Multi Muse + Fandom - Prompt Blog Mun is 21+ There will be NSFW and Dark Themes present on this blog. Nothing will be under a read more but posts will be tagged appropriately. REQUESTS ARE: Currently Open MOBILE NAVIGATION
Sorry for my absence, yaâll. Iâve had a lot of personal things on and it really took a huge toll on me mentally, I was working non stop and didnât really get a chance to crack open the computer. It was only meant to be a couple of weeks but took longer than expected, however I am BACK and finally ready to get back to writing again!
Iâll slowly catch up on notifications and the things Iâve missed and get back to the prompts I have waiting! Thank you for your patience with me! If thereâs anything youâd like to see next, donât hesitate to reach out.
Iâm sorry Iâve been so absent this week! Iâm almost through a big few weeks at work and havenât had much time to write. I have a few requests Iâm part way through and should be somewhat back to normal by next week! Xx
Hey Hun, this isn't a request but I just want you to know that you're loved, enough and valid! your writing is a blessing and you're needed no matter how life is for you you'll come out stronger, Keep doing what you're doing and keep smiling beautiful you're a blessing and always remember thatđ
WHAT?! I have⊠had a rough day/month/year and I came home to see this message and burst into tears. I do not deserve this love, especially from someone as wonderful as you? Thank you so much for sending this, you just made my whole day I canât⊠I have no words. All I can say is, you have no idea what this means to me. Thank you. You are equally as loved and incredible and I wish you nothing but steaming hot cups of coffee, the warmth of the sun on your face and all the love in the world. đđđ
đIs there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?
I struggle with all of my fics in the beginning. Starting is the hardest part, every time, but once I get the flow it just takes off from there! When I have muse, they write themselves. I'm always super insecure about posting, though. I never feel like my writing is good enough compared to others and often can't bring myself to re-read a fic because I won't end up posting it, otherwise! I get so damn nervous and have to remind myself that I'm writing for fun, and it doesn't matter if people like it or not.
đżHow does creating make you feel?
It's helped me so much with my mental health. I write about so many different scenarios, and a lot of them are things I have experienced that I haven't processed, myself. Writing about it in a fictional and self-controlled capacity gives me power over those things, things that have hurt me or ruled my mind in the past. It helps me deal with them in ways I couldn't by simply talking about them to other people. It makes me feel like I'm taking control of my life again, and feels incredible when someone likes what I put out!
đGive yourself a compliment about your own writing.
I love the way I'm able to express myself in my writing, I think that's amazing.
đWhy did you start writing?
I started writing for the same reason I started reading; to escape. I had no other outlet for pain I was carrying and needed a way to express it. This helped me to do that.
I have one request to go for the beautiful @bearsbeetsbeskar and am working on some other fics but would love to see some fic requests for any of my boys!! Send them through if you've got anything in mind. <3 I love seeing what ya'll want to read! :)
It's not the fanciest request- but the guy of your choice realizing Reader is feeling awful because she's too warm, and the relief he feels when he sees her cooling off, physically and emotionally?
Muse: Joel Miller
Content Warnings:Â Age Gap, Size Difference, Sick Reader, Fluff, Angst, Loving Relationship, No Use of Y/N
+ Want to see more? Iâd love to see some requests, here!
âItâs okay, baby girl⊠come on, please, stay with meâŠâ
At first, Joel thought it was a clicker who had somehow found you, even though the rational part of his brain knew they didnât get that close to Jackson. Still, heâd inspected every inch of your body for a bite mark that wasnât there. Relief flooded his mind for a moment and then a different kind of panic set in.
It was just a cold, the kind that used to run rampant through towns and cities before the outbreak, that harassed every home in winter or during a seasonal change⊠the problem was, they were deadlier now. No medicine to help ease the pain, or kill it before it starts.
You can feel the fever, itâs taken up residence in your bones. As if it can burn you up from the inside. Itâs been years since youâve gotten sick, nearly killed you then, too. Though you didn't have Joel, you were alone, walking the earth like a lost little lamb. This time it was different, this time, you had his doting hands fretting over you, holding you through the worst of it.
