#I love drawing Cara's skin with spots

[crimsonkingart]

Someone is very possessive

[sweatandwoe]

secondo finds you upset/ on the verge of tears and decides to fix it. won't stop until you're on the verge of tears for a different reason 😈

☆Sher

HEHEHE Time for some Secondo love

Tags: Secondo x F!Reader, Reader is Secondo's prime mover, MDNI, Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Vaginal fingering, Secondo is a soft dom here

-

"Come on, cara. One more for me."

You're not sure if you can. Already there are tears streaming down your face, mouth open, drool runs down your chin from where his fingers press against your tongue. His other fingers are still pressing into your core, his thumb on your clit while he slides his middle and ring fingers in and out of you. It's slower now at least than when he had first started.

His lips touch the back of your neck. "Cara, one more. One more for your Papa." Fingers slip from your mouth, so he can grip your jaw. Turning your head, Secondo smiles at you. A softer smile, one that you usually only receive in private moments like this. "So pretty when you cry like this for me. And such a better reason to cry, don't you think? So much pleasure for my amore."

You had been crying, but that seems so long ago. your fingers reach to grip his arms, nails digging into the strong forearms that hold you to him and bring your pleasure. "Secondo, l-love-"

"Let go, Cara. No need to beg from me tonight."

His thumb circles your clit and his fingers curl just so, rubbing at that one spot that has your head craning back, so you touch his shoulder. Secondo's mouth moves to your neck, kissing there. Not even a bite or suck, urging you gently over your peak.

It comes slowly, crashing down through you and he draws it out for as long as he can. Praising words sink into your skin while you moan and sob his name. Only digging your fingers into his arms once it becomes too much, and he finally slips them from you.

You collapse in his hold, panting, your body is covered in sweat. Secondo doesn't care or notice it, drawing his fingers from you to drag you closer to him. "There we go, cara mia. So good for me." There's a kiss on your forehead, that has your eyes closing. "We'll clean you up in a minute. You rest here for a little longer, si?"

A faint nod, and then he's kissing your lips. Soft and sweet like he had been in the past, however many orgasms.

Once you have a hold on yourself, you kiss him back and relax more against him, able to balance yourself to put all your weight on him. He still is a grumpy old man, he just happens to be your grumpy old man. With a secret romantic and sweet side, that he would try to deny if you were to try and draw it out in public. Not that you often did, you liked that he was sweet for you.

Parting from him, you rest your head on his shoulder. "What about you, Papa? You didn't get to finish."

"I got your joy, numerous amounts of times, cara mia. And for happier tears. I need nothing else." There's a near-tender look in his mismatched gaze before it starts to glint dangerously. "But if you truly wish to help, Papa, you can when we shower." His hands are running over your body again and he tilts his hips so you can feel his hard cock pressing against the curve of your ass.

You lightly move your hips, grinding back against him and his hold on you tightens. "No point in showering yet if we're just going to get filthy again."

Papa concedes your point, now nipping at your neck. You can hear his belt being undone, and you know you're going to be in for it.

By the time you two are out of the shower, you can't remember what you had even been crying about in the first place.

[dailydoseofsluttythoughts]

The Masochism Tango

♡

"Cut me… please.." He begged, moving my hand to press the switch blade against his collarbone. His body shifts slightly from his kneeling position, his legs were most likely numb right now, but then again, he'd probably enjoy that.

"And may I ask why?" I antagonized him, teasing him was fun like no other.

"I want your name to be permanently scarred over my heart" His begging became more desperate with every word.

I took a drag of my cigarette, inhaling the toxins, and somehow putting myself at more ease with this situation.

"As you wish, Mon Amour '' I gave in to him almost too quickly. He let out a choked sob of relief, and tilted his neck to the right, giving me more space to leave my mark.

I took control of the knife once more and dug it into his flesh light enough so not to hurt him badly, but hard enough to leave a scar.

The farther I got into carving my name, the more pretty he looked, the blood from his wounds seeping out and leaving red hot trials of ichor to stain his abdomen.

Placing the knife down on the bed beside me, I moved my forgotten cigarette to my right hand and steadily burned a heart at the end of my name.

(Y/n)♡

He looked beautiful.

His head fell backwards with masochistic pleasure and his, now closed, eyes leaked silent tears. His teeth captured his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth.

His head moved back to the front, only to look up at me through his wet eyelashes.

"Cara mia, bite me.. Please - I need to know that I'm going to be yours until the day I die" his begging was more persistent now, but he needn't even ask, turning him was always a part of the plan.

Tossed my burnt out cigarette on the finished wooden floor somewhere, and motioned him closer with the sloth curl from my pointer and middle finger.

He sat up onto his knees, from his posture of sitting back on his feet. Shuffling closer to my spread legs he placed both of his hands on either of my knee-caps.

Grasping his chin with my right hand I lifted his head up to mine, letting go after, knowing he would keep his head still for me. I grazed my lips against his and trailed feather-like kisses down his neck on his right side.

Once I reached the spot slightly above his artery, my lips pulled back and my canines extended. My right hand came to support the other side of his neck.

"Are you ready, Mon cher?" I questioned.

He nodded quickly and I felt his hand grip my knees harder, in preparation.

Opening my mouth wider, and letting it hang open a few seconds longer than needed, just to make him squirm as he felt the heat of my breath on his warm skin; before biting down on his supple flesh, feeling his whole body shudder.

That taste of iron flooded my mouth for a few seconds, as I heard his breath hitch. Once he relaxed the taste in my mouth got much sweeter. Almost too saccharine for my liking.

Before I knew it I was pulling away from his neck slightly and licking the excess blood from spilling down.

As I pulled further back I was finally able to see the dreamy look in his eyes. He was breathing heavily and was blinking slowly, but at least he was still conscious.

"Are you alright, love?" I asked, and I could tell my voice brought him back from whatever trance he was in.

He nodded once again and nuzzled his face into my left thigh. His obedientes gave time for the state of affairs to settle in. He was in pain, but he would be safe once I cleaned him up: but most of all he was now mine. Forever.

He belongs to me,

And I finally broke him.

__________________________________

Uhmmm, idk why I wrote this or y I'm putting my thoughts at the bottom. But ig I just rly wanted to write about a masochist lover getting turned into a vampire willingly by his vampire lover.

[copiousloverofcopia]

Hey Ghesties!!! I have another commission down! only 2 more to go before those are caught up and I can start up chapters and asks again!!!!

This one featuring a friend's OC named Scarlett and her lover Cardinal Terzo ❤️‍🔥

Thank you so much to the person who commissioned me for this for their friend.

Someone For Who I Belong

Definitely NSFW below the cut

Also available HERE on AO3!

It was bittersweet quiet to be had within the chapel. Amidst the pews sat a sullen sister. Seeking refuge from the prying eyes of others as the stirring of the Abbey continued just beyond the large oak doors. Her heart, still a fragile and broken thing, from a past full of sorrows. An anguish now settling in its roots while a dark entity lay dormant within her. It was only her love for her Cardinal that kept her from shattering to pieces. 

“Cara mia?” a voice came from behind her. A soulful and honeyed tone, one she knew all too well. She turned to face him, Terzo—her beloved Cardinal, as he continued his trek down the aisle. His eyes, never leaving hers. “Scarlet, I have been searching for you all afternoon. What are you doing here?” he asked as he sat down beside her. 

“I’m sorry to have troubled you Cardinal… I…I just needed some time.” she sniffled back. Pretending that she hadn’t just been crying—but the smudge of mascara from her thick lashes, now coloring the apples of her cheeks, gave her away. 

“Time?” he asked her, the softness of her cheek held gently in the hollow of his palm. Her gaze, turning up to face him. The pain in her eyes, heartbreaking and great. Terzo wanted nothing more than to take it from her. To make her whole again, with him forever by her side. 

“I needed to think. I can’t seem to shake things. My past, the things that have happened. What resides within me. It's too much. I feel trapped in these thoughts Cardinal. Knowing that I will never be the innocent person I once was. That the blood still stains my hands and that my life is forever changed.”

“It is.” Terzo replied, much to Scarlet’s surprise. He rose up from his spot on the pew, reaching out his hand towards her. Waiting for her to take hold as he began to speak again. “Allow me to free you from the cage of your mind amore, help you to find the infernal peace that only HE can give.”

“What…what is it you planned to do?” Scarlett asked him, wiping away the tears, now freely flowing from her eyes, and taking his hand. He lifted her up, pushing back the streak of white hair behind her ear, as brought his lips painfully close to hers. A hair short of touching—his breath hot and heavy against her skin.  

“We shall become one amore. A sort of binding spell, a ritual. Let us sacrifice a bit of ourselves in his name so that I might be called to you when your mind becomes tainted with these thoughts…thoughts I will no longer allow to imprison you while I still draw breath.” Terzo vowed, determined and ignited with a fiery passion that Scarlett had yet to see before.

“You mean this? You truly wish to be bound to—to me? I am not—”

“Shhh…” Terzo said, pressing his finger against Scarlet’s pouty lips, his body against hers, with the evidence of his adoration held heavy against her thigh. “I will hear none of that from you sorella…do you understand?” he asked. Scarlett could see his sincerity and his annoyance at her self doubt. He truly loved her beyond words, a love that would stand not only the tests of this world, but of the next as well.

“Of course Cardinal. I understan—” Before she could finish, his mouth was on hers. Tongue gliding with hers as his hands traveled down her sides. Her habit gathered up into his fists until he could feel the radiating warmth from her thighs. Terzo let out a moan, his lips parting and forehead pressed against Scarlet’s. Yearning and bring his hand closer, allowing his fingers to slide into her core. Only stopping short when realizing that he wanted to make this right.    

“Wait…wait—not here. Come with me cara. I must take you on the altar.” Terzo explained, his breathing heavy and both their hearts pounding loudly in their ears. His words struck Scarlett inside, her need for him overtaking all her thoughts. She could no longer think of anything but the way her lover felt pressing against the inside of her thighs. The way she felt when his finger traveled to the precipice of her most intimate flesh. A space he had yet to fully claim as his own. 

Tonight would be the night. Two lovers, coming together as one. A pledge made between them to forever be bound in love and lust. Terzo could hardly contain himself, rushing Scarlett towards the altar and lifting her up to be seated upon the cold stone slab. A stark contrast to the blazing heat of desire that now throbbed between her legs.  

She sat in amusement, watching Terzo rummage around the credence table drawer. His raven locks falling into his face the more flustered he became until he found the desired object. A dagger, pulled hastily from its sheath. Handle of gold and encrusted with countless opulent jewels. Most prominently that of rubies and emeralds, their colors sparkling in the light from the chapels almost spent candles. The blade was inscribed with ancient text, words otherwise lost to time, that Scarlett was unable to discern. This was a sacred artifact of the church and one Terzo would use for the most supreme of sanguineous rituals. 

“What's that for?” Scarlett asked, her heart beating away and eyes pinned to the glint of light coming off of the blade. 

“This is for us cara.” He explained, briskly walking back to her as he placed the blade carefully between his teeth. His fingers, nimbly working their way through the buttons of his shirt until his shirt was untucked and chest was fully exposed to the cool chapel air. Scarlett nodded, accepting whatever plan Terzo had in store. When he reached her, he took her hand and turned her wrist, facing her palm to the sky. He could feel her tense, the anticipation of what was to come beginning to affect her and the nervousness she felt—unable to be hidden. 

“I—ah…ah…” Scarlett stammered, trying to find the words that would explain how she was feeling.

“It’s ok amore. Do you trust me?” he asked her, his eyes fixed on hers. She could see in his, what she could find in no other. A love felt so deeply it permeated the soul. 

“Yes Cardinal.” she replied, sucking in her bottom lip as he sliced through the soft flesh of her palm. The blood, instantly beading up along the cut as Terzo went to do the same to his. 

“Do you accept me Scarlet?” he asked her, his words delivered even more serious than before.

“I do.” she assured him, swallowing back hard the knot in her throat and pressing her thighs tightly together as she burned for him to touch her. 

“Do you accept me as your friend, your lover—your infernal protector? All in the name of the Morning Star?”

“I do…ah!” she cried as Terzo grabbed her palm with his own, the blood spilling out between their grasp as he pressed his wound against hers. A blood pack, now made between them, sealing their intentions.  He pulled away his hand a moment, using his finger to draw out more blood from his cut and drew a grucifix on Scarlet’s forehead, urging her to do the same to him. 

“I know it hurts and I’m sorry…” he smiled, holding pressure against Scarlet’s wound to stop the bleeding. She smiled down at him, the warmth traveling up inside her, through her wrist and into her arm, feeling like a fire burning from within. The magic between them, now taking hold. 

“It’s ok…I am just glad that it's over.” she sighed, bringing her lips to kiss him once more. 

“Over? Oh it’s not over dolce.” Terzo mused, a mischievous grin donned proudly on his face. Scarlett, pulling away in confusion to face him. 

“What?”

“You don't think I’ve been undressing for nothing.” he laughed, dropping his eyes to his pants. His cock stiff against the fabric of them, leaving nothing to the imagination as Scarlett looked down at it. She let out a moan, feeling his hand traveling up her thigh, leaving a trail of crimson along her skin. He kissed her harder, fingers delicately tracing the edge of her panties when she felt compelled to speak. 

“Oh Terzo…” Scarlett moaned, her lover’s fingers slipping with ease between her wet folds. She widened the space between her legs, her body blooming with Terzo’s expert touch.  

“Tell me what you want amore.” Terzo commanded, breathy and hot. 

“I want…I want you to make love to me.” she hummed, Terzo buried his face in the curve of her neck. His tongue tracing up and then leading to gentle kisses along her jaw which sent heat straight to her core. 

“Then I shall.” he grinned, wasting no time in dropping his pants. His cock, heavy and dripping. The need for her, more than evident, as he pulled her closer to the edge of the altar. An edge that just so happened to be at the perfect height. 

“I need you.” she purred, taking Terzo’s cock gently in her hand. Working him in long strokes between them as Terzo pushed his fingers deep inside her. 

“Mmm…fuck…stop stop.” Terzo moaned, quickly losing control to the feeling of her hand sliding over his shaft. Thumb, rolling over the head, coated in his precum before she could respond. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No…no the opposite quite frankly. I need to taste you, savor you cara mia before I take you, right here before Lucifer himself.” he growled, removing her hand from him while pulling his own from her. Licking off the fluids eagerly, as he dropped to his knees before her. Scarlett rose up on her elbows, watching as Terzo’s face disappeared below her habit, his tongue drawing attention to her swollen clit as he took a swipe of it. Teasing her and returning his fingers to fill her inside. 

“Oh my! Terzo!” She mewled, feeling them sliding around inside and pressing against her most sensitive spot. His tongue lapping at her clit in passionate synchronization. He said nothing, only delighting in the noises he pulled from her. His mouth inching her ever closer to release. Scarlett arched up off the altar, her sticky skin peeling from it as if it was vinyl on a hot summer’s day. Her insides squeezed down hard around him as she moved herself on Terzo’s two fingers. Cumming hard against his hand and filling his mouth with her satisfaction. 

“Il sapore di te sulla mia lingua è... Mmm... così delizioso amore mio." Terzo remarked, standing up between Scarlet's still quivering legs. The sweetness of her cunt, still lingering when he took her lips back on his. His need to take her, growing—a feral need that took everything in him to wait for her command. Scarlett needing only to say the word and they shall be made one.

"Cardinal…please." She moaned, watching as Terzo's eyes crawled over her. 

"Habit off. I take you as Lucifer intended." He growled. Scarlett did as she was told, pulling off her habit. Her breasts bounced down before him, releasing her sensitive pierced nipples to the coolness of the room. Nipples that were pert for him as Terzo quickly drew one into his mouth. His tongue rolling over the barbell and his hand stroking his aching cock as he sucked and licked. 

"Terzo now please… I can't take it." She mewled.

"Mmm…ok…tutto ciò che desideri sarà tuo." He mumbled with her nipple still in his mouth. Terzo pulled back, saliva stringing from his lover's breast, as he lined his cock up with her entrance. The head pressed against her—slowly pushing past her lips and inside. His girth, filling her tightly all around as he inched his way inside. Scarlett squirmed, her body begging for him to take her harder, faster. While Terzo willed himself to wait until he was fully seated inside. 

"From this moment on cara mia, you will never be alone again." He vowed as he met with the deepest part of her. Scarlett let out a string of needy moans and cries. Terzo went to grab hold of her thighs, helping her to wrap them around him as he moved himself inside. Slowly, back and forth as Scarlett writhed beneath him on the altar. The two of them, eyes locked and mouths fallen open, as they savored the feel of one another in the most sanctified of rituals. 

“I love you.” Scarlett cried as Terzo began moving faster. His thrusting, more intentioned and precise. His determination to make her see what lay beyond this mortal realm.

“I love you. Now cum for me Scarlet. Let us offer up not only our blood, but this to HIM as well.” Terzo growled, raising up on his hands to pound harder. The wet sounds of sex filling the room. Lascivious noises that echoed off the stained glass windows as he took her. 

“Yes please! Terzo I think I'm going to—” Scarlett yelped, her mind so awash in pleasure she could barely get out the words. 

“That's right amore! Cum for me! Cum for your Cardinal in the name of Satan. Che il nostro destino sia segnato per sempre insieme al nostro sacrificio. Il sangue delle nostre ferite e il fluido della nostra lussuria!” Terzo cried, burying himself inside her over and over as the softness of her walls began to tremble all around him. 

“Oh yes! Yes! Yes!” She screamed, her juices overflowing between them as Terzo came hard and deep inside her. Her own orgasm, meeting with his—causing an explosion between them. Stars now dancing in her vision as she fell from the heavens. Her body overcome from the bond forged between them this night.

Terzo collapsed on top of her, breathing heavy and both their bodies languid from their endeavors. The magic felt coursing through their veins, a sign of true love. Terzo kissed her gently. Scarlet’s eyes filled with tears as he held her in his arms. “Oh no no no amore. Why are you crying? Have I hurt you?” Terzo asked, panicked that he had done something wrong.  

“No…no it's not that.” she smiled, sniffling back and squeezing him tightly against her. 

“What is it then?” he asked, his chin tucked against his chest as he took in the scent of her skin. Relishing the moment of post climactic bliss held between them.

“I'm  just happy is all. I have somewhere…someone for whom I belong.” Scarlett managed to say, Terzo's embrace  even more tight than before. 

“You belong to me cara that is true…” Terzo began as he lifted his head to look at her. His face was filled with the happiness and love he felt for her so deeply. Knowing that his lifetime and the next would never be enough to show how much. Scarlett scrunched her face, tears slipping out as she urged him to continue. 

“But know…that I too will always belong to you too.”

Notes:

Il sapore di te sulla mia lingua è... Mmm... così delizioso amore mio.   -The taste of you on my tongue is...mmm...so delicious my love.  

tutto ciò che desideri sarà tuo-everything that you desire will be yours

Che il nostro destino sia segnato per sempre insieme al nostro sacrificio. Il sangue delle nostre ferite e il fluido della nostra lussuria-Let our fates be forever sealed together with our sacrifice. The blood of our wounds and the fluid of our lust

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[thefanbasewhore]

I love your fics! Is there any possible way you can do something along the lines of din seeing you in a dress for the first time?

Thank you sm love ! Hope you like it.

Warning/content: Din/female reader, they are not together but Din is crushing hard. A little sexual tension.

It was a celebration, the streets of Nevarro filled with lights, from colorful kid's drawings to flags that hung from buildings.

The Crest wasn't parked far away, close enough Din could hear the chattering of the crowd, the loudness of the music.

Usually he would be long gone at the promise of a party, he's more of the loner, hermit type but didn't have the heart to tell you no.

The way those eyes looked at him with longing, lips in a slight pout silently begging him as Cara mentioned it. The look alone was enough to catch the attention of almost everyone in the Inn.

You were too pretty, a face that ever man wish he could have, imagine Din's surprise when he found out it was more than a pretty face. You were smart, sweet, knew your way around a blaster but just an overall kind person.

That leaves Din where he stands now, waiting for you after claiming you needed to get ready. Din's back rested against the wall of the crest, thighs spread above the cargo box, the child mindlessly looking at the metal sphere in his hands, hands lifting it towards Din for the tenth time since sitting here. He was so proud of his toy, or the fact that Din had finally give in to him.

"Din are you ready?" Din does not notice that moments before that you had already entered the room. Eyes greedily taking in the sight of him. Despite the large size of the wood box underneath him, he looks so large. Thighs spread open, hand resting on his thigh as the other rubs soft, green petal ears.

Din wants to answer that he's been ready, waiting for you but the moment he lays eyes on you, his throat dries. His belly stirs with a long wanting, that warms his whole body.

