoke in you. 

Rather than feeling a thrill at the sight of his skin, now you cringe when you see the wounds that litter his flesh. His knuckles are split and bloodied, contusions that will surely colour shades of blue and black before eventually healing. There are also angry red gashes in all directions, a result of the bandit’s vibroblade making contact with his hands. 

You steady yourself, mentally preparing for the gargantuan task of providing first aid to a stubborn Mandalorian. Din values all you do for him. You are certain of that fact, even if he does not often vocalise it. Still, having someone take care of him is an uncomfortable prospect for a man who has spent so long leading a solitary, nomadic existence.

When you finally take his calloused, yet soft, skin in your hand, Din sucks in a harsh breath at the sensation. The sound is amplified and crackles slightly through the vocoder. A reminder that, although he has bared some of himself, he is still mostly hidden from you. He feels like more machine than man sometimes.

You take a bacta wipe from your medkit, and the antiseptic’s sour smell lingers unpleasantly in the air. You hold Din’s hand still, as you carefully bring the wipe towards his skin, your brow furrowed in concentration. 

“This is going to sting,” you murmur apologetically. 

Din nods. You hear him inhale deeply as he braces for the first contact with the remedy. You prepare yourself to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to make the process needlessly painful for him. 

At the first touch of the bacta wipe against his bronze skin, he jerks away from your touch, groaning slightly in pain at what you are sure is an uncomfortable, stinging sensation against his cuts.

“Hold still,” you sigh, flashing a disapproving glance in what you hope is the direction of Din’s eyes, hidden by his helmet. 

“Sorry,” he huffs.

You cannot help how your lips curl upwards at the sight of him sulking. This hulking man, all broad shoulders and gleaming beskar, reduced to a wounded child. You wonder if he is pouting beneath his helmet.

Din flinches again when you resume your task, but this time, you do not chastise him. Instead, you are thankful that he is not making this any more difficult than it needs to be. 

At least he has not told you he can look after himself. 

Content with his behaviour, you diligently tend to Din’s wounds. You ensure each one is cleaned thoroughly with the bacta patch and then wrapped in a bandage. It will take a few days to heal, but he will have plenty of time as you hurtle through hyperspace towards Nevarro again. Unfortunately, it will mean he likely has to refrain from being the hands-on father you know he loves to be. 

When your task is almost complete, you move to sit by his side on the crate. You need to steady your hands by placing your elbows against your thighs as you wrap a particularly nasty wound, which already streaks angry red tendrils across two knuckles. 

Din groans again in pain, and you quickly reassure him, “Almost there,” you whisper encouragingly. 

With the task finally completed, you cannot resist gently taking his hand in yours. Ostensibly, to check him for any wounds you have missed. In reality, it is borne out of a selfish desire to feel his skin against yours. Precious contact you had been yearning for since you first laid eyes upon his skin all those months ago. 

If Din notices the way you subtly lace your fingers with his and hold his hand in your lap for a few moments longer than necessary, he does not say a thing. Only when you disentangle your fingers from his grip does he speak again.

When you move to stand up from the crate, he places his arm across your stomach to stop you. You look at him questioningly, wondering what is going on beneath that bucket of metal. 

“Thank you,” Din finally whispers, voice thick with emotion.

You move to open your mouth, to respond. Before you can, Din’s deep voice cuts through the stillness.

“For everything… I…” Din pauses, sighs deeply, then continues, “I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You simply nod, too taken aback to speak. It is unlike Din to be sentimental or emotional, not with anyone other than Grogu. It is part of what makes him such a respected and feared hunter. Yet, here he is, confessing his appreciation for you. It causes hotness to creep up your neck and face, embarrassed by his earnestness. Desperate to respond, but not entirely trusting that you can keep it together. 

“You’re worth it, Din,” you smile, daring to believe that this moment will change something for the two of you. You hope he will finally realise the depth of the feelings you hold for him; that you have always held for him. 

As you take his hand in yours once again, you sit back on the crate. You take up a more comfortable position and daringly lean your head against his shoulder. The pauldron is bitingly cold beneath your cheek. But with how warm your skin suddenly feels at his words, it is an altogether welcome sensation.

Din noticeably inhales at your gesture, and you momentarily fear you have hurt his tender skin. Until he relaxes once again and squeezes your hand as best as he can considering his injuries, a reassuring gesture that soothes your worries.

As you sit there holding hands in the relative darkness of the hull, you imagine a shooting star passing somewhere far in the skies above.

You wish on it and dare to dream that, one day, Din Djarin will love you, too.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[jatersade]

taking a break from the 3.06 euphoria to be fucking devastated about jamie tartt?? not remembering losing his virginity because it was such a traumatizing experience??? People keep saying they want jamie’s dad to show up again so we can get some closure on that front but honestly I hope he never comes back and I hope it’s because sometime between seasons 2 and 3 james tartt sr. was taken out back and shot

[kithtaehyung]

🖤 3TAN11 ROADMAP 🖤

november 15th: 3tan discord beta november 16th: 3tan turns 2 :’)) november 18th: aesthetic/playlist november 20th: 3tan discord launch november 21st: title card november 24th: teaser november 27th: drop day! aesthetic/playlist december 3rd: new drop day!

note: that's right, everyone :'))) 3tan11 is coming first. note 2: this one has so much of my heart inside. that being said, i will adore each and every one of y'all that interacts and has fun with this one - before, during, and after drop day🖤

— all dates are tentative depending on my work/shop/studio schedules, but i feel comfortable with these as of right now.

🍊three tangerines: m.list | inbox | @threetangerines​​ ​| wanna join the discord?

[simplyender]

just some gifs of spot making his own solar (spotlar?) flares

[eggcats]

contuing w/my headcanon that Alastor knows everything that plays over his airwaves, this gives him an almost encyclopedic knowledge of music

And so Angel starts using Alastor like a glorified dj, and any time Alastor is around, Angel will be like "hey play *insert song or as much as insert artist you know,"

But when Alastor only knows the like, main radio hits he's like "hmmmmm, Smiles, I need to expand your music knowledge"

"I beg your pardon, my dear?"

And somehow Angel discovers a hack (that even ALASTOR himself didn't know) where if he hooks up his phone to the radio in his room (one specifically given by Alastor), he can essentially inject his music directly into him, ready to play back at any time

Alastor discovers this one day when suddenly hours of Lana Del Rey is suddenly, and without precedent, playing over his airwaves and the next time he sees Angel he's Super Excited and goes "Hey Smiles, how's about you play some Lana Del Rey, as much as you know?"

Alastor shows great restraint in NOT killing the spider, but he does force a deal where as long as Angel doesn't TELL ANYONE about this blatant weakness in his powers, he will allow Angel to play "him" music he might want to hear again

[pkaykim]

Oofurixmas2022 for @meela-31

[fistfuloflightning]

You are without doubt the worst rogue cultivator I’ve ever heard of. Ah. But you have heard of me.

Some Mobei-jun/rogue cultivator!Shen Yuan brainrot—thanks to @neonghostcat I can no longer separate SY from the guandao 😭 (thank you from the bottom of my heart)