Hands that have killed to protect you, have that soothed your back, or held your hips as he fucked you into blissful oblivion. They were wringing out a towel, small droplets of water splashing out around him as he moved the cool compress to rest on your forehead.
"I need you to stay strong for me," his voice a broken murmur, his other hand stroking your hair, wiping the tears from your eyes. His own looked so lost, so haunted, as if he could see a future without you in it and it terrified him. So much pain in his life, so much heartbreak - you refused to add your name to his list of fallen. Gathered up all the strength you had to push through the pain, the fatigue, the fog clouding your mind.
He held you up as he fed you, small spoonful after another of hot soup, teas made from herbs he had collected around the gardens of Jackson, the fire burning nearby, temperatures skyrocketing to break the fever. You're not sure how long it takes, but eventually you feel it passing.
The hot fever turning to cold before finding some semblance of normal. He never left your side, not once, so grateful he held you through it all. Had loved him from the moment you first laid eyes upon him, even more so now with every passing day.
His relief his tangible, the way he bundles you up in his arms, rocking you against his chest as he peppers kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips... "Fuck, baby. Had me worried for a second there..." He tries to laugh it off, to act like it's no big deal but you both know better, and wouldn't have it any other way...
"You're stuck with me, Joel Miller." Your smile is weak but there, looking up at him as if he carried the world in his eyes.
Request Via DMs by @bearsbeetsbeskar: A fic where Din or maybe Joel is let's say cleaning their weapons, disassembling their guns and reader distracts them with some sloppy head, maybe they told reader they were not easily distracted when it came to these tasks and reader takes it as a challenge, until they can't take it anymore and then fuck her senseless
Content Warnings:Â Darker Din, Age Gap, Size Difference, Elements of a Dom/Sub Relationship, Beskar Collar (in replace of an engagement ring in this au), Fucking You Until You Pass Out, Pain!Kink, Throat/Face Fucking, Squirting, Claimed Reader, Keeping the Armor On, Rough Sex, Slapping/Punishment, No Use of Y/N
A/N: Set somewhere between Season 1 and 2, in the Razor Crest.
+ Want to see more? Iâd love to see some requests, here!
He said he couldn't be distracted, that his focus and concentration was unshakeable. He did it not just for proprietary's sake, or because any bounty hunter worth his weight in beskar did. No. To him, cleaning his weapons was like a nightly prayer, a ritual that kept him sane, kept him focused. As if cleaning his weapons cleansed his soul, rid his hands of the blood that stained them. Stripped the demons he carried, the ghosts who haunted his soul. He hadn't chosen this life, it was forced upon him, as was yours... Still, you loved to watch. Settled on your knees before him, looking up at him in awe. It doesn't matter that you can't see his face, you don't need to.
Watching his skilled hands, the same hands that hold your waist as he fucks his frustration out on you, that have killed people in the name of protecting you; or making money, that have lovingly tucked your hair behind your ear or stroked the collar he had placed on your neck rub the barrel of the gun with a microfiber cloth, polishing it until it shone almost as brightly as the armor adorning his impressive bulk. Biting your lower lip, you knew he was utterly fixated on his ministrations - also knew that if anyone could distract him, it's you.
Delicate fingers tug the zipper of his black fatigues down, the beskar on his large thighs cool beneath your wrists. Biting your lower lip, you feel your body reacting at the mere thought of touching his cock, your nipples hardening, sweet little cunt soaked already. You're naked, save for the collar, it's how he liked it - how you liked it, too. He doesn't flinch. Knows exactly what you're like, ignoring you as he places that gun down and picks up the next one, the subtle shift of metal on metal a pleasant backdrop to your own thoughts.
You can practically hear this thoughts, it's not going to work...