It's his eyes that are greedy now, the dress is nothing fancy, small flowers make the fabric pop, it dips into your neckline, the point of it stopping right in the middle of your sternum, the swells of breast peaking through. He can't help but notice the small buds that rub against the thin fabric, it's not like it's cold but he can tell they're bare under it. The dress stops mid-thigh, instantly noticing the small rips of stretch marks on the side of your thighs.

"What?" He's obviously taking too long to look.. to speak.

His skin is on fire, he wasn't used to seeing you like this. Usually you were hidden away in long tunics built for battle. He often would imagine what you looked like under them, but nothing prepared him for the real thing.

Desire burns deep in his gut, he clears his throat. "Nothing.. I'm just not used to seeing you like this."

He leans forward as you frown, eyes growing wide under the basker as you speak. "Oh? I'll go change."

"No, No, please don't." It's rushed, he can barely concentrate except, he just wants to run his fingers down the stripes on your thighs, feel the white marks under his skin. You looked so soft, absolutely beautiful.

He wants to say those words, loving, comforting words instead mentally face palms himself as different ones spill out, "I'm not used to you looking like a girl is all."

Din is so close now, only inches away from your face as you roll your eyes. "Wow, thanks so much."

"No -, I, ugh." It was cute, the small sigh wouldn't have been noticable if it wasn't for the static. A few moments past before you try to push past him but the cold leather gloves catch the skin of your wrist as he pushes you close again.

"I think you look beautiful." He can't ignore the pounding of his heart as you smile, it's so sweet, genuine. Blood rushes to his head as you press your fingertips against his helmet, laying a soft kiss to the point of what would be his cheek. "Mesh'la."

"Thank you, I actually wore it for you." These words make blood rush straight down his body, a fire erupting against skin reaching his most private area. Clearly his confidence is rising as his other arm finds the small of your back, pushing you against his chest with a 'humf.'

He's confused, mostly because he thought these feelings were one sided. What would a girl like you ever want with him? While you can offer the world all he had was an old ship and a few credits to his name, oh and his adoptive son who clung to you.

"Y-You did?" Fingertips run across his shoulder reaching under the helmet finding the small patch of skin there, his body is on fire, heart pounding in his ears. Skin against skin, it's so soft, feels so nice to have it.

"I did." You smile bitting your bottom lip, all he could think is he wants them, all of his face, his body, he wants them against his own.

You actually don't know what prompt this, the undeniable tension that filled that air whenever you were together or the fact that he was stuck in his head he would never make the first move.

Din whines at the loss of heat as you step away, reaching out for it again but you are too quick as you grab the baby. "Cant we just stay here? I hate parties. I would rather be here with you."

"Hmmmm." It's a sound that make him know you're considering it. "But we haven't been with people in so long."

The hatch of the Crest makes him sigh as he starts walking towards you, he's cautious as he rests an experimental hand to your lower back. "Fine, whatever you want pretty girl."

The words make you blush but it's nothing compared to the feeling Din has, freezing in his spot as you begin to walk away.

"who knows? Maybe we'll come back early and you can help me get this dress off."

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Whenever

Started thinking today about the beacon visions and how they might show up for Caleb Shepard. @happychica and @writes-in-space - this is the dream I mentioned before.

Not the final product, but an idea that wouldn't leave me alone so i scribbled it down. (very rough draft)

