Being A Bigot Has Very Little To Do With Being Nice Or Not Nice. It Has To Do With Who You See As Human.

Being a bigot has very little to do with being “nice” or “not nice”. It has to do with who you see as human.

A proud dad.

First Night of Leave

Commander Wolffe x reader

Synopsis: While the rest of your battalion is out partying, celebrating the first night of leave, you’re at home, indulging in an embarrassing little secret. The secret that you were adamant remains a secret. At least until a certain pushy commander comes along, insisting that no one should spend the first night of leave alone. 

A/N: Is this me compensating for having stuffed animals as an adult? Possibly. Anyways, this is just sheer fluff, please enjoy my humble offering and have a lovely week. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future works! :)

Tags: @quietplaceinthestars​ @sugarpuffsstuff​

Being a deck officer for the GAR navy wasn’t too bad. Sure, you had the night shift, but it barely even counted as such because everyone’s circadian rhythms were so far gone from being in space. You got to see the rampant beauty of hyperspace and a great view of some pretty intense battles from a relatively safe position.

You’ve met some of the most amazing people during your service and have gotten a lot of important experience. Of course, it was harrowing at times, but now you could say with absolute certainty that you responded well in stressful times.

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Ancient Vendetta (Pre Vizsla X Jedi! Reader) (NSFW)

I am so sorry. I just had to get this out of my system okay? I don’t like this man, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t want to fuck him. BUT he must be either wearing all his armor + his helmet OR he has hair. I would not fuck Bald bitch P*e Vizsla without his helmet being over that egg head. I blame @galacticrepublicwarcrimes​ for inspiring this (pssst you should follow her!!!! Her works are amazing!!!) 

Warnings: Jedi! Reader, Smut, like seriously warning this is bad, Lowkey Dub-Con? (I’m tagging just in case, bc both parties didn’t explicitly consent to this, I feel,) lowkey exhibitionism, Mand’alor Kink, Rough Sex, Marking, bondage, kinda feelings but don’t look too deep thats not the point, more plot than originally intended.

Word Count: 2,061

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are yandere pirates too niche? okay hear me out you get taken as a captive from a ship sailing near by but they end up keeping you on their ship to try and convince you to join their side by forcing you into their oversized clothes and fingering you in front of their whole crew with a sword against your throat or something lol this sounds really cringy when i type it out

tw - imprisonment, noncon, threats of neglect, possessive behavior, slight exhibitionism, slight emotional abuse.

it doesn't really matter how they picked you up. maybe you were bar-hand working in a coastal city they burnt down, or a stranded sailor they 'rescued' from the wrecked remains of a ship they obviously had no part in looting and sinking, it's inconsequential, trivial - you belong to them as soon as they haul you onto their ship, as soon as they decide you're too precious to let go. they tell you as much, as they separate you from their jeering crewmates, as they haul you just out of reach of all those wandering hands and prying eyes who'd rather have as a communal resource than a private possession. you're the prettiest thing they've seen in months, and they just had to grab you up, to take you for themself. they know you'll be sweet, that you'll be good for them, and as long as you are, they don't plan on sharing you with anyone.

you can try to get away, to run, to put any amount of distance between you and them, but you're still on a ship, a boat, a single structure floating in the middle of an endless sea. you can tuck yourself between storage crates that tower over your head, bribe one of the more sympathetic crewmates to let you hide in the barracks for a few hours, but you'll always be tracked down, always be found, always be pulled back to the main deck and bent over the railing as your captor shows you just how much they've missed you. you're always with them, always perched on their lap or stepping on their heels, and when you aren't, you're locked in their private quarters, dressed in their clothes and surrounded by their other stolen treasures, bracelets studded with precious gems and chains of gold and silver they'll inevitably make you wear, when they come back drunk and eager to see you in something that shines when it catches the dim candlelight. they don't try to hide their constant, leering smile, how much entertainment they derive from seeing you soft and plaint in front of them - glaring, sure, but ultimately helpless to anything they want to do to you, anything they want to do with you. you can turn away from them, bat away their hands, refuse to answer at all when they ask if you're enjoying yourself, but none of that keeps you away from them. none of that makes you any less theirs.

they like reminding you of that, sometimes. dragging you out of their quarters still glittering with their fineries, wrestling you into their lap, dragging a curved sword or rusted dagger from your navel to your throat and holding it there as they nip at your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, as they lazily tease you, split you open, make you cum again and again and again until you're too drained to do anything more than slum against their chest and let them shove fingers wet with your own slick past your lips. you could struggle, if you wanted to, thrash against them, make an honest effort not to let them touch you, but if you did, you'd have to wonder what would happen if it worked, if they were genuinely put-off by your resistance, if they got it in their head that you weren't worth the work it'd take to keep you under control. if you really were a communal resource, something to be shared among a group of captors rather than hoarded by a single owner, each with less interest in your well-being than the last. if they were any less possessive, any more willing to let you split your attention.

if they decided you didn't have to be theirs, after all.