The low cadence of his velvety voice sounding in your mind. You'd have a wicked grin crossing your lips were they not wrapped around the head of his thick cock. A moan escaping you at how soft he feels against your tongue, pressing down further, sucking that achingly hard length as he continues with his work. You know it's getting to him, can feel his length twitch as you work him, small hands on the beskar plates over his thighs as you keep working him slowly, teasingly.
It doesn't take long, you knew it wouldn't. Despite his ability to remain deadly calm, focused in the heat of battle - here, in the safety of the crest, nestled in a forgotten corner of the galaxy, he couldn't resist you. Couldn't resist your sweet lips as they worked him like that, one of his favourite things... A gloved hand abandoned it's mission to rest on top of your head, guiding you slowly at first, rolling his hips up to meet you. "Fuck, baby..."
You can hear the need in his voice, your own just as intense. Glancing up, wide, innocent eyes looking up at him as his pace intensifies. That hand, resting so gently balls into a fist, knotting your hair around his glove, holding your head in place as he ruts up into you. "You know it's a bad idea to tease me like this. Makes me want to punish that little body of yours." He groans as he forces every inch into that little throat, tilting your head back, tightening you around him as he looks down at you. Loves that pretty face, the seductive look in your eye as he claims you. The collar just visible.
"This what you wanted?" You'd nod if you could, but he's so big, almost too big. You can only take him when he fucks you like this, holds you steady as he drills that pretty little mouth. "Wanted me to show you what you do to me? Show you what happens when you distract me from my work?" He groans at the feel of your throat milking your cock. It's almost as good as that sweet little cunt. "So naughty, baby girl." Yanking your head up by your hair, his gloved thumb brushing against your swollen bottom lip as you gasp for air. Eyes glazed over, delirious with need. Fingers pinching your nipples hard, before spinning you around and forcing you to bend over the table he'd just been working at. You can feel the weapons beneath, digging into you. The metal as cold as his armor.
A chill runs down your spine as you feel him rise to full height behind you, towering over your petite little body. He was big on a good day, with all that armor? Fuck. Nothing turns you on more. The hand in your hair releases your long, soft locks. Sliding down your back slowly, meticulously. Knowing you wonât move, that youâre an obedient girl, that youâll stay right there, just like that for him⊠âYou remember what I told you would happen if you distracted me?â His voice was deep, that darkness that welled in the depths of him just colouring the surface.
You nod, bracing yourself. Delicate hands finding the opposite edge of the small, metal desk he used. The cargo bay doubling as his work space. Carbonite blocks suspended behind you both. He smoothed the supple skin of your ass gently, lovingly, before raising his beskar lined glove and coming down hard. Your body trembles from the force, the soft bloom of the hit already colouring your skin.
A moment later, a small strap of leather is placed between your teeth, giving you something to bite down on before his hand comes down on you again. Crying out as the pain licks at your nerves, your body on fire as you hold still for him. Fuck, it feels so good. Your sweet little cunt slick with heat as he slaps you again, and again. He could do this for hours and never tire; has done before⊠and youâd beg him for it. Loving the feel of him against you, the way he grinds his cock against your ass. The sharp sting of the gloves, adding weight to the brutal hits. You love it when he slaps your ass so hard, he has to carry you to bed. Always so sweet and loving when heâs done with you, soothing you, holding you in the thick muscle of his arms. Peppering soft kisses to your forehead.
You shiver at the thought, your mind blitzing out from the delicious pain, so much so you don't even register the feel of his thick cock pressing against your cunt. "You should know better, brought this on yourself, sweet girl." Don't you know it... he says it as if this wasn't exactly what you wanted, what you needed, what you prayed for. As if you hadn't thought about him filling you with that perfect cock, destroying your little body, reminding you exactly who you belong to, who put that collar on your throat. Damn near purring with need as you wait with bated breath, until he sinks that cock into you and you're screaming with pleasure.
A different kind of pain taking over, the kind that comes from being so full it's like you're tearing in half. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it's always a guttural invasion and it makes you want to take him even more. To prove how good you can be, how you deserve it... "Fuck, please..." Crying out with need, white knuckling the edge of that table, as if hanging on would protect you from the impending onslaught, despite how badly you needed it.