Setting: 2183, SSV Normandy, Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko

~~~

“So, you don’t think I’m pretty?”

Sighing heavily, he stares out over the river. “I never said that, Ciara.” In the distance, dark clouds slowly roll onto the horizon; an Atlantic gale, a bad one by the looks of things, builds. By nightfall, the wind will blow the rain straight sideways, windows will rattle and clang, and trees will be ripped from the Earth.

“Then, why?” Her hand, small and pale, grasps his forearm with surprising strength.

Reluctantly, he turns his attention to her; bright eyes, dark curls, sweet face. He brushes his knuckles lightly over her cheek. “Cara, we aren’t meant to be.” Drawing her close, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

She pushes against his chest, breaking free; but where he expects to find tears, anger blazes with a fire the likes of which he’s never witnessed. He retreats a step in surprise, his hand reaching for his weapon. Another step. Another. The rifle releases from the mag-lock harness on his back with practiced ease. Raising it, he brings her into focus through the scope…

Lightning shoots across the sky, the clouds billowing faster. Daylight becomes night within a heartbeat, and Ciara… His breath catches. Her pale skin cracks and breaks, peeling away to expose greyish sinew and tendon covering cybernetic implants. Eyes usually so bright and mischievous take on the appearance of bluish-white orbs. Lips, once so lovely and soft, stretch impossibly wide, shaping around raspy screeches and hoarse screams.

“Do you think I’m pretty now?”

He reacts without thinking, guided by instinct, or maybe something more. The shot’s echo rips through the night; her body – more husk than the girl he knows – drops to the ground in a heap.

A sonorous blast rents the skies above, distracting him. Spots blacker-than-black descend around him. More husks – faces changing from the familiar to the horrifying – race forward. Colin. Nora. Sean. Meabh. Aoife…

He shoots again. And again. And again. The faces keep coming. Now it’s Aoki. Owens. Martinez. Huettner. Harris. Malik. Nevarra…

Over and over, he reloads his weapon, and still they come, their screams echoing in his ears, ripping his heart to shreds, grasping irrevocable hold of his soul. With each shot, he retreats a step; with each step, more husks fill the open spaces… until two dark haired, dark eyed, familiar faces move into his scope, their Alliance issued armor yanked from their bodies with violence, their skin turning grey and eyes bluish-white as they transition…

“NO!”

[ooops-i-arted]

Happy birthday! I know the Yoditos have a pact to never tell Dad he’s ugly, but what if they all tried to make him prettier? In practice it ends up like drawing on his face with marker while he sleeps and I’m sure you have even funnier ideas.

There was already a gathering around the couch, and more were coming. Boga Jr. huffed softly at the dozens of children clustered around the couch, protective of her spot and her pillow, the Mandalorian she was currently sprawled on top of.

“Dad fell asleep,” says Yod’ika 5 finally, stating the obvious. “Really asleep. He’s making the sounds.”

“It’s called snoring,” Yod’ika informed them. Dad did it a lot when he slept. He’d heard it much more than his brothers. Dad didn’t like to sleep when they were all still awake, but when it had been just him and Dad, Dad had slept more. But now Dad had been watching videos on HoloTube about how to take care of children again while they were all supposed to be napping, and he had fallen asleep. Again. Boga Jr. was watching him but now they were all awake and they could help watch Dad too.

“I don’t like it,” whined Yod’ika 57, pulling at his floppy ears.

“You don’t like any sounds because your hearing is so senna-tive,” objected Yod’ika 43.

“I don’t like it more than other sounds! It’s a bad sound,” complained Yod’ika 57. “Why’s Buir make a bad sound? Because he has a bad face?”

A gasp raced through the collection of Yod’ike. “Don’t ever say that!” commanded Yod’ika. “Dad is perfect the way he is! It’s not his fault he has tiny ears and a big nose and weird hairs on his face, and isn’t even green.”

“It’s just because he’s a hoo-man,” said Yod’ika 13. “They’re all ugly like that. Even when they’re nice like Daddy and Winta and Omera.”

“Yeah, just be glad he doesn’t have an ugly fuzzy caterpillar on his face like Uncle Greef,” added Yod’ika 17.

“Why isn’t Daddy green, vod?” Yod’ika 32 asked, turning to Yod’ika. “Was he ever green?”

“I don’t know. He’s always looked like that,” Yod’ika told him. But he hated not knowing the answer to things, since he was the big brother and supposed to know. “Maybe he was green when he was little, like us?”

“Winta said her skin is brown because she’s in the sun a lot,” said Yod’ika 13. “But Daddy wears his helmet outside so he isn’t in the sun.”

“Cara has red skin on her arm. The red squares,” said Yod’ika 9.

“No they’re rectangles!” Yod’ika corrected him. Dad wanted them to learn shapes and so did the video that was still playing.

“But they’re red. So she changed her skin somehow. She’s not red but she made her skin red.”

The Yod’ike murmured among themselves, speculating as to how Cara did it. Paint? Markers? Something else only for adults? They agreed it wasn’t spotchka, even though Cara really liked it. That was a drink, and it was blue.

“Can’t we just color Dad green?” asked Yod’ika 57 finally.

“We’re not supposed to do art without a grown-up!” objected Yod’ika 13. “Dad was mad when we painted all the dishes!”

“But we aren’t painting dishes this time,” argued Yod’ika 17. “And Cara must’ve painted herself so it’s okay to paint people.”

“We could paint Dad. Then he would be green like us,” said Yod’ika 57. “We should paint him! He would like it to be green!”

Yod’ika wasn’t sure. Dad did not like paint all over him. Or he used not to. But then one day they had a big white blanket up so they could all throw paint at it. Dad got paint on him and he laughed then. And it really wasn’t Dad’s fault he was so ugly. Maybe he would be happy if they helped him look prettier.

But when he turned to ask his vode, jars of green paint and green markers were already floating from the high shelves they weren’t supposed to touch. Yod’ika 4 was pulling down the cup of brushes and handing them out and many of the others were already crawling all over Dad, catching the brushes and markers and paint whizzing through the air.

Yod’ika held his breath. It was easy to wake Dad up, especially if Boga Jr. decided to be loud. But she just watched with curiosity and Dad didn’t move as the first brush of paint was smeared over his skin. With that all his brothers set to work, covering Dad with green on his face, his neck, his hands, his feet, even pulling up his shirt to paint his tummy. Yod’ika 34, who liked to get dirty, stuck his hands in a paint jar and started wiping it all through Dad’s hair as if it were shampoo.

“Look! Look!” Yod’ika 9 picked up a feather that had fallen from Boga Jr. as she groomed herself, unconcerned with the art project happening on her Mandalorian pillow. He dipped it in the green paint and tucked it behind Dad’s ear. “Now he has long ears like us.”

In moments the jar of loose feathers saved for art time was flying off the shelf, along with the bottle of glue. Oh no, they definitely weren’t allowed to use the glue with no grown-ups around… but before Yod’ika could remind them of that, the glue was opened and being dumped on Dad’s ears and the freshly-painted feathers added on.

Yod’ika sighed. Dad was going to do more than sigh when he woke up, that was for sure. But at least he did look prettier now. “It’s okay, Dad,” he said quietly, patting his dad’s hand. “We love you no matter what you look like.”

-

“Hey, Din! What happened?”

Din jumped as Cara caught him by surprise, taking his ungloved hand and looking at it. “Oh, is it just paint? Thought you had a nasty bruise.”

“Just paint,” Din assured her. “The kids did a painting project. It got out of hand.”

“Oh really? I’d love to see it.”

“Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out and got… taken apart,” Din said.

He had never been more grateful for the helmet. If she could see his still-green-stained face and still-paint-and-glue matted hair, he would never hear the end of it.

-

Bonus doodle of Din after his nap because it made me laugh:

[katsuflossy]

A Doll’s Palace

Pairing: Hawks x Reader 

TW: Angst, Mentions of maternal death, death, yandere themes, mentions of societal female expectations

A/n:  If it wasn’t for Echo and Mix, would’ve been straight booty cheeks so omg thank y’all for helping me edit this to near perfection ❤❤❤

Taglist: @johariameil @iiminibattlehero @ecao @melanimed​ @mixfi​

Chastity, Purity, Demureness, Divine Feminity: They built your enamored status and innocence in the kingdom of Braavos. A pure noblewoman is seen as the most remarkable feminine icon in society, and you involuntarily became the symbol that many women hated and men looked up to. A curse, your father had called it, as the most beautiful of your family is always the earliest to go, right after birth. Since then, you’ve grown to embody your mother, a face he so loved, and swore on his life that you would never die from a soul exchange as your mother did.

But your marriage with Takami Keigo? A reality every hopeless romantic maiden could only experience through dream. . King ‘Hawks’ was preferred by his people, an esteemed man that led millions to victory in battle with wit and millions of hearts to burst using charm. You were one in a million, the heart that won the golden ticket to strike the hawk’s heart.

Too bad, the reality was shared another lucky heart.

Red silks tailored to your natural measurements; the powdered innocent blush on your face was paralleled to the floor as your brain overflowed with thoughts. Your hands twirled the parchment scroll in your palms, but your eyes remembered the exact words inked on the paper. They jumbled with the script you’ve repeated since the crack of dawn. Midoriya fluttered about the room, making the bed you just laid in and unclogging the once cold bathwater made for you to look more ‘youthful.’ A simple day in the Crystal Queen’s life.

“Izuku?” Your manservant ceased his movement, eagerly giving his attention to you.

“Yes, my Queen?” His eyes tried to reach yours; however, they remained on the paper within your hands, slightly crinkled from when your restraint broke.

“You would tell me when I am wrong” Your irises slowly slid to his frame; pupils almost swallowed into the depths of your eye color. A shiver ran down his back . “right?”

“Y-yes, my Queen.” He didn’t dare to flinch under your gaze, which stared at him longer than what was comfortable. You ended your stare by closing your eyes, giving him a wide smile before rising from your love seat, slipping the parchment in your sleeve. Your steps passed straight by his still frozen figure until they had reached the door frame.

“Midoriya, my faithful servant.” Your voice echoed through the room like a skillful siren. His attention remained on you as you continued to speak.

“I want you in the main dining hall by eight on the dot. Please don’t be late.” You left before he could properly bow at your command.

The barren halls laughed at you, pricking your mentality, forming pairs of figures every few columns you passed. A maid was pressed against the left column just a while ago, arms wrapped around the pale neck of your husband, his arms around her peasant waist.

The one you just passed? The same maid laid her hands on Keigo’s face, smoothing out his goatee’s hairs, and he allowed her to.

The entrance of the dining hall up ahead held your heart’s worst fear. An exchange of breath, love, and intimacy that should be sacred between those wedded. Your mind pictured the peacock vase at the entrance shattering on your behalf, impaling the two’s skin. The imaginary screams were like wine to your ears as you finally entered the hall.

The area was warmed by the marble light of the great chandelier,everything was covered with the golden gleam, hiding the little splatters of deep red in the floor. A mint haired maid captured your attention.

“Your Majesty? I apologize, but the dining room is not finished for tonight’s dinner.” Her brown eyes stared at you nervously; her chubby cheek showed where her teeth bit into its flesh.

“Oh, no worries, I am just looking for now.” The fake smile stuck itself to your face as you examined the long dining table. Only a handful of food were fixated on the top.

“You make excellent food here, Cara. What beautiful carvings in the baby carrots.” You quirked up, noticing she stiffed at your last words.

“Of course, my work is only done best for you, y-your Majesty.” Your practiced laugh came through the room, instilling superficial relief in the maid.

“But I must ask, are you eating some as you cook? You’ve gotten wider in the last months.” Your hand took her chin; curious eyes roamed her plump face as she blushed by the attention.

“Haha, y-yes, I’ve been eating a little more than usual.” Her gaze shuffled to anywhere but you. She was such a terrible liar.

“As long as you’re not eating for two.” You threw your head back; melodious laughter exhausted your stomach pit. Cara barely joined in with her nervous laughter, face breaking red in embarrassment.

“Did I hear my little bird’s beautiful laughter?” The kingly presence broke into the room. Which one? You kept your tongue as Keigo wrapped you into a kiss, which sadly set your heart on fire. Your lips separated, trained eye watching as his own sneakily trailed to the kitchen maid. Your smile dulled before brightening .

“My King, I have exciting news for you.” Your face snuggled into his palm on your cheek. Hawks eyes gleamed like the most gilded of plates.

“Hm? Well, love, don’t keep me on my toes. Let me hear it.” You relished in his arms wrapped around your midsection before pulling out of his embrace, bopping him on the nose.

“That’s the purpose.o keep you anxious until the grand reveal.” Your smile started to burn your cheeks as you watched the room’s bustle, preparing for a grand disaster.

Violins and Cellos played throughout the dining hall as the dinner began. The long table set with food separated you and Keigo, each taking the farthest end. Playful looks and banters were exchanged between the two as the servants lined against the walls, ready for even the most subtle commands. After laughing at one of Keigo’s pun, you clapped, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Well, it was all a joyous evening, but I must bring attention to the evening’s highlight: the surprise.” Hawks quirked up in curiosity. The rest of the maids and Midoriya exchanged curious glances but did not say a word. You rose from your seat, hand gliding across the table’s surface.

“As you know, I am a lady of chastity, not by will, but by curse.” Your steps drew closer to your king.

“My father wishes nothing of seeing me carrying a little one. You, my king, are a young man, one who’s drive is active. A man who wishes to grow old with children around as you said at our first ball.” You were only a mere meter away from his seated figure, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob in nervousness.

“Yes? But my little bird, why is this such an important announcement.”

“Be patient, my love. I am getting to that.” You were half a meter away from him now; his brow held the slightest furrow in them. Cara shuffled in the corner of your eye.

“Well, I begged my father, being of a monogamous nation, and it was hard. Harems were long abandoned in the kingdom of Braavos, but I did it.” You pulled from your sleeves the parchment paper and gave it to Keigo, whose eyes were full of anxiety. He opened the scroll to read.

“In the Kingdom of Fukuoka, the King will have the privilege of a harem, up to 20 women. He will be able to officially appear with them at balls, sleep with them, and—” his eyes flicker to you with shock before rereading what was written. “—procreate with them.”

You smiled before pointing to the end of the paper.

“Only if the Queen, rightfully crowned and inaugurated, is given the parenthood of all children birthed by the harem. The Queen will also be able to have a harem of her own, whether sexually or not.”

Hawks’ wings rose, eyes looking at you in disbelief. You lifted his face close to yours.

“Don’t worry, love. I only have eyes for you. Though,what happened to equality and freedom? The two things you fight for?” Your eyes flickered to Cara, whose face was red with anger. Keigo already took the pen from your sleeves and signed the paper.

“S-stop! This law c-can’t pass !” Her voice broke the cheery atmosphere, riddling it with confusion. The maids began to whisper frantically. You rose a brow at her outburst.

“And why is that? You have no say in royal affairs, kitchen maid.” Her eyes began to water, falling down her fat cheeks onto her fabric.

“P-please, d-don’t take my baby.” The room fell deadly silent after her plea. You ripped your hands from Hawks’ body, face morphing in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘your baby’?” Your eyes turned to Hawks, who sat silent. You could see the gears turning in his head to construct a lie.

“Hawks. What does she mean ‘your baby’?” His gears steamed before stopping abruptly, giving up on filing an excuse. His hands reached out to hold you.

“I can explain.” You moved quickly out of his range before halting him in his tracks.

“You can explain? Do you know how embarrassing that is to me? If it’s true, you’ve been cheating on me for months! Knowing that I couldn’t even bear for you!” Your heart pained you as the night you found out, reliving the shock and betrayal over again.

You were breaking character. Taking a deep breath, you turned away from your husband, a tear slowly streaking your face.

“We’ll talk about this when there aren't any spectators. Cara, bring out the special wine I’ve asked you to make for the celebration. I hope you two are happy.” Cara still stood on the spot, by fear and resistance. You turned to her; wide eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Now.” She ran to the kitchen, hand over mouth to hide her whimpers.

“Midoriya, help the pregnant lady out. It’ll be a shame if she broke her back or something.” Midoriya jumped up, running in the same direction as Cara.

“(Y/n), let me explain please—”

“There is nothing to explain; just enjoy your wine and celebrate.” The bitter sarcasm rolling off your tongue in waves. Cara and Midoriya entered the hall. Her eyes strong with will and face wiped of tears. Midoriya poured the wine for Hawks, filling his chalice to the brim. The winged king sighed and took an immediate gulp. You immediately turned to Cara, your eyes evoking sadness.

“I can’t even be in the same place as you two right now.” You stormed out of the dining room, leaving only the sounds of your shoes hitting the floor.

The candle lights flickered as Hawks entered your shared bedroom, dressed and cleaned for bed. You sat on your loveseat from the afternoon, now twirling a diamond ring on your finger. As he stood in front of you, your eyes remained on your hand.

“My love please forgive m—”

“Why?” You looked up at him; pupils dilated.

“Why should I?” He stepped back, startled to see the pain he had inflicted on you. He stared into your wide eyes for a moment longer until he knelt down, knees touching the red carpet’s wool. His hands clasped your own stopping the continuous twirl of your marriage symbol before wetting his dry lips.

“For a young royal bachelor, I was loved by all types of power-hungry men and women; they flocked me with compliments, ideas, whispers, promises. But you, you were the one that saw who I was behind my status, a young boy who lost his parents. A coward put into the place of a king before he could even blink. You saw the real me, and still, you didn’t turn away. We both embrace our vulnerabilities from each other, and if—” His Adam's apple bobbed, throat restricting as a tear fell from his eye. You shuffled in discomfort, your own tears brimming at his speech.

“—if I could take back what I had done, I would do so immediately, within a heartbeat. But she bears my child, and I...I can’t leave it as my father left me.” His neck strained to look up at you, forcing himself not to choke down a cry.

You laid your other hand on his own. Your tears were staining your cheek as you nodded your head frantically, taking him in your arms. He pulled you into a kiss, minty breath intertwining with your own as the candle flames swayed with the emotions.

The scream you let out in the morning had maids and guards rushing to your room. King Takami Keigo was found dead after you both went to sleep. Few hours from the coroner revealed he died of poison.

You walked down the winding stairs of the dungeon with Midoriya by your side. The last cell held a meager amount of light, only showing the mint green hair of Cara. She jumped at the sounds of your footsteps. You ambled up until the bars could touch your toes.

“To kill your very own king is a crime punishable by death.” She wracked in the chains, trying to get closer to you.

“I didn’t kill him! I swear it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t you?” You took the chalice from Midoriya, holding it up to the ceiling as if you were inspecting it.

“This was the last thing he consumed before coming to bed, so the maids say.” Your eyes turned back to the ex-kitchen maid who burst into tears; head bowed in shame.

“Everything has pointed to you, but I understand. I’d kill if the love of my life betrayed me too. I’d use the same exact poison too, Aqua Tofana, the famous poison used by many hurt women to end their lovers.” Her head creaked back to your figure, eyes widening with the growing smirk on your face.

“Although the law states you should serve immediate death, I don’t want that precious baby to go along with you. It’s my last semblance of Keigo, after all. So, as Queen of Fukuoka, I have decided to spare you until the baby has been born. You will stay in this jail cell with ample nursing so my child will be born safe and healthy. That is all.”

You and Midoriya left the dark dungeon, Cara’s screams echoing through the hollow area. Your smirk never softening as you climbed up the stairs, hand still holding Keigo's chalice.

Midoriya laid anxious the whole time. After all, he was guilty of killing the king, adding the poison to the wine when Cara wasn’t looking. His silence finally broke.

“My Queen? Why did you make me...do that?” You halted your steps, pondering as you looked at the golden chalice.

“Keigo would’ve never loved me again. She gave him what I couldn’t, a child to love. He would’ve rather played father with an actual mother, a mother who’d know how to love a child. So I had to stop that before I lost my throne.” Your fingers skimmed the actual feather-covered by gold on the cup, feeling its ridges and bumps.

“Izuku?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“You would tell me when I’m wrong, right?

“Yes, my Queen.”

[purplesauris]

Now Comes The Tide

Din is very unused to being around someone who's mastered the Force, and who seems intent on bothering him with it constantly. Said Jedi seems wholly unaware.

I am out of CONTROL and no one can stop me

Read it on AO3 here!

The first time that Din had felt the power that radiated off of Luke he'd been overwhelmed. It was such a foreign concept to him, for someone to feel, for all intents and purposes, like he was everywhere. The worst part was that Luke didn't even seem to realize the way Din shivered whenever Luke used the Force, the way he felt each grip of his armor as he was sent flying back like the gentlest of caresses. Din had no clue if he was supposed to feel this way, to feel so intimately the pull of Luke's power, but it left his nerves frazzled when the onslaught of Luke's attention never stopped. 

It was worse when Din took his armor off- there was no protective layer between him and the outside world, and every time Luke walked past him or reached out Din's toes curled in his boots. The same feeling didn't apply to having seen Ahsoka or Grogu use the Force- it seemed inherently tied to Luke somehow, as if the way Luke manipulated the Force resounded so deeply within Din that he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. It was very rapidly becoming a problem, one that Din didn't know how to solve without breaking down and shouting at Luke to keep his hands to himself. 

So he'd taken his supply run a week early, if only to hide away in his ship where the only pressure around him was the constant ebb and flow of recycled air filling the cabin. There was only one other person he knew who knew even a smidgeon about Jedi aside from Ahsoka herself, and Din did not fancy tracking her down to ask stupid questions that she would only smirk at, the same way she had when Din had asked about Grogu so long ago. So he went to the next best source- a bounty hunter who had captured Luke no less than two times, and was grinning, smug as can be when Din came trudging into his base on Tatooine. 

"Mand'alor." 

"Fett." Din looked around the room he'd descended into, taking in the blaster marks on the wall that showed him obvious signs of a recent fight. "Redecorating?"

"Adds a certain charm." Din snorts, as if that's what you'd call it, and Boba’s voice is amused, that same grin on his face. “You’re a week early.”

“We were running low.”

“On patience?” Din tenses, trying to hide the way his fingers twitch, but Boba is observant and he only chuckles. “What did your Jetii do now?”

Din glances at Fennec, perched on the arm of Boba’s throne, the woman’s eyebrows going up for a moment before she sighs, rolling her eyes. She rises from her spot, taking her rifle with her as she disappears somewhere deeper within the facility to give them privacy. “What do you know about him and his… powers?”

“Not much.” Boba leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against the arm in a slow, steady drumming that puts Din on edge. “He’s strong, a skilled fighter.”

“I know that. What I don’t know is-” Din cuts himself off, gritting his teeth, and Boba tilts his head. “I don’t know why I’m- reacting.”

“And you came here... To ask me?” Boba talks slowly, as if parsing out why Din would want to come here in the first place. Boba scrutinizes him with new eyes, tilting his head in such a distinctly familiar way that Din feels like he could be looking in a mirror. “You don’t react to Grogu, do you?”

“No. Not- this way.” Boba laughs then, shaking his head and covering his face with a gloved hand. Din feels as if the laughter is directly aimed at him, more than at the situation, and Din clenches his hands into fists. "I didn't come to-"

"I know why you came, Mand'alor, but I don't have answers. You'll have to ask Skywalker." Boba rises from his throne at last, broad form filling the room as he steps heavily down off of the dais. "Has he told you anything about being force sensitive?"

"I'm not force sensitive." Din shoots back, frowning when Boba inclines his head, brows raising. It only serves to fuel Boba's amusement, and he sighs heavily, clapping Din on the back. 

"Go home, Mand'alor. Secretive as he may be, you've got the last Jetii wrapped around your pinky finger. Use that." Boba's expression has turned serious, and Din scowls within his helmet. "Make sure you get supplies though, or he'll think you were running away."

"Fuck off, Fett." Boba's booming laughter follows Din all the way back to the Razor Crest. Boba is right, though, of course he is, and Din really did mean for it to be a supply run, so he works through it like he always does. He hunts Luke's tea down, finds something that looks fluffy and soft for Grogu to play with, and takes a few bounties just to work his frustration out. 

So what if they come back a bit more bruised than usual? So what if Din is a bit more silent when he drops them off and collects his credits? Cara and Karga know better than to comment on his foul mood, the former instead taking him out to the lava flats and affectionately beating the shit out of him. Din hasn't had a hand to hand fight without Luke's powers getting in the way in so long that fighting Cara now seems slow- predictable. Cara seems surprised by his newfound skill, but still manages to toss him like a sack of grain, Din hitting the ground and staying there, laughing like a fool. Cara collapses on the ground next to him, bumping her shoulder against his pauldron. Her chest rises with her own uneven breaths, broken by her laughs, and she's still chuckling when she talks.

"Remember Sorgan?"

"Mhmm."

"That widow was super, super into you."

"She was nice." Din agrees, Cara snorting next to him and continuing her thought.

"Why does everyone you meet fall in love with you? Is it the fact that you can fight?"

"You in love with me, Dune?"

"Very funny, Mando." Din snickers quietly, turning his head when he feels Cara shift next to him. He finds her watching him, eyes narrowed, and Din sits up, suddenly feeling vulnerable laying on the ground the way he is. Cara doesn't move, watching him as a smile grows over her face. "Have you ever fallen in love? Before Skywalker?"

"If I say yes, will you believe me?"

"Not a bit." Din bobs his head in a nod, as if that makes sense, and Cara sits up, smile fading into something softer. "He's good for you. You laugh more than you used to."

“Maybe you’re just funnier.” Cara laughs, but Din can’t deny that he feels… Happier. With Grogu and Luke he feels like he has a purpose, like he’s more than a faceless bounty hunter scraping by. He has a home, a clan to go back to, and that thought sobers him. He’s never dreaded being away from Luke, enjoyed being able to go out and get what they didn’t have, but he misses him. It’s an itch he can’t scratch, the lonely ache in his chest when he’s gone, but it makes going home, seeing the look on Luke’s face that much sweeter. Which he should be doing, he realizes. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too. Duty calls.” Cara rises to her feet first, holding out a hand and hoisting Din to his feet. Din tightens his grip on her hand, standing there for a moment. Cara grips his hand tighter in response, smiling and letting him go when his grip loosens. She shoos him off in the direction of the port while she heads the opposite way, and Din’s trip back home is spent in quiet contemplation. 

He still has no idea what is going on with him, with Luke’s power, but there aren’t any other options other than talking to him about it. It shouldn’t seem like such a daunting task, but how do you tell the man you’re very much in love with that his powers do weird things to you without ruining the relationship? Din supposes he could just be straight forward about it, like he is everything else, but his cheeks burn already just thinking of the admission. Din will just have to buck up and face that conversation when the time comes, because the planet they call home is rapidly approaching, and soon Din is too busy with landing the ship and unloading to think much more about it. 

Luke is waiting for him at the edge of the city, Grogu balanced on his shoulder, little hands in his hair as Luke floats rocks in a circle above his head. Din’s heart goes fuzzy at the sight, and the closer he gets the more the feeling of Luke washes over him. It’s a pleasant, buzzing warmth under his skin, one that Din didn’t realize he’d missed, and he adjusts the heavy pack against his back.

“Did you see me come in?” 

“Sensed you. Everything go okay?” Din hums noncommittally, closing his eyes when Luke reaches out to cup the back of his neck, drawing him in and pressing his forehead to the cool metal of Din’s helmet. This close with Luke’s fingers on the back of his neck, twitching in time with the rocks orbiting them, Din feels an echo of what Luke must feel all the time. An unearthly, groaning abyss of something around him, permeating the air in layers that never quite let up. Din steps back, Luke’s hand falling away, and he can breathe again, eyes opening in time to see a curious expression flit over Luke’s face. 

“Hungry?” Din asks, desperately wanting to shatter the fragile thing lingering in the air.

“For your cooking? I think I could settle.” Luke grins, wincing when Grogu pulls his hair, gurgling happily and reaching for his father. Din chucks him gently under the chin, voice fond. 

“Yeah kid, me too. Let’s go home.”

                                                            -*-

Din really, really doesn't know how to start this particular conversation. Grogu is down for the night, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and Din has finally let himself somewhat relax. He’s got Luke up on the counter, or rather, Luke had seated himself on the counter while Din cleaned up, and Din hadn’t let him down since. Din leans into the fingers in his hair, eyes closed as Luke trails kisses over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. The feeling of Luke’s hands or lips on his face is a novelty he still hasn’t gotten over, and Din can tell he’s grinning when Luke bumps their foreheads together. 

“You’re thinking.” Luke prods, Din leaning harder into his touches. “Have been since you got home.”

“Your jetii mind powers tell you that?” Luke snorts, pressing a soft kiss to Din’s mouth before cupping his cheeks, thumbs pressing lightly under his chin to tip Din’s head back. Din blinks his eyes open, locking eyes with Luke, who wears a soft frown on his face. 

“They don’t have to. What’s eating you, Din?”

“Nothing.” Din’s stomach twists uneasily at the sad twitch of Luke’s lips, but he leans forward, kissing him without thinking and smiling when Luke softens under his hands, a hand sliding into Din's hair to hold him close. Din doesn’t pull away to talk, letting his lips brush against Luke’s with every word. “I have… to figure out how to say it.” 

He expects Luke to protest, or argue, but Luke hums against his lips and smiles. “Okay.” Din makes a noise, a question, and Luke’s smile grows wider. “We’re adults, Din, I can wait until you’re ready to talk. For now, how about we spar?”

“It’s pitch dark outside.” 

“That’s never stopped us before.” Luke points out, and well… He does have a point. Anticipation curls in Din’s gut at the thought, and he takes a step back, letting Luke slide off the counter, straightening his clothes and brushing a hand through his hair to let it fall back over his forehead. Din grabs his helmet on the way to the door, slipping it on and swallowing so his ears will pop as the pressure regulates. He allows himself a moment to pop in and check on Grogu, but he’s sleeping away, clutching the new toy that Din had brought back with him. 

Din shivers when cold, firm pressure curls around him, and he stalks outside where Luke waits just inside the treeline, wagging his fingers mockingly and grinning when Din draws his blade. He’s used to the intense, fevered glow of the darksaber by now, and the green glow from Luke’s saber is a welcome sight, even muted by his visor. Din walks in a slow, even circle around Luke, watching and waiting for the telltale roll of Luke’s wrist right before he gets serious. He watches, and he waits, shivering when the feeling of Luke’s power swells, latching onto him with singular focus as Luke lunges for where he’s about to take a step.

Din is expecting that, though, darksaber already in place to intercept the blow, and Luke’s eyes flicking up to his as sparks rain from their blades. Din pushes back, shoves into Luke’s space and pushes him onto the defensive. It’s probably a mistake to do so so soon after their match has begun, but Din is fueled by the fire that rages through him when Luke fights, eyes flicking back and forth, tracking Luke’s movements as their sabers meet over and over again in showers of sparks that sizzle against his chest piece. 

Luke pushes harder now, using his powers to throw Din off balance, to test his limits of what he can fight against while trying to gain the upper hand at the same time. Din’s hands are steady around the hilt of his saber even when the rest of him shivers and twitches with each brush of Luke’s power. It’s easy for Din to lose himself in the feelings of fighting, the shuffling of his feet and the way his heart pounds in his chest as he leans back, narrowly avoiding a lightsaber to the side of the head. 

“Watch it.” He barks, glaring when Luke grins sheepishly and adjusts his angle. His helmet can take as much as his armor can, but his neck is semi exposed and Din doesn’t want to lose his head. 

“You can stop, if you want.” Din growls at that, because that isn’t what he meant, but the firm hand of Luke’s power clamps down on him, dragging him forward as Din brings his sword up, letting it hiss and spit against Luke’s shield as Luke’s hand brushes over his hip. The touch is quick, fleeting and gone, but Luke’s handprint lingers like a brand, and when Din tries to take a step back, jerking against Luke’s influence his power surges up around Din, raking over his skin in fluid waves of ecstasy. A gasp escapes him before he can help it, loud and raw, and Luke’s lightsaber dies out abruptly. A hand wraps around Din’s, thumb finding the button on the hilt and retracting the blade of the darksaber as Din’s head empties out. “Din-”

Another wave of feeling cascades over Din then and he takes a step back, sweeping Luke’s legs out from under him in one smooth movement. Luke goes down with a shout and Din is on top of him before he can move. His beskar digs unforgivingly into the soft parts of Luke’s body but Luke doesn’t seem to care, struggling against him, fingers digging into the padding of Din’s hips. Din presses down, trying to pin his hands, but Luke’s legs come up behind him, hips shoving up and throwing Din off balance. Din topples forward, hands slapping the dirt on either side of Luke’s head as Luke’s arms wrap around him, rolling them over and over until Din’s head is spinning and Luke’s got his back pressed into the dirt. 

Din struggles against Luke’s hold, knowing that they’re just about as easily matched as they can be, but phantom hands clamp down on his ribs, keeping him in place as Luke moves, shoving Din’s legs apart in favor of fitting himself between them. Luke stares, blue eyes wide and dark in the low light filtering through the trees, and Din’s back arches uselessly off the ground when Luke’s power flushes through him, heat pooling between his legs and lips parting as he chokes on a keening cry of Luke’s name. The lock on Din’s helmet pops hard enough for Din to feel it, and Din rips it off himself, pulling in huge, gulping breaths of air as Luke leans over him. 

Din hardly has a chance to breathe between the onslaught of phantom touches tracing every inch of him and Luke kissing him senseless, but he doesn’t care. He buries a gloved hand into Luke’s hair and twists the strands between his fingers, lapping into his mouth and groaning when Luke presses his hips forward. “Luke-”

“That’s what you were thinking about.” Luke breathes, pulling back just enough to look at the way Din’s cheeks flush.

“It’s not-”

“Don’t lie, Din, it doesn’t feel nearly as nice as this does.” Luke rolls his hips forward, drawing another gasp from Din’s lips and grinning when Din presses his thighs tight to Luke’s sides. “Is that why you left early?”

“Yes- no- you won’t stop touching me.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Luke tilts his head, considering, but Din’s hand drops to grab weakly at his hip, tugging him forward, and Luke rolls his hips again, giving Din just an instant of friction. 

“I can- can feel whenever you- do your magic thing. It's distracting." Luke huffs out a laugh, and the reprimand that it isn’t magic is on the tip of his tongue, Din can tell, but Luke tilts his head suddenly. His brow furrows just a bit, determined, and Din’s hips buck up off of the forest floor when concentrated feeling brushes over his cock. Din's breath goes funny almost immediately, odd, hiccupy gasps, and his fingers dig into Luke's hip. “Luke-”

“So sensitive.” The Jedi purrs, leaning down and kissing along the edge of his jaw. Din arches his neck, whimpering, and Luke latches on, sucking soft marks into the sweat lined skin Din bears for him. “Should have told me about this before, Din. What fun we could have had.”

“Telling you now-” Din’s thigh jerks, and Luke laughs huskily as Din’s breath chokes off in his throat, whole body going taut as he comes. Din can feel Luke smiling against the column of his throat, but whatever control Luke is exerting only gets worse, dragging along the sensitive bud until Din is writhing, trying to both get away from the sensation and chase it. “I need- I-”

“I’ve got you. Tell me what you want, Din, I’ll give it to you.” Din brings both hands up to grab at Luke’s hair, dragging him into a wet, messy kiss that he can only half focus on. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants past the hot, insistent ache between his thighs, but Luke has never truly needed words when Din wants something bad enough. Luke groans against his lips, kissing him hard before pulling back, pressing their foreheads together in an effort to get Din to concentrate. Brown eyes so dark they look black bore into blue, and Luke’s eyelids flutter before he looks back down at Din. “You’re sure?”

Din nods frantically, tilting his head to nip at Luke’s lower lip, and Luke snatches at Din’s hip just to have something to hold on to. The first phantom press of Luke’s power against Din’s hole has Din groaning, and when Luke allows that feeling to press in, to slowly and surely spread him wide Din’s head falls back against the ground with a thud. His whole body quakes under Luke’s, hips rolling down uselessly into the sensation of Luke using his powers for something decidedly inappropriate. Luke pauses, breath shuddering from his throat, and Din moans, muffled when Luke kisses him, trapping the sound between the two of them as Luke’s hand draws back, the phantom feeling drawing back as well. 

It makes Din whine, being empty, but then Luke is pressing back in, deeper and more insistent and Din sees stars. Heat rockets through him with each shove of Luke’s power opening him up and keeping him full, and Din loses track of time completely. It’s a feeling he’s never had before, being so completely full yet knowing that Luke isn’t moving a muscle. It’s too hot for him to feel any kind of shame, and he groans when Luke pops the button to his fly, tugging the zipper down and shoving his hand past the layers of his clothes. “Luke-”

“I can only focus on one- fuck you’re wet-” Din laughs breathlessly at the first slick slide of Luke’s thumb against his cock, the laugh petering off when Luke’s power surges, pressing up harder into him and making him clench down. Din bites down on his lower lip to try and dampen the noise, not wanting to be loud, but Luke’s free hand comes up, thumb snagging his lip from between his teeth. “Don’t hide- don’t-”

Din moans out loud, unable to help himself, and Luke’s thumb slips into his mouth, pressing against his tongue and dragging over his teeth. Din tries to wrap his lips around the appendage and suck but Luke presses his thumb in, Din choking softly until he lets his jaw go slack. Luke eases his thumb back, letting Din flick the tip of his tongue over the pad of his thumb while moaning lewdly. It’s shockingly loud in Din’s ears, his cheeks heating in embarrassment, but Luke moans right along with him, shaking in between his legs and other thumb speeding up on his cock. Din whines, trying to warn him, but Luke’s only focus is on him, on the wet warmth of him and keeping his power firmly filling Din up. Din’s body can’t tell whether the sensation is warm or cold, but it doesn't seem to matter much when Luke rubs a tight circle on his cock, thumb applying firm, steady pressure that sends Din careening over the edge for the second time in the span of only a few minutes. 

“Good?” Luke whispers, hand stilling once Din whines at the overstimulation. Din nods, but his skin is still crawling with need and he only has one thought in mind. 

“Want you in me.” Luke swears under his breath, a rather colorful word that makes Din wheeze out a laugh. Luke draws both his hands off of Din to wrestle with his clothes, unlatching Din’s thigh plates and yanking his pants down his hips. Din helps as much as he can, shoving his boots off and letting them fall somewhere in the dirt behind them and then twisting so Luke can yank his pants down off his legs, tossed to the ground somewhere near them. Luke hurries to get the fly of his own pants undone, but he doesn’t have to remove anything, just pulling his cock out and groaning at the first touch. 

Din goes up on an elbow, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Luke strokes himself a few times, smearing the precum that gathers at the tip. Din lets his legs fall open wider, other hand sliding down to spread his lips, and Luke’s eyes flick down to watch with interest. “You’re gorgeous.” 

Din scoffs, but his chest is warm with affection and he smiles when Luke shuffles forward, kissing him sweetly. Luke’s hands pet over his hips as he lifts him to settle easier in his lap, thighs tucking under Din to support him. It’s a bit weird to have all the rest of his armor on still, but he’s sufficiently distracted when Luke grinds his hips forward, slipping through the slick that’s made a mess of his thighs. “Oh.” Din gasps out when Luke angles his hips, pressing in slowly yet steadily. The phantom fucking that Din experienced earlier was definitely cold, because the hard, insistent filling of Luke’s cock burns in the best way. “Oh- LukeLukeLuke-”

Din’s hips lift of their own accord, easing the angle, and he’s so sinfully wet that Luke slides in faster than he means to, pressing to the hilt and voice cracking on a moan. Din shakes, clenching down on the length of him, and Luke pitches forward, forehead pressing into Din’s collarbone as his hips snap forward, forcing a loud, breathy noise from Din’s throat. Luke braces one hand next to Din’s ribs while the other grabs at his hip, steadying him as he breathes in slowly through his nose, letting it out through his mouth moments later. “You’re tight, I-”

Luke’s words strangle in his throat when Din purposefully squeezes down around him, hips rutting forward messily. Luke is gorgeous and amazing like this, eyes firmly shut and jaw clenched in concentration as a moan falls from his lips, and Din can't help but stare. "You can move." Din teases, smirking when Luke peeks an eye open to glare down at him. "Really, I won't bre- ah-k!" 

Din nearly eats his own words right there when Luke pulls back, slamming his hips home and grinding hard against him. Din tightens around him in response and Luke groans, hand sliding down over Din's thigh to hitch his leg higher. It changes the angle just enough to skate over that delightful little spot inside of him, and Din sighs Luke's name. Done with the teasing, Luke finds his rhythm easily, thrusting into Din in long, even strokes, pressing deep enough each time that Din's thighs quiver around him. 

Din feels hazy in a way he hasn't in a while, unable to think of anything other than the way that Luke feels in him, feels between his thighs, pressed so deep inside of him that he sees white. Din can feel when Luke loses his careful focus, rhythm going wonky and fingers twitching uselessly against Din's thigh. While he's still working toward Din's own pleasure his is rapidly approaching, and Din's heart swells at the careful attention Luke pays him. Here he is, having come twice already, and Luke is still trying to make him go again. Luke's eyes snap to his, half wild when Din very firmly thinks of what he wants, and Luke's nodding his head without really seeing, hands moving to grab at Din's ribs and haul him up. Din sits up, carefully shuffling his thighs and settling heavily in Luke's lap. The new position presses Luke deeper inside him still, making his toes curl, and he moans when Luke's hands grab at his ass, blunt fingernails digging in. Din grips Luke's shoulders as he lifts his hips, dropping them down as Luke thrusts up, carving hard into him and fucking him open. Din presses their foreheads together, panting and occasionally trying to kiss him before their rhythm forces him to pull back again.

"So good for me, fuck I love you-" Din grins then, tightening when he drops down and basking in the needy whine that drifts from Luke's lips. "So much- love you so much-"

"Come, Cyar'ika." Din whispers, listening as Luke whimpers, nodding jerkily as he fucks up desperately, groaning and hands sliding down a bit on Din's ass to spread him wider. Luke doesn't last after that command, eyelids fluttering shut as he presses up, hips stuttering and grinding up in small, tight thrusts as warmth paints Din's insides. Din's eyes roll back in his head at the feeling and he sags heavily in Luke's lap, keeping him pressed deep as he slots their lips together. 

It takes Luke a few seconds to catch on, one arm shifting to lock around Din's hip and hold him still while his hips roll up, fucking his own mess into Din and chasing the last dregs of his release. Luke's other hand slips between them, wrist cramping as he traps Din's cock between two knuckles, letting Din grind up into his hand and whine against his lips. His movements are lazy the entire time, placated, and Luke takes his time tasting the moans that Din lets free while working himself between Luke's fingers. His third orgasm is nowhere near as all enveloping as his first two, just a hazy warmth that bleeds through him and makes him throb around Luke, finally settling as Luke pulls his hand back to hug him close to his chest. 

The beskar makes it a bit odd to press closer, an unnecessary barrier, but Luke acts as if it isn't there at all, hands wandering over Din's back plate and occasionally brushing a clump of grass from his cloak. Luke eventually just tucks his face into Din's neck, seemingly dozing with Din in his lap. Din has almost drifted off himself, warm and happy when Luke speaks, voice groggy. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you felt me manipulating the force?"

Din hums, shrugging and leaning his head against Luke's. "Couldn't pinpoint an exact day. After we kissed the first time. Every time after that."

"So when we spar you…"

"Most of the time. Sometimes I can drown it out, like I would an injury."

Luke scoffs, but it's playful, and Din shivers when Luke's fingers trace idle patterns over the small of his back, just under the edge of his back plate. "Thanks Din, so glad to know it's an injury."

"You try being hard all the time." Is all he says back, Luke laughing and conceding the point. "I was afraid of what it means. It- doesn't happen with anyone else."

"Good." Luke says, a note of possessiveness coloring the edge of his voice. "You're sensitive to those you care about. If that person just so happens to be a force user it- creates a unique kind of feedback loop."

"You knew this would happen?"

"Nu uh. Read about it once, in an old text. We aren't supposed to have attachments, so it never seemed prudent. I couldn't be sure you even knew what was happening half the time we talked without me actually speaking."

"That isn't part of the force that's just…"

"You being sensitive." Luke kisses Din's neck gently, breath warm across Din's skin. "It's different with us. You aren't just guessing- you know, even if your waking brain doesn't. You used it earlier, to tell me what you wanted."

Din's cheeks flush at the memory, but Luke is entirely earnest, sitting back to look Din over carefully. He must like what he sees because the blonde man grins, Din's cheeks flushing darker as his face pulls into something resembling embarrassment. Hiding his expression is something Din is woefully bad at, and he knows every twitch of his face betrays him, how he's feeling. Luke's hands smooth over his hips, thumbs pressing into the line of his hip bones, and Din turns to frown at him, brows twitching upward.

"Don't tell me you want to go again." He deadpans, Luke's lips quirking in a small, teasing smile. 

"Mm, tempting, but I was more thinking of going to take a shower." Luke's thumbs don't stop their slow, even press and Din shivers, shoving lightly at Luke's chest and lifting himself up out of Luke's lap. He's expecting the mess that standing will make, but Luke's fingers shift and Din gasps as cool pressure fills him up, fingers digging into Luke's shoulders. Luke's hands slip down to cup the sides of his thighs and he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on the skin below Din's belly button.

"Luke." Din's voice is sharp, a warning more than anything, and Luke hums, placing one last soft kiss before rising to his feet as well. Din doesn't particularly want to get redressed, but he is not walking his bare ass into the house in fear that Grogu is awake, so he shoves his legs back through his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Luke has his boots and thigh plates in hand already while Din pads over to where his helmet was discarded, scooping it up and tucking it under his arm. Luke holds out his free hand, wagging his fingers until Din rolls his eyes and takes his hand, allowing himself to be led inside to their now shared room. Luke drops off Din's stuff and turns to strip him of the rest of his armor. "I can undress myself."

"What am I supposed to do then?" 

"Undress yourself." Luke scoffs at the idea, waving his hand, and Din rolls his eyes again. Once his armor is off Din drags Luke to the refresher, stripping himself out of his clothes while the water heats. Din is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, watching Luke undress when he sees Luke's fingers move, just a small crooking of his fingers. Din shudders, hand shooting out to grip the edge of the sink as the pressure inside him fades, and Din's cheeks heat at the way come drips onto his thighs. Din stands resolutely by the sink even when Luke slips into the shower, willing the strength back into his knees and only moving when he's sure he isn't going to fall over. 

"Coming?" Luke calls, peeking his head out of the shower and snickering at the glare Din levels his way. 

"You're an ass." Luke hums, cheeky grin on his face, and he holds a hand out, allowing Din to clutch onto it as he takes a step over the edge of the tub. Luke turns them immediately so Din can be under the warm water, regardless of the way he shivers, skin already wet. Din tips his head back, letting the water slick his hair back and paste it to his temples. 

Despite Luke's teasing and general cheekiness his movements are tender as he helps Din wash up, occasionally leaving light, chaste kisses on the slope of his shoulders just to have an excuse to be close. Din basks in the attention afforded to him, and he's all too happy to do the same, hands mapping over the scars lining Luke's body and working soap through his hair. Luke's hair is longer, finer than his, and while Din's hair stands up with no prompting Luke's falls around him in loose waves, curling at the nape of his neck. 

By the time that they finally make it out of the shower Din is half asleep on his feet, shuffling along behind Luke back to the bedroom. He can still hear Grogu snoring away on the other side of the house, so he doesn't feel bad when he collapses onto the bed, letting Luke manhandle him until the both of them fit nicely under the covers. 

"So," Luke begins as Din is just beginning to drift off again. "Is this an every time thing?"

"Go to sleep, Luke." 

"I'm just asking!" Luke says defensively, laughing when Din digs his fingers into Luke's ribs to make him squirm. "Fine fine, but you have to tell me in the morning."

                                                        -*-

Din is pleasantly sore when he wakes up the next morning, just a faint ache between his legs that he enjoys more than he should. The sun hasn’t risen yet, light barely straining to lighten the sky, but Din feels too awake to go back to bed. Instead he goes up on an elbow, glancing down at Luke’s sleeping form. He sleeps spread out, much like a star, wholly unused to sharing a bed with anyone and taking up as much space and blanket as he can. Din on the other hand, is used to sleeping in tight quarters, and it’s all too easy to tuck himself in the space that Luke does leave for him. Which seems to be growing with every night they spend tangled together. 