Nothing would save you from him; and you didn't want it to...
He showed no mercy, never did. Sliding out to the tip before slamming back in, his thrusts as brutal as his hand. Your screams echo off the metal walls of the cargo bay, no one can hear you but him, no one can save you... and wasn't that a blessing? A sign that your prayers had been answered. He fucked you so relentlessly, the desk shook though it was welded to the ground. The guns around you rattling across the surface. "Look at what happens when you distract me from my work, baby girl..." He slaps you again, before soothing the ache in your ass, the soft flesh burning from his assault. Your clit grinding against the cold metal, adding the most delicious friction to the mix.
"Hold on, baby."
His free hand finds your hair again, lifting your head up and yanking it back, making your back arch as your tits slap together, your hands never releasing the lip of the desk. Your moans blend with the sound of his armor hitting your thighs, your toes lifting from the floor, barely scraping it as he drills into you. The lack of movement in the desk making you feel every single inch as he bottoms out in your tight hole. Groans filling the room as you milk his hard length, so tight around him his eyes close beneath the helmet, lost to the pleasure as he turns you into his nightly ritual instead.
Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, slamming into you as hard as he is, until you're gushing over his cock and sobbing from the pleasure. He fucks you straight through it, his stamina knowing no bounds. The first of many orgasms; drilling you until you've lost count and your vision is fading. His fist in your hair the only thing keeping your body upright. You can feel the weight of the beskar around your throat, feel the love and need. The way he relies on you to take him, to keep himself going.
"Please, please don't stop..." Your moans almost soft now, eyes fluttering closed. You know he isn't even close to cumming yet, and that it wouldn't be the end even when he did. So disciplined, so in control, he could fuck you all night; has before. He fucks you until your mind gives out, fading into darkness, the prayer that his cock was still slamming into you when you wake up the last thought in your mind before you give in...
TAGLIST: @dreamsofmandalore @devilmademewriteit @devilmademepostit @loquaciousferret @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @loquaciousferret @kamcrazy123 @leeeesahhh // @bugsthatliveinyourbasement @kimm4710 @oncephobe @nicolope95 @undrthelights @rando-norse @im-a-dilf-lover @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @candux @gonswife @minniedoodlez @bbyanarchist @darlingpedro @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @anti-heroism @manicformurdock @mandoloriancookie
>>> If youâd like to be tagged in this series or any other fics, please let me know! (Just specify if youâd like to be tagged in: This Series, Anything Relating to This Muse or ANY of my fics.)
Watching The Kingsman Golden Circle is always such a love-hate thing for me. I cry like a little bitch every time that Merlin scene happens but purr like a little kitten every time that Agent Whiskey scene happens...
He said he couldn't be distracted, that his focus and concentration was unshakeable. He did it not just for proprietary's sake, or because any bounty hunter worth his weight in beskar did. No. To him, cleaning his weapons was like a nightly prayer, a ritual that kept him sane, kept him focused. As if cleaning his weapons cleansed his soul, rid his hands of the blood that stained them. Stripped the demons he carried, the ghosts who haunted his soul. He hadn't chosen this life, it was forced upon him, as was yours... Still, you loved to watch. Settled on your knees before him, looking up at him in awe. It doesn't matter that you can't see his face, you don't need to.
Watching his skilled hands, the same hands that hold your waist as he fucks his frustration out on you, that have killed people in the name of protecting you; or making money, that have lovingly tucked your hair behind your ear or stroked the collar he had placed on your neck; rub the barrel of the gun with a microfiber cloth, polishing it until it shone almost as brightly as the armor adorning his impressive bulk. Biting your lower lip, you knew he was utterly fixated on his ministrations - also knew that if anyone could distract him, it's you.
Iâm working on a request for Din Djarin, in which Din gets incredibly distracted by your lips on his cock, whilst cleaning his weapons - even though he told you nothing could ever shake his concentration. Like/Comment/Reblog to let me know if youâd like to be on the tag list!! <3