Luke’s face is young, devoid of the usual calculating look or serene expression he wears at all times if he can help it. He’s so wildly expressive when he wants to be, quick to frown or grin and make a joke, but Din feels… Emptiness sometimes. Like the feelings that Luke wears are more like a shield, rather than actually being his. Din doesn’t know much about Luke’s training as a Jedi, and is still learning about his past, but Luke had mentioned more than once that Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments. That they made them weak, susceptible to the dark side that Luke always seemed so serious about. But here now, Din doesn’t feel weak. 

Din finds himself touching Luke, gentle and easy, tracing along the scars on his chest and dipping down to follow their jagged, racing edges with his lips. One scar drifts under his nipple, so close that Din can’t help the way he detours to flick his tongue over the bud, smiling when Luke shifts, chest rising with quicker breaths. Din doesn’t stay there long, not quite wanting Luke to wake up and say something that he thinks is funny so early in the morning. He just wants to touch him, to let his hands drift, fingers trailing the bumps of his ribs that become apparent when Luke breathes in. Din sits up further now, moving slowly so as not to disturb Luke too much, and he skims his hand over the plane of his chest, up toward his shoulders and down one arm, over his bicep and finally stopping to cup his forearm. 

Luke’s arms are impressive, corded with muscle but not enormous like Boba- There’s an inherent delicacy in Luke’s form that betrays the strength hidden there, and Din enjoys it immensely. He knows that Luke leans into the look, in letting people underestimate him the same way that Din’s armor and presence demand more. Din places his hand on Luke’s stomach, watching the way that Luke twitches when Din drags his fingers over the lean muscle. 

“You’re affectionate.” Din hums when Luke speaks, voice groggy and eyes still closed. Din doesn’t bother stopping even knowing that Luke is awake, but now that he is awake Din’s hand drifts lower. Luke makes a soft noise at the soft brush of Din’s knuckles against the insides of his thighs, Din nudging his legs a bit further apart. Luke shuffles his legs at Din’s insistence, and Din presses his thumb into the crease of Luke’s thigh and hip, huffing a laugh at the way that Luke’s hips shift. He does it again and sees Luke’s stomach clench, flexing as his breathing goes funny. “Din, you know what that does to me.”

“Mhmm.” Din slips in between Luke’s legs easily while he’s distracted, bringing his other hand up to apply equal pressure to the other side too. Luke’s back arches weakly off the bed at the odd, wobbly feeling that Din made him describe the first time he touched him this way, and Din uses his elbows to keep Luke’s knees from digging into his sides. “We have time before Grogu wakes up.”

“Insatiable.” Din laughs at the way Luke’s voice rasps from him, and Din drops a hand to boldly take Luke in hand, watching the way Luke’s lashes flutter as his hips roll upward. “You’re very far away, Din.”

“Right where I want to be.” Luke’s breath hitches when Din shuffles himself down, left hand smoothing over Luke’s thigh, circling under to tuck his leg up and out. Luke plants his heel in the bed, adjusting himself as Din hums and dips to kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh. Luke croons at the affection, the sound dissolving into a whine when Din nips lightly and then sucks, coaxing a mark to the forefront. Din settles himself down on his front, propped up on his elbows and breath ghosting over the soft curve of Luke’s cock. “You had a question last night.”

“Hmm?” Luke murmurs, hardly seeming to pay attention. Din leans down to lap at the base of Luke’s cock, lips curling in a smile against the soft flesh when Luke gasps. 

“Your question, Luke.”

“Ah, shit, umm- what we did last night, with the- ah- force-” Din trails his lips up, letting Luke feel the warmth of his mouth so close while Luke tries desperately to form a coherent thought. Luke seems on the verge of being able to say something when Din takes the head into his mouth, sucking lightly and a hand shooting out to grab at Luke’s thigh, forcing him back into the bed as Luke whines. “You- are impossible-”

Din watches as Luke goes up on his hands, one hand reaching down and fingers threading in Din’s hair. Din hums, bobbing his head in appreciation as Luke’s fingers tighten in his hair. Din looks up as he hollows his cheeks, taking Luke deeper and raising a brow. He lets his thoughts, normally so guarded, flow from him now, and Luke groans, whole body shuddering. Luke’s power rushes up his spine, pooling at the back of his neck and sinking into the base of his skull, vision going dark as Din closes his eyes, swallowing Luke down in earnest. 

I want it to be every time. I thought you were uncomfortable around my use of the force, but this whole time- this whole time you liked it. 

Luke’s voice is clearer than Din has ever heard it, and Din feels the first cold drag of Luke’s attention against his ass and thighs, raking over his skin. Din can’t do what Luke does, but he tries to show him, to share with him the way that Luke’s powers feel. He thinks about last night, when Luke had grabbed him and overwhelmed him so thoroughly so quickly, and Luke twitches in his mouth, hand tugging on his hair. Din rises with the insistent pull at his scalp, allowing Luke to guide him up and then back down, and Luke huffs out little noises above him, soft and needy in the still of the morning. Din gives him everything he can, thinking about the first time that Luke’s power had excited him, had left him aching and confused and lusting in a way that he was wholly unfamiliar with. 

The times in between, when Din was left taking cold shower after shower, trying so desperately to garner back some kind of control until the next echo of Luke’s power sent him reeling again. The warm buzzing that hid under his skin, reaching a crescendo whenever Luke touched him with those strong, talented hands of his. 

It never seemed to stop either- Din’s lust was an all consuming thing, a constant want that burrowed in his skin, lit him up from the inside. Din’s mind comes back to him slowly as the pressure at the base of his skull lessens, and he blinks back tears as Luke grinds up into his mouth. He isn’t sure how long he’s been like this, letting Luke see everything while using his mouth, but he can feel his hair sticking to his temples and his jaw has only just begun to ache. 

“I didn’t know-” The sound of Luke’s voice, real and rough sends a shock of arousal through Din, and he pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head while Luke tries to speak. It gives him a break, but most importantly it draws the softest moans from Luke, and if Din’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied he’d smile. Instead he sucks particularly hard, chuckling as Luke’s thighs bracket around his head, Din’s hand coming up to keep Luke from squeezing too hard. “Didn’t know it was that way for you.” 

Din pops off of Luke’s cock suddenly, surging up onto his knees and crowding into his space to kiss him. His lips are wet and he doesn’t doubt that he tastes like Luke, but Luke throws an arm around his neck and hugs him close, lapping into his mouth as Din wraps a hand around him, creating a tight fist that Luke bucks up into. “It isn’t just the force thing.” Din says, bumping their noses together as he pulls back. 

“No?” Din wants him to know, needs him to know, love burning in his chest in time with the pounding of his heart.

Din laughs, bright and stupid and happy, and his wrist twists, drawing a keen from Luke as his hips stutter. “You’re too cocky to pretend you aren’t attractive, Luke.”

“Rude-” 

“Stop talking.” Luke scoffs in offense, but Din stops touching him in favor of shoving him onto his back, Luke offering no resistance. Din trails kisses down Luke’s body, occasionally stopping to nip at a spot that makes Luke whimper softly before moving on. Din settles himself back down between Luke’s thighs, and he admires the healthy flush of Luke’s cock, the way it curves proudly up against his stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of Luke spread out like a banquet before him, chest rising and falling and lined with sweat, hair a mess. Luke throbs once Din gets his mouth on him again, and Din can tell he’s close. It seems cruel to keep him in so much suspense, so Din takes him down to the root, swallowing around him and lifting just a bit when Luke’s hips shove upward. 

He doesn’t mean to draw back, to make Luke whine, and he soothes hands over Luke’s hips, rubbing at the sensitive junction of his legs in apology. It only takes him a moment to adjust to the weight of Luke on his tongue again, and he allows Luke to fuck up into his mouth, to chase his own pleasure as his hand comes back to grab at his hair. He holds on like without the feeling of Din’s hair in his hands he’ll float away entirely, and Din finds the small tugs whenever Luke presses up just right too attractive to tell him to stop. 

Din feels that rush of power push into the base of his skull again, hard and quick, and Din’s hands clench, fingers digging in hard to the meat of Luke’s thighs at the first rush of Luke’s orgasm. He feels, tastes and experiences Luke’s release: his own body sings with it, thighs shaking in tandem with the way that Luke’s do as Din swallows down around him. Din draws back enough to lap at the sensitive spot just under the head of Luke’s cock, groaning at the small taste that he gets in reward as Luke basks in the aftershocks. Din pulls back when he’s able, panting raggedly and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His thighs are still shaking, Luke’s pleasure floating through him in lazy waves, and he slips up to lay along the length of Luke’s body, arm around his waist and head pillowed on his shoulder. 

He knows that Luke has regained most of his sense when a kiss is pressed into his hair. “That was new.” Din observes, feeling Luke’s laugh echo through his ribcage from where their bodies are pressed together.

“Like it?”

“It was okay.” A rush of affection makes his stomach flop pleasantly when Luke hums, obviously amused but too sleepy to laugh. Luke turns to face Din, resting on his side and skimming his hand up and down Din’s side. The attention is nice, the simple touch warming him, and when Din deigns to open his eyes the sun has finally begun to peak over the horizon, bathing the room in swathes of oranges and yellows. “Just enough time.”

“We have more.” Luke muses, hand sliding down and catching behind Din’s knee. He stops, letting the offer hang in the air, and Din shifts forward, lifting his thigh in answer. Luke maneuvers himself closer, hooking Din’s thigh up and over his hip and dipping his hand lower. It’s a bit of an odd angle to work at, but Luke adjusts easily, hoisting Din up the bed a bit and grinning at the way Din draws in a sharp breath at the manhandling. He chokes on his breath completely at the first brush of Luke’s fingers against him, teasing over the sensitive edges of him before finally, blissfully moving more centrally. The first pass of Luke’s fingers tugs him open, and Din can hear the wet sound that Luke’s fingers make on the second pass, smearing the slick that’s collected in the time that Din was otherwise occupied. “Never get tired of this.” Luke breathes, humming when Din presses his hands to Luke’s chest to anchor himself. 

“Sap.” Din murmurs, voice soft. Luke grins, bumping their foreheads together and watching, enraptured at the way Din’s eyebrows pinch at the first press of Luke’s fingers into him. It’s a bit of a stretch to take two at first, even with as desperately as Din wants this, but he hitches his thigh a bit higher, opening himself more as Luke rubs against his walls, crooking his fingers in a come hither motion that has Din’s fingers curling uselessly against his chest. Din’s brain goes fuzzy as Luke thrusts his fingers slowly, curled just enough that every time he pulls back he rubs just right, dragging over the little bump that makes Din’s thighs shake. He hadn’t even thought about himself when he’d woken up this morning- Luke had given him so much last night, had accepted and loved him more than he could ever ask for, but here, pressed chest to chest, breath mingling, Din has never felt more appreciated. 

“Can I show you something?” Luke’s voice is soft, hesitant, but Din nods immediately, scratching lightly at Luke’s chest and gasping when Luke presses his fingers up deep, stilling. Din whines, clenching around his fingers, and he’s so distracted by the feeling that he doesn’t register Luke’s power latching onto him again. Din feels a dizzying sense of vertigo, and then he’s sucked somewhere into a memory, an image that’s firmly burned into Din’s mind just as much as it is Luke’s. 

It’s the first time they were together, after Din had confessed, when neither of them were sure of each other or what to do. Din remembers the night as being hard and fast, something passionate, and it is, but the way Luke’s hands had held his hips as Din sat astride him, Din’s hands splayed low on Luke’s stomach to brace himself as their hips rocked together… That was love. Luke held him so gently, guided his hips when he lost his rhythm and never asked for more than Din was willing to give. Luke had paid such close attention to him then, always had, and his hands had scorched over Din's skin with each hesitant, shaking touch. Looking at it now Din doesn’t know how he ever thought that this could be fleeting, the all consuming magnetism that drew them together time and time again. 

Luke draws him back out of the memory slowly, easing him back to the present, and Din snakes one hand up to cup Luke’s cheek, drawing him in for a shuddering kiss. His hips rock forward against Luke, egging him on, and Luke gives him what he asks for. Luke's touch is gentle, not wanting to hurt him, and Luke curls his fingers again and presses up against his g-spot, rubbing even as Din’s thighs begin to tremble and jerk with each sensation. He’s up on a razor wire and he doesn’t know how long he can last before it snaps, breaths coming faster and faster until Luke presses just right, flicking his tongue against Din’s and sending Din spiraling Din keens into Luke’s mouth, thighs numb, and Luke grins, working him over until he’s sobbing against Luke’s mouth. 

“Luke please-” 

“You’re okay, Din, breathe.” Din can’t, he can’t even think past Luke’s fingers still buried deep, and Luke groans, rolling Din onto his back and slipping from his arms. Din feels so empty that he clenches weakly, chest rising and falling as he pants, trying to suck in a proper breath. Din doesn’t care if his mind is wide open or if Luke can see the desperate, pained way he’s hanging right on the edge, he wants so badly that Luke being away from him makes him whimper. Din opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and trying to get his eyes to focus so he can see where Luke has gone, but then Luke’s fingers are sliding back into him at a new angle and Luke’s clever, wonderful, hot mouth is on his cock, tongue flicking just right- so right- 

Din’s hands fly down to grab fistfuls of Luke’s hair as his back arches, and Luke’s mouth and fingers finally snap that wire inside of him. Din chokes on a cry of Luke’s name as he shakes apart underneath him, grinding down against Luke’s lips and gasping when Luke sucks very pointedly. Warmth rushes through him, making his muscles go loose and warm, and he slumps back into the bed, fingers trembling in Luke’s hair every time that Luke’s tongue slides against him in broad, slow licks. Luke is very, very patient, and he doesn't move from between Din’s thighs until Din lets go of his hair, content to use his mouth until Din is ready to be done. Din shifts his hips, wordlessly asking Luke to pull his fingers out, and Luke does so slowly.

“Okay?”

“We’re doing that again.” Din croaks out, Luke laughing and shuffling to sit between Din’s legs. Din traps him between his thighs, not letting him move, but Luke isn’t planning on going anywhere, blue eyes dark with lust as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking the mess from them as Din groans at the sight. 

“You only have to ask.” 

“Why is this the first time I got your mouth?”

“Wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it.” Luke says, but there’s something different about him, a sort of confidence that wasn’t there before. “You showed me- a lot, when you were distracted earlier. What you liked, what you thought about when you were- frustrated.” 

Both Din and Luke know that isn’t the word either of them would use, but it makes affection bubble in Din’s chest all the same. He reaches out for Luke, pulling until Luke’s weight rests fully on top of him before he kisses him, muttering against his lips. “Make note for next time.”

“Next time?"

"You could use more practice with your mouth." Luke pauses, pulling back to look him over, and a tender yet smarmy grin colors his face, eyes bright.

"I think I can manage that."

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Part two of the tale! Also, I will do my best to tag who I can, but my browser tends to crash after tagging three to four people. So please forgive me if I don’t manage to tag you, I still love you <3

Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel @literal-fand0m-trash @sinnamon-bunn @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3

Part One

You had to take numerous breaks for the child, the small being clearly not used to this level of 'forced march through uncertain terrain'. "You're going to sleep like a rock tonight, aren't you?" You asked, chuckling when the kid babbled wildly as if to reply. 

Up ahead, you saw the Mandalorian pause once again. "Everything alright?" He called, his hand resting on his blaster.

It's not like I'm going to run away on you, you thought uncharitably, rushing to force a smile. "Short leg syndrome!" You responded loudly, choosing to swing the child onto your shoulders and trot briskly up the path. "He did good, I'd say, but he's getting tuckered out." You continued once you were close enough for the beskar-clad man to hear you without raising your voice. 

He simply nodded, turning and continuing along the well-worn trail. You shifted your attention to the massive trees flanking the path, gawking a bit at the height and lush greenery of it all. Your drifting often brought you to orbital stations or desert planets, so this verdant forest was a rare sight indeed.

"Not used to it?" His voice broke the silence and you glanced at him, a little confused that he was trying to make conversation. He was still staring straight ahead. He must have been watching you out of the corner of that visor.

"Not at all. I'm really familiar with the dust and sand. I mean, these trees are huge!" You exclaimed, humoring him. "Everything looks so alive and...soft, I guess?"

"Foliage alters terrain dramatically. Don't be taken in by how it dulls the edges." He grunted. 

"Yes sir!" You saluted him and he scoffed, waving the motion off. After a few more minutes of walking in silence, you spotted a large structure looming in a clearing to the side of the trail. 

"Be on your guard." Was all the Mandalorian said, tapping his holster. 

It was a settlement of sorts; a series of tents scattered around a towering, ramshackle yurt that appeared to be the central focal point. You did your best to be inconspicuous, but it was an uphill battle when you were walking drag for a Mandalorian in polished beskar.

Upon entering, you realized that the yurt housed a communal area and drinking establishment. The limited patrons of the bar started whispering to one another once the Mandalorian had stalked by, and you found yourself on the receiving end of more than a few inquisitive looks. 

You surreptitiously tried to mask the bruising on the bridge of your tender nose, pulling the cowl of your cloak up until it was just beneath your eyes. 

The Mandalorian settled down at a table with a clear view of the entrance, his head turning lazily slow to survey the area. The lone hostess, stars bless her, approached with no trepidation whatsoever. Clearly she had seen more than her fair share of strange or unusual characters pass through. 

"What can I get you folks?" She asked, wiping her hands off on the dishrag that hung on her hip.

"Bone broth for the little one." The Mandalorian ordered, then tipped his helmet in your direction. 

You hurried to scan the scrawled menu propped up at the bar while the hostess proudly informed the Mandalorian that she had taken down a grinjer earlier, so there was plenty of broth to be had. Mindful of the limited credits you possessed, you selected a dish made up of local vegetables and started to count out the amount it would cost you.

The Mandalorian exhaled audibly, the noise almost a sigh. "What did I tell you? Save your damn credits." He muttered. Then, slightly louder to the hostess, "get them a good portion of that grinjer meat to go with what they ordered." He slid his own credits across the table, knocking yours out of the way with his elbow. After the hostess had departed to put in the food order, he leaned back once again. "If you don't eat now you'll be sorry later, stowaway."

"I'm sorry." You whispered, staring hard down at the table. You absolutely were not going to cry in public. You refused to humiliate yourself any more than you already had! Gods, you wished you were back on Nevarro. At least there, things were normal.

His fingers tapped on the table twice, drawing your attention back to him, but he seemed to just be idly shifting his weight. The child babbled at him from their seat, tiny hands waving animatedly. "Is that so?" The Mandalorian replied, sounding for all the world like he was carrying on a conversation with them. "Very interesting stuff, kid." Under his breath he murmured, "we've got eyes on us, stowaway, and not the usual kind."

You went rigid in your seat, unsure why his words terrified you so much. Bounty hunters take down all kinds of desperate people, this is regular for a guy like him. "S-Someone you know?" You stammered.

"No." He answered quietly. Then, "Could be nothing. People who don't know any better stare. Be ready."

The hostess returned with the food that had been ordered (as well as two lurid blue cups of freshly-brewed spotchka, the luxury!) and after ensuring that the child could drink their broth safely, you fell upon your meal with gusto.

"Slow down, you're going to choke." The Mandalorian admonished you, his tone amused. "No one will take it from you, you know."

"Mm, but-" You chewed and swallowed. "But it's really good."

"Savor the taste, then." He abruptly got to his feet. "Watch the kid. I'll be back in five minutes."

"Oh. Uh, stay safe?" You replied uncertainly, blinking up at him.

He paused, and then shook his head like he was dismissing something. "I'll be back in five minutes." He repeated curtly. 

You watched him depart, pursing your lips before turning your attention back to the child. They whined, taking another noisy slurp of their broth. "We'll give him two minutes." You decided, nodding firmly and starting to wrap up the rest of your meal. "Then, we'll rescue him."

…

"You want some soup?" The Mandalorian offered, flat on his back with his blaster aimed at the head of the dark-haired woman opposite him. She was on her stomach, her own pistol lined up with his shoulder. 

You and the child stood several feet away, the child toting their small bowl of broth and you clutching your two cups of spotchka. You had stumbled upon the tense scene once the allotted minutes had passed, following the noises of what sounded like a scuffle between a few of the outlying tents. Your heart threatened to leave your chest when you finally caught sight of the two rolling around on the ground, struggling and swinging at each other with purpose.

The woman sighed heavily, holstering her gun after a moment. The Mandalorian rolled to his feet and extended a hand to her, helping her up off the ground. 

The two of them were covered head to toe in pine needles and detritus from the forest floor, which helped to defang her somewhat as she went on to explain that her name was Carasynthia Dune; she had been a shock trooper and this was her early retirement of sorts. 

You could tell she was former military just from the bold band of tattooing that ran around her bicep, never mind her well-built physique or the confident way she carried herself. The fact that she had gone toe-to-toe with the Mandalorian and somehow emerged relatively unharmed was more than enough to earn your silently-awestruck admiration.

"I knew you were Guild. Figured you had a fob on me, that's why I came at you so hard." She admitted to the Mandalorian by way of apology, nodding her thanks when you offered her the untouched tankard of spotchka. 

The armored man grunted, "I assumed as much." He started brushing himself off, leaving Cara to stand there awkwardly. 

"So, what happened?" She turned to you, tapping her nose. "Get a little too mouthy for the tin can?" The Mandalorian's motions hitched momentarily at Cara's query.

"Mouthy?" You repeated in confusion. 

"Yeah, your nose, it's all…" She traced a circle around her nose, pulling a strange expression.

"Oh! Oh, no. I got hit in the face with beskar. Not his beskar! An ingot of beskar." You floundered, chuckling nervously while you readjusted your cowl to conceal your nose once more. "It was all a big misunderstanding."

"Uh huh." Dune didn't sound convinced in the slightest, her eyes narrowed at you.

"Don't appreciate that insinuation, Dune." The armored man snapped.

"Well, I don't appreciate you muscling in on my turf." She fired back airily. "As fun as this little scuffle was, Mando, unless you want to go another round one of us is gonna' have to leave. And I was here first." With that ironclad logic, she turned on her heel and promptly walked away.

The Mandalorian sighed. "Looks like this planet's taken." He shook another handful of needles out of his cape, grumbling to himself. You moved forward without thinking to sweep a few dead leaves from the thick cowling draped around his neck, your fingers reaching out quickly. 

His hand jerked up, pinning your wrist to his shoulder and bringing you to an abrupt halt. You hadn't even had the time to flinch. "You've...y-you've got some leaves under your chin." You managed to stammer, the realization dawning on you that you could be in very deep trouble. He could snap your wrist like a twig, could do much worse than that.

He didn't let go of your hand for a long moment, leaving you to stare up at the blank void of his visor. You had obviously startled him, but despite that his grip wasn't overly tight. Leather worn smooth grazed over the skin of your wrist, his thumb momentarily pressing down on your palm before he released you and took a step back. "Just...tell me where they are." He muttered gruffly.

Through your concerted efforts of indicating around your own neck and his attempts to mirror locations on himself, he managed to rid his gorget space of all the debris. The child began whimpering and whining during the activity, finally plopping down on the ground.

"You all worn out, little one?" You soothed, hoisting the child up into your arms. They rubbed their eyes, fussing until you bundled them up in your cloak. "Shh, take a nap. Close your eyes. You're safe." You assured them, rocking back and forth slightly.

"We're heading back to the Crest. This planet's off-limits." The Mandalorian growled, his words clipped. "I have some repairs that can be managed with what I've got on hand. Leaving Nevarro wasn't kind to my ship."

"Can I help?" You rushed to ask, swallowing hard when he cocked his helmet. "Please, let me help. I can fix things, I'm good at-"

"We'll see." He cut you off, straightening his cuisses. "Can you carry him? I know you managed it all of the way here."

"He's not heavy." You assured him quietly. 

"Let me know if you need a break."

Maybe once you made yourself useful with repairs, he would give a request to return to Nevarro a bit more consideration. With your fingers crossed and your hopes cautious, you trudged along after him back into the woodlands.

...

The Mandalorian sighed for what seemed like the millionth time, sussing out the right spanner to hand up to you. Night had fallen and so the two of you were working by a combination of the landing lights on the Razor Crest and headlamps. 

"This portion is almost rusted through. You're definitely going to need at least one new blade soon." You called, doing your best to coax some patcher over the hole in one of the left engine's anterior rotor fins. "Also might want to clean your bearings more often than normal, what with all the sand." 

"I'll take that under advisory." He replied. "Will it still fly?"

You peered over the side of the fuselage, passing him back the spanner. "I mean, you tell me. You're the one that knows how it behaves." You tapped the roof of the craft and then aimed a finger gun at the armored man. "How do the landing hydraulics look?"

His shoulders drooped. "Not spectacular." He admitted. "Got caught by a ravinak a few jobs back. Didn't get out of it unscathed."

You scooted to the side of the cockpit's viewport, sliding off to land with a thud on the boarding ramp. "I imagine hydraulic fluid is tough to come by on a planet like this." You squinted up at his headlamp, half-blinded.

"You imagine right." The beskar-wearing man heaved a sigh so deep, it sounded like it came from the ground beneath him. "Damn kid, he's lucky he's so cute." He growled. "I'd be well on the way to my next bounty if it wasn't for this."

You tapped your foot while you thought. "Oh! I almost forgot. I…" You fumbled at your side pouch, pulling out the small bundle you had made earlier. "Here, I saved you some food."

"Why?" He inquired bluntly.

"Because you didn't eat and...I mean, you gave me that jerky earlier, and you paid for my food but I couldn't eat all of it, so I wrapped it up and saved it for you to...um...eat?" Your voice faded uncertainly as you struggled to get the words out, hideously sure that you had somehow managed to offend him. Please, please don't be upset, I just want to go home.

He held out his hand after a second that lasted an eternity and you quickly passed the food over. "That was very kind of you." He said quietly. "Thank you. I will eat later." His voice sounded slightly strained.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being shocked that he thanked you, nodding and then resuming your hunt through your tools for your hydroline sealant. With a little luck, you might be able to-

"Um, excuse me sir?"

You jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, whirling and being confronted by two bedraggled-looking men. "Can I help you with something?" The Mandalorian asked, his tone utterly flat.

"Um, well, yes actually. Raiders." The first man began warily. 

The other man extended his hand, the small bag cradled in it serving to illustrate their bargaining power. "We have money."

"You think I'm some kind of mercenary?" The Mandalorian asked sharply, his hackles clearly raised.

"Well, you are a Mandalorian, aren't you?" The first man appeared confused, stuttering, "You're wearing Mandalorian armor--um, that is Mandalorian armor, right?"

"It is."

"So you are a Mandalorian! I told him you were! Sir, I've read so much about your, your people--er, tribe?" This man was floundering worse than you. Your heart went out to him, watching the Mandalorian's posture stiffen more and more with each word out of his mouth. "If half of what I've read is true, then-"

"We have money." The second man reiterated, like he thought the beskar-wearing hunter hadn't heard him the first time.

"'Mandalorian' and 'mercenary' are not synonymous." Oh he was angry, you could feel him biting out his words even through the modulator. But the two men just stood there, looking like kicked puppies until the Mandalorian finally grunted, "how much?"

"It's everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen." The first man said dolefully as the Mandalorian busied himself tinkering with the landing gear.

"Krill. We're krill farmers." The second man clarified.

"We brew spotchka, our whole village chipped in!" 

The Mandalorian paused in his motions, turning and actually looking at the small pouch. "It's not enough." He announced dismissively.

"Are you sure? You don't even know what the job is-!"

"I know that it's not enough. Good luck."

"This is everything we have. We'll give you more after the next harvest!" The second man attempted to wheedle, glancing at you hopefully as if he expected you to help him reason with the armored man. 

You were uncertain of how to inform him without words that it was a lost cause, and your armored companion made his aggravation abundantly clear by activating the hydraulics on the boarding ramp. Steam hissed and billowed outwards, startling the two men into stumbling back a few steps so the ramp wouldn't hit them as it juddered up.

"Come on. Let's head back." The first man said dejectedly, tugging on his friend's sleeve.

The second man started pitching a fuss even as they slowly retreated to their cart, "Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back, with no protection, to the middle of nowhere." 

You saw the Mandalorian straighten up, turning his head slightly. "Where do you live?" He asked suddenly.

"On a farm. Weren't you listening? We're farmers." The second man answered him a little more petulantly than you would have advised.

"In the middle of nowhere." The Mandalorian persisted.

"Yes?"

"You have lodging."

The first man seemed to catch on to the Mandalorian's train of reasoning, excitedly saying, "Yeah, absolutely!"

"Good." The Mandalorian nodded, and then gestured to you. "Come up and help."

...

After a brief detour to acquire Carasynthia Dune (the Mandalorian playing the dangerous game of tossing the proffered bag of credits at her feet and asking her if she was ready for round two), the cart hummed along on the trail through the woods.

"So...we're basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?" Cara sounded unimpressed.

"They're quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that's a pretty square deal for somebody in your position." The Mandalorian reasoned, "Worst case scenario you tune up your blaster, best case...we're a deterrent."

The two men who had hired the Mandalorian (and shock trooper by extension) didn't seem to be able to believe their good fortune. They introduced themselves as Caben and Stoke respectively, and were more than willing to engage in conversation with you about their circumstances. 

You figured it would be in your best interest to make yourself scarce from the Mandalorian and Cara's strategy meeting, and so you plied the two men with questions about the surrounding woods and their village in general. 

You learned that Caben's past relatives had been the ones to start the krill, ensuring that the village would have a steady livelihood through dispensing either the raw material or finished product of spotchka. They were relatively self-sufficient, the woodlands they tended rich with game and plants alike.

Unfortunately, that same richness seemed to have attracted unwanted attention in the form of these raiders. Klatoonians had been harassing the small village for several cycles, stealing multiple harvests of krill.

"So uh, what do you do?" Stoke asked you curiously during a lull in the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're traveling with a Mandalorian. You must be pretty tough if you're running with someone like him." He theorized, studying you in the dim light of their lone lamp.

"Oh! No no, noooo. I'm a temporary issue for him, I'm sure. Got tossed into his cargo hold at the last port like so much baggage." You confided with a grimace. "My only saving grace currently is that I can entertain younglings."

"Well, that's great!" Caben exclaimed, though Stoke looked a little less enthused. "We've got a host of young ones that I'm sure would love to have someone new to play with."

"I've bounced around a lot, so I've picked up a variety of different songs and games." You grinned. "Pretty sure I'll have something in my arsenal to keep your kids out of their hair." You continued, lowering your voice as you indicated at the fearsome duo behind you.

On your lap, the child yawned and snuggled into your cloak, clearly done for the night. You followed soon after, bidding the two men goodnight and curling up against the side of the cart. 

…

The day dawned clear, but with a humidity unfamiliar to one such as yourself. Mist danced in rainbow semi-circles through the tree trunks, the sun slowly burning it off as it rose. 

The child bounced in your arms when you carefully climbed off of the skiff to stretch your legs, easily keeping pace with the slow-moving vehicle. 

"How much further?" You whispered to Caben, doing your best not to disturb the snoring Cara and Stoke. You couldn't tell whether the Mandalorian was also sleeping, but it didn't hurt to be considerate.

"Only a few more minutes. Just over that next ridge." The man replied quietly, pointing ahead at said ridge. 

You propped the baby up on your hip and set off at a brisk walk, your body delighting in the fresh air of the forest. It was so strange, having something aside from the blistering climes of Nevarro or the stale, recycled air of hubs in your lungs. Maybe you had been directionless for too long, maybe...maybe leaving Nevarro was a blessing in disguise. 

As you reached the top of the hill, a little gasp escaped your lips. The whole valley was spread out in front of you, the small village dwarfed by the wetlands that surrounded it. Uniform pools lined the outskirts, obviously the krill fisheries the men had mentioned. Despite the early hour, you spotted several people already moving around. 

The landscape was idyllic, almost achingly so, and peaceful. 

Tears sprang to your eyes unbidden and you quickly dashed them away on your shoulder, huffing out a trembling breath. "Well little one, let's see whether your papa can help these people." You mused.

...

Caben hadn't been lying about the younglings. There was a group of eight children that rushed to greet the cart as it arrived, small bodies crowding around you to ogle the tiny being in your arms. Said being didn't appear to mind the attention, waving their little fists in excitement.

The Mandalorian seemed on-edge the instant he moved from the cart. Despite the serenity around him, you could feel tension radiating from his form. He was wound tight and you couldn't understand why. Even if raiders had been known to attack the place, right this minute all was calm and tranquil.

That unease was made abundantly clear an hour or so later, while you were being shown your housing for the foreseeable future. One second, he was nodding along to what the lovely young woman (a widow?) was explaining to him about the large hut being a barn previously. The next, he had whipped around to face the doorway, his blaster already drawn.

Gods, he was so fast.

The deadly would-be assailant was none other than the widow's child, the small girl cowering a little beside the door. 

"Easy." You hissed, surprised nonetheless when the armored man clumsily shoved his weapon back into the holster. 

Cara moved to the doorway, crouching in front of the child. "Hey squirt. You're pretty quiet, huh? Think you could teach me how to sneak like that?" She asked. The child seemed to recover from their scare quickly, pulling on Cara's arm to haul her away for 'training'. "You owe me, Mando!" The shock trooper yelled back over her shoulder as several other children joined in on the 'lesson'.

"I'm sorry, she's just not used to strangers." The widow apologized uncomfortably, wringing her hands.

Seeing how distraught she was, you impulsively decided to speak up. "No no, don't worry about it. We're just a little tired. Jumpy, you know." You explained, attempting to play it off before the Mandalorian could sigh or say whatever he had in mind. "Some of us are quick on the draw. But not here." You muttered the last part under your breath, stressing the final word. 

"I apologize for startling your child." The Mandalorian added stiffly, and you thanked the Maker that he wasn't about to undermine your shaky attempt at diplomacy. 

"She will be fine." The woman assured, giving him a tentative smile and then departing.

"I don't need you to speak for me, stowaway." The armored man snapped once she was (probably) out of earshot.

"I know that, but I wasn't sure what you were going to say and I didn't want you to hurt her feelings." You shot back, "You did kind of, almost maybe, consider putting a slug in her kid." 

"I'm not used to this." The Mandalorian stated bluntly, his honesty shocking you anew. Would the surprises never cease?! "They're respectful but they're not scared."

"Isn't it better that way?"

"Scared people keep their distance. Other people want to get close. They want answers." He shook his head, clearing his throat. "I...should probably take Dune so we can start with our reconnaissance." Despite his words he moved at the barest meander to the doorway, where he proceeded to lean nonchalantly for several long minutes as he watched the children drag Dune around. He finally murmured, "I'm probably going to need assistance when I attempt to extract her from the Fou...younglings. Think you can run interference?"

You cracked your knuckles and then hoisted the child up onto your hip. "Once I get there, they won't know what hit them." You promised firmly.

...

"Can you pay, can you pay, calamari flan? Fly my ship as fast as you can!" You chanted, your hands clapping out a gentle rhythm as you recited the nursery rhyme. "Fuel it and park it, Dropship Three, and leave it in the hanger to be flown by me!" 

The children around you all sang their own haphazard versions of the song, hands clapping and slapping against each other in almost-unison. It was incredibly entertaining to listen to some of the verses they came up with. In your time spent roaming after the death of your parents, you had heard a lot of different iterations of this rhyme. No matter where you traveled, it seemed that kids always gravitated to you. With them came songs and games and sometimes, sometimes, joy.

In spite of that, you still tried to keep everyone at arms' length. You would always have a new planet or station to breeze off to, a tumbleweed through and through. So you clapped, and you smiled, and when it was time to go, you vanished in the night like a wraith. It was better that way. Let younglings come up with their own conclusions.

The Mandalorian and Cara emerged from the forest on the edge of the village, and the man tilted his head at you to indicate you should join them. 

"Sorry guys, looks like duty calls." You apologized to your giggly, rambunctious audience, getting to your feet and dusting yourself off. You then bowed dramatically at the large-eared baby who had been sitting beside you, extending a hand for them to hold. "By your leave, my lord." The child quickly latched on, toddling in the direction of the Mandalorian.

When you arrived at the barn, however, Cara looked grim. "We've got a big problem." She informed you softly.

"The raiders have an Imp walker." The Mandalorian dropped the bombshell on you without quarter, and you took an unintentional step back. "I don't know how they got it, but I've seen those things in action. No matter how good I and Cara are, it won't be enough."

"Wh-What are you going to tell them?" You asked once you found your voice again. Even though you knew it was silly, you found yourself nervously scanning the woods surrounding the village. 

"The truth." Cara shrugged. "I'll give 'em their credits back. Hell, maybe we can help them move. They can't stay here, that's the takeaway. Sooner they come to terms with that, the better."

...

The Mandalorian broke the news to the village much like he had broken it to you, consideration thrown to the wayside in favor of expedience. "Bad news. You can't live here anymore." He addressed everyone bluntly from the front steps of the barn.

"Nice bedside manner." Cara grimaced, shifting her weight awkwardly as the villagers began to stir and protest amongst themselves.

"You think you can do better?" The armored man huffed.

"Can't do much worse." The woman snarked under her breath before stepping forward. "I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, but there are no other options." Cara announced clearly and firmly, the former soldier obviously rising to his challenge.

"But you took the job!" One man shouted.

"That was before we knew about the AT-ST." Cara said loudly. 

"The what?"

"The armored walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn't tell us!" She snapped, frustration bleeding into her tone. 

Over the building hubbub came the voice of the widow, Omera. "We have nowhere to go." She stated calmly, her child tucked against her side.

"Sure you do. This is a big planet." Cara replied dismissively. "I've seen a lot smaller."

Now emboldened by Omera, several other individuals raised their own voices. "My grandparents seeded these ponds!" Caben informed Cara. 

"It took generations!" Stoke added.

Cara's shoulders slumped. "I understand, I do. But there are only two of us." She said, gesturing at the beskar-clad man. You were more than happy to be left out of this particular equation, your brain still stuck on the fact that somewhere out in those peaceful woods, there was an actual mobile assault tower.

"No there's not, there's...at least twenty here!" Stoke fired back, his arms spread wide to indicate all the people in their village.

"I mean fighters. Be realistic!" Cara protested.

"We can learn!" Caben insisted, starting a new wave of murmurs as the villagers began to nod and agree with him. 

Dune heatedly spat, "I've seen that thing take out entire companies of soldiers in a matter of minutes!" 

That only brought a momentary pause to the debate. "We're not leaving." Omera said, her words soft but firm. Resolute.

Cara's voice shook when next she spoke and you got the impression that she wasn't seeing a village spread out in front of her, but a munitions-blasted battlefield. "You cannot fight that thing." 

You hesitantly put a hand on her arm, offering what little support you could. She shot you a grateful look, her smile thin.

The Mandalorian, who until then had remained silent, abruptly spoke up. "Unless we show them how." He cocked his head in your direction, ignoring the incredulous look Cara was sending his way. "Remember all those crates I had you lift?"

...

Blasters. A multitude of different makes and models, more than enough to arm half the village. You wondered in the back of your mind why the hell he had brought so many weapons.

Targets were quickly thrown together and anyone who was confident was instructed in the art of long range combat by the Mandalorian, his cape billowing behind him as he walked down the line to adjust foot placement.

Cara took over the melee weapon options, setting the rest of the men and women up to defend themselves with long, sharpened sticks and various other methods. You began to understand how she had gone toe-to-toe with the Mandalorian as you watched her cycle through the steps, every motion impactful and economic.

The two ran drills and you alternated between them, the child residing in a back sling you made out of your cloak. Maybe, maybe you could be useful in this type of situation, you hoped. Maybe you could help keep these kind people safe. 

The Mandalorian pawned a spare vibroblade off on you to replace your dull knife and you quickly adopted the techniques he and Cara showed you. You were constantly mindful to keep your fingers well away from the blade after you lost a chunk of knuckle skin when you tried to show off, the bandage you gained serving as a visual reminder to be cautious, that this was not your old knife.

When the Mandalorian finally nodded in approval at the shot you took, you felt proud enough to burst. When Cara grinned broadly at you after you ran through a defense drill, you could have cried.

The plan of attack was simple, as all plans should be: Topple the AT-ST as quickly as possible, use high barricades to divert the Klatoonians into more strategically viable locations and then pick them off. 

And now, up to your knees in mud, you goaded Caben, Stoke and several other villagers on into competition. Which fishery-pit would be the one to render that walker powerless? Whose shoveling would be triumphant in the long run? Bets were placed as the trap holes grew deeper and the barricades were raised on the edges of the village, fortifying the front line.

The rain had started during the afternoon and continued on well after dusk, making the work a thousand times muddier than before. Once you were finally done digging you were a filthy, shivering mess. Waving a goodbye to the others, you slogged back to the barn. Your boots were heavy enough to impede your movement, so your progress was admittedly slow.

"Stay at the door." The Mandalorian ordered sharply when you managed to trudge up to the raised porch and start struggling out of your boots. 

You groaned unhappily but obeyed, wondering if he intended for you to stay outside all night so the rain could rinse off the muck.

He came back with a bucket, his cape hanging over his arm instead of his shoulders. "I'll hold this up so you can clean yourself." He muttered after passing you the pail of hot, soapy water. "Dune is already asleep, so this is the best I can do."

"B-B-But what if you g-get wet?" You asked through chattering teeth, already stripping down to your underthings as he threaded one end of the cloak through the woven twigs that composed the barn wall. You were too cold and wet to be overly worried about propriety.

"I'm going to be wet anyways, I have the second watch. I'm not worried." Even from behind the cape, you could hear the rain softly ping off his helmet and pauldrons. "Blanket is just inside the door, left side. Let me know when you're heading in so I can turn."

You quickly dunked the provided rag into the bucket, scrubbing furiously at the grime on your skin. "W-We think we made them deep enough. We dug a good six extra feet each, I w-would s-s-say." You informed him proudly.

"Good. That's really good." You could hear the smile in his voice, as strange as that sounded. "Means the walker will have a nine to eleven foot drop, which should be more than enough." He then added, "You've done well."

You flushed hotly despite your freezing body, stammering out, "o-oh, I'm just doing wh-what I have t-to-" 

"No. You could have dropped into a funk and refused to do anything once we left Nevarro, but you...you've been good with the kid. With these people." The bounty hunter paused. "I've been thinking about leaving the kid here," he continued quietly. "Once we get rid of the raiders, this village will be peaceful again. And...and he seems to like it here." He shifted his weight, heralded by the clank of beskar. "You seem to like it here, too."

"I do." You replied honestly. "Nevarro was home for a while. I was used to it. It was normal. But this place…" You trailed off, a little perturbed with how much your heart was aching at the idea of having to leave this behind. 

You had never felt any sort of attachment to a location, always knowing that you wouldn't be there long. Nevarro marked the longest you had stayed in an area, sitting proud at a whopping thirty-two days.

"I won't be able to bring you back to Nevarro." He admitted quietly. "I can't...I can't go back there."

What could have gone down on Nevarro that would make a Mandalorian unable to return? Curiosity burned at you and you opened your mouth to ask the question.

"What is the name of that song you taught the younglings?" He inquired before you could get the words out. "The one with all the clapping."

"Oh, that's just...i-it's a nursery rhyme. Originally I think it was something about...baking?" You theorized, rinsing the rag. "Everyone has a different version of it, though."

"It reminded me of home." The wistful tone of his voice took you by surprise. "We would...when you have the armor, to keep time you would rap on your neighbor's. We stomp, clap, slap hands, beat the armor...no matter what we do it's loud." After a brief pause, "Do you have other songs like that?"

"Stomping, I'm not so sure about. See, a lot of flotillas and mining platforms have rules structured around excessive noise. Keeping younglings entertained and quiet...now that is the challenge." You informed him, scrubbing roughly at your elbows and knees. "I have a few others with the clapping. Some of them up the complexity of the motions depending on how long you're playing for, though, so maybe you could adapt one of those for your stomping needs?" was your tentative suggestion.

"Leave your clothes where you dropped them. Omera brought some dry things for you earlier." 

His abrupt shift in topic made your head spin and you panicked momentarily before blurting out, "Maker, please tell me there's pants and not one of their confusing skirts." 

"I didn't look at 'em, stowaway. I just know that she put them with the blankets." The Mandalorian replied testily. "You'll find out soon enough."

Mercifully, the widow had provided a soft, knee-length tunic. Thank the Maker for small favors, you did not want to try and figure out one of their skirts at this hour. Intricate hook-loop closures and trews were great and all, but right now you were exhausted and bed was calling your name.

You slipped the garment over your head, taking a moment to run your fingers along the blanket-stitched hemline. The fabric was dyed a rich teal, a trait shared by most of the apparel in this settlement. One of the krill byproducts was the brilliant blue carapace that gave spotchka its distinct hue. According to Stoke they had to strain nearly half of the unprocessed carapace from the spotchka mix lest it turn unbearably bitter. They then utilized this excess to color their fabrics, bathing the entire village in a myriad of indigoes, teals and cobalts.

The long sleeves of the tunic flopped down over your hands, banishing some of the chill from your body. "Huh. Guess I'm not as tall as Omera." You observed aloud, waving your sleeve-covered hands around to illustrate this incredible fact.

The Mandalorian shook his head at your antics and busied himself tucking his cape back under his pauldrons. "Get some rest, stowaway. As long as nothing happens tonight, tomorrow is when we'll strike. I need you at your best." He said curtly. Then, a little softer, "I need you to keep an eye on the F...younglings." He sounded slightly pained. "They'll need assurance. And if anything happens during the fight, they will need to be defended."

"Of course!" You promised, fisting your hands tightly in your sleeves. "I'll do everything I can to keep them safe. We all will."

Cara raised a sleepy fist of acknowledgment from her own cozy pile of blankets, the soldier mumbling something before rolling over.

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian stated, the black void of his visor boring into you. He seemed to be waiting for something, so you finally bobbed your head in agreement. He then departed without another word, the woven mat over the doorway whispering against the rough-hewn planks of the floor in his wake.

You wondered at the quiet sadness in his voice long after you went to bed, your dreams haunted by glimpses of rain-speckled beskar.

Part Three

[forever-rogue]

Hi, what do you think about reader getting shot to save Din?

Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Y/N!” a small smile managed to work its way onto your face at the sound of the familiar voice. You just wished it didn’t sound so panicked and worried. You stumbled against the rock wall of the hut you were next to, trying your best to keep your balance and not let your knees buckle underneath you.

You could see Din running towards you, his helmet already off and a horrified expression on his face. You knew he was upset when he dared to have the helmet off where everyone could easily see. You shook your head at him, hoping to get him to stop, “D-din, stop-”

“Y/N!” he was at your side in no time, his hand moving to cover yours on your abdomen. A large spot of blood had bloomed all over your tunic, and while you tried to keep yourself calm, the pain was setting in and the adrenaline was wearing off. A few, hot tears rolled down your cheeks as you realized this might be that bad.

“’s’okay,” you insisted, unable to prevent yourself from giving into the pain and sliding to the ground, your breathing being more ragged and uneven. Din held your trembling hand tightly as he sat down next to you, and gingerly pulled you into his lap, “okay, s’okay. ‘m gonna be ‘kay.”

You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or him of that fact. If you kept talking though, it meant you were alive, you were still drawing breath; for now it was all that mattered.

“Y/N,” he sighed heavily as he moved your hand and lifted up your tunic in order to properly assess the damage. He hissed slightly at the sight; it was worse than he had, and worse than he had hoped. But he knew you could make it, something deep inside him told him that you would be fine. You were so feisty and fiery, there was no way that you’d go down from a blaster shot, “why on earth did you do that, sweet girl? You should haven’t have that...it should have been me not you.”

“Did it...to protect you,” you gave him a small, wavering smile as he reached down and wiped your tears away, “always to protect you, Din. I...l-”

“Mando! Y/N!” Cara’s voice cut through your quiet moment as her heavy footfalls approached.

“Helmet,” you nudged his arm lightly as he nodded in response. Just before he slipped it back on, he paused to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I got...the supplies,” she was breathless as she dropped to her knees in front of your, bacta spray and patches among other things in her hands. She’d run like her life depended on it as soon as she realized you were injured, and didn’t stop until she had what you needed.

Din tool the supplies from her and started to unwrap what you needed. Once he ripped off his gloves, you could see that his hands were shaking too. It was something that you’d never seen before - Din was nervous; scared, “Cara, please get back to the ship. Make sure the kid’s safe.”

“Mando-”

“Go!” he insisted firmly, a shake to his voice, “I’ve got her.”

Cara gave you a nervous glance before nodding and running back to the Crest into order to make the child was safe and sound. In the calamity surrounding the unexpected shootout, he had been forgotten about.

“Thank you,” your voice was barely above a whisper as he took off his cape and laid on the ground, gently moving you on top of it so you were laying down. He took a moment to softly touch your face, wiping away from of the excess blood and studying your features for a moment. Even now, in pain and thoroughly worse for the wear, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“You’re going to be okay, cyar'ika,” he whispered quietly before getting to the wound on your side. You closed your eyes as exhaustion and pain took over, and you started to see nothing but black, “just hang on a little bit longer.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next time you opened your eyes, they were bleary, and your surroundings were dark. Trying to figure out where you were, you sat up, but hissed immediately at the sharp stinging in your side.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the voice was soft and tender and before you knew a pair of arms were helping you to sit up straight. Din was soon sitting behind on the small bed, pulling you into his arms as he pulled you against his back, “you’re okay.”

“Din,” you croaked out, your voice dry and hoarse as you relaxed against him. You settled your head against his shoulder as he pressed a few soft kisses to your bare shoulder. You could relax now, you were safe, you were sound. You were home in the arms of your lover, “you saved me.”

“No,” he wrapped his arms gingerly around your side, taking care not to irritate your side further, “you saved me, sweet girl. That’s how you got into this position. I owe you everything.”

“Well, you save me after,” turning your head, you pressed a small kiss to his cheek, “thank you. Even if you don’t want to take credit for it.”

“I would never have forgiven myself if-”

“Shh,” you insisted quickly, “it’s okay. Nothing was everything to go wrong.”

“How do you know that?” you felt his lips curl into a small smile against your skin.

“Because you were taking care of me,” you sighed contently, “I...I love you, Din.”

“I love you too, cyar'ika,” he was quiet as he mulled over your words, a warmth within him that he never thought was possible. You nuzzled your face against his, peppering the side of face with kisses, starting with his nose. He hummed in content as he laced his fingers through yours, “I love you too.”

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 3

They weaved through the streets of the lavish neighborhood doing their best to lose their pursuers. They crushed countless flowers and shrubs beneath their feet as they jumped from backyard to backyard. The sound of gunfire forced them to pump their muscles harder, run faster as the rain beat down on them without mercy.

Why was no one calling the police? A commotion like this would at least draw crowds of families curious about all the noise or the dead bodies littering the street and their neighbor's home.

Sherry tripped, skinning her hands and knees on the pavement. She had a second to cry in pain before Cara was already pulling her up to continue.

"I can't. It's too hard." Sherry cried, breathing laboriously as her lips trembled. "Can we take a break?" She struggled to contain her tears, knowing full well it wasn't the best time to start crying.

"I'm sorry, Sherry but not here. We have to keep moving," Cara warned, glancing behind her. She saw no one and didn't hear any gunshots, but that didn't make it safe. "I can't let them take you, Sherry. Come on, just a bit more, and we'll find help."

Sherry nodded before she began to run again. However, one step, and she yelped, wincing in pain as she put her weight on her knee. It hurt worse than when she fell off her bike while trying to teach herself. She was alone and had to patch things up herself until her mother finally noticed days later.

"What's wrong?"

"M-my knee hurts," Sherry whimpered, watching the older girl move closer to inspect the wound. Blood trickled down the little girl's legs before getting washed away by the rain.

"That looks bad," Cara sighed, turning her back to the little girl before squatting down. "Here, get on my back. I'll get us out of here."

With Sherry clinging tightly to her neck, Cara ran to the edge of the residential area and down a dirt path leading straight into the Arkley mountains. She hoped to find a hiding spot for them to catch their breath and figure out what to do.

They hid inside the base of a tree, only having each other to keep warm. The spiderwebs were all forgotten, as the girls' fear was now too exhausted. There was nothing left to spare for the tiny arachnoids fuming over their ruined webs.

What felt like hours passed, and the girls grew too cold and tired. The little Sherry's knee wasn't looking so good, the bleeding had stopped, but an infection may already be brewing beneath the skin given where they've been.

Seeing the young girl wince every so often, Cara decided it was time to move again. She needed to find help. Perhaps the men all killed each other during whatever conflict brewed up tonight.

Carrying the young girl on her back again, Cara left the forest to walk along a side road. She was on the lookout for a passing car. But their luck was too dry at this time in the night despite the rain.

"Thank you, Cara. I don't think I would've made out without you."

"I... didn’t do anything. I couldn't fight. All I did was grab you and run. God, I'm so damn useless." Cara let out a long sigh and stared down at her feet.

"You're helping me now, aren't you? You could've just left me or...or listened to those men and gave me up, but you didn't. I will definitely ask daddy to give you a raise." Sherry giggled and rested her head against Cara's back. She knew that if her friend wasn't there tonight, she would've been in the dark all alone or worse. She might've stayed hidden in that closet only to be found by the armed men. She didn't have anyone to develop the skills of hide and seek with.

"Oh, you better, or else I'm suing somebody for the years shaved off my life tonight. Your dad sure pissed off some powerful people. Who sends a whole armed squad on some doctor's house?"

"Daddy says there are people who wanted to buy his medicine, use it for bad things. But he told them no, and now they want to steal it." For a split second, Cara imagined Mr. Birkin dealing drugs with a gang, but that image didn't last long. The disheveled, nervous reck of a man with a million things to do simply didn't look the type.

"Did he keep it in the house?"

"I don't think so," Sherry shook her head.

The older girl pondered over it, agreeing with Sherry. If Mr. Birkin had kept this medicine in his home, then surely the security would've been better. And he especially wouldn't leave his only child alone in the house with it.

"They wanted to use you as a hostage. Probably force your dad to give them what they wanted."

"Daddy probably wouldn't care if they took me,"

"Hey! don't say that. Your parents love Sherry." Cara stopped walking and gave the little girl a shake.

"Then where are they? They are never home."

"Their work is very...important, I suppose,"

"More than me?"

"No! Not like that. I mean... it's just a lot-"

"Cara, look! There is a car coming!" the little girl jumped with excitement on Cara's exhausted back, but she paid it no mind as her eyes greedily drank the glow of the headlights coming down the road.

"Thank god," Cara exhaled deeply, feeling as if all her worries had just vanished. "Wait here, I will flag it down."

Cara stood in the middle of the road and waved both arms, trying to get the driver's attention like a madwoman. She definitely looked deranged, out in the rain in the wee hours of the morning. The headlights became increasingly more blinding as the car came closer. She couldn't tell the color of the car or anything about the driver.

The driver showed no signs of stopping, the speed fast and steady. "Please stop!" Cara shouted, her eyes pleading. "Please!" She won't waste the opportunity, god knows when the next car will drive by. She refused to move, standing her ground as the car sped towards her. Neither her racing heart nor the car slowed. For a moment, she thought it was the end, becoming roadkill at seventeen, having done nothing with her life.

But then it stopped, screeching to a halt inches from her shivering form. Cara let her hands fall to the hood, knees almost buckling beneath her. The hood felt warm and soothing against her icy skin. As she moved to the driver's side, she recognized the design of the police cruiser, one explicitly assigned to the STARS unit. Her heart pounded as a new source of hope offered itself to her. This seemed too good to be true.

"Thank you so much for stopping, officer! It's been a hellish night." Cara said, glancing over with a smile at Sherry, who responded with her own.

The door opened, and the officer stepped out, shining a bright flashlight at Cara. She was blinded and had to shut her eyes. "I know this will sound crazy, but please hear me out. I was babysitting this little girl when a group of armed men broke into the house and then-"

"Where is Sherry?" He asked all too calmly. Cara frowned. It wasn't his sense of calmness that unnerved her. It was the familiarity of his voice.

'Of course, it was too fucking good to be true.'

"Wait, how did you know her name was Sherry?" Cara demanded, taking several steps back. While his shades were missing, his slicked blond hair stood out to her. The rain dowsed her like buckets of ice. "You..."

"I won't ask again," He warned, walking towards her with a hand resting on his belt, ready to draw his gun. His eyes were an icy blue, radiating with the power of his cunning intelligence.

"I won't give her to you. Sherry, run-"

"Uncle Albert? Is that you?" The young girl limped over to them with newfound vigor and threw her arms around the older man. He hugged her for a moment before pushing her away, his eyes searching her for injuries.

"Sherry, no! get away from him," Cara jumped forward, snatching the little girl's hand, pulling her away.

"It's ok, Cara. He's daddy's friend." The little girl shook Cara's grip off her before hopping back into Wesker's arms. Sherry snuggled into the warmth of the older man, completely oblivious to the way Wesker stood, looking down at Cara. He cocked his head to the side with a conceited expression. Clenching her fists, she decided she didn't like him.

Wesker loomed closer to Cara, enjoying the way she stumbled back to get out of his way, almost tripping over her own feet. He deliberately bumped into her shoulder as he carried Sherry to the other side of the car, settling her gently into the back seat. He could've chosen the closest door, but where was the fun in that?

Cara stood dumbfounded, staring as the man who had only hours ago slit a man's throat and was now slapping a bandage on a little girl's knee in the backseat of a cruiser. She watched him with narrowed eyes as he tended to the little girl, finally noticing his police uniform.

"Who are you? Why are you pretending to be a cop? Who were those people? What are you going to do with Sherry?"

"I am an officer of the law."

"That's a load of shit. Say, in the slim, extremely slim chance you are actually a cop, shouldn't there be more...officers? Backup? A news station? A public statement? Something like this wouldn't happen in Raccoon and no one crowding in to watch."

"I handled it," Wesker said, strapping Sherry in the backseat before shutting the door. The little girl was already on her way to snoozing off.

"I don't understand, why-"

"Enough with the questions." He hissed, grabbing her arm. He found the little thing a pretty sight, but that mouth of hers was dangerous. "You better kill off that curiosity of yours before it lands you somewhere you'll never leave as a warm body. Don't be another babysitter we have to send a severance package to."

"You're going to kill me," Cara's laugh was void of humor, succeeding in tipping her tears down her cheeks.

"Just be quiet and get in the car."

"Why should I? You could change your mind in a split second and put a bullet in my head."

Wesker twisted her arm behind her back before shoving her against the passenger door. "Then don't tempt me," his hot breath tickled her ear as he delivered his warning. "And if I did go for it, I wouldn't simply kill you. I'll get everyone you love. One unfortunate accident after the next." His hand trailed up her back to wrap around the back of her neck. She whimpered as he shoved her face harder against the glass.

Cara shuddered, processing the gravity of her situation. The man was a trained killer and supposedly an officer. She had already witnessed him kill, had felt his icy blade to her neck. There was no doubt in her mind that he would deliver on his warning. The real question was when?

The first person to cross her mind was Claire. Truly, there were so few people that Cara cared about and who cared for her. The Redfield siblings only had each other, and Cara couldn't live with the guilt of being the cause of her friend's death. Claire was her anchor when everything spun out of control in her life. She would do anything to protect those important to her.

"Fine," She grumbled, taking out her frustration on her bottom lip. She sunk her teeth into the cracked flesh until she tasted the metallic flavor, but that didn't help get rid of the bad taste already in her mouth.

"Great, now we can finally get out of the rain." Wesker stepped away from Cara, already missing the warmth of her body. Perhaps he should've prolonged it for a few more minutes, drove her further into tears. The thought alone stirred something inside of him.

The tension left Cara's body as her arms were freed, and she rubbed her abused muscles, cursing the bastards' existence. She would do all she could to never again make his acquaintance. He started the car as soon as she was seated.

She banged her head against the window as he suddenly leaned over her. "The hell are you doing? I knew it! You already changed your mind," She hissed, failing miserably to shove his hands away.

"Safety first." He purred, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he reached over and buckled her seatbelt in one swift movement. She sat straighter than she ever did her whole life and simply stared straight ahead. She decided that if she simply ignored his existence, he would cease to be, and she'd wake up from this horrible, horrible nightmare. Her body has to be taking revenge for all the heart-disease heavy foods she'd been stuffing herself with, concocting such an awful nightmare for her. How is this a wake-up call if she couldn't pinch even herself awake?

It took too much effort for Cara to keep her eyes on the road. She immediately attributed it to sitting next to a killer. There was definitely no other reason. She kept shifting in her seat, unable to stay still. On the other hand, Sherry was out cold in the back, a fuzzy blanket draped over her.

Cara's fidgeting halted as Wesker tossed something into her lap. She picked it up with furrowed brows, inspecting it. It was some kind of badge, but not just any badge. It identified him as Albert Wesker, captain of the STARS alpha team. It looked legit, something similar to what Chris was issued. She has a thousand questions, but the man with the answers was the most uncooperative bastard she ever met. One more question and she's sure he will throw her out of the moving car.

'He was a cop, a crooked one. How many more in the police could be trusted? Who could help her? Was Chris- No! he wouldn't be part of something like this.' Cara's thought, mind fighting itself, too many thoughts wanted to be the focus.

"You were quite the shatter box not too long ago. Why so quiet now?" Wesker asked, enjoying the sequence of emotions flicker across her face.

"You practically told me to shut up," she tossed the badge onto the dashboard before resting her head against the window. She knew she was in way over her head.

"I said to stop the questions. You can still talk,"

"No."

"Alright then, suit yourself then."

It must've been the warmth of the car or the fatigue of the night that lulled Cara to sleep because she was startled awake by a ridiculously high-speed bump. Her sleep hazed eyes scanned her surroundings before she sat up straight, recognizing where she was.

Wesker had parked the cruiser right in front of her apartment building, a living place for the lesser members of society as it was all they could afford. Her wide eyes found him, and she audibly swallowed. "How did you know where I live."

"Of course, I help my dear friend run background checks on all his employees. One in his position needs to be incredibly careful with whom he uses." Wesker said, reaching an arm to rest on the back of her seat. She recoiled away as if stung by a bee.

"Is this your home, Cara? Can I come with you?" Sherry asked, having woken from her sleep minutes before. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her uncle's muscular arm.

"I-"

"Maybe next time Sherry. After we drop off Cara here, we're going straight to your parents." Wesker said, a sense of finality in his tone that had the little girl obediently return to her seat.

Cara opened her mouth to protest him knowing her name but remembered his background check and shut her mouth. He must know everything legally in the record on her, including her parent's colorful histories.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Cara was surprised to see him exit the car. He came around to her side and knocked on the window, mentioning for her to get out. He barely gave her space to get out as he stood right by the passenger door with his arm resting on the roof of the car. She was forced to brush past him as his towering frame refused to step back. She caught the scent of gunpowder, soap, and the faintest traces of a cologne. And of course, blood. Despite her terror, she found herself taking a deeper inhale than she intended.

"Tonight, you watched Sherry until her uncle came home, and then they gave you a ride home because of the rain. Nothing. Else. Happened. You understand?" Wesker said, bending down to be at eye level with the trembling girl. With surprising tenderness, he moved her hair out of her face, but his eyes were anything but. She stood very still, wishing the ground would swallow her up. Her attempt at looking away was met with a firm grip on her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." She answered, voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. A lump formed in her throat as her eyes welled up, but she refused to cry.

"Don't mess up if you can't handle the consequences." Satisfied with his work, he stepped away, watching as the girl raced home.

"You can be so mean, Uncle Albert," Sherry whined once the officer returned to the driver's seat.

"Really? I didn't notice."

[the-darklings]

Damn scuse me while i think about dark academia santino for the rest of the night

“You enjoy the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Well, bella, when you have a voice as wonderful as mine...” he trails off thoughtfully from somewhere behind you and you roll your eyes. “You do...talk...hm...”

“Stop staring at my ass.”

He chuckles; a soft, low sound that wraps around you like a blanket of warmth, and it takes sizeable effort to not turn around as you check the higher shelves. 

Where the hell is this book?

You check the piece of paper in your hands again, fighting back a groan. Why did they have to pair you up with this arrogant asshole is beyond you. No, you know why. You two are the best in your year and it irks you. 

Finally spotting the faded blue spine of the tome you’ve been searching for, you reach up for it. Your hand wraps around the worn leather but before you can pull it off the shelf, a hand lands on top of your own. 

You tense.

It’s impossible to miss the faint heat radiating off him. There must be less than a step between you and in this darkened, secluded corner of the library, it’s not fear that makes a shiver crawl down your spine. It’s something else entirely.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” he whispers, his voice a soft drawl, and something flares in your veins when you feel him lean closer. His hot breath fans over the back of your neck and the skin prickles at the contact.

The stale air in the library seems suffocating but you force your breaths to remain calm. Overhead, your hands are still folded together. His long, elegant fingers brush against yours, an absent-minded little pattern.  

“Tell me to step back and I will, bella,” he murmurs and a brief chuckle follows; a low, sensuous sound that locks your muscles further. Something inside your chest flutters at the pitch, at the way you feel the tip of his nose brush against your neck, fleeting. “But I don’t think you want to. You may rage and rage but you...hm, you like the fire, no?”

Your breaths grow more shallow when soft pads of those fingers settle on your bare thigh, just above your academy skirt. He lingers there for a breath, two, three, then you feel his thumb stroke upwards lazily.  

“Ah, I bet you relish these meetings, relish driving me crazy,” he states knowingly, and his lips brush against the arch of your neck. He inhales deeply as if savouring the scent of you, and your eyelids flutter shut against your own accord, sinking into the sensation of his touch, into his honeyed, accented words. “Do they make you feel alive, hm? Oh, bella ragazza, you want to burn.”

“Santino.”

There is a warning there—strangled and only fracturing further with every unsteady beat of your heart—and you’re not sure what, exactly, you’re warning him against. 

“Hm?”

He breathes against your neck, seemingly lost in his head, and it isn’t till his thumb trails beyond the seam of your skirt that your muscles unfreeze. 

Your jerk your hand from underneath his, turning around sharply. He’s right in front of you. Those damned curls a complete disarray, his pink lips parted as he draws uneven breaths and green eyes blazing. 

You can’t look at him like this. With his collarbone visible, and his tanned, smooth skin an open invitation. 

Once when you criticised him for at least not thinking to cover the array of dark bruises littering his neck, he had told you that he had to make up for all the love bites you haven’t given him. That had shut your mouth for an entire day because despite the harsh glares you shot his way that day, the visual stayed with you. 

An empty classroom, maybe even the teacher’s desk. He would place you right on top of it, spread your legs unhurriedly, a litany of Italian falling from his lips as he would lower himself on his knees before you—

“Go fuck one of your overeager groupies and leave me out of your pathetic little games.”

He steps right up to you and your back presses against the bookshelf, his lean arm coming to rest next to your head. He slants closer, deliberate. The weight behind his stare is unbearable, sultry.

Heat churns in your lower stomach at the slight twitch of an arrogance smirk on his face.

“Careful, amore, you sound jealous.” 

“Get fucked.”

His eyes spark and he exhales, slanting his head till his lips are hovering closer to yours.

“Right here and now, if you like,” he purrs, his smirk stretching at the bite of your glare. His usually piercing green eyes appear dark now, and you try not to arch into his next breathless whisper of, “I am not picky. Not if it’s you.”

He pitches closer, his lips ghosting over yours, your strangled breaths mingling—

A slap jerks his head to the side, those silky curls fluttering over his forehead.

“Stay the hell away from me,” you spit out, shoving him back by the shoulder. 

He staggers back a step, touching his jaw as he works it, and looks up at you.

He doesn’t seem angry. Just smug. Knowing. 

“Why, cara mia?” he wonders mockingly, straightening his creased shirt. “Because you don’t want me around? Or perhaps because we both know that I make you tremble with my voice alone, hm? How much longer do you think you can lie to yourself?”

[ikevamp-annalyne]

Apple bite [Leonardo Da Vinci x MC] [NSFW]

Hello there!!! ლ(⌒▽⌒ლ) I posted this one-shot on my Ao3 and thought I could post it there as well. It is long, I am sorry about this! And also nsfw. The theme I went with is lingerie and it is from Leonardo's pov. I hope you will like it ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ

✿.｡.:* ☆:**:..:**:.☆*.:｡.✿.｡.:* ☆:**:..:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

The scent of apples drizzled in homemade caramel took over the whole corridor, spreading like some sweet wings calling the very core of my stomach. Only one person could make something so tasty, so flavoured and enticing: I was making my way towards this very person, also known as the prettiest woman on Earth.

My dear Cara Mia.

Ah, spotted. As I thought, she was in the kitchen preparing a midnight snack. And since it dealt with apples, I knew it was for me. Due to some circumstances -I might or might not have been in the library reading about astronomy stuff and eventually fallen asleep amidst the books…- I did not have any dinner. Knowing this, I could have bet Cara Mia was preparing something for me to eat.

I snickered inside the kitchen and approached her with the slow pacing of cats, the discreet and charming flutters of my cloak covered by the ticking of the clock and the soft whisper of the oven. But to no avail: as soon as my hands wrapped around her plumpy waist, a smile crawled its way on her beautiful features, eclipsing the light of the world and attracting me towards her like gravity.

"You know your smell of cigarillo always gives you away, Leo?"

I smirked as my lips found the path to her uncovered neck; the peachy-like skin was inviting me wordlessly to cover it under countless feather-like kisses. In all innocence, of course.

"Oops. Found before I could even make you jump out of surprise."

She turned around a bit -finally letting me get a good look at her face that I missed so much- and hit me with the spoon she had in hand. Hah, such a tease. I was a bit too much of a good teacher...

"Ouch, Cara Mia. It hurts." I said playfully while licking her ear, nibbling on her lobe, sucking a moan out of her pink and seducing open lips.

"As if I were to believe you, Siñor I-like-to-sleep-in-the-library-and-forget-to-eat." She counterattacked with a flick on my forehead, her voice only displaying the purest affection ever felt.

The years we had already spent together reflected oh-so-well in our incessant and unending banter: teasing each other had become our habit, our own little display of love -alongside the night-long chats we had discussing on a wide range of topics and the amazing love sessions we would have together. We might not be together every single second of the day, but the deep love we had was enough to fulfill us while we were away. However, when we were finally reuniting, no more separated by work or personal time, we had this urgent and dire need to feel each other, even with the simplest of touch. Romantic or platonic, innocent or sexual, you would always find our bodies glued to each other, tied by the fingers, the hands, the arms -the lips whenever we were out of sight.

This was what was happening at this moment: after being away from her a whole afternoon, my hands were animated by their own lives and were just covering her sensitive skin with caresses and warmth. Her voice was softly echoing through the empty -except for us two- room. She dropped the spoon on the counter to properly face me, turning on her feet to close the small gap our bodies were suffering from. The smile on her defined mouth was breathtaking. She always had this silly fear of me getting tired of her, when she was effortlessly pulling me to her every second. Every smile she shot me, every look she sent me, every breath she took would tug on my heartstrings and make me unable to avert my gaze from her essence.

"I love you so much I wonder if you are a witch who put a spell on me." I laughed while kissing the tip of her nose, earning a cute laugh from her, my heart skipping a beat in the meantime.

"Well, if it helps keeping you by my side…"

Her thin yet firm arms found their way to my neck, hanging on it and charmingly attracting me downwards, my face barely inches from hers. She smiled this killing smirk she would show me sometimes, and it was enough to scatter my resolution to wait for our bedroom to make her mine once again, to melt in her embrace and abandon myself to her undying love. A love I would give up everything for.

Maybe my own beliefs…?

I put aside these thoughts and threw the last pieces of resolve in me to unbutton her shirt and slide my hands on her bare skin, only the corset preventing me from going further. I was ready to tear it apart when I realised I had never seen  it before.

This beautiful black colour, as deep as the night hiding our most sacred secrets, was outstanding on her pale skin tone. The contrast was like a work of art, a striking black and white painting drowned in sfumato and chiaroscuro. My painter fingers had this urge to draw all the curves of her body, to slide my fingertips on her silhouette and engrave it forever in my mind and my body. The corset showed her full breast, such a feast for the eye, a feast I had seen hundreds of times but I still could not get enough of it. The boning right under her chest made it look even more prominent: it looked like mouthwatering peaches, their soft skin appealing my lips to shower them with kiss marks. The corset shape flattered her waist, the end of it reaching just above her hips; these hips I could die for as they were so full, attractive, seducing. The front was tied by a black sleek ribbon, one that I could feel sliding through the eyelets and my fingers as I untied it in my mind.

I was mentally undressing her and I had no regrets nor guilty feelings.

A smirk played on my lips as I looked at her panties; these pants that she shortened to make it look like some sort of shorts. Something she had picked up from her time; I can still remember these strange underwear she still had from her modern time. She had to get used to the ones from here: long pants with lace reaching above the knees with a slit. She had told me underwear in her time were shorter; “so that we can slide them off easily when we go to the toilets!” she explained when she put the underwear away in front of me. I was not the least surprised when she asked a sewer in Paris to have the panties shortened and reaching the middle of her thighs.

Not that I minded, of course. The more skin I could see, the happier I was.

I licked my lips absentmindedly while sliding my fingers on her skin, playing with the lace and ribbons and pulling the elastic before slapping it on her bare skin; red coloured her shiny skin and called me to drown her in my own colours. I came closer, brought my lips to her neck and kissed, sucked, licked all the flesh under my mouth. My lips were drawing circles and spirals on her, her body becoming a canvas I was ready to stain. I nibbled on her neck and her voice rang in the empty kitchen, echoing against the frying pans and saucepans. Her reflection could be seen on the kitchen utensils, her mouth agape and her breath blurring the silverware with vapour.

I caressed her cheek, drew the contour of her jawline and ravish her lips while throwing her clothes all over the kitchen: her shirt on the stove, her skirt on the table, her socks on the counter and her shoes on the floor. Anyone could come by but honestly, I could not care less… But then I saw her orgasmic face -teary eyes and blushing cheeks- and I slammed the door. And locked it.

No one will ever see this marvelously splendid sex expression aside from me.

“Leo-nardo…”

Oh God, here was the sexiest groan ever: it was the only time her voice would get so low and husky, filled with excitement and desire, full of expectations and ready for our love-making. I hurried to her side, put my hands under her bottoms and brought her close to me. Her legs found their way around my waist, my lips grew daring and kissed her so much her own turned red and swollen. I sat her on the counter, clearing out the surface and throwing the tea towels and utensils all over the place. She moaned under me, her whispering groans ringing in my ears like Heaven trumpets of joy. I let my lips taste her breast; my hands were already undressing her from her -now useless- panties. The fabric slid through my fingers and felt like a caress on my hot skin. I smirked when I got rid of it and had the most exciting painting in front of me.

My beautiful Cara Mia, naked with flushed and pink cheeks, teary eyes and mouth breathing hot, only a beautiful dark corset covering her last pieces of skin.

“A sight to see…” I heard myself groaning. “You are beautiful, Cara Mia.”

I pulled her closer to me: I kissed her breast, my tongue left trails of saliva on her bare skin before following the line of her corset. I came down, down, down, until my lips caught the end of the ribbon tying the fabric together. I raised my eyes, staring at her glittering orbs and smiling as I bit the ribbon and pulled it out with my teeth. She let the sweetest moans escape her lips as the corset opened and finally revealed the best artwork: her breast. Full, round, prominent, with nipples as reddish pink as tasty cherries. I knew I had the most wicked grin ever; I even allowed myself to giggle as I kissed her lower abdomen and I felt her shivering under me. My tongue alternated with my lips to mark her skin with love, from her navel to her stomach and then her beautiful breast.

I tasted her chest, wrapping my lips around her nipple while playing with the other with my fingers. I caressed, pinched gently, kissed and sucked, I even lapped a bit when my hands stroked her sides, her waist and eventually her hips and bottoms. She sighed ecstatic breaths: her body was deliciously crossed by shivers of upcoming pleasure. I giggled and let the naughty beast come out; I grabbed her bottocks, kneading them like tasty buns of fresh bread, and my tongue ran all over her upper body. The breast, the stomach, he navel, the lower abdomen… Each line of saliva left by it got moans out of her, stronger at every passage. My lips then reached her sex. I looked straight in her feverish eyes as I licked the sensitive skin and kissed her lower lips. The groans I earned from her tickled my inner thighs. Just her voice made me excited and craving for her even more. I smiled through my kissing session: I played with her most sensitive part, slightly sucking on it and taking great delight in her orgasmic moans. My fingers joined the dance, tucking them into her wetness the most gently I could. I was always afraid of hurting her in the process: I knew how us, men, could be rough when horny.

And bringing pain to her was the least thing I wanted to do.

I would rather die or end up in an eternal void.

My lips kissed every part I could, my tongue ran all over the place and I removed my fingers from inside to caress her inner thighs. I came closer, replaced the emptiness left by my fingers by my tongue, penetrating her very core with my taste-testing muscle. The sounds she made were the sweetest melody, strengthening at every movement I made and making my own core twitch with burning desire. A hand abandoned her thigh and unbuckled my belt. But then I remember she liked it a bit too much when I was completely naked, slave to her hands and captive to her desire. I threw my boots away, got rid of any piece of clothes I had on me before undressing from my trousers.

My tongue was still busy pleasuring my Cara Mia when I heard the very distinct sound of her soon-to-come relief. Oh non, you were not getting it until I felt you around my most intimate part. I pulled off and got up. Her flushing face looked at me in daze as I came in for a passionate, feverish and delightful kiss.

“Wait for me, Cara Mia… Can I come in?”

She shot this incredibly soft and kind smile as she opened her arms to me. She embraced me, bringing me closer to her, our skins rubbing against each other in sensual waves, brushing my hair aside and losing her hands in the messy locks, and sweetly whispering in my ear:

“Please, Leonardo, make me yours…”

I ravished her another kiss; we were losing our souls in this deep exchange and we shared the most intimate groans. I was always so ecstatic to share all these muffled screams with her; it felt like our pleasure was mingling together and becoming one in our own little world, the place only the both of us knew and will ever know. I softly sucked on her lips, licked the corners of her mouth and grabbed her hips, bringing them closer to my own and earning a sweet cry of pleasure from her -I could also hear my own voice growling at the contact. I gently entered her, doing my best to control my desire and not go wild with my thrusts. Every time we made love, I was doing my best to be the gentler possible: I wanted her to feel the sweetest pleasure possible. I wanted to be the only one to make her this excited. I wanted her to remember every part of my body, my skin, my flesh, and print my marks on each of her orgasms. I wanted to be the only one for her, the only lover she will ever crave for.

When did I become so deeply attached to her…? I could no longer see myself without her by my side…

A sweet moan of pleasure cut me into my train of thoughts. My eyes drifted towards her and what I saw made my heart race: teary eyes full of pleasure and desire, red cheeks stained with sweat from her and I, open mouth and swollen red lips… I dived in for another kiss and groaned at every movement we made: my needy thrusts, her spasms of pleasure, our joined moans.The heat was getting us and I felt dizzy as I entered her intimate sanctuary faster and stronger. The pleasure was making our breathing erratic. We were both on the verge, but I could not help myself : I came in for another kiss, my hand caressed her inner thighs, I let my fingers tickle her intimacy and rub on her pleasure organ, I nibbled on her ear and licked her jawline.

I did not think it would earn me nails planting on my back and scratching my bare skin. Ah, why this simple contact made me almost come…? I giggled and pecked her sweet lips, seeing a frown form on her pretty face:

“Leo-aaah, why are you, haaaah, giggling like this- mmhh!”

I took her hand into mine and intertwined our fingers while withdrawing from her warm privacy and slowly entering her, letting her body feel every inch of my manliness. Her moan was loud, her body shivered and I felt all her muscles twitching against me. I growled and squeezed her hands tighter as I came in her, filling her with my most intimate fluid. I gently removed myself from her and wiped her with a nearby towel -we would take it with us to not leave any hint, so…-. She blushed at the attention: I knew she was soft to these small gestures I would spoil her with. I laughed at her shyness and kissed her on the cheek.

“Leo…” her voice rang in the air when I held her princess-like and covered her skin in soft kisses.

“Hm? What’s going on, Cara Mia?” I knew I sounded worried; her eyes were avoiding me.

“Do, did you like the lingerie I was wearing today? I bought it for you, so…”

I smiled so much my jaws were painful. I hugged her tight, our past love-making still lingering on our skins. I kissed her softly, deeply, a candy-like kiss with the sugar running into our veins. I gently sucked on her neck and imperceptibly ran my fangs on her skin.

“I did.” I whisper into her ear before diving my eyes into hers and smiling the most tenderly possible while kissing her cheek. “You could wear a sack that I would not care less. I love you, no matter what. But I guess I really liked how this lingerie set looked on you…”

I giggled at her red face and pecked her nose.

“And I realised something, today.” I murmured before letting her down, picking her clothes up to dress her. I slid my hands on her stomach and then cupped her face into my large hands; her bright eyes were focused on me. “You mean so much to me, I cannot picture myself without you anymore. So, I need to be honest there…”

I saw her eyes twitching and her face twisting into a deep expression of worry. Ah, Cara Mia… Always imagining the worst before I could even say anything. I ran my thumb on her jawline and came in for an Eskimo kiss, rubbing my nose against hers.

“I just want to tell you that, following how you want me to be a bit more selfish when it comes to loving you…” I had troubles saying all this; I had to take several breaks between my words. “I, I am thinking about asking you to, maybe…” Was it so hard to say, Leonardo? Yes, definitely, since it was so against my everlasting wish to preserve human lives. “I mean, I could bring myself to, make your life last longer…”

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened agape and I could see tears gathering around her wattle. She threw her arms around me and hugged me so tight she nearly made us fall -making me growl in pain at the same time since she was nearly strangling me...

“Are you, are you serious, Leonardo!?” she asked while turning my face left to right with her hands, kind of like she was unable to believe what I was saying. “I mean, sure we love each other but, you have never ever thought of, this-! Even when I begged of you...”

I laughed out loud and removed her hands from my jaws; I kissed all her fingers softly and then her lips in a soft peck.

“I know, but, I really cannot see myself without you now, and I know I, will not lose you or make you sad living all these years as a nearly-immortal. I mean, you abandoned your life in the modern day to be with me, so…” I giggled a bit. “I still cannot bring myself to do it now, but…” I ran my nails on her still-sensitive skin and earned sweet shivers from her. “I am willing to do it. Just give me some days… Huh, weeks, and I will be, happy to, you know…”

My beautiful Cara Mia hugged me even tighter and I bumped into the table behind me. She covered me in kisses; every single part of my skin had the traces of her feverish lips lingering on my flesh and I could feel my own body twitch in suddenly awoken desire.

… You cannot blame me; the woman I love is sticking her amazingly seducing curves against me.

She cupped my face in her long fingers and stared at me with her big round eyes; lighted by so many stars I could almost see the milky way dancing in her irises.

“This is the most amazing proof of your love, and I will always respect your decision, the time you need or your beliefs. Thank you for rethinking this for me, Leo. You always manage to make me the happiest in the world.”

…

Needless to say our love-making session was far from being done.

[everstarry]

veiled

words: 2029

summary: Din meets a dancer.

warnings: touchstarved!mando, lap dances, technically over the clothes sex ?? also, swearing

notes: this is my first time writing any kind of smut (or something that is even remotely steamy) so that’s a warning in on itself.

It’s almost as if the stars were looking down on him.

He can feel their kaleidoscopic glare as it penetrates his armor—no, his very skin even. It was almost as if those celestial bodies that hung in the night sky knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going. The bounty hunter couldn’t escape their shame filled stare as he sunk further and further into himself, mimicking collapsing stars and long-forgotten societies.

A hard slap to his back made him straighten, muscles slowly loosening, as they approached the rundown establishment. “Don’t be so tense, Mando,” Cara grinned, eyes twinkling with something he had never seen in the woman before. 

“Never done this before,” Din nearly wheezed out, his armor had never felt as heavy as it did now. The weight of his way of life never more apparent.

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” his friend rolled her eyes. “I know for a fact that you’ve caught a bounty here,” she corrected. 

“That’s different,” he protested because it was different. “That was just for business.”

“And this is just for pleasure,” she teased as they stepped inside the club. The air seemed different from outside, almost as if this place had an atmosphere of its own. 

The stars were gone but he felt other eyes burn into him, curious stares from both occupants and dancers as Cara guided him through. He felt like he was going to suffocate, crumple to the dirty floor before he could help himself. His cheeks flush, and his heart pounds, and he can’t help but avert his eyes when a dancer brushes past him. Yet, the glimpse of flushed sparkly skin seems imprinted on the back of his eyelids and he can’t get away from it. The Mandalorian’s knees feel weak—threaten to actually buckle—as he continues the walk to the dimly lit corner.

He sags into a chair, breath coming out shaky from the modulator. Din’s skin pricks beneath all his layers as he tries to chill the fuck out. Cara is grinning at him from her spot next to him. “I’m going to be sick,” he barely manages to get out past his clipped and uneven breaths. 

“You’re not,” she promises, barely looking at him as she searched the room for something. “Besides, if you get sick it’ll just go everywhere in your helmet.” The horrid image is enough for the Mandalorian to try to calm his breathing. He was a grown man, a grown bounty hunter at that. He could handle a club, handle even the tempting visions of exotic dancers. He had handled much worse before. 

“Right,” he nodded, scanning the room before he could help himself. Din’s embarrassed to admit that he’s not looking for a girl, but rather an exit. Mind already concocting an escape if he needed one. A habit that had been instilled into him when he was much younger than he was now.

“Can you not act like I’m physically torturing you,” Cara scoffed. “This is supposed to be fun!” A playful shove of his arm made him nearly bump into a patron who was leaving with a giggling dancer. The Mandalorian cleared his throat uncomfortably, feeling a faint heat coming from under his helmet as he flushed.

“I can’t drink,” he pointed out. The other issue that he wanted to bring attention to was the fact that he was covered in armor and couldn’t take any of it off to enjoy himself. Din decided to keep the sentiment unsaid, hanging in the silence of barely-there breaths, he knew Cara would catch on eventually.  

“I’ll just have to drink for the both of us,” Cara stood from her chair brushing her hands on her pants. “Be back in a bit,” she promised with a wink and was gone before the Mandalorian could protest. 

Din sighed at her absence, eyes traveling the room again. The initial shock of having an armor-clad bounty hunter enter the club seemed to have worn off. The patrons of the seedy place had gone back to what he supposed they were originally doing before he arrived. There was drinking and loud conversation barely being drowned out by the music, the dancers weaved in and out of the crowds finding new customers. He was so caught up in studying his surroundings he hadn’t noticed your approach. 

You’re sitting in the spot Cara had been not moments before. He’s taken back by the brightness in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips. You’re seraphic, a creature so exquisite that the minuscule longing he felt before suddenly explodes. He momentarily thinks that the stars would be envious of the light in your eyes. Din is so caught up with comparing you to the skies that he almost misses your question. “Was that your girlfriend?” 

The Mandalorian loses all his breath at the sweet sound of your voice, you lean close to him to make sure your voice carries over the chaos around you. He looks down at your chest as you do so. He nearly chokes at the sight that greets him.

Your veiled outfit leaves nothing to the imagination. You’re both covered and completely exposed at the same time, and Din feels like he’s losing his mind. Reality and time slip through his very fingertips as he tries to memorize the sight of you, someone who wasn’t really his to have in the first place.

“Well?” you tease, bringing the tips of your finger down gently on his shoulder, tracing the Beskar that rests there. He nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin because he swore a sort of electricity worked its way through his system. It doesn’t make any sense because you’re not even really touching him yet he feels so much, too much. 

“No,” he manages to spit out, body almost on autopilot like some part of him knew he needed to respond to your question. The modulator hides the awe that somehow seeped into his voice. The smile that graces your features makes his heart nearly stop.

“I’m glad.” You shift until you're in his lap, chest to chest, and he exhales quietly. Your arms drape languidly behind his neck, effortlessly caging him to you. He can feel the breath hitch in his throat as he looks at you. “That means she wouldn’t mind if I…” You roll your hips down, creating a sort of delicious friction for you both. You give him a second to relax, seeming to realize that he needs a fucking breather. When he nods you move slower, teasing him into a sort of heated comfort so he finds himself craving your next movements.

The Mandalorian feels like he’s on fire. 

Something burns through his every capillary. The heat that blazes under his skin feels almost foreign to him. He can’t think of anything but you, hands coming down to grip your waist, pressing down to feel more of you through the cloth that covers his groin. Din doesn’t know if he’s being too rough but he can’t seem to stop himself. You let him, teeth sinking into the plush skin of your bottom lip as a soft sound escapes you. “How much?” he croaks, voice dripping with need. The Mandalorian doesn’t want you to stop. He doesn’t care how expensive you might be, he just knows he needs this. It’s been so long. 

“Enjoy it,” you urge, hips circling him in a way that makes his breathing stutter. “Price after.” Your coy smile makes the inferno inside him roar. There’s something so captivating about your eyes and the embers they hold. Their mesmeric color drenched in both longing and desire and he can’t seem to look away. He’s fucking throbbing as you drag your core against him.

You lean back to grind into him, eyes focus on his lap and his growing arousal. There’s something about the expert way you move against him that makes him ache. It takes every ounce of self-control to not rip the sheer pink slip that clings to your body so sinfully and just take you on the floor. The Mandalorian lets you rock against him, imagines he can feel the puffs of air that leave your parted lips on his face as you lean your forehead against his helmet. Your fingers grasp onto his shoulder, nails digging into the spots where his undershirt doesn’t meet Beskar for any purchase. Din actually groans, jerking into you as he tries the impossible feat of burying himself inside your clothed heat.

He doesn’t care if someone’s watching your performance or that he’s getting off to a simple lap dance. There’s this throbbing need inside of him that doesn’t seem to relent. He’s getting higher— winding up tighter—as he tries to roll his hips into yours. He’s so frustrated that he can’t really feel you, he wants to cry.

The tight circles that you draw in his lap seem to stimulate you just as much as they do him and he feels like he’s melting when the sounds you softly make reach his ears. His hands grip your hips to get you to still as he tries to catch his breath. “I’m gonna…” he can’t finish, too embarrassed to admit to someone as heavenly as you, that he’s about to cum in his pants like some inexperienced kid. 

Your big eyes blink at him, once then twice, before it seems to click for you. A curious tilt of your head is all the warning he gets before you continue grinding into the obvious bulge in his pants, slow at first to get the pressure just right. A strangled gasp leaves his lips but that only seems to spur you on. Lifting your hips faster and bringing them down harder, giving yourself a moment to linger, mimicking the act of love without truly committing to it.

Your hand rests on his shoulders as you basically ride him through his clothes. His eyes want to shut but he fights to keep them open, trying to focus on the erotic image that you’ve painted for him. He isn’t sure if it's the low lighting or his own thoughts projecting onto you but to him, you look like you’re blushing. “It’s okay,” you nod, sounding so wanton and so breathless that he nearly whines.

He can feel a sort of a shame ignite in him, the fact that he was going to cum in his pants was mortifying. “I can’t,” Din shakes his head, chest constricting, jaw clenching. He’s shaking as he digs his fingers into your hips. 

“You can. Please let go for me.” Your smile is so serene, and the sight of you bouncing on his lap and smiling so sweetly at him makes the heat finally devour him whole. It’s incredible, nearly indescribable. The pleasurable fire rolls over him, waves that threaten to drown him in you but he lets it wash him away. You slow to a stop in his lap, letting him twitch and hold you as he came down from his first orgasm in months. He catches his breath as you trace the Beskar that adorns his chest. 

He feels sticky and gross, crotch uncomfortably damp. “How much?” Din asks, chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you. 

Your eyes lock with his and for a frightening moment, he wonders if you can see through his visor. “Get me out of here.” Your voice sounds quiet and broken as if you were too scared to even mutter the five words aloud. Helplessness fractures the color of your irises as a whispered plea reaches his ears. He realizes you’re begging him, he notices the way you subtly shake against him and something breaks inside of him at that.

It’s sobering, and Din suddenly feels immensely guilty.

He wants to push you off his lap so you don’t have to continue to feel the aftermath of his lust but you cling to him. Tears slowly gather in your eyes as you take his silence as a refusal. “Okay,” he nods and that seems to freeze you, eyes widening slightly at his response. “I’ll get you out of here.”